“Lacey?”
It was stupid to call her name. I knew she wasn’t here.
The speakers were blaring out the final notes of the ‘Monster Mash,’ and I snapped it off before the next song could start.
I walked carefully through the small apartment avoiding little landmines everywhere. The carpet had been ripped back from the bedroom floor, and I could see drawings on the hardwood, scraped in charcoal taken from the fire in the living room.
There was obviously something very fucked up going on in here… something I never would have expected Lacey to be capable of. There was only one type of magic in the world, but it was the wielder who made it light or dark. I could feel it crackling in the room. It filled the air and ran through the floorboards, and I could feel my own magic stirring in response. But it wasn’t the same.
I would have known if Lacey was a Daughter of Hecate… I would have known. I mean… how could I have missed it if she was?
Lacey’s bedroom was just big enough for her bed, and the room was covered in band posters, including a hand drawn one for Eli’s band. Mutually Assured Destruction’s first album release. That was vintage.
Lacey’s bed was just as destroyed as the living room, the pale pink comforter torn to shreds and the feathers spread everywhere. Charcoal and other dark smears marred the sheets, the pillows and the walls. I could smell pitch, oil, and charcoal.
“Lacey… what did you do?” I asked the silent room.
I turned on the flashlight on my phone to get a better look at something on the floor. The black marks that looked like random footprints or dirt were something else. I got down on my knees to examine it closer, and the smell of oil and charcoal hit my nose again. The marks were letters. A spell? It couldn’t be. Every spell she’d ever shown me had been pure bullshit meant to conjure more money for someone working minimum wage or a boyfriend who would stick around for longer than three months.
But there it was, the beginnings of a spell… a drawing down… an invocation.
Oh, shit.
Had Lacey gotten lucky and actually conjured something? I mean, that happened on paranormal ‘reality’ shows all the time; some wide-eyed weekend practitioner happened to find an actual spell and pronounced everything properly and *foosh*, instant conjuring. Easy enough in the world of film and television. But in real life? No way.
I mean… it wasn’t possible. Was it?
The stereo snapped on, distracting me with an instant flash of annoyance as Vincent Price’s voice filled the room.
Of course… A Halloween party staple, a bunch of people pretending to be zombies. At least it wasn’t the ‘Time Warp.’
A pale stone glowed in the beam of my flashlight and I reached under the bed to grab it. The stone was smeared with more of the black charcoal paint, a symbol I recognized. The symbol of Hecate. I sat back on my heels, holding the stone under the light, wondering what the fuck was going on.
“Your body starts to shiver…”
I didn’t hear the front door of Lacey’s apartment open, I didn’t hear the sound of the boots moving over the floor, I didn’t hear anything. I just saw a flash of bright white light, and then my face hit the hardwood and everything went black.
I woke up in the back seat of a car. Staring into the garbage littered foot wells with my head pounding, and my entire body burning with anger.
I’d been here before. Not in this car, mind you, but it had been just as stupid, there was just as much fast food garbage in the back seat, and I was just as pissed off. How could I have been so stupid?
My hands were tied in front of me with zip ties, and one of Lacey’s gauzy moon printed scarves was between my teeth. Irony tastes like shit in case you’re wondering.
Everything hurt, my shoulders burned, and the tape around my ankles was loose.
Wait. My ankles were loose. I kicked my feet slowly, loosening the tape that was supposed to be securing me even more. As for the zip ties, the Malleus were as dumb as they looked. I could make short work of the thin strips of plastic, but they should have known that. Maybe they did know that. If I escaped, would they do something more permanent? Or did they just want to slow me down before I could escape. That would explain the headache.
I must have grunted, the Malleus in the front seat looked back at me and poked me with a heavy wooden baton. That would definitely explain the headache. I fixed him with a glare. He smirked at me and said something I didn’t understand to the driver. He chuckled in response and I rolled in the back seat as he took a sharp left turn.
Where the fuck were we going?
