by Laken Cane
So she watched as the man she was crazy about became a beast. Blood slicked his fur and bits of gore clung to his muzzle…he shot his tongue out to clean it off and then turned toward her, his yellow eyes glowing and fierce, and then he pointed his nose at the sky and howled.
She shuddered as his pack milled around him, all shifted, all howling, and she was overwhelmed. She stumbled back into the shadows of the porch and pressed herself against the rough wood of her house.
All she could see was Eli licking gore off his face. Of him sinking his teeth into the throat of the other wolf and ripping it out as Noah screamed.
The wolf was there, suddenly, in front of her, and her terror, the chaos of the wolves, the blood…
It was not only too much for her, it was too much for Sadie and Elmer.
The second before they would have flung themselves at him, and likely been severely injured, she halted them with a single whispered command. “Stop.”
Eli shifted to his human form and stood before her, naked, bloody, and wild.
“Abby.”
He’d shifted, but he hadn’t lost his wolf. It was there in his hungry, ferocious stare, his parted, bloody lips, and the vicious, gaping wounds that decorated his body.
Yes, he’d won, but Noah had been just as vicious and determined and joyful in the fight. At least, he had been for a few minutes, before Eli had gotten serious.
“Abby,” he said, again. He frowned and held out his hand, but she shrank back against the wall and refused to touch him.
His wolves screamed and played and fought, trampling her grass and her flowers, and she put her shaking hands to her ears to muffle their ceaseless snarls and grunts and yips.
“Take them away,” she cried, finally.
He stared at her from eyes that went blank in his expressionless face, and then he turned and shifted back to his wolf, bounded off the porch, and took his pack away.
Away from her.
She slid down the wall to the floor and gathered her hounds to her, nearly certain she would never stop trembling.
He’d killed Noah. In the end, Noah had stopped struggling. He’d given Eli his belly in surrender, and Eli had roared with rage and torn him into pieces.
She leaned to the side and threw up, sick and sad and horrified, and wondered if she’d ever be able to touch the alpha again.
And she wondered if she’d even want to try.
Chapter Two
Abby held her wand between her palms, her eyes closed, and let the power build inside her.
She let it build until the force of it expanded in her body and her mind and she was in danger—actual physical danger—of exploding.
Oh, the power.
She opened her eyes and sent the wand flying into her right hand. Then, with a dance created from obsessive practice and confidence and desperation, she twirled her arm, the wand, and her body, and she released a madly spinning ball of power.
The power—the magic—was visible but likely only to her. It belonged to her. It was her.
Its swirling dark colors were similar to a mass of thunderclouds, and her power filled up the sky.
The mass seemed to inhale, to recede, just for a moment, and then it shot toward the demon witch’s minions with a roar like a thousand screaming tornadoes.
Abby guided that power, her wand steady and sure, and she screamed with glee when the mass consumed her enemies. The heavy, dark fog swallowed the demons, and the acrid, nasty taste of their flesh exploded upon her taste buds.
“Next time come yourself,” Abby shouted. “You’re a coward, Acadia!”
But the demon witch was not weak, nor young, nor powerless, and Abby hoped with everything inside her that the bitch would not show herself.
But she would.
Of course she would.
Her lesser demons had been sent to test the waters.
Acadia was coming.
And Abby would be forced to battle her.
But first, Abby had to get through her demons—and they were far from finished. They burst from the fog in which she’d trapped them, swallowed it, then spat it back out. And straight at her.
“Uh oh,” Abby muttered, and before her anxiety could get the best of her, she drew upon every lesson she’d learned and every shred of power she’d gained during the previous weeks of intensive, nearly nonstop practice. She created an umbrella of protection to shield her from her own returning power.
Power she no longer controlled.
But Abby Cameron had changed since the day she’d stood hurt and helpless and watched as her mother, her sister, and her alpha were threatened by a demon hunter and an empath.
Those days were past.
And Abby was changed.
Better. Stronger.
