The Circle had no right to take them. They hated being threatened by witches more powerful than they were, and while no one believed her, she knew with every fiber of her being they stripped her at the first chance they got because her abilities scared them.
She was powerful, true, but no more so than the elders who led the Circle. Why they saw her as a threat, she didn’t know, but damn it she wouldn’t find out.
Her fingers flexed around the green satchel slung across her body, the weight heavier than she’d calculated but manageable. Tonight was about taking back her powers from the thieving warlocks who’d stolen it from her.
Harlow sucked in her breath and held it for a count of five, calculating the distance between her position and her next target. Since curiosity had a tendency to kill witches who went snooping, sticking around to uncover the current warlock’s next move could mean her last.
On hands and knees, she crawled to the next shelf that led her closer to freedom and the second phase of her great plan, which didn’t seem so great at the moment.
Wood splintered, followed by a booming shockwave that rocked her so hard her back teeth rattled. Bits and pieces of wood rained down. One large spike caught her along the check as another scraped the tender flesh of her chest despite the thick pullover. For a split second, all she could do was thank the goddesses she wasn’t a vampire. Silver linings had a way of showing themselves.
Tucked into the smallest ball she could manage, Harlow rolled to the right and waited for the dust to settle. Before the other orbs could take a shot at her, she lunged forward, dragging the satchel along the floor behind her.
Kneeling by the back stone wall of the library, she chanced another glance at her watch. It wouldn’t be long before the warlock warned the others and from there it was only a matter of time before the elders came looking for her. This time they’d throw her in the darkest part of the dungeon.
Adrenaline brought Harlow to her feet. It was now or never. Hands to her sides and the satchel resting center mass, she counted.
One.
A fireball blasted the wall to her side, missing her by mere inches. She didn’t move.
Two.
A curtain five golden lights wide and ten high zeroed in on her location. She waited. Heartbeat after heartbeat hammered into her sternum.
Palm flat against the cool stone, she skimmed her fingers along the cracks and rough edges until a notch caught her forefinger and thumb.
Three.
She pushed. Pitch black swallowed her whole as she tumbled into a hidden room. Stone grated against stone and she was finally alone. If anything, at least the orbs were gone, but she wouldn't mind their light right now.
The irony.
Grit filled her mouth as the bombs hammered into the sealed off wall. She smirked but didn’t stick around to find out how close the warlock was to her position now that she'd revealed it.
Grime and something remotely like moss squished beneath her soft-soled boots. Standing, she ground her boot into the floor for traction. Yeah, she’d go with moss.
Night-blind, Harlow stumbled more than walked her way through the passage. Cold, musty air clogged the small space. No way she’d dare to take in a lung full of the stank air.
Other than the sound of her feet dragging along the cobblestones, silence brewed, but she didn’t trust the quiet.
Another step and then another. Gooey muck covered her hands every time she reached out for the wall. Goddesses, she hated this. She liked antiques as much as the next girl, but dank, dark and clammy sat up there with the top ten worst possible ways to spend a Friday night.
Nervous energy swarmed and crackled along the lay lines and reached into her as though it fed off her fear. It jolted her system like a wet finger in a wall socket.
Ice slivered along her spine and it had nothing to do with the winter air rushing through the old passageway.
Muted light broke through what looked to be vines hanging over an opening a few paces ahead. Her heart rate spiked and forced a rush of energy through her body. Each step grew harder to take, like quicksand clinging to her feet. Maybe her imagination needed a kick in the ass. She didn’t want to know, but from the sound of it, whatever coated the flooring slogged and squished every time she moved. For all she knew, it could be the blood of the elders’ enemies, a number that grew daily. Honestly, with them, you just never knew.
Harlow slowed to a full stop. The cold knot of betrayal that lived in her gut for the last year doubled and choked off the fear rising up her chest.
No. No, this can’t be. Anger made her movements choppy as she yanked and shoved the hanging vines aside. From a few yards away they did a great job of hiding the grate welded over the tunnel exit. Dread steeled her movements.
Chocolate cherries…
She took a deep breath. Several muffled shouts echoed through the tunnel and brought her head around. Damn! Pissed off warlock brought friends. So much for trying her hand at a great escape.
Without her magic, she couldn’t blast her way through. And none of her sisters could help. No way she’d put them in the middle of her battle even if they could help her steal back her magic.
With her fingers wrapped around the cool steel, Harlow rattled the rusted grate. The only thing she got for her efforts was a dust cloud. She spat and waved a hand to clear the air. Gnarled vines swayed but nothing else happened.
No way it ended like this! Harlow leaned over, hands braced on her knees.
Inhale. Exhale.
Freaking candy apples….
Another shout barreled toward her. She tightened her grip and rocked the bars again, this time putting her entire body behind the move.
