Everwish: The Primati Witches Book One

by Amelia Oz

  We exited into sunshine. As we turned to head back to the hotel, a thin man with shaggy hair touched my elbow. He stepped too close, his long arms swinging restlessly into my personal space as I tried not to react to the overpowering stench of his unwashed body.

  "Do you have a light?" he asked, his tone aggressive. I glanced at the open sores and telltale track marks on his arms.

  "No," I responded, maneuvering around him. "I don't smoke."

  Alaric turned at the sound of my voice just as the man spoke.

  "Bitch." The man spit at the ground.

  Between blinks, the man was dangling against the building by his throat, Alaric holding him with one hand.

  "What did you say to her?" Alaric muttered. The action was shocking enough. The quiet rage in his voice sent icy fingers down my spine. Passing skateboarders whipped out their cell phones and I quickly grabbed at Alaric's arm. The man's face was wild and getting redder by the second. It was clear he couldn't breathe let alone answer the question.

  "Stop! Alaric, stop! Please!" I squeezed his wrist, digging my nails into his flesh when he paid no attention. He exhaled slowly through his nose, his face a cold impassive mask while the man's eyes began to protrude from their sockets.

  "Alaric! Stop this now! You're killing him." My voice was low but panicked. The sudden violence of Alaric's actions was upsetting. This was overkill and he was so immovable. Something in my tone got through to him because he turned and locked eyes with mine. He released the man in one motion, allowing him to fall to the sidewalk in a limp heap. I bent down but refrained from touching him.

  "Are you okay?"

  The man squinted up at Alaric as he rubbed his neck. He gave a jerky nod. A green bill landed on the man's chest.

  "Buy your own damn matches. Don't accost any more women on the street," Alaric warned tightly.

  He lifted me unceremoniously by the elbow. I resisted, furious, yet found myself quickly on my feet. When he allowed me to wrench away, his glare was unapologetic, a muscle jerking in his cheek. After assuring myself that the man was comfortably breathing, I stalked down the street. Several blocks later I cooled down enough to care whether or not Alaric followed. I glanced over my shoulder and spotted him several steps back.

  The pedestrian light flashed a warning to stop, and I turned to face him when he reached my side. His eyes were steady, and I dropped mine to stare at the sidewalk. When I put my hands in my pockets, he mirrored my gesture. I may have overreacted by storming off, but his physical strength and quick moods were putting me on edge. I was struck with how little I knew him.

  He was the first to speak. "I'm sorry."

  "For what exactly?" I questioned. He looked at me stonily until I realized that was all the apology he planned to offer. There was no point in dragging this out. We were about to part ways forever.

  "You might want to look into anger management classes," I suggested.

  He smirked and averted his eyes to the sky.

  "Okay, I'm not sorry. He shouldn't have called you that. If no one checks him, he might feel emboldened to get physical with the next person he perceives as weaker," he said with a cold edge to his voice and eyes. Wow. He was pretty unyielding on his opinions.

  "First of all, who says 'emboldened' anymore? Secondly—I understand and appreciate your defending me if you thought I was in danger. It was just a bit much to hurt him like that."

  "Hurt him? I didn't hurt him. I just made sure he thought about our conversation every time he swallowed for a day or two. That was just being a kind, considerate citizen."

  The man was the very definition of stubborn. I threw up my hands and he met my hard stare with calm confidence. He wasn’t sorry in the least.

  We walked in silence back to the hotel. My steps felt increasingly leadened as I realized each stride brought us closer to goodbye. Instead of returning to the entrance, Alaric led me down the parking ramp into the underground garage. The attendant saw Alaric and rushed to collect his vehicle.

  I told Alaric my address, offering simple directions. I expected the typical rental car. When the attendant reappeared with a rumbling motorcycle, my breath caught.

  "I've never ridden on a motorcycle before." I gasped, my eyes glued to the gleaming metal rolling to a stop. The attendant parked, a huge grin on his face. Alaric touched his hand with cash, and the man accepted it with a laugh.

