Wreathed in Flame (Faith of the Fallen Book 3)

by Cassandra Sky West

She hugged him back, a strange sense of belonging washing over her. She didn’t remember his face, or his voice, or anything about him. But even if her mind didn’t remember him, her heart did.

  “Where have you been?” He pulled back, looking into her face, seeming to search for answers in her eyes. “What happened to you?”

  What could she say? There was no lie she could tell that would explain her absence. All that she had was the truth.

  “I don’t remember.” She shook her head, tears welling up. “I woke up in the basement of a nightclub, about a year ago, I didn’t… I didn’t even remember my own name.”

  “But…” his brow furrowed. “You do now, right?”

  She only stared at him.

  “You remember me, don’t you, honey?” he whispered.

  The stark, naked hope in his face was more than she could bear. “I’m so sorry,” she said, tears sliding down her face.

  The sound of squealing tires down the street brought her back to herself, and all the sudden, she could smell it…

  Cigarettes and wet dog.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again to her father, horrified at what she was about to do.

  Alexi shoved him back. “Get away from me, weirdo. What the hell do you want from me? Don’t touch me!”

  Turning, she stalked away from the speechless man just as a van screeched to a stop beside her.

  The doors flung open and Rayburn and three of his people climbed out. The smell of cheap cigarettes and beer washed over her.

  “Do you people ever bathe?” she wrinkled her nose.

  Rayburn’s expression of surprise melted into a savage grin. “Well, today’s me lucky day.”

  “Whatever your beef is with me, you really want to do it here? With all these normals?” Alexi waved a hand at the docks, willing her father to stay back. Rayburn hadn’t made the connection between them, and Alexi desperately hoped it stayed that way.

  “Why would I care?” Rayburn snarled. “I came hunting a bounty, and I get you. God must love me.”

  “I’m surprised, Rayburn. I thought your boldness ended with kidnapping children. You might not be the piss-swilling coward I thought you were.” Alexi shucked her jacket hurled it at the closest man.

  She followed just behind it, not waiting for him to react. Her heel slammed into the soft spot under his ribs.

  Someone grabbed her hair and flung her back against the railing. Aluminum bars bent under the force of the impact.

  If she weren’t under sunlight, or freshly fed, she might be able to make a go at these fools. As it stood, her primary goal was escape. She shook her head to clear her vision, one of the wolves clutched his stomach as he rolled around on the ground.

  The woman who had hurled her against the railing snarled at her. Alexi ignored her, pulling herself to her feet.

  “Why are you here, Rayburn? The troll’s dead, there’s no more money in it for you.”

  Rayburn spat on the ground next to her. “I don’t know what trick you used to kill him, but it won’t help you here. We’re going to rip you apart.”

  She had to end this, and quick. There were people stopping to stare, and the police would be here soon. Rayburn wasn’t above killing random people.

  “I’ve got a job to do, and it just so happens that you’ve got our mark’s smell on you. So, either you know where she is, or you know where she’s been. Fess up and we’ll go easy on you.”

  “Rayburn…” The woman who was with them cast her eyes nervously to the side and back to look directly at Alexi.

  “What, love?”

  Alexi calmed her breathing. The wolf she downed put a hand underneath him to push himself up. A plan formed in her head, but she would have to be quick.

  “I thought you said she was a vampire.”

  “Yeah—so what? We can take a hundred of those…” The words died in his mouth as realization hit him.

  Alexi grinned and sprinted at him. The woman lunged for her. She ducked, then shot up to snag the neck of the man she’d downed. He howled as she swung around, wrenching his neck with her momentum.

  The two of them slammed into the side of the van, cold metal pressed against her face. Wrenching the man’s head to the side, she sunk her fangs into his neck.

  Time seemed to stand still as she drained him. Power, raw and humming, flowed into her. It had been a year since she fed on Victor. She had forgotten the wellspring of energy a werewolf could provide. Her mind linked with the wolf she fed on, in the empathic way she did with all her victims.