The demon hunter was a captive of the wolves and the empath was caught in a cell in the pocket. Neither one of them would ever hurt another person.
But Acadia, she would hurt people.
Unless Abby killed her.
But if the demon witch were to show herself, two things would stand in the way of Abby’s goal.
One, Acadia was very, very powerful.
Two, Acadia was immortal.
She would come to kill Abby, but that wasn’t the only reason. It wasn’t even the biggest one. She would come for Jewel, the child Henry had stolen from her.
But she wouldn’t only want her daughter back. She wanted Basilia.
She wanted Abby’s mother.
Abby gathered all the fear, desperation, and pent up rage to her, and she wadded them into a big deadly ball of black power. If she couldn’t get rid of Acadia’s minions, she’d never in a thousand years be able to deal with the demon witch.
She held the power like a sticky net, and caught the rest of her returning power the demons had spat at her. Then she clenched her teeth at the pain such effort caused her, and she flung it at the demons as hard and fast as she could.
It hit them like a bomb, and they exploded into screaming, fiery bits of magic and blood and bone.
And just like that, it was over.
She’d won.
Abby watched for a long moment. Her legs would barely hold her up and her entire body trembled. “But I did it,” she murmured. “This time.”
She ran as fast as she could to her two hounds—Elmer and Sadie—and immediately brought them out of the paralytic state in which she’d placed them.
“It was for your own protection,” she told them, when they climbed groggily to their feet and stared at her with big brown accusing eyes. “I thought it was the demon witch. You would have attacked her, and she would have killed you both.”
They stared, unmoving, not even panting.
Abby held out her arms. “I’m sorry. But I can’t lose you.”
She knew what they’d have said if they could have spoken.
They were her familiars. Their purpose was to take the excess magic, to absorb it so she wouldn’t have to, to take all the hits that would have killed her. It’s why they existed.
But she loved them, and watching them die for her was not something she was willing to do.
No.
Sadie turned up her nose, wheeled around, and galloped away. Elmer gave Abby a sheepish glance, then turned and followed his mate. His long, skinny legs flailed and his ass listed sideways as he ran, and despite the fight she’d just lived through, Abby grinned.
Elmer would always make her smile.
She climbed to her feet, wearily, and made her way toward her little house. She had to see Basilia. To warn her.
For a second she missed Eli with an intensity that hurt.
Acadia was back.
But Abby’s alpha was not.
Chapter Three
Basilia waited just inside the doorway. “Something’s wrong,” she said, when Abby finally stood before her.
“Are you well, Mother?” Abby glanced around, searching the path with a worried gaze. “Where’s Jewel?”
Basilia grasped
her arm. “What’s wrong, Abby? Are you hurt? Has Eli returned?”
Abby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No,” she said, finally. “Eli hasn’t returned. Acadia has returned, Mama.”
Basilia looked at her, uncomprehending. “What did you say?”
“The demon witch is back.” Abby held up her hands to show her mother the burns. “I just fought off her messengers.”
Basilia stared, her mouth closing and opening and then closing again. She looked like a googly-eyed, water-starved guppy. “She’s back. You fought her demons. You…”
“Mama?”
“Oh my sweet bearded garden gnome!” Then Basilia grabbed Abby’s shoulders and began shaking her. “The demon witch? When is she coming?”
“Ow! Mother!” Abby wrenched herself from Basilia’s grip and backed up a couple of steps. “I don’t know when she’s coming! But I’m fine, as you can see.” She softened her voice. “I’m fine, Mama. But we need to talk. We need to plan.”
Basilia put the back of her hand to her lips. She nodded, over and over. “My poor child,” she whispered. “It is not right that the children should pay for their parents’ sins.”
Abby blew on her scorched palms. “I’m okay.”
“Jewel.” Basilia turned around, peering into the shadows cast by the trees on either side of the path. “She’s not safe.”
Abby crossed her arms. “I’ll keep you and Jewel safe.”