I felt like I was in a bad movie. Bumbling thugs taking the heroine to her death. Was that me? Was I the helpless heroine waiting to be rescued? Fuck that noise. No one was rescuing me.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, I felt my magic pulse forward, heating my skin and softening the zip ties around my wrists enough that I could flex and widen them. I pulled my hands out carefully, trying to hide my motions. My feet were working at the duct tape around my ankles. One foot was almost free.
I was ready. All I needed was for the car to slow down, then I could kick the door open, zap the thugs with a bit of magic and run for it. I braced myself, waiting for the car to slow. A stop sign would do the job nicely. I just needed to get into a public place. The Malleus were stupid, but they weren’t dumb enough to pull anything in a crowded place.
Unfortunately for me, these assholes had seen the same movies I had.
Without warning, the driver stomped on the brakes, the tires screeching on the asphalt. I was thrown to the floor, wedged between the seats. My arms were trapped underneath me, and I struggled to get free.
Before I could get my bearings, the rear car door opened, and I was yanked unceremoniously from the dirty floor and tossed onto the wet pavement. I sprawled clumsily, my shoulder hitting the ground hard. I felt the wound on my side open up again. Fuck. That had almost healed. I gritted my teeth and tried not to cry out in pain. I rolled to my side, trying to curl into a ball. I knew what was coming, but I wasn’t fast enough.
A boot belonging to the Malleus leader, one that I’d seen through the apartment lobby window, crashed into my stomach. I cried out in pain and anger. Bastard. That was the last time he’d touch me. My backpack was dropped on the concrete beside me, and I flinched as I heard one of the glass bottles break. I could smell the dandelion wine as it filled the backpack.
“We’re not done with you yet, bruja,” grunted the leader. His foot connected with my stomach again and I groaned in agony, my cheek scraping against the wet pavement. Of all the shit ways to go down, I was going to be beaten to death in an abandoned parking lot.
Dear, Diary...
“Wait! This wasn’t part of the deal.”
The other Malleus. And from the sound of the leader’s grunt, he was taking all the fun out of their kidnapping.
“This little bruja cut my face, she owes me,” he said roughly. I saw him through blurred vision, two of him looming over me.
“Yeah, I remember, it’s an improvement,” the other one chuckled. “Our orders were to deliver her unscathed. That’s the only way we get paid.”
Paid? Wait...
“Paid?” I spat out the word. “I can pay you. Just tell me what they’re paying you, and I’ll double it... more if you want!”
The Malleus above me laughed harshly. He leaned down and grabbed my jacket, lifting me off the ground and bringing me close to his face. I flinched away from his hot breath as he laughed.
“You think this is about money, bruja? We know what you are. Our currency isn’t money... it’s ash.”
He dropped me to the ground, and the truth of his statement hit me just as hard as the pavement.
Ash.
They were paid in dead witches.
“Fuck you,” I muttered.
“Oh, no... I think you’ll find you’re the one who’s fucked,” he said. The Malleus laughed and left me there, lying on the wet pavement as my phon
e beeped with the alarm I’d set for midnight.
Nothing good happens after midnight.
I lay still, waiting for something to happen. Anything. The Malleus got back into their car, the tires skidding just a little as they peeled away, leaving me alone.
I sat up painfully, not knowing how to process what was happening. I looked around, wondering where the fuck they’d dumped me.
I could hear seagulls and smell the ocean; a long low warehouse was to my left. If the broken windows and graffiti were anything to go by, the place was deserted, or ‘on hiatus’ while the owners got their financial shit together. Fucking hell, had they taken me to Jersey? Ew.
At least I was alone. I pulled my hands out of the melted zip ties and threw them over my shoulder before yanking the remainder of the duct tape off my boots. If the leather was damaged, I’d be pissed.
“Hey, hey... look what the cat dragged in.”
Well. Maybe not alone. Even worse, I’d know that voice anywhere.
Oren.
He walked out from between two buildings his hands spread wide.
