Witch Fury ew-4

by Anya Bast

  He was lean, but thickly muscled. When she’d been showering, he’d changed into a pair a faded jeans and a tight long-sleeved black shirt that showed every ridge and valley to intimidating perfection. At the cuffs and neckline, black tribal tattoos writhed on his dark skin, stretching up his throat with power-filled tendrils. Sarafina could feel the pulse and beat of his magickal strength even across the room. As she watched him, he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her.

  And that was his intention, of course — to bully her. If this man enjoyed anything in life — and Sarafina had her doubts on that score — it was menacing people.

  “Eat,” he barked in a low voice.

  “It’s not poisoned, is it?”

  He rolled his eyes, leaned forward, grabbed one half of the sandwich, and took a bite. While he chewed and swallowed, he threw the bitten sandwich back onto the plate. Sarafina stared at it, lip curled.

  “See? Not poisoned.” He growled. This man always growled. It was just a natural part of his voice.

  Avoiding the contaminated half, she took a bite and closed her eyes. God, when a person hadn’t eaten for a day and a half PB&J tasted like just about the best thing in the whole world.

  “What’s your dog’s name?”

  Well, at least he’d turned somewhat talkative. He hadn’t said much at all since they’d walked the corridor. Once in the apartment, he’d mostly just shoved things at her and grunted.

  “Grosset,” she answered around a mouthful.

  “Why Grosset?”

  She shrugged and took another bite. “That’s just his name. That’s what the Humane Society said it was.” “He looks like a tribble.”

  “He’s not a tribble, he’s a Pomeranian!” “Whatever you say.” He grunted again and pushed off the counter. “I’m going to bed. Take the couch.” “What if Grosset has to pee?”

  Theo stopped in the doorway and spoke without turning around. “You’re not getting out of my place tonight, not for nothing.” She sighed and shrugged a shoulder even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “Dogs have to pee. You can’t stop nature.” She paused. “You’re not very good with people, are you?” He stood for a moment, shoulders hunched, his body going tight. Then he scooped Grosset up mid-SPAM bite and stalked out of the apartment. Sarafina smiled a little, knowing she’d just annoyed the hell out of him. That gave her a little thrill of satisfaction. Maybe now she had a nice short-term goal. Short-term since she planned to get out of here just as fast as she could.

  He was good-looking in a way that would make most women’s mouths water. Tall, ripped, handsome, virile, and mysterious as all get-out.

  Too bad his personality left so much to be desired.

  She finished the half of her sandwich Theo hadn’t bitten and went into the living room. The first thing she did was try the door. It was locked with a dead bolt and there wasn’t a key in sight. Not that she’d leave without Grosset, anyway. Theo had found her Achilles’ heel right there.

  Sarafina turned and surveyed her surroundings. Discarded clothes lay over the couch, the floor, and the card table in the corner. Loose herbs scattered the coffee table and the carpet. It was pretty clear that Theo wasn’t much of a housekeeper to go along with not being much of a cook. From the looks of this man’s apartment, he didn’t receive many visitors and Sarafina highly doubted he had any kind of a steady girlfriend, either. Of course, given his disposition, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

  Sarafina was the outgoing type and she had lots of friends who stopped by at all hours of the day and evening. Just because of that, she kept her place picked up. Of course, she also cleaned while she was depressed or stressed, which meant that lately her apartment had been pretty much spotless.

  Right now her fingers itched to find a dustpan, but no way was she doing this guy any favors.

  The thought of her friends made a small jolt of panic go through her. They were probably concerned about where she was. She wondered if they’d contacted the police yet.

  Biting her lower lip and suddenly in full-on worry, she picked the clothes up off the couch without even thinking about it and cleared the coffee table. Before she knew it, she’d cleaned the whole room, piling Theo’s clothes onto his bed.

  God, what did the man do, just shed his clothes as soon as he walked through the door? Did he prefer to hang out in his place nude all the time? A vivid image of him naked popped into her head and made her mouth go dry.

  “That’s enough of that,” she scolded herself under her breath and grabbed a blanket and pillow from the linen closet and threw them onto the couch.