  "Dude—it was an honor just to ride through the garage. Thanks, man!"

  Alaric’s lips thinned and he ignored the fist the man held out for a bump. The guy took the hint and walked away as Alaric removed a single helmet from the back of the bike.

  "Don't be nervous," Alaric said. "You'll be perfectly safe. Just make sure to lean with me on turns, keep your feet where I tell you and stay still otherwise." He tucked my tote bag into a leather satchel secured to the bike and then turned me towards him, lingering fingertips on my shoulders. He placed the mat black helmet over my head with the visor up as I strained to get a better look. The bike was onyx and steel, its lines both dangerous and beautiful. Like Alaric.

  "Are you okay? I can have a car brought round if you prefer," he offered. Sam would never, in a million years, be okay with me on a motorcycle. He thought they were deathtraps, especially on Portland's often rain-slicked roads.

  "Are you kidding?" I grinned like a maniac and bounced on my toes. He blinked.

  "This is amazing!" I squealed in wild elation as I looked up at him.

  Best. Day. Ever.

  He returned my grin and reached out, brushing my cheekbone with his knuckles. I stopped breathing and he chuckled before seating himself, steadying the bike with sure hands. At his nod, I threw my leg over to straddle the bike behind him, just like I'd seen in the movies. He directed where to place my feet and offered a few more instructions.

  "Don't you need a helmet, too?" I yelled over the bike's raucous growl as he revved the engine. He shot me an exasperated look and grabbed my hands, placing them around his waist.

  Oh. This was better than I could have imagined. I slid as close as possible, for safety's sake, and held his waist tightly. I felt the vibrations of his quiet laughter and wished I had the nerve to lay my head against the tempting expanse between his shoulders.

  Alaric steered us up the ramp and into the streets. It was a short ride onto the parkway, and I thrilled at the sensation of wind ripping at us as we sped up. Once we left the city behind, he drove even faster. I leaned back a bit, feeling the ends of my hair whip back as I marveled at the blurring landscape. We flew past cars and Alaric leaned us expertly around curves and between traffic.

  At one point, a couple of heavy black SUVs with tinted windows sandwiched us. I looked from left to right, wondering at the coincidence. Alaric revved the bike and we quickly outpaced them. The Colombia River came into view, and I couldn't resist the urge any longer. I leaned my head against his back, wishing the barrier of the helmet away.

  Much sooner than I wanted, we were driving up to my house. Alaric slowed the motorcycle to a purr and cut the engine. He held the bike steady as I dismounted and then stood close to me. My legs wobbled a little from the ride, and I couldn't figure out the chin strap. Alaric took over, relieving me of the helmet.

  "You did great. How are you feeling?"

  "Fantastic!" His eyes remained serious, and I realized his mood had changed. Stern Alaric was back. Should I tell him that I’d changed my mind about his help?

  "So, this is where you live." He glanced around, his eyes lingering on the silk-tied eggs that waved in a sudden breeze.

  "It is.” The sense of ending was acute and all encompassing.

  "Take care, Stella. I have some work waiting for me, but I'll be in touch," he said, mounting the bike. For a moment he hesitated, feet planted as he rested one hand on a handlebar, the other on his thigh. I stepped hesitantly towards him and he glanced away, starting the engine.

  "Just make sure you lock your doors tonight." He
looked up at the trees when he spoke, his tone commanding. I watched as he roared down my drive without a backwards glance, waiting until he disappeared from view.

  Loneliness pierced as I swung my new tote bag over a shoulder. There were so many secrets and Alaric was mine. A brief touch of something delicious and special and this sudden ache for him was a small price to pay. I went into the house and called for Sam. The house was eerily silent. I checked Sam's room and then the kitchen, but the house was empty.

  Tracing my steps, I found a note propped up against the salt shaker. Carol had called out and Nancy had taken Sam into town for an early supper and movie. I was torn between feeling glad for him and anxious about Nancy's ability to take care of him while out and about.