“Little hitea, so far from home—“
“Look, Oren. I’m getting really tired of being called names,” I cut him off. I got up from the pavement and brushed off my hands, trying to ignore the stinging in my palms where they’d been scraped. “What the fuck are you doing here anyway?”
“That’s simple. We’re here to get rid of you, hitea. I’m tired of smelling you on one of our members, I’m tired of seeing you at Spiral, I’m just tired... you understand, don’t you? After so many years pretending to be one of these pathetic human creatures... aren’t you just... tired?” He stepped closer and I watched as the rest of the Blood Outlaws dropped out of the trees, jumped down from the rooftops and stepped out from behind the smaller outbuildings that flanked the main warehouse.
I was fucked.
22
“Admit it, hitea, you’re tired. You’ve been walking among these humans for how many years now? A hundred? Two?” Oren paused, looked at me carefully. “Longer?” He smirked and I hated him even more. “Longer than two hundred... ouch.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice dramatically, “I know how women like to keep their secrets… I promise I won’t tell Eli.”
“Y’know, Oren, I always thought you’d look best in the early morning light. It would really do your complexion justice,” I said with a bitter smile.
Oren flinched. He could talk about my age all he liked, no skin off my nose, but Laudan were easy. They knew their weaknesses, but there was no hiding from them, and I knew that the barest mention of Oren’s predecessor would set him off.
“Do you think Valaine saw it coming?” I was going to lean into this, if Oren wanted to kill me, if he wanted to set the Blood Outlaws against me and my magic it would come at a price. A price he wasn’t going to want to pay. It was midnight. Hours before dawn. But I could make it count.
“You don’t deserve to say her name,” Oren spat out the words, fixing me with a heated glare. Goddess be good, he was so predictable. I smiled coldly.
“And you didn’t deserve to take her place,” I replied brightly, picking up my backpack and unzipping it. I made a face as I plucked out the shards of glass from the broken wine bottle. The other one seemed unharmed... maybe it would last the night.
Maybe I would last the night. I tossed a large chunk of glass into the dark, relishing the sound it made as it smashed against the concrete.
“So, kids. What happens now?” I asked. I was fully prepared for a fight. There was no one out here, and I would be free to use my magic. I closed my eyes and allowed my power to come forward as the Blood Outlaws surged towards me. “Come on!” I shouted. I hadn’t been that eager for a fight in months... years maybe. Ever? It didn’t matter. I was a simple creature. All I wanted was to kick Oren Hayward in the face, drop him into a puddle, and then gloat about it to a stranger who didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about while I downed shot after shot of cheap bar whiskey.
Oren bared his fangs and hissed at me. He was mad.
Good.
Being mad would make him sloppy. Bishop had told me all about this ‘pretender’ to the Blood Outlaw throne. He had been Valaine’s pet. Her human lover. Something frowned upon by the Laudans. It was one thing to have a human pet to do your bidding during daylight hours, but it was quite another to fuck your pet and then turn them. Even the Laudan had standards, and Valaine had sidestepped all of that to get what she wanted. Bad move for her.
“So, what are you going to do, Oren?” I taunted him, stalling until I could figure out what I wanted to do. Sure, I could run, but where the fuck was I going to run? The road was deserted and dark, the industrial park was quiet, and beyond the warehouse, there was just water… and there was no way I was swimming in that shit. Nothing good came out of that water, and I (magic or not), wasn’t about to take my chances on a casual dip.
“Come on, Oren… I’m getting bored. This is the part where you tell me all about your little plans to overthrow Bishop and take the Laudan leadership for yourself.” It was a bold statement, but I had a feeling that was what was at the heart of the Blood Outlaws anyway. Valaine had been more than just a run of the mill undead pervert with a fetish for human flesh; she’d also been a rebel, and that didn’t sit well with Bishop. Unfortunately, taking down Valaine had turned her into a martyr for the Blood Outlaws. They didn’t really have a place in the Laudan world, and I’m pretty sure Bishop didn’t actually know how much their ranks had grown in the last twenty years.