  He wanted to die. Shame, guilt, horror—it permeated his existence. Shattered glimpses of the decent man he had once been filtered through their link. Then, the horrible things he had done since his first shift. Part of her longed to grant his request, to drain him until his heart stopped and not a single drop of blood remained.

  You’re not a monster, Alexi! Fight! She didn’t know if it was her thought, or her memories that spoke. It was enough to bring her back to herself. Alexi pulled away.

  A second later, a fist smashed against her forehead. Alexi jerked back, lifting her prey as a shield. More punches and kicks rained down on her, but they were to no avail. Connected to the wolf as she was, she could heal any wound.

  She only needed a few more seconds. The flavor of his life was stained, but the blood did its job. She dropped the man. He didn’t make a sound as he hit the pavement.

  Alexi dragged her sleeve across her mouth. “I forgot how tasty you dogs are.”

  Rayburn’s companions seemed frozen in their tracks, but he wasn’t. He charged. Alexi ducked his jab and came up with an uppercut that rocked him back ten feet. Despite the odds being more even, she doubted she could pull the same trick twice. They were already shaking off their malaise. If they all charged her at once, they would rip her apart.

  Rayburn struggled to his feet. Alexi ran at him, slapping aside a blow from the other wolf. She dropped into a slide and nailed his knee with her heel. He howled in pain as he toppled sideways. Alexi rolled over and brought her knee down hard on his solar plexus. His sharp cry told her she had hit the right spot.

  She slapped him hard across the face with her open hand. “Coward,” she spat at him. Their fight wasn’t going to end here. They’d meet again, and when they did, she needed him so angry at her that he couldn’t think straight.

  In his eyes, she saw the rage. Had she not knocked the breath out of him, he would have shifted right there.

  Before any of his pack could react, she leaped up and ran. Three steps to the rails and she was in the air. Three seconds of freedom, followed by the crash of her body hitting the cold sea water.

  “Damn!” Rayburn screamed as his bloodied fist came down on the railing. Aluminum and concrete shattered.

  “Rayburn,” Amber barked as she heaved Carter up over her shoulder. The wolf hadn’t regained consciousness, who knew if he ever would? “We have to go.”

  “Dammit,” he screamed kicking the railing one more time. He’d thought he was done with her. Kill the faerie, make some money. Once again, here she was interfering with his business.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. Rayburn spared one last look to the water below—nothing. He climbed into the passenger seat and banged his hand on the dash. “Go, damn it!”

  He seethed as they peeled off. There was nothing to connect him to the van. People could take pictures all day long. At best they would think it was staged. At worst… fodder for the conspiracy nuts.

  None of that concerned him. But the vampire… that was a different matter. How could she be out in the sun, if she was a bloodsucker? And she had to be, after what she did to Carter. What was she?

  Damn it, he swore again, silently. He could still smell her. It was like he was cursed. He followed his prey’s blood to Capitol Hill, then to here. And now all he could smell was… he looked down to his hands. His fist was covered in blood. Her blood.

  Rayburn barked out a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”


  “I have her scent.” Rayburn split a vicious grin. “Maybe we got the wrong target, but I bet those bastards will pay a bonus for this one.”

  “No, you’re doing it wrong,” Illyana said for the tenth time that night. She wanted to draw her dagger and spill the idiot’s blood. She imagined doing so. Then reality set in. She had no dagger. No power. No demon to draw upon. Only her wits, and her will to survive.

  “Kara, dear. If the circles aren’t perfectly unbroken when you draw them, then they will not work. Let me show you.” Illyana slid down to sit cross-legged on the floor of the yoga studio. Seven of her students were there, all wanting to learn the ways of the craft. She could teach them only a few things of course, nothing truly powerful. Since she vowed to follow her daughter’s path, she elected to start with teaching them defense.

  Two hours later, the last girl left, closing the door behind her. Illyana sighed. She trudged to the closet to find the broom, and start cleaning the floor. Her first class was at seven in the morning, and if she hurried she might get six hours of sleep before they started arriving. It had certainly taken her time to build up a reputation, but eventually she had a steady client base, and that meant enough money to keep the lights on.

