Everwish: The Primati Witches Book One

by Amelia Oz

  I turned away, haunted by Stella's indelible scent of freesia and sunshine. I could still feel the silk of her skin, the white glow of her aura as she cried out beneath my lips at her throat. I wish there was some way to bind the memory of her touch. The exact sensation of her skin so easily touching mine that I might recall it after she was gone from my reach. I locked my distracted musings away with great effort; there was work to be done.

  I'd thought to work off the intense emotions Stella generated by continuing my interrogation of Marcus's follower, but he'd denied me that pleasure. As soon as he shared a name—Marcus—a mind spell exploded as effectively as a cyanide pill crushed beneath a tooth. The man was a shell, and his heart would soon stop beating.

  I stepped into the next room and ordered my cadre to fire up the incinerator and dispose of the body. They moved quickly to follow my directions, and I transferred to a place far away from New York City.

  The wind was sharp and cold on this high hill outside of Istanbul. The Bosphorus gleamed in the night air below, separating me from the distant hills of Russia. This small island once held an effective military fortress capable of stopping any ship foolish enough to attempt passage. I turned to behold the crumbling remains of the stone fort that had once housed hundreds of my soldiers. Voices rose from a modern military base far down the hill, yet I ignored them, marching toward the ruins.

  It was dark and darker still inside the decaying building. Broken stones were covered in bird droppings and disturbed bats flapped overhead as I began to dig in the eastern corner. In time my efforts revealed a smooth stone with a partial seal still legible. I lifted the stone and peered into the dark chamber below. I hesitated, steeling myself to see something I hadn't unearthed for hundreds of years. Taking a breath, I dropped through the hole into a small, reinforced chamber. My vision was acute in the blackness, and relief swept through me to see the medium-sized box unmolested.

  Opening the lid, I gazed upon the last memories of my mother.

  Her favorite sea silk scarf called to me yet her fragrance was no more. My goal, a large jewelry case, soon weighted my hands. I raised its dusty lid and eyed the contents. Lila had lovingly wrapped each of my mother's favorite pieces in fabric, saving them from the harem's greedy fingers. I'd been a boy, unable to guess how much it would mean to me one day to possess her favorite objects. I unwrapped each cloth sachet, pausing briefly over a pair of dangling gold ear drops I remembered from my childhood. When a velvet bag revealed my mother's gold and sapphire ring, I relaxed. Stella said she had no engagement ring from Murad. I would give him this to present to her. The sapphire would match her eyes.

  Placing the ring in my pocket, I focused my attention on the mother-of-pearl box that held her tears. Opening the box, I gazed upon the physical embodiment of my mother's sorrow. No one could explain the magic that had turned her tears to raw diamonds, yet Lila had collected them for me to keep. The box was half full. I did not touch their milky white surface, grief and guilt rising as ghosts to stay my hand. I had only ever parted with one. That one had gone to Lila's brother as a token of gratitude many years ago. I closed the box and returned the items to their hiding place.

  I made certain the vault was utterly concealed with large boulders before I was satisfied. I owned this island and leased it privately to the state for the operation of a small Turkish military base below to ensure this historic place remained undisturbed. Such personal things did not belong in a cold bank treasury. I took in the silent hills and decided to visit an old friend. Closing my eyes, I shifted into the beast and transferred to the demon realm.

  I found Jon standing over a fresh grave. The sky was red, with a skyline that burned with the ferocity of summer wildfires in all directions. Fine metal rain showered the landscape. It would have melted the flesh of mortals, yet my skin was impervious to it.

  "What do you want?" Jon asked flatly.

  "Who have you buried, old friend?" Jon's shoulders tightened at the words "old friend." Demons did not bury their dead. They burned them in the only fire strong enough to do so, Lucifer's Pit. This was unusual.

