Taken by the Wind

by Serenity Snow

  “Easily enough.”

  She growled through clenched teeth. “Stay out of my territory, witch. And return my weapon, now!”

  Aria laughed, truly amused as the dark power thrummed in her hand. It was lively, but nothing she couldn’t tame and meld with her own power.

  “I can go where I like,” Aria told her coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. The weapon had retracted into her hand easily enough which meant it was now hers. To regain it, the woman had to take it. “This is my city.”

  Carrel asked derisively. “You are delusional, witch. Cross me again, and we’ll have issues.” Carrel moved slowly toward Aria.

  She shrugged. She didn’t have a death wish, but she didn’t back down even in the face of overwhelming odds.

  “You’ll have to do your worst then, Carrel.” She turned and headed to her truck, unconcerned with whether the woman would attack. They’d fight to the death if she did. “By the way,” Aria turned back. “That woman is under my protection. Go after her again, and you’ll pay a heavy price.” Because Juliet was hers.

  She was her sweet Eliza whose husband she’d killed at Crecy, and her darling Amina, the bold witch who’d saved her at the end of the Inquisition.

  Nothing would part them this time, no matter what.

  Carrel snorted. “This is demon territory, aurai and your bitch is ours. Now give me my weapon, or I’ll finish you, too.”

  With airy quickness Aria was in front of the other woman between the space of one breath and the next. She grabbed her around the throat and heated her hand with the air currents of the south winds.

  “What are you doing—” She tried to scream as her eyes bulged in their sockets from the heat quickly.

  The dark one’s face, reddened and sweat dampened her skin.

  Carrel managed to gather her bearings and strike out with a vine of dark energy. She was able to command the earth, Aria thought as she released the other woman.

  Aria fisted her hand and clenched her fingers. Blue airy energy projected through her skin, a hard gust of heat and fine granules of sand. The energy smashed into the shadow even as she attempted to cloak herself in more darkness.

  Carrel gasped and clawed at her throat. Hard breaths escaping her as the sand burned into her skin, severing her vocal cords. Aria closed the distance between them and drew in the woman’s breath, stealing it from her lungs causing her to suffocate.

  Along with the oxygen in her blood came the power, dark and light. The woman’s power felt warm and with the barest hint of northern winter cold.

  The dark breed sank to her knees, face drenched with sweat. She made a harsh sound and her back bowed as the black energy left her body and settled over Aria in a shower of navy.

  No. The woman’s voice was a telepathic plea for mercy and her black eyes glowed indigo.

  Carrel let out a ragged cry, blood sprayed from her before she collapsed onto her stomach in a lifeless mass at Aria’s feet.

  Something ran up her spine and Aria exhaled roughly and arched her back as energy ran down it.

  “What’s going on ou—oh fuck!” The motel manager came out of the shadows and stood there staring at her as she levitated just inches off the ground. “Shit,” he whispered.

  “Damn,” Aria said out loud.

  The man backed up just as the energy soaked into her and she landed on her feet again. Aria threw out her hand, air rushing toward him. She didn’t have the charisma of the dark breed, but she did have the ability to affect a human’s thoughts. Air was thought and mind.

  “Come here,” she whispered and the wind curled around him and drew him to her.

  He was eye level with her, standing only five-foot-ten like her. Fear was etched on his face, eyes large in his pale skin.

  “What you saw, you didn’t see. You saw a girl dead and a thief running free.” The words were softly said and she formed in her mind the image she wanted him to share with others. A non-descript person that could be male or female.

  “I see,” he said, his voice sounding far-away. Then he went to attend the dead woman.

  Aria hurried to her truck hearing someone else calling out in the lot. She became a shadow of dark wind making herself invisible to the new-comers. She unlocked the door before climbing in as a patron opened his motel room door.

  After starting the engine, she backed out. If that shadow had friends who wanted blood, then she’d be forced to break her own oath and help the Congress track down its witch killers.

  ****

  Voltaire paced now as the evening gave way to the wee hours of morning. His shoulders ached with the tension as the pressure to win his case settled over him. He’d become one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the country and wouldn’t see his name or his company tarnished.

  On top of that, Carrel should have been home by now with their prey’s blood, but there was no sight of her, which made him concerned that she’d been found out and angry that she simply might have betrayed him.

  He hated having to trust these dark breeds, but they were going to be an instrumental part of his success. Then, he’d discard them when the time was right. For now, Necron and Tucker were the ones who had the best rapport with them.

  “Tucker?” He called as he headed out into the hall. “Tucker, get out here.”

  Tucker appeared only seconds later in dark slacks not having been to bed yet either.

  “Has Carrel returned?”

  “No.” Tucker shook his head. “She hasn’t reported in either, so I was about to go out to look for her.”

  “Last known location?”

  “Some bar and grill,” Tucker replied. “Carrel said Juliet was having drinks, and she’d made contact.”

  “Was she meeting someone there?” Voltaire demanded. Any possible suitor would have to be killed to preserve his plan.

  “No. I’ll send Morgan over there and I’ll contact her lover,” Tucker told him and started for the foyer.