  The door opened and Theo came through, Grosset trotting at his heels. Sarafina realized with a start that she hadn’t worried for a moment about her dog in Theo’s care. She’d trusted him not to hurt her beloved pet.

  That didn’t mean she liked the man, though.

  Ignoring his presence, she settled down on the couch and pulled the blanket over her. Grosset jumped up to lay beside her.

  Theo lingered in the doorway for a long moment. “Okay?” “Okay?” She twisted around to look at him. “Okay about what? Okay that I was kidnapped by a darling of society and had my witch powers activated? Or okay that some big un-talkative guy is holding me captive in his apartment and making me sleep on his couch after he gave me a mud bath earlier in the day?” She blinked. “Which life-altering event are you asking me if I’m okay about?” He shifted and his expression grew stormy. . well, stormier, anyway. “You cleaned.” “Wow, your powers of observation leave nothing to be desired, do they?” She flopped onto her side so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

  “Do you have enough blankets?”

  “I’m fine. Can you please stop talking to me now?” “My pleasure. I’m going to bed.” He started to walk toward the hallway.

  “Wait!” She turned to face him. “Look, big guy, do me a favor. Forget the not-talking thing. Sit down with me and pretend you actually don’t think I’m a warlock. Tell me where I am, what warlocks are, why they’re bad, and all that stuff.” “I won’t play games with you.” The words came out in an especially low growl.

  “I don’t want to play a game, I just want information.” “Bullshit. You want to play me for a fool.” His voice rose. “You want the pleasure of having me sit there and tell you things you already know so you can laugh at me.” Damn it. “That was a lot of words.” She compressed her lips into a thin line. “Did saying all that give you a headache?” “I—”

  “Never mind.” She turned back and rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.” “I already have.” He turned and left the room.

  FIVE

  MICAH LAID A MANILA FILE FOLDER ON THE TABLE in front of Theo. “Sarafina Connell. We found files on some of the kidnapped witches and hers was among them.” Micah and Isabelle had been put in charge of sorting out the abducted witches they’d recovered from the farmhouse the day before.

  Theo stared at the file folder. “She could be lying about her name.” He still believed Sarafina was a warlock. She had to be. Every instinct he had screamed she was dangerous, no matter the pretty package she came in.

  The Coven archivist and all-around geek snapped the file open. There, paper-clipped to a sheaf of papers, was a photo of Sarafina. It had been taken while she’d been sitting at a Starbucks. She was talking with a good-looking man about her age. Her head was tipped back on a laugh, her long blond hair curling around her shoulders and falling down her back. One hand gripped a paper coffee cup, her slim arm resting on the tabletop near the man’s.

  “That your woman?”

  Theo nodded.

  Micah flopped down in the chair opposite him and pushed one hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Then she’s an abducted witch and she’s been telling you the truth, Theo.” Fuck. He picked up the file folder and began reading the information on her. “It doesn’t make sense.” “It doesn’t make sense, I agree,” said Isabelle from across the room. She sat on the edge of her husband’s desk, one long le
g swinging, foot encased in a red sandal. “Why was Stefan meeting with this woman, this one abductee? What makes her so special?” “There’s nothing out of the ordinary in her file,” Micah answered. “Both her parents were fire witches. Her father left when she was just a baby, leaving her to be raised by her very religious mother. We’re talking born-again Christian, here — fire, brimstone, and big tent revivals. There’s no way to know the mother’s story, but as near as I can piece together, being a witch sent her right off the deep end. Sarafina’s mom is famous in Bowling Green because one day when Sarafina was eight, her mother chased her out of their house screaming at her for being a witch, then burst into flames halfway down the block in one of their neighbor’s backyards.” “Oh, wow,” murmured Isabelle. “Her power killed her. Maybe she didn’t even know how to wield it. Maybe it just exploded out of her when her emotions ran high.” “Yeah, I tracked down all the old news stories on it. It freaked out everyone in town. It’s still studied by parapsychologists as one of the most well-documented cases of spontaneous combustion on record. They did a fucking Unanswered Mysteries segment on it.” “Poor woman,” said Isabelle softly. “Her name makes sense, if her mother was really religious. Does Sarafina play off the—” “Seraphim,” Micah interrupted her. “The highest-ranking angels of heaven according to Jewish scripture.” He paused and twisted his lips. “It also means burning one.” Isabelle’s jaw dropped. “Tell me you looked that up and didn’t just know it off the top of your head.” They continued talking to each other, but Theo didn’t listen. At the back of the file folder were several more photos of Sarafina. In one she held the hand of the man from the coffee shop, probably her boyfriend. The warlocks seemed to have watched her for quite some time before they’d snatched her. Gods, she really did look like an angel with all her long pale hair, creamy skin, and light blue eyes.