“Come on, Harlow!” With a couple of tugs she pulled the vines free, exposing two of the bars dead center of the grate. Could she? If she could angle her body just so, she could press through…
Yellow lights grew closer and bounced off the now visible arched ceiling. She quickly took a couple of steps back, pulled the satchel free of her shoulder and shoved it through the bars, satisfied at the loud thud it made on impact. In one long exhale, her shoulder squeezed through, her torso and finally her head.
Free, she crouched low in case someone lurked close and surveyed the surrounding grounds. No one seemed the wiser to her location except for the goons on her ass. Moving so fast everything was a blur of white, she retrieved her loot and hot-footed it across the snow, not stopping to look back.
Heavy footfalls resounded in the tight space and spurred her into overdrive.
A feral growl chased after her. “Ya’ witches a’e outa you’ league.”
She didn’t wait around to see if the freak could break through the bars or if he had a key. Fingers crossed the rust would work in her favor and keep him locked on the other side and away from her. One foot in front of the other, in record time Harlow covered the long distance to her car hidden beneath low hanging branches.
Score two for the librarian!
Remnants of goo clung to her fingers as she fumbled in her pocket for the keys. Note to self: remember gloves for next B&E black ops.
Seconds later she slid into the driver’s seat, shoved the key in the ignition and turned. Rubber hit pavement and her getaway ride hit zero to sixty in four point five seconds as the salesman promised. She smiled. Her cherry red Mustang left the eighteenth-century palace in her rearview mirror and brought her closer to the one thing she wanted more than her next breath: cold-hearted, calculated, knife-in-the-throat revenge as she reclaimed what was hers.
Fingers wound around the wheel, she hugged the curves and let the moonlight guide her along the back road.
Before heading out she’d stopped by Enchanted Embers, her sister’s apothecary shop while everyone was out for dinner or preparing for the winter solstice.
From the second she stepped over the threshold, something didn’t sit right. Tiny pinpricks flushed over her skin and caused her to shiver from head to toe. Black market items didn’t ma
ke their way through Sleepy Briar and much less through her sweet coven sister’s shop. From the evidence she had found, something was up, but what she didn’t have a clue. Within their race and their laws, blood magic was illegal. Shifters, vampires, Fae. It didn’t matter. For her sister to have a vial of dragon’s blood meant her sister had somehow landed in the middle of trouble or trouble had found her. Either way, she’d be no help without her magic. Harlow reached across the front seat and brushed her fingers over the old spellbook.
If this didn’t work, well she’d not consider what else she might be willing to do to reverse what the witch elders had done to her.
Harlow tightened her grip on the wheel and little by little the knots in her stomach loosened as resolve settled over her. Hopefully, the few things she’d borrowed wouldn’t get Aleaha in any more trouble.
She cast a glance in her rearview. Grayson and Zane were probably either waiting for her at her place or were on their way. Darkness swiftly swallowed in on itself as the high beams sliced through the thick fog rolling in from the mountains. Change clung to the air and there’d be no taming the hornets’ nest she’d just drop kicked as though the final winning point rested on her shoulders. Wheels squalled along the last curve and a few minutes later she cut the lights as she rolled up outside her place.
Nerves sprang to life, and she pushed them back down with a few swallows and one long drawn-out sigh. Good. No growly mates waiting for her. That had to be a positive sign.
Snowflakes fell and for a second she almost believed the mirage of peace before her. A vibration in her pocket broke the spell.
“Sorry, my loves. I’ll be with you soon,” she reassured the still ringing phone.
Without losing a beat, Harlow strode across the yard and slipped her cell phone into the box she’d taken from Enchanted Embers.
With one last, longing stare at the familiar number of her two lovers displayed across the screen, she shifted the box and pushed inside.
Aside from her sisters, they were her only stability in the storm that had become her life in the past year. A flash of pain pierced her heart as her thumb roamed over the end button.
Grayson and Zane would kill her, but they’d have to take a number and get in line
.
Chapter Three
Back pressed against the door, Harlow reached over her shoulder and twisted the lock into place despite her trembling fingers. One. Two. Not until she heard the third click of metal hit metal did she inhale a hard, deep breath. It wouldn’t keep them out forever, but it should buy her the time she needed.
For several seconds she couldn’t do more than lean against the pine wood. Wobbly legs barely braced her weight and her heart rate had tripled its maximum speed about an hour into her B&E Black OP otherwise aptly renamed Operation FIREBALLS. Irony had a way of showing its face at the oddest of times.
With her free hand she loosened her ponytail and tossed aside the snow-drenched ski mask that matched her all-black cat ensemble and knee-high flat boots. Pieces of pine clung to her pullover and a few fell from her hair as she mused the long locks. Despite the cliché, you couldn’t slink around like a bad-ass ninja in cute heels and stuffy librarian clothes. If you’re gonna do something, do it right, her momma always said.
In her world, she might as well have pulled off a total Mission Impossible, high fortress, laser grid snatch ’n grab. Outwitting the Silver Circle at their own game put a flutter in her heart. On the flip side, simply thinking the name of her people’s government conjured a sickening amount of dread. How long before they came looking for her? She splayed her fingers across her stomach to squelch the butterflies wreaking havoc on her insides.