  Mid-summer was next week. If they missed it, he would have to merely kill Juliet out right and write her power off. Though he didn’t want to do that, he would still gain pleasure from destroying part of the enemy’s stronghold.

  Chapter Seven

  The sun was barely up when Juliet arrived at work the next morning. She quickly bypassed the alarm and pushed the door open to step onto the thick carpet. As she watched for the alarm’s light to come on again, the murmur of a voice crept down the corridor.

  One of the two cars in the lot was her mother’s, but she hadn’t recognized the other one. That didn’t stop her from making her way to her mother’s office.

  “I need more information,” Samantha said softly. “I can’t inform my family without it.”

  “We don’t have any yet, Sam.” The masculine voice held an edge. Dillon BlueStar was a member of the Witch’s Congress. “We aren’t sure what we’re dealing with. All we have are suppositions.”

  “And you think it’s a dark coven?”

  “Yes.”

  “They must be on a feeding frenzy as they pass through the city,” Samantha said breathlessly.

  “They may not be just passing through,” Dillon replied uneasiness in his tone. “There are indications they are rising again through the military and politics which means it’s possible they’re in the governor’s mansion, the mayor’s office and city council.”

  “That would make them harder to track,” Samantha murmured. “They’ll appear as any normal citizen and are being meticulously careful in where they feed.”

  Even if that was the case, they were connecting with witches somehow, Juliet mused. Because witches were dying, the dark breeds must have an agenda.

  “But last night’s victim wasn’t drained of her life force. She was suffocated,” Dillon told her. “Once we’ve ascertained the meaning of the markings on the witch, maybe we’ll be able to figure out who she is, her coven association, and who might have had cause to kill her.”

  “Do you have a picture of the mark
ings?”

  “Yes. I was hoping you’d be able to help. We’re asking all high priestesses in the area. We’d also like to know the minute you come across any new covens or solitaries.”

  “There aren’t any new witches in this city,” she told him. “I’d know it the minute they moved in. They’re forced to register—dark or light, so we’ll be able to keep better track of them.”

  Her mother was high priestess of the Silken Cord Coven, and she held a position of power in the city’s Witch Council. They were the supernatural governing body of cities and reported directly to the Witch’s Congress.

  “I’ve seen part of the markings before,” Samantha mused. “They were symbols for the dark coven, Dark Crystal.”

  The coven had been notorious for their work as supernatural bounty hunters and assassins but that had been centuries ago.

  “The coven was executed,” Dillon remarked quietly. “Your grandmother was the one who wrote the spells that allowed us to exterminate them.”

  “I remember, but this could be a symbol some of their children are using,” Samantha said. “None of them were killed.”

  “The entire coven was killed. I was on scene for it. No one escaped us.”

  “Maybe the children had already been evacuated. They did have seers, too,” she snapped. “Anyway, each of the thirteen families of the original half-breeds came from old lineages, older than mine and yours. Their magick was formidable and even if the Shadow coven was exterminated there were others who could have adopted the symbol or been connected with the family that took it on as their own.”

  Her great-grandmother had considered the markings power symbols that had added to the half-breeds’ power base. The symbols could be drawn on, but had become part of their DNA over time.

  “Well, that she was killed proves she wasn’t a descendant,” Dillon said dryly. “She wouldn’t have died without putting up a better fight. The witness accounts say the fight was brief.”

  “Still, all witches will be put on alert. The dark breeds only leave death and destruction in their wake according to my grandmother’s journals. So, the Congress needs to deal with this.”

  “Wrong, you do. This is your city. I’ll speak with Declan. I’m sure you can deal with this. Your grandmother did. You still have her grimoire and book of shadows, surely.”

  “We could, but the fact is, this is a Congressional matter as witches have died in more than four cities here and in Mississippi. It could be a simple matter, but it could be a dark breed group seeking to gain power and favor with the dark Congress or its leader.”

  The silence was taut, and she could virtually see Dillon staring her mother down expecting her to fold like a house of cards in a stiff breeze. But Samantha was an immoveable force when she felt she was in the right.

  “Fine, I’ll send a team down to investigate,” he said grudgingly and Juliet’s lips tipped in an amused grin.

  “Good. If that’s all, I need to talk to my daughter.”

  Juliet pushed away from the wall and raced as quietly as she could to her office at the other end of the building. She had calls to make to the event planner they were working with to make sure the building was secure and up to handling a party of the size they planned.

  Her mother would consider her even more incompetent if she didn’t pull this off to perfection.

  She slipped into her office where she opened the shades and sat down at her desk and opened her laptop.

  A rap on her door and a head poked in. “Hello, Juliet.”

  “Hi, Patrick.” She gave her mother’s lover a smile. Patrick and her mother had been friends since Juliet was a child and she wasn’t surprised when they’d become more.

  “How are things going?” he asked.

  “Okay.”

  “Has your mother spoken to you about what’s going on?” he asked.

  She frowned. “What’s going on?” The confusion was rife in her voice

  “Patrick?”

  He shook his head. “I think Dillon has the place bugged or something,” he said. “I’ll see you later.” His blue eyes smiled and he gave her a wave before pulling the door closed and taking off.