  "My wife. A hybrid who was not strong enough for this plane—yet forbidden to the mortal plane you protect so well," Jon said bitterly. His wife must have been unstable. Demons who could pass as human and who demonstrated compassion for humans and self-control were allowed on the mortal realm. Even then, they were watched closely and tasked with specific work on behalf of the Primati. Hybrids, a forbidden mix of demon and human DNA, did not live much longer than humans did. Jon himself was the only exception I knew of. He appeared human, yet had demonstrated the longevity of a demon. Which wasn't that long when you considered most got themselves killed within their first century. Jon was closer to my age, which said a lot for his moderate temper and cleverness.

  "I'm sorry for your loss," I told him finally. He rose and faced me. A fresh scar cut across his face, marring the visage of the blonde Bulgarian I remembered. He noticed where my gaze landed and laughed roughly.

  "Got this trying to save her from mercury demons. Someone is stirring them up, and they are more aggressive than usual," Jon explained wearily.

  "As long as they stay on this plane I cannot interfere. You’ve exiled yourself, Jon. Three hundred years is a long time. You are welcome—needed—on the mortal plane right now," I told him.

  "How's that? Your brother is a real bastard, and I don't see that changing anytime soon," he said, spitting on the ground. I pulled on deep reserves of patience. Jon was a rebel who chaffed at the law and order Murad had implemented.

  "One of Lila's daughter's survived. Her last descendant is a seventeen-year-old girl who is in danger. I can't be everywhere at once and need someone I trust at my back."

  "How is that possible? The last time I saw Lila your brother had her locked in a box."

  "She was. I can share the tale on our return. You'll need acclimating to the age, and I can have a safe house at your disposal while you get up to speed. In the meantime, do you feel up to helping me negotiate for dragon yew? Clara needs it and it will heal your face."

  His expression softened at Clara's name. Jon looked at his wife's grave and his shoulders squared. "I make no promises but I'll help you find the dragon yew. For Clara," he clarified gruffly.

  I nodded and he held out his arm in silence. I clasped his forearm and transferred us to the rocky cliff where the dragon yew tree grew. We were instantly surrounded by fire leopards. The cats grew upwards of four hundred pounds, their white fur streaked with grey markings. They could withstand extreme temperatures, ate a diet of pure meat, were highly intelligent and absolutely fearless; even I did not relish the sting their razor talons could inflict.

  "You know the price," came a voice. I glanced behind us as a short demon approached. His skin could have been leather, his eyes completely black. The Keeper.

  I nodded but allowed Jon to negotiate with the demon while I eyed a fire leopard that had crept too close. The females were larger than the males, their talons sharper and this one was pregnant. She came to my waist, and I stilled as she sniffed my clothes, prepared to call up Michael's sword if attacked. Another fire leopard drew near and she snarled at him, flashing her claws in warning. He screamed at her in a bloodcurdling shriek, yet heeded her warning, pacing away. Satisfied her claim was established, she rose on her hind legs and sniffed at my chest. Shocked, I looked over at the two demons discussing price. They'd stopped speaking, the Keeper's jaw unhinged. Fire leopards were only known to touch if you were locked within their jaws. I remained as stone, showing no fear.

  The female ran her nose across my throat before licking the area over my carotid artery. I tensed, prepared to rip her in two, but she dropped to the ground and sauntered away. The other leopards followed suit. The demon stared at me in astonishment before holding up two fingers. Two drops of my blood for the dragon yew. It was a bargain.

  Chapter 24

  The Magician Reversed

&
nbsp; Stella

  rayson said the entrance to Jing San's apartment was in the library, so that was the first place I searched. The large room was eerily still; only the steady tick of an antique mantel clock disturbed the quiet. I studied the room. No obvious sign of a door other than the entrance. Channeling Nancy Drew, I examined the wainscoting along each wall, searching for a crack of any kind that would indicate a secret room. I spent the most time on the fireplace. Nothing. I searched the bookshelves, pulling ancient-looking literature and first editions out at random. Amanda would flip over these if she saw them.

  This was much harder than the movies, where people tipped over a candelabra and a whole wall swung open to reveal a cobweb draped passage. Frustrated, I slumped on the low red sofa facing the fireplace. I pinched my lips with my fingers, considering the marble mantelpiece. It was modern, without any ornamentation that could be disguised as levers or buttons. My eyes wandered, and I paused at two landscape oil paintings hung one on top of the other on the far wall. They depicted the same farm fields at both sunset and sunrise.