Cracking into their warded vault single-handedly, without the use of her magic, ranked up there with super-mad agent skills. That made score three for the librarian, right? If only Grayson and Zane could see her now. She’d steal a kiss from Grayson as he shook his head in denial of her super-agent skills. Hell, it surprised her too. Zane would be on her side, offering himself as her personal backup.
She pursed her lips and whistled out the tune to her favorite spy flick. If getting her powers back didn’t pan out, maybe she’d rock her newly found skills as a private sleuth.
With a mental flick, she switched gears. The Silver Circle didn’t like it when a mere witch bested them. No telling how they would handle a powerless witch kicking their asses. Over the last twelve months, she’d battled her senses with little results with controlling them. Having your powers ripped from her ethereal body made hot pokers in the eyes seem like a fun idea. Everything felt out of whack, which left her unbalanced and broken inside. Tonight helped to take back a little of her inner power. A multitude of emotions swirled, and her throat thickened as her eyes grew moist. Cruel and unjust were polite words for what the Royals had done to her. Nightmares plagued her constantly despite how much Grayson and Zane tried to comfort her. Only they understood her pain.
By day, she played the weak, helpless orphan and it left a nasty taste in her mouth, but she did whatever it took to remain the subdued witch in the elder's eyes and make them think her harmless.
She fought against the fear eating at her. “Calm down, Harlow. You’ve come too far and you’re not done yet.” She had to have faith in her plan. It may not be the best, but sitting by and letting them punish her for helping a human in need of her healing powers sat like a lump of coal in her belly that goaded her into action.
Shit, she was lucky.
The kick of adrenaline that kept her in motion ebbed. Muscles shook and her chest tightened with masked anxiety. Exhausted, out of breath and a little bit freaked out, Harlow dropped her head against the door with a soft thud as her attention locked onto the woman staring back at her through the hall mirror opposite the front door. Without her glasses, everything homed in with a slightly fuzzy blur along the edges. Black streaks of soot marred her cheeks. Gauzy moonlight filtered through the thin curtains and reflected against her midnight black strands of hair knotted into a tangled mass to create a look of full-on crazy witch, but a happy one. Or, a relieved not-to-be-dead witch, anyway.
That made her laugh. Sticking it to the stuffy elders made her feel powerful even without the magic she was born into and that made her really, really smile for the first time in a long while.
No one had expected the little quiet librarian to strike back. She pushed up in a rush of determination when a vibration came from the box.
Damn.
Grayson and Zane would freak out if they knew what she’d been up to tonight. She hoped the message she’d left would stall them, but that damn warlock had to pipe up in the middle of it. Probably didn’t help. Going against her instincts, she hit the red button for the second time and ignored the device when it immediately started again.
Soon she would explain everything to them. Hopefully, they’d understand.
A small ache bloomed in her chest. She hated the elders for what they’d done to her. More so for what they forced her to do tonight. Lying and stealing went against every fiber of her being. She’d done both to the people she cared most about in this world—her sisters and her soon-to-be mates.
Despite everything, both men still wanted her and spent the best part of their time together, letting her know they loved her with or without her powers. They stressed that she didn’t need her witchy abilities to be their mate. It was a nice thought, but how could she commit to something so wholly consuming when a part of her was missing? Losing her powers stung but forcing a wedge, as invisible as it may be, between her and her shifters crippled her.
That was why her plan had to work. Harlow tightened her grip around the satchel.
First, she needed to heal herself. Besides, what other choice did she have? If she wanted Grayson and Zane and any semblance of a happy life, she needed to restore her magic.
Another round of staccato pings went off and warned Harlow the inevitable now moved into a reality. Her mates were looking for her.
Her phone went off again and her shoulders bunched. She let the call end before turning the phone off completely.
Instead of keeping her promise to meet them at their place for a sexy weekend with the huge snowstorm on the way, she saw her only opportunity and took it, thinking they’d be out on pack business anyway.
The library at the Silver Circle fell quiet during the winter months after hours. As the winter solstice approached, the whole community gathered for a celebration, leaving her alone. She’d played with the idea of withdrawing and slinking into the background of existence for weeks. Every time she did, the fierce fire of revenge burned a little hotter until it seeped into every drop of her blood.
She scowled. Weeks of searching finally resulted in uncovering the hidden vault filled with the knowledge she needed. Spells locked away from the masses. Spells and incantations that would reverse whatever the Silver Circle had used to take her power. No telling how many times they’d used their power on other witches. Skirting a small end table, Harlow switched on a lamp and glanced at her watch in the low light. Ten minutes, if she was lucky before her men pounded on her door. With her cabin tucked up next to the pack’s property, they’d sense her nearness and could make the distance between their places before she completed the second part of her plan. As trained enforcers for the Sleepy Briar pack, not much slipped past the heightened senses of her two shifters. She didn’t have long.
Twice Mated Page 3