  She laughed out loud. The humor of the situation not lost on her. With her knowledge and power, she could turn lead in to gold, make a man do whatever she pleased, and storm the very gates of Heaven if she wished.

  All she would have to do was sacrifice a human being.

  How… how had Savanna done it? There must be a way to know. Could it have been an accident?

  In the four years since her daughter had fled, killing Illyana’s coven and their demons, Illyana had hunted her. She had enslaved werewolves, killed other witches, and tried to sacrifice Savanna herself, all to have her power returned. Without her demon, she had to draw on her own blood for fuel… and that took its toll.

  Except when Savanna did it.

  “You’re a very beautiful woman, indeed,” a melodic voice said behind her. Illyana spun, her hands flying to form a ward of defense. Anyone who could sneak up on her would most certainly be using magic.

  There were two men—twins—dressed in spotless mid-gray suits, brown monk strap shoes, and green ties. The only difference between them that she could see was their long brown hair. One wore his in a tight ponytail. The other let his flow over his shoulder.

  “There’s no need for that, Illyana,” the pony tail spoke. “I’m Shaughn, and this is my brother Thaughn.” He gestured to the man beside him.

  Illyana’s blood ran cold. She sensed it the moment she turned—magic. Powerful magic poured off these two. If she focused and let her vision slip to the other sight, she knew exactly what she would see—fae.

  “Forgive me gentlemen, I didn’t hear you come in. I’m afraid Yoga classes are all done for the night,” she said with a forced smile.

  Damn it. She needed a plan. Faeries were notoriously private. Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t show she knew what they were. Trying to seem casual, she turned back to the closet.

  “We’re not here for the yoga, lovely. We’re here for you.” The voice that spoke this time was similar… but somehow more musical. She wracked her brain for the names. She’d met many fae in her time—enough so that she was fairly confident when dealing with them. But that was when she controlled a demon.

  “Then I’m afraid I’m not sure how I can help you.” Her hand found the broom and she turned around.

  One of the faeries was just behind her. She hadn’t heard him move. He leaned up against her, lips only inches from hers. His brown eyes were large enough to swallow her whole. Illyana broke out in a cold sweat, her heart lurching.

  “You’re an uncommonly beautiful woman,” he whispered, his fingers stroking her red hair, tracing down the line of her jaw to her tracing down the lines of her red hair to her collarbone, and then… lower. His hand finally found hers, and he slid his fingers through hers. Fire burned wherever he touched, setting off a desire she hadn’t felt in decades.

  “Th-thank you,” she stammered.

  He looked in to her eyes, and all Illyana could imagine was what it would feel like to kiss him. Somewhere in a distant part of her mind, she screamed at herself to snap out of it. To get a hold of herself. This wasn’t real. This was wrong.

  “I need your services, little witch. I need what only you can provide.” His lips brushed against hers.

  Goosebumps rippled up Illyana’s arms, almost painfully, and a shudder rippled through her.

  Glamour.

  “Please, tell me,” she found herself saying.

  “I need to find someone.” His arm slid around her, and he pulled her close. She melted into him with a sigh.

  Glamour!

  “I need to control your daughter. I need her to get to Alexi.”

  She couldn’t trust her voice to speak. Instead she nodded.

  GLAMOUR!

  His lips touched hers again, and this time he kissed her. Sparks roared into fire, and she couldn’t think.

  No. No. No.

  Illyana tore herself free with all her strength, and shoved him away. She tore one long nail across her wrist, ripping through the skin. Blood spattered as she spoke the words of power.

  A barrier sprang up between her and the faerie, and like a splash of cold water, all the desire his glamour had created in her vanished.

  “I told you she was the one,” said the other faerie.

  “Of course she is,” said the one who had enchanted her. “Bring us your daughter, witch.”