“Acadia tested the waters. She’ll be sneakier next time.”
Abby didn’t disagree. “And I will be waiting. Let’s go have some tea.”
Basilia focused on Abby’s face, finally. “Oh, my.” She pulled her into a quick hug. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was out of my mind for a minute. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then come. Let’s sit down and discuss this.”
Just before they reached the house, Jewel stepped out onto the path. “Hello, Sister.”
Abby smiled, her heart lightening at the sight of the girl. Not too long ago, Jewel would have caused her anxiety to flare up. “Hello, Jewel.”
Jewel peered at her, her porcelain face half hidden by tangled black hair. “They hurt you.”
Basilia gasped, and her hand flew to her chest. “They did?”
“No, no,” Abby said. “I’m unhurt. Just some burns to my hands.”
“I have salve,” Basilia said, herding her into her house. “Come to the kitchen.”
But Jewel was not finished. She followed them into the kitchen. “They hurt you,” she insisted.
Both Abby and Basilia paused.
“What do you mean?” Abby pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. She didn’t want to admit that her legs had turned into limp noodles, but…
Jewel stood behind her, then leaned over and wrapped her arms around her. “In your soul,” she murmured. “Where you make your magic.”
Abby shivered. “Those she sent…they’ve weakened me?”
Jewel nodded. “As Acadia wished.”
Why would Acadia need Abby weaker before she struck? Acadia was more powerful than Abby could ever hope to be. Or was she? Maybe something had happened to her over the years. Something that made her less powerful than she once was. “Maybe she is weaker.” she said, aloud, then blew on her hands again.
“I have something for that,” Basilia said, briskly. She hurried to her pantry, opened the door, and disappeared inside its mysterious depths.
Abby groaned. “Mother, please. Your cures are worse than the curses.”
Basilia stuck her head around the doorway, her eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
Abby pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “I said thank you, Mother.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” She disappeared once again.
Jewel giggled.
Abby tugged the girl’s arm. “Sit down, Jewel. I have something for you.” She smiled at the girl’s sharply indrawn breath. “Sit.”
Jewel flew to a chair and sat. “A present?”
“It’s time for one, isn’t it?”
Jewel nodded. “But you just fought the demon witch. I wouldn’t have expected a gift.”
Abby pursed her lips. “I didn’t fight her.”
Jewel shrugged. “By proxy.”
“Whatever. It took no thought to grab…” Abby grinned, then slid a blonde fashion doll from her pocket. “This.”
She’d moved the chest containing the dolls into the spell room, right beside the glowing door behind which her mother and Jewel were forced to exist. It reminded her when she went to visit that a certain half demon was waiting impatiently for her present.
Jewel grabbed the doll. With rapt attention, ran her fingers lovingly over the plastic face, then smoothed the silky hair. Finally, she lifted it to her lips to plant a gentle kiss upon its cold cheek.
Then she twisted its head off. “Oh,” she breathed. “Yes.”
Abby shook her head. “You’re such a freak.”
Jewel only grinned, then slid a small knife from her pocket.
Abby held up a hand. “Do your murdering in your bedroom. You mutilating dolls makes our mother very uncomfortable.”
Not that Jewel had been born to Basilia. She’d been born to the cruel demon witch, Acadia Desrochers. Poor kid. No wonder she liked to torture dolls.
And that made Abby think of the empath Becky Bates. “Jewel, have you been…” She hesitated, unsure of how to ask the question. On the one hand, she wanted to know the answer. On the other hand, she didn’t want to give the little demon any ideas.
But Jewel rifled through her mind, and in seconds, she plucked the question from Abby’s brain.
“No,” she said, calmly. “Mother would punish me if I tortured that woman.”
Abby frowned and shook her head, as though she might dislodge the invading girl. “Stay out of my head. You know I hate that.”
“All right.” Then Jewel stood, clutching her doll, and leaned toward Abby. “Think of it now. Talk about it with Mother before you have to go home and sleep in the dark, alone. It will be worse for you then.”