Bishop might have tolerated their presence at Spiral, but if he didn’t know what was going on right under his nose, he was a fool.
Oren looked stunned for just a moment, but it was enough to tell me that my guess had been right. He was gunning for Bishop’s position, and all the money and power that went with it. I laughed.
“Oh my goddess, that was way too easy. Do you really think you’ll be able to get what you want out of all this? Do you really think the Council will support you if you take Bishop down? Poor little dragă, you’ll never be more than that, and you know it,” I sneered at him.
“You don’t know me, hitea!” he shouted at me, his face paler than usual in the strange light cast by the buzzing floodlights that surrounded the buildings. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. You think you know everything there is to know about Laudan… I’m going to rewrite our history, remake our rules.”
The whispering in the dark became louder as the other members of the Blood Outlaw crew stepped forward into the light.
Shit. There were way more of them than I had expected.
Male and female, punks and goths, and a few that looked like they’d stepped out of a downtown Macy’s. Equal opportunity. Eli had told me that a certain amount of the groupies and kids who filled the mosh pit at Spiral were there for a purpose… they were willing volunteers, offering themselves to the Blood Outlaws and band members in the hope that they might be turned. Bishop had a strict policy about turning these Feeders, but apparently, Oren had decided that rules were for sissies.
The warehouse was to my left, and as the Laudan materialized out of the shadows, I realized that they were cutting off my escape route. Up until that point, bolting down the service road screaming my head off and hoping for rescue had totally been an option. Not so much now.
Even if I lashed out with my magic, I didn’t know what I could really do, and even if I managed to do something to Oren, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the rest of these deadheads.
Emboldened by the presence of his followers, Oren stepped towards me. “You’re outnumbered, hitea. Even with your magic, you don’t stand a chance. It would be easier if you just gave in. Surrender…”
“Thanks, Captain Obviouspants, but I don’t work well with this whole power balance shift stuff. And if you think you’re going to be able to turn me to your side, you’re sadly fucking mistaken. I have other problems that don’t involve you to take care of�
� you’re not special. Did your mother tell you that you were special? I know Valaine did. I’m sure when she turned you she told you that you were different… but you’re not. You’re just an asshole with delusions of undead grandeur.”
I pulled the last piece of broken wine bottle out of my backpack and threw it at him. My aim was notoriously shitty, but for some reason, this particular chunk of glass flew right where I wanted it to. It spun through the air and embedded itself in Oren’s shoulder with a satisfying thunk.
Well. That was anticlimactic.
Oren looked down at the shard of glass that protruded from his shoulder and laughed.
Fuck.
He wrapped his hand around it and pulled, I took a little bit of pride in the fact that it took him a little bit of effort to get it out. I took a few steps back, inching toward the warehouse. If I could get inside, it might buy me some time. Emphasis on the ‘might.’
Oren threw the chunk of glass to the concrete, and I flinched just a little as it shattered. His shoulder was wet with dark blood, but he didn’t seem worried about it.
What a waste of time that was.
“You’re going to regret that, hitea,” he growled, his fangs gleaming in the light. “I know you’re hard to kill, but I know exactly how I’m going to do it… it won’t be pretty, and then when I get tired of playing with you, we’ll turn you into kindling.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Oren!” A voice I knew very well echoed against the buildings.
Eli. What the fuck kind of Deus ex Machina shit was this anyway?
“What the hell are you doing, Oren? Ophelia’s not a part of any of this,” Eli said as he stepped out of the darkness of the road to stand between the Blood Outlaws and me. I could run now, but the thought of abandoning Eli to these assholes was too much to bear. I couldn’t let him die protecting me.
“Bullshit, Eli. This hitea has been influencing you since the beginning. I’ve watched it, we’ve all seen it. She’s holding you back. Bishop is holding you back. It’s time for you to break free of your chains, Eli… it’s time for you to join us. Think of it, all the power, all the freedom… you can do whatever you want. I’ll make you a star.”
Sticks & Stones: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 16