  Theo looked up from her photos. “After her mother died what happened to her?” “She didn’t have any extended family to take her, so she went into foster care. She went to a couple of different families before finding one woman whom she stayed with until she was of age. They were very close. In fact, she’d just come home from burying her foster mother when Stefan snatched her.” Theo gazed down at Sarafina’s smiling face. In all the photos she was laughing and smiling, yet she’d had such tragedy in her life.

  “Bastard,” said Isabelle under her breath. “So Sarafina probably didn’t know what the hell she was until Stefan showed her. Sounds like her mother didn’t accept her power, then offed herself accidentally when Sarafina was just a child. There were no other blood relatives and the father disappeared when she was just a baby. Sarafina’s foster mother was a non-magickal, right?” Micah nodded.

  Isabelle pushed off the desk and walked toward them, her expression thoughtful. “So she’s one of the few out there who made it to adulthood without knowing who they truly are.” It happened sometimes, witches slipping through the cracks, though it was uncommon. The only one Theo knew personally was Mira McAllister. Her parents had been air witches sacrificed in a demon circle by William Crane, Stefan’s father and once the head of the Duskoff. Mira’s aunt had raised her with strict instructions from Mira’s parents to keep her witchiness a secret. All that had changed once the Duskoff got wind of her status as a rare and powerful air witch. They’d wanted to sacrifice her in a demon circle, but had ended up with more than they’d bargained for.

  Theo looked back down at the pictures. “She’s strong. You can feel it radiating off her in waves. It’s uncontrolled, but the intensity is there.” “I know what you’re thinking,” Micah answered. “You’re thinking that’s why Stefan seemed to be paying extra attention to her, because she’s kicking powerful.” He shook his shaggy head. “I don’t think that’s the reason why.” “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Judging from her mother combusting like she did, she had to be really powerful, too.” “There are lots of powerful fire witches in the world,” Micah answered. “It doesn’t mean His Majesty, Stefan Faucheux, would want to spend personal time with them. I’ll do some more digging and see what I can come up with.” “In the meantime, let her go. Send her to me, Theo,” said Isabelle. “I’ll smooth things over with her a little and then send her home.” He turned and glared at her. “What makes you think I can’t smooth things over with her?” She made a scoffing sound. “Uh-huh. No offense, but you lack skill in the diplomacy department. Better send her to me. I can only imagine how you’ve treated her. I heard all about the run through the cornfield. In hindsight that was pretty brutal, wasn’t it? She probably hates your guts.” Theo thought back to the conversation he’d had with Sarafina the night before. How she’d asked him to tell her about the world she’d fallen into and how he’d rebuffed her. Isabelle’s words hit him in the solar plexus. Sarafina almost certainly did hate him.

  He glanced down at the file folder. “Probably.” “Okay. We’re agreed. Un-abracadabra the earth wards on your door and send her down to me, poor woman.” Theo rose, holding the file. “I’ll go get her.” He left the room and headed to his apartment. He should be happy to be free of the woman and her yapping little dog, but tension had settled in the pit of his stomach instead. Perhaps it was because he still sensed that Sarafina — never mind the fact she was named for a kind of angel — was dangerous. Theo didn’t like the idea of releasing her. Or perhaps it was because she was, in fact, an innocent and he’d treated her so brutally. Hell, she’d been abducted just like he’d been. Maybe guilt was the reason for the tension in his gut.