  The aloneness I felt was overtaken by an overwhelming desire to feel grass between my toes. I threw my things on the stairs, kicked off my shoes, and walked barefoot outside. The yard was peaceful, the leaves still damp from earlier rain. As I moved off the porch a blue Steller's Jay landed near the glossy green hedges, startling a lean bunny. The rabbit raced across the yard, escaping into the forest. I closed my eyes, raised my face to the sun, and dug my toes into the soft ground. For as long as I could remember, being outside made me feel connected to things greater than my petty problems.

  I imagined energy flowing from the earth, traveling up through me and into the sky. A growing flood of peace began to take the edge off the loneliness. I focused and heard the drone of bees and the tinkling of porch chimes coaxed by the caress of a light breeze. The rumble of a car engine intruded. The occasional backfire burst was familiar, and I lifted a hand over my brow as Silvan's rusted red Subaru Forester came into view.

  As my cousin parked beneath the great oak trees, I went to greet him and stumbled when I saw the person exiting the other side. Amanda! I sprinted to the car and halted within an arm's length of my best friend, shocked at her disheveled state.

  She wore torn grey jeans with a yellow t-shirt and sneakers. Her clothes were dirty and she held her left arm across her waist as if it hurt. The ponytail I'd seen her wear last was now in greasy wisps, and she had scratches on her cheek. She offered me a wry smile, and I didn't know whether to hug or throttle her.

  Deciding to do both, I threw my arms around her before jumping back at her cry of pain. She patted my shoulder with her good hand.

  "Hey, Stella. I think my ribs are cracked."

  "Where have you been? What happened?"

  She glanced at Silvan and then walked beneath the great oaks, peering up at the branches. Silvan came to my side, leaning back to cup his elbows behind him. His thick hair was mussed as usual and he’d changed into one of his endless supplies of black t-shirts and grey jogger pants.

  "I found her hiding in my backseat."

  Amanda wandered aimlessly across my yard, her head turning in different directions as if listening for something. We watched her, my heart pounding in both relief and confusion at her odd behavior.

  "Did she say what happened?"

  Silvan shrugged. "The only thing she told me was that she was punished."

  My skin crawled. George and Marion Nightingale were kind people. I couldn't imagine them ever hurting Amanda. Silvan kept talking as we walked.

  "I asked her why and she said only one word. She said your name, Stella."

  Chapter 17

  Strength Reversed

  Alaric

  y men were waiting for me at the end of Stella's driveway. I signaled for them to follow and rode several miles before pulling over at a closed logging facility. The black Escalades parked, their engines running. The windows rolled down as I approached.

  "Is there a reason you decided to become obvious?" I asked darkly. My anger was self-directed but the guard who paled in the driver's seat of the first car didn't know that. I'd been so wrapped up in Stella that I'd forgotten to notify my team to stand back. For brief moments it'd only been Stella and the Pacific Northwest landscape. Then the Escalades had levelled out with us on the highway, bringing me back to reality and my responsibilities. I only hoped Stella hadn't noticed them.

  "Sir—" the man's mouth gaped, but then he said soberly, "Grayson notified us that Queen Clara found the girl's friend. He asked us to find you as you'd requested an immediate update. Apologies if we were indiscreet."

  The highly skilled soldiers in the second vehicle wore identical expressions to the first. They were too well trained to reveal the heightened anxiety my displeasure was causing, yet the scent of fear, betraying tics and tell-tale gleam of perspiration on their muted faces revealed their state. I stepped away from the car, only to realize upon release that my grip had indented the door's window frame. To his credit the driver kept his gaze trained on my face.

  "Where is Clara?"

  "Waiting for you at a motel, Sir. I sent the location to your phone." I checked, recognizing the area. It was definitely not a place I imagined Clara would visit willingly. This team was new in rotation and I wanted their respect, not fear. Humans were not as noticeable as my Primati soldiers when dealing with mortals, but they required more patience. I peered into the distance, speaking quietly.