Abby frowned, confused. “What?”
“The demon witch. The fight. You’re suppressing your thoughts and your fear.” She touched the tips of her cold fingers to Abby’s cheek. “You’ll have nightmares, Sister. Be afraid here, while you know you’re safe.”
Abby nodded. Her sister was right. “I will,” she murmured. And just before Jewel started to walk away, Abby grabbed her hand. “Jewel, be careful. I don’t want to see you in her clutches again.”
Jewel’s grin spread across her face, wide and white. Her eyes sparkled. She took Abby’s breath with her eerie, otherworldly beauty. “You should give me to her. I would make her into my life-sized doll. I would have such fun…”
Then she hurried away, leaving Abby speechless and gaping in the aftermath of her viciousness.
“What’s wrong?” Basilia asked, as she left the cupboard and headed toward the sink.
“Jewel is a scary little thing,” Abby replied.
Could Jewel hold her own against her evil mother?
No. No, she couldn’t.
Acadia had centuries of knowledge, power, and strength behind her.
And Jewel was a child.
Sort of.
“I should think you’d be used to that by now,” Basilia said, putting the kettle on the stove.
“She still manages to surprise me.” She stood and walked to her mother. “Acadia is coming, Mother. Acadia.”
Basilia nodded but didn’t look at her. “I don’t want to think about it, but I know we must. Do you think…”
Abby sighed. “No. I don’t think she knows where Father is.”
Basilia didn’t believe Henry Cameron was dead. She believed he’d show up someday to declare his undying love and save her from the loneliness of the pocket. She believed he loved her still, the way she loved him. That he was simply being kept from her.
A
bby figured he was dead.
If by some chance he were alive, somewhere in the ether, he’d likely forgotten all about his wife and his daughters.
She clenched her fists.
“By the way,” Basilia said, “Becky has been asking for you.”
Abby frowned. “What does she want?”
“She wouldn’t say. I told her…”
“What, Mother?”
“I told her you wouldn’t come see her, and then I told her I’d let you know she needed to talk to you. If you go see her, that’s up to you. Your choice. If you don’t want to—”
Abby shook her head. “She’s getting to you.”
“She’s Becky, sweetheart. You know I loved that child.”
“We both did, but she wasn’t who we thought she was.”
“She is exactly who we thought she was. We just didn’t know who she was would turn on us. And she was misguided.”
“No, mama. She was—is—a psychopath.”
“That man…”
“Mel may have influenced her, but he didn’t hold a gun to her head and make her betray us.” Abby lifted her chin, resolute in her convictions.
Basilia sighed. “We can’t understand that girl’s brain, Abby. She is not like us.” Then she waved an impatient hand. “You’ll need to move in here, Abby. Acadia can’t get into the pocket. Your father made sure we would be safe.”
The abrupt changes of subjects made Abby dizzy, though she was used to her mother’s ways. “No, she can’t get into the pocket.” But she wasn’t as certain as she wanted to be. “She surely can’t. But I can’t stay here. You know the pocket makes me sick.”
“Better sick than dead,” her mother retorted.
“Mother, I’ll have to fight Acadia. I’ll have to kill her.”
Not that either of them believed she could do that.
“Tell me what happened.” Basilia carried a tray to the table. “Sit down, and tell me everything.” She poured some tea, then unscrewed the lid on a tiny pot of ointment that smelled of roses and rain. “Sit.”
Abby sat. “I was making breakfast. I…felt something. Something heavy and dark and…”
“Evil,” Basilia said.
“Yes.” Abby cleared her throat. “Evil. I felt the demons. But they were more than your garden variety demons, and I understood that immediately. I felt her, Mama. I thought…” She swallowed, then took a deep breath. “I thought Acadia was there. Sadie and Elmer went a little crazy. I’d never heard that particular sound from them before. Not ever. They shrieked and howled and spoke, almost.”