  He entered the apartment and found her lying on her stomach across the couch, reading one of his spell books. She’d folded the blanket and set it on the end of the couch, on top of the pillow.

  Sensing something was different, he glanced around. The room was spotless. It looked like she’d even taken a dust rag to the bookshelves. A glance into the kitchen revealed the same level of cleanliness.

  Damn, that was the first time he’d seen the countertops in months. His best spell pot gleamed on the stove. It looked like she’d polished it to within an inch of its life.

  She glanced up at him with an annoyed look on her face and then returned to giving the book her complete attention. Grosset seemed happy to see him, at least. He bounced like a dust mop on crack at Theo’s feet, small pink tongue hanging out.

  Sarafina’s hair spilled loose down her back, silky white blond against the black of the T-shirt she’d pilfered from him that morning. Her nose, long and slightly snubbed at the end, was buried deeply in the spell book, but Theo had a feeling it was all just for show. As he watched, she puckered her full lips a little and turned a page. One bare foot jiggled with irritation, toenails painted light pink. He tried really hard not to notice the luscious shape of her smooth calves where the hem of the sweatpants she wore had ridden up.

  The woman really did look and act innocent, but Theo suspected that was all a show, too. Even though he wasn’t crazy about the thought of having her as a houseguest, he wished he could keep her here a little longer, long enough to ferret out her mysteries. Maybe it was better he playact now and try to make amends. If she liked him better, it would be easier for him to keep an eye on her once she left the Coven.

  He stooped to pet Grosset, then rose and walked to the center of the room. “They’ve been able to sort out the people rescued from the farmhouse and there’s proof that you were abducted.” He paused a moment, hating having to admit he’d been wrong. . maybe. “You’re not a warlock.” “No kidding.” She closed the book with a thump. “I was falsely accused. I told you so.” “I know. I’m. . sorry.”

  Her lips twisted and she tilted her head to the side. “Do the syllables of the words I’m sorry taste bad? You’re grimacing.” He ignored the comment. “You and I got off on the wrong foot—” “You think?” She sat up, put the spell book on the coffee table, then leaned back with her arms crossed over her chest. “Normally, I love being buried alive.” “Look, I’m sorry, all right? Sorry for everything. I was r
eally rude to you last night and I feel bad about it, so if there’s anything you want me to tell you about—” “Everything.” She uncrossed her arms and leaned toward him, her blue eyes suddenly bright. “I feel like I’ve been transported to a foreign country and I don’t know the language or any of the customs. I feel like I’ve found a missing part of myself, a part that’s completely familiar to me, and yet totally alien at the same time.” He rolled his eyes. Gods, were they going to have to talk about their emotions? He’d rather stab himself in the eye.

  “Plus—” She snapped her mouth shut. Her hands were clenched in her lap and had gone totally white. “It pisses me off that I’m admitting this to you, but I’m grieving right now.” She practically snarled the words. “Not that you care.” His heart softened a bit. Damn it. “I heard. It’s unfortunate all this is happening to you at once.” “Yes, I think that’s why I feel extra. . lost. If you could give me a compass, I’d appreciate it.” He leaned forward, bracing a hand near her shoulder on the couch, and pulled a book from the shelf behind her head, bringing his body uncomfortably close to hers. She smelled good. He’d noticed it yesterday, even under the scent of the dirt he’d tried to drown her in. It was her perfume, maybe, or the shampoo she used. Her soap? Whatever it was, it was subtle and seemingly an integral part of her. His gaze caught hers and he noticed her eyes were a little shiny. A beautiful blue. . and filled with just the lightest sheen of tears.

  Theo drew back, book in hand. He hoped she didn’t cry. Oh, Gods. The last thing he needed on his hands was a blubbering female. What the hell did you do with a weeping woman?

  After tossing the book into her lap, he eased down into the chair behind him, a safe distance away from her. The dog jumped into his lap immediately. Theo stared down into Grosset’s furry, panting face and tried not to curl his lip.