  "Return to Grayson. I need one of you to return the bike to the garage. I'll check in later." I caught myself and made eye contact. "Good work." I said. The men nodded and a volunteer stepped out to take careful possession of the motorcycle. I watched in silence as they returned to the road.

  The lumberyard was filled with hundreds of enormous, stripped logs, many already chained on trucks for transport. I moved between rows of the damp, fragrant wood, avoiding the human security cameras I'd noted when we'd entered the lot. Stella was on my mind. Her fearless enthusiasm, her quicksilver moods, and her surprising appreciation for zombie films. The way her eyes lit up with mischief, and the way she'd fiercely protected that drug user from me, even after he'd assaulted her. Her arms holding me tight while she laughed without care into the wind. The lost look on her face when I'd left her. Creator help me. I was falling for my brother's claimed queen and Murad rarely changed his course once his mind was made up. Closing my eyes, I transferred.

  * * *

  I held myself as shadow for a moment, observing. The sky was grey and the motel's parking lot held a smattering of cars and a cluster of smoking men. A man and woman exited a room on the ground floor, objects in their hands. They left the door ajar, a sickly yellow light illuminating the doorway. I found Clara sitting in her red Mercedes, facing the motel room. I appeared next to her, startling her in the midst of raising a cup to her lips.

  "Damn you!" she hissed.

  "You called." I responded dryly.

  She patted her dark jeans, brown splotched white blouse, and splattered steering wheel with paper napkins, the scent of coffee redolent in the air.

  "A little warning!" She glared, but there was little heat to it. She tossed the napkins in the backseat and leaned back in her seat. Her mass of hair was twisted into a tight ballerina bun, highlighting the strain in her pretty face.

  "What's happened, Clara?"

  "Do you see that room over there?" She nudged her chin in the direction of the action, her hands gripping the leather steering wheel. I nodded.

  "That sorcerer, the one you released from the forest? He was holding Stella's friend Amanda there. My witch. Mine. My people found her two hours ago, and it looks very much as if he planned to kill her. I rendered him unconscious with a sleeping spell and wrapped him in enchanted chains, sent a message to Grayson and dropped Amanda off at her mother's store." She lowered her chin. "When I returned to question him...he'd escaped. He’d been alone in that room with three of my clan watching from outside."

  I held still, considering her words. I disappeared in a flicker, finding Grayson and instructing him to triple the shadow guards surrounding Stella's property immediately. I reappeared in the passenger seat next to Clara. She was still staring hard at the activity across from us. Clara was clearly unnerved. I made an en
couraging sound and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

  "We'd turned off the lights and sealed the room from the outside. He should not have been able to move an inch from the seat we placed him in. No one has ever escaped my holding chains. Ever. He had help, Alaric. Someone very strong."

  That help would have to be extremely powerful to get the drop on Clara. This explained her agitation. I thought back to that afternoon on the river. Had I been so bothered by seeing Stella that I had overlooked the sorcerer as a threat? If so, this was on me. Stella was a distraction I had to purge.

  "Did you recognize who it might be?"

  "I had a faint sense of recognition to the power used but it was concealed. Like a memory copied a thousand-fold and mixed with other signatures—it was too faint and meant to elude me. I'm worried, Alaric." She released the steering wheel and crossed her arms over her middle as if cold. "He was questioning Amanda about Stella."

  Chapter 18

  Strength

  Stella

  he moment we crossed the threshold into the house, I shut the door and secured the lock. Amanda bended with a wince while Silvan headed towards the kitchen.

  "Can I have some water?" She was pale, with violet circles beneath her eyes. I noticed blue and plum bruising around her neck. The sight left me nauseous and freshly angry. Whoever made those marks would have to die. I hoped she was ready to tell me everything.

  "Of course." I followed her as she made her way to the kitchen. She knew her way around, but I pulled a chair out and then poured her a glass of cold water from the fridge. She gulped it greedily.

  "Here you go." Silvan extended a baggie of ice covered by a dishcloth. Amanda placed it against her neck.