  “Juliet, I need to talk to you.” Samantha rapped on her door before bursting in a moment later, her eyes snapping with irritation as she moved gracefully to the guest chair in front of the small desk.

  “I’m not slacking, Mom,” she said defensively. “I have everything under control.” Samantha gave her a curious look and waved her hand before saying, “That’s a small account. I know you can handle it. I need you to do something important this morning.”

  “What?” She asked carefully.

  “Brees is being a hard-ass. She’s refusing to make the dress, so I want you to go over to her office and talk to her.”

  “Why?” she exclaimed. “Mom if you can’t get her to do this I certainly can’t. She’ll take one look at me and know you didn’t send your best negotiator.”

  “Just go over there,” Samantha told her. “Use a little magick to get her to listen if you have to. She’s just a human for crying out loud and your softer approach is probably just what she needs.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” She cringed at the words and her acquiescence.

  “No, but just showing up with confidence will show initiative, and strong women can appreciate that.”

  Juliet let out a sigh as she shook her head. “I don’t know, Mom.” Handling a bridezilla was one thing, but a woman that famous was another. She was likely an unapproachable bitch who’d have her thrown out on her head and that after making her feel like a one-inch tall interloper.

  “You’ll be fine. The shop opens in two hours. I want you there, and be strong.” She held up a fist, as she tightened her lips.

  “I—”

  “You can do this. Consider this a test.”

  That’s what she was afraid of. Her mother was forcing her to prove she was good enough to one day inherit the business, but as her only child, an individual who’d proven competency, she should already be the named heir without question.

  ****

  “Good morning, boss,” Aria’s secretary, Amari, greeted her cheerfully as she entered Aria’s office after a brief knock.

  “Morning,” she replied blandly. “I’m expecting Andi at some point, so just show her in when she arrives.”

  “How was that breakfast meeting?” Amari asked.

  “Fine.” Aria leaned back in her chair, the desk she occupied sat at an angle to prevent neck strain. “So, I’ll be working all day to put finishing touches on this collection.”

  “Ms. Hart called again, this morning, and she’d like a meeting.”

  “Call her back. Tell her to come over within the next hour.” She didn’t have time to do the damned fundraiser and it was time she made it painfully clear.

  “Do you need me to do anything for you? Am I holding all calls?”

  “I’ll take whatever’s important only.”

  “Okay, then. I’m heading back to my desk. Happy designing.”

  “Right,” she said with an amused smile that faded as soon as the door closed behind her secretary. The Witch’s Congress should be on the case by now.

  If they weren’t, it was no skin off her nose, right?

  She rubbed her forehead and got up from her chair. She wasn’t experiencing any ill effects from having absorbed the dark breed’s power. Aria was experiencing the after effects of a night of induced travel down memory lane.

  Juliet’s power had tasted of the power she herself had crafted from the blood and sweat of a fire and earth god she’d killed when she’d spied him watching her Eliza. She’d fashioned his blood and sweat into the watermelon tourmaline, a stone she’d seen once and admired.

  She melded those with the two gold hearts encased in a circle she’d fashioned with some of her own breath. Unfortunately, her sister hadn’t been too happy about that.

  In this incarnation, she’d been born of an aurai and
a venti, the male counterpart of a harpy. Her father had been half witch and half venti. His mother had been a low-level goddess of war who’d enjoyed mating with human males to produce strong warriors, hence the Knights.

  Though she was clearly a witch in this life, too, Juliet had obviously freaked out at the sight of their power, a silver cord joining them once again. She’d known the moment their gazes met in the deli Juliet was her heart, her soul-consort.

  She’d gotten so used to being alone that she’d stopped expecting to find her true love. Finding her like this, and possibly in a situation that would drag Aria back into the world she’d abandoned was a little annoying.

  Her phone buzzed as she basked in the rays of the sun stroking her face. What would it feel like to have Juliet as her sun?

  Get a grip and be glad she ran. She saved you the trouble of calling, she mused. Strolling to the table where she held meetings, she picked up the phone as it buzzed again.

  “What is it?”

  “A Miss Hart from Hartspun, the wedding planner, is here to see you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll see her,” she said coolly. Better to deal with her now and get it over with.

  Aria replaced the phone and remained standing as she waited for the door to open. The woman wouldn’t be staying longer than it took for her to give her the hard and firm brush off.

  The door opened and the leggy beauty stopped like a deer in headlights. The flared green eyes just stared at her as the pink lips parted in obvious surprise.

  Aria’s heart thudded hard and her pulse rushed.

  “Well, come in,” Aria murmured. Wasn’t this a pleasant surprise or something?

  “I—um—you’re A. Brees?”

  Aria lifted her brows in mocking. “Am I that unforgettable? Oh wait—” She paused putting her fingers on her chin. “Wasn’t that you screaming my name and asking for more last night?”

  Juliet’s lips tightened in irritation, and she slammed the door before marching toward her. Every sway of her hips made Aria’s pulse pound a little faster. That fiery look in Juliet’s was like honey and it made her air whistle inside her.

  She wanted to shove Juliet onto her desk and make her come all over her sketches and then do it again before dragging her off to a hotel for the day.