  The wall was dark wood, and within a gap between the frames was a small brass knob. I jumped up and hurried over to touch it. Holding my breath, I slowly twisted. Nothing happened. I tugged, and the wall swung forward, becoming a door. Jackpot. Modern lights switched on automatically, revealing an elegant hallway with striped wallpaper. I stilled, expecting an alarm to trip, but several long minutes later the hall remained quiet. The last thing I wanted was Alaric to show up after our tense exchange and find me being nosy.

  Grabbing a pillow from the sofa, I wedged it into the doorway before I crept down the secret hallway. It led directly to another door and I cautiously turned the handle. An opulent room of red came into view. The walls were lined with bookshelves—another library? I tiptoed across the threshold and spied a low wooden table placed in the center of the room, surrounded by round pillows on the floor. Otherwise the room was empty of furniture. Framed ink drawings of samurai warriors shared space with hooks holding sharp-looking weapons. The swords were a giveaway. This was Jing's place, alright.

  With an eye to the far doorway, I ambled over to the shelves to check out her reading material. Lots of history books, particularly on battles, the silk trade and ancient Japan and China. Loads of books on swords. I moved to the next wall and drew up short. Hello.

  The entire wall was filled with paperback romance novels. I laughed quietly. Wait until Silvan hears...And just like that I remembered there was no Silvan to tell about Jing San's improbable reading material. Taking a deep breath, I inspected the books and finally selected one with a torrid cover of a pirate holding a damsel in an off-the-shoulder dress.

  I moved to the coffee table, placing the four plump pillows in a row before lying down on my makeshift bed to read. I woke when a slight sting bit into my throat. I brushed it away, but my hand met cold, hard steel. My eyes flew open. Jing San stood over me, a very long and sharp-looking sword in her hand. She appeared furious; her lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

  I yawned. "Nice digs?"

  "I should slit your throat. It would save us all so much trouble," she hissed. The cold tip of the sword pressed harder. I put my hands up, wishing I wasn't flat on my back.

  "You could do that. Except it would make an awfully big mess on this nice wood floor," I pointed out, patting it next to me. The muscle in her jaw jerked. She glowered at me for an uncomfortable minute before pulling the sword from my flesh. I expelled a quiet sigh of relief.

  "There is that I suppose. I would need to get the floors refinished, and I hate the mess of a remodel. Contractors and dust everywhere," she said moodily.

  I nodded in agreement. She released her tense pose and picked up the book from the floor. Her cheeks reddened and she swung the sword expertly in a flashing arch. I remained motionless.

  "So, you've been nosing around. Spying on people. I think I liked you better comatose and depressed."

  I flinched, although she was completely right about the spying. I'd been a total creeper. I also couldn't keep my big mouth shut.

  "I see you like romance novels. I think I read that whole series of Sweet Valley High over there myself about five years ago," I replied, stifling a smirk. Cold steel rested alongside my neck in a flash and I swallowed hard.

  "You will not, under any circumstances, tell anyone about my books. If I even hear a hint of a rumor about this, I will cut you into such tiny pieces, only plankton will be able to swallow your bits from the ocean floor. Understood?" she asked coldly. I nodded. Fully understood.

  "Say it."

  "I promise not to tell anyone you like cheesy, mushy romance novels with pirates who rip ladies clothes off." Her lips quivered. I grinned impishly and just like that she decided not to murder me. At least I hoped not today.

  "Where is Alaric?" She returned the sword to its place on the wall. Hurt swamped and I waved a hand while shrugging as if to say, how would I know? She must have seen something in my eyes because she only nodded and offered her hand. I took it and she brought me easily to my feet. For such a small girl, Jing was very strong.

  "So, this is your apartment?" I asked, fascinated.

  "While I'm in New York City. And I'm not giving you a tour. This is the only room you will ever see, so don't ask," she said.