  His voice rang in her ears, and an echo of desire ran through her blood. Her heart beat faster. His glamour was so strong that she could feel it even through the shield, but it could not control her.

  “Never,” she spat at them, pressing her fingers against her wound to draw more blood.

  “You spent years trying to kill her. We don’t even want her dead… we just need her as bait. What’s the harm, witch?” He gestured, and suddenly he held a bag in his hands. He shook it, and the sound of coins reached her ears. “We pay well.”

  “If I could undo what I did to her, I would,” Illyana said. “I know where I’m bound, once I die, but I swear I will never hurt her again. Now get out.”

  Thaughn sighed. “How disappointing. Change is impossible, lovely. You should know that. You’ll never be more than demon spawn—but now you’re helpless, and the world no less dangerous. We can protect you.”

  Illyana began another chant. Fire welled up in her, the floor she stood on blackened.

  They vanished.

  She blinked several times. The pain in her wrist reminded her to focus. She didn’t have long. She could feel her limbs weakening by the second. She ran to her office, feet sliding in the blood as she threw open the door.

  She yanked open drawer until she found gauze and a bandage. Savanna was too far away for her telepathy to work, even if her daughter allowed it. She needed to call someone to warn her daughter.

  She replayed the meeting in her mind as she bound her wound. The fae were crafty, but she was sure she hadn’t agreed to anything. Even under their influence, they would take any agreement as binding, but she hadn’t said anything that would compel her.

  They had promised protection from… dangers. What dangers? No one knew who she was, or where she lived—except Savanna and her girlfriend. What danger could they have meant?

  A howl split the night air.

  Oh, no.

  Ringo had survived that night, all those many months ago. A lifetime, it seemed. They’d fled the sacrificial spot after Alexi wounded her. The enchantment was too weak to bind him—just strong enough to keep him from killing her, but not enough to hold him by her side. He’d left her for dead on the side of the road.

  If he was alive now, she couldn’t imagine how desperately he’d want vengeance on her for what she’d done to him and his pack.

  Illyana grabbed her purse and was halfway to the door wh
en the office window exploded inward. A nightmare wolf the size of a small car flattened her desk. Drool splattered the hardwood floor.

  The door banged open. A man raised a shotgun, leveled at her chest. Illyana tore the bandage from her wrist.

  “Too late for that, pretty lady,” he said, his voice thick with the south. The blast of the shotgun was the last thing she heard.

  “So… a rich great-uncle has suddenly died?” Caitlin prodded again. “You’ve met some 90-year-old movie producer who thinks you’re cute? What is it?”

  Savanna laughed. They stood in the middle of a spacious, airy condo that cost more per month than most people made in two. Immense windows let in a flood of natural light, and the view of the city was amazing.

  “Apparently, I’m really good at my job,” Savanna said with a smile, doing a little twirl across the polished hardwood.

  When Warren asked her to look after Tink, she’d been forced to admit that they were about to lose their house in Tacoma, because they couldn’t meet the rent.

  Warren had only stared quizzically for a moment, and then procured a sack of coins no bigger than her hand. “This should cover it,” he told her. “At least until I’ve figured out how to get her home.”

  He wrapped Tink up in a blanket, and put her in his car, which was also on loan to Savanna for the time being.

  The coins he gave her weren’t U.S. currency, that was for sure—but it turned out the Grennick was more than happy to change the gold into cash. Even after the little goblin took his cut, there was enough left over for Savanna to live off for… well, a long time, and in style, too.

  Caitlin had been her next call, and in less than a half-hour, they were standing in a huge, vacant condo that was nicer than anything Savanna had ever lived in.

  “So, this is the sixth floor,” Caitlin said. “I’m on the eight, if you need anything.”

  “You live here?”

  Caitlin laughed—a cheerful, infectious sound with a snort in the middle. “Oh, hon, I own the building.”

  Savanna’s eyes must have been as wide as saucers, because Caitlin flushed a little. “Never mind that. I’m glad you called. I hope this means we’re friends. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me again… or the rest of us, after the other night.”