  Darn it. My eyes flickered with longing towards the open doorway leading to the rest of her apartment. "Can I use your bathroom?"

  "No. Go back and use your own."

  "Please? It's an emergency," I wheedled, hopping a bit. She sighed.

  "You can see one bathroom and that is all. You will follow me and you will not wander," she demanded, her tone deadly.

  "Of course!" I said with a casual eye roll. Her brows lowered in suspicion, but she escorted me from the room. We entered a hallway and passed through a sparse living room with a Buddhist altar along one wall. I slowed to admire a large bronze statue of a seated Buddha performing the cosmic mudra. Candles burned before it, casting a warm glow upon its compassionate countenance. I stopped in my tracks, drawn to it.

  "Keep moving," Jing San gritted out. Among the various items on the altar was an ink drawing of a woman and a photo of Silvan. I could no sooner move away than I could stop breathing. I didn't touch it, but I did bend closer, absorbing the vision of his face as my treacherous eyes burned. It was a snapshot from inside Jing's Manga shop. Ford and Silvan were grinning, leaning against the counter. I raised my eyes to Jing San. She stared at the photo.

  "This is a sacred space for me, Stella. You have no right to intrude," she said quietly. Shame swamped, leaving my limbs cold. Jing had cared about Silvan.

  "I'm very sorry, Jing San. Please forgive me." She jerked her chin in acknowledgment. A terrible feeling of imbalance lay between us. Impulsively, I spit out my own secrets.

  "I'm in love with Alaric, but he refuses to admit the same for me, even though I know he does. That he is, too. I mean..." I slapped a hand over my mouth as a look of awkward horror flashed across Jing's face.

  "So, I guess that makes us even." I finished lamely, rocked back on my heels. She crossed her arms and looked at me from the corner of her eye.

  "Well. He usually just has sex with women. You, he seems to care about. Maybe a great deal," she said, continuing to avoid direct eye contact. Trust Jing to be the epitome of sensitivity. Mental note not to engage Jing in girl chat again. Like, ever.

  "I really do need to use the bathroom." She shook her head.

  "Just like Silvan with all the bathroom breaks." She pointed. "It's over there." I left her for a few minutes and returned, much relieved.

  "Thanks," I said to her back as she marched us to the library.

  "Hello...Are you home?" a male voice called. I drew up short, the voice familiar. Dawning recognition came as the voice called again, coming closer. Jing glanced away, hands on her hips. No way. Ford entered the library, a big grin on his face. His smile morphed into a look of surprise when he
caught sight of me. Why was Jing's store employee all the way in NYC with her? She didn’t even like him.

  "Stella, is that you? Gosh, you look different. In a good way. Like a million bucks!"

  He grabbed me up in a big bear hug and I allowed it. It was surprisingly good to see someone familiar.

  "Put her down. Now we won't ever get rid of her. She's like a curious cat, always poking about for cream. Put her down, already," she snapped. Ford laughed in my ear but set me back on my feet. His face grew serious.

  "I'm so sorry about Silvan's passing. He was a good friend to me."

  I patted his arm, unwilling to allow the floodgates to open. This raw awakening from the dark was still very new.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Oh, I'm Jing's blood companion. Didn't she tell you?" he said, looking at his boss.

  "A blood whosit whatsit?" I asked. With eyes closed, Jing pinched the bridge of her nose.

  "A blood companion. Wait. Didn't you already know that? Oops," he said sheepishly, darting a glance towards Jing.

  "Follow me," Jing instructed, her voice resigned. She led the way back through her apartment and the secret hallway back to Alaric's library. Ford took a seat on the sofa and I could tell he was familiar with the room. I perched on a nearby chair, watching Jing San as she paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. She wore all black today, and her hair shone like glass under the lights. The red dye streak I'd always known her to have was gone.

  She abruptly stopped before me. "Okay, nosey. Three questions. Go."

  This is one of the reasons why I admired her so much. Direct and to the point. I lifted a hand and began ticking off three fingers.

  "One, what is a blood companion? Two, what are you, and don't you dare skimp on the details. Three, will you teach me to fight like you?"