Electric Heat (A Raven Investigations Novel Book 3)

by Stacey Brutger

  The witch’s reluctance was obvious when she grimaced. “She’s on the second floor, room 212.”

  Without giving the witch time to regret her decision, Raven turned and headed down the stairs, Durant close on her heels. She slowed as she neared the room. The door was closed, an air of menace seeping through the wood as if unable to contain it.

  That wasn’t wild magic, but something else entirely.

  “Durant—”

  “Not a chance. If you’re going in there, so am I.”

  She grabbed the knob, the metal so cold she hissed. Only when the door unlatched and creaked open did she allow herself to pull back and look. Frost coated her palms.

  “You might as well come in.”

  The voice was old, its wicked cackle sending a shiver down her spine. An immediate image of a green wicked witch holding a broom came to mind.

  Whoever the woman might have been, she’d never been a nice lady. The last thing Raven wanted to do was enter that room. She pictured Taggert as she last seen him, more beast than man, and her resolve firmed. She needed to finish this case and do whatever she could to fix what she’d broken.

  Raven finally managed to peel her feet off the floor. She saw Durant struggle to force his beast into the room, and couldn’t help but be relieved that she wasn’t the only one who felt like running in the opposite direction.

  The room was surprisingly bright, the curtains thrown wide, but cheer was the last thing she felt upon entering. The shadows appeared longer, the darkness in them a little too black, and Raven avoided looking too deeply, not wanting to see what horror hid in them. The flowers should have brightened the room, but the drooping petals looked like the life had been sucked out of them. As she watched, one fell from the stem and drifted to the floor. The pink color bled away in seconds, the small petal reduced to a curled black husk. When it landed, it shattered in a puff of dust.

  “So you’re the fool who tried to save me.”

  Raven hadn’t realized she had avoided looking at the bed until then. When she faced the woman, she bit back her gasp, wanting to scurry out the door and never look back.

  The woman on the bed barely resembled a human. After Heloise said they had done all they could for her, Raven hadn’t expected to find a talking mummy. Oh, her skin was more hydrated, but now it slouched off her body. The dirt brown she associated with a desiccated corpse was lighter, revealing massive liver spots covering almost every inch of her body. The skin was transparent and likely to tear on contact. Liquid was being pumped into her, but far too late to do any good.

  Her eyes were what riveted Raven.

  They were alive with such hatred, one look curdled her soul.

  “You’re—”

  “Old. Weak. Powerless.” The witch wheezed as she spoke, her voice sardonic. Anger writhed around her like a hissing snake, ready to strike at anyone who came near. “I’m dying.”

  “I was going to say the only one to survive an attack.”

  The witch cackled. “I could almost like you. They say you were the only one who had the guts to try and save me. You have balls, I’ll give you that. Ask your questions.”

  If she hesitated, Raven had no doubt the woman would clam up and take all her secrets to the grave. “Where is everyone?”

  The witch wheezed, and Raven realized she was laughing. “Have you ever watched a witch die?”

  She shook her head.

  “They left because they don’t want to face their own mortality.” She must have seen the confusion on Raven’s face. “Like anyone, we want to go down fighting. When we’re stripped of power, we grow old and deteriorate rapidly until our bodies reach our natural age. I’m over 120 years old. Thankfully, my body will give out long before I reach that stage. The older I get, the more senile I become.” She snorted and gave a short nod. “So I suggest if you have any questions, you ask them fast…before the answers disappear from my memory.”

  “What do you recall of the attack?”

  “Very little. It came on suddenly. I didn’t have time to guard against it. Whoever it was ripped through my wards like paper. I don’t remember much else. I was too busy fighting for my life.”

  “Do you remember stealing the life from your familiars?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

  The old woman lifted a brow. “I hear censure in your words, but when your life is as stake, you’ll do whatever it takes to survive.”

  Raven slowly straightened, and some of the pity she felt for the old bat melted away. She had expected her to deny it. Wanted to hear her say she didn’t do it. “Not everyone.”

  “My, aren’t you just perfect.” She scratched her wrist in agitation, her querulous voice shaking with age. “Or you’re just fooling yourself.”

  Raven recoiled at the vehemence, then cursed herself for asking because the witch began to shut down. If she wanted answers, she needed to ask fast, before the old hag lost her patience. “When you were attacked, did you sense what the person wanted?”

  Annoyance crossed the old crone’s features, her expression practically shouting that Raven was a dolt. “My magic.”

  Raven was losing her. “But did it want your magic and you were just in the way or did it want you dead?”

  Intelligence sharpened behind those black orbs she called eyes, and she hesitated before answering. “It was hungry. It wanted my magic. The fact that it would kill me was unimportant.”

  The woman rubbed her wrist again, over and over, and Raven pointed toward the spot. “May I?”

  “Whatever.” Despite her gruff answer, she turned her arm over.

  At first Raven saw nothing until she bent closer. A symbol of some sort marred the skin. Not a tattoo, but something resting under the skin. “Where did you get this?”

  “I…” frowns crinkled her face, “…don’t remember.”

  Raven memorized the swirls and sharp corners of the symbol. They looked similar to the designs etched on the floor during the attack. “What kind of wards were on the door? I didn’t recognize them.”

  The witch shook her head. “All I can tell you is it was potent magic, more powerful than one person can do by themselves.”

  “Why were you in that cabin? Do you think the trap was set specifically for you?”

  “No, I think the spell would have triggered if anyone with a certain power level entered the room.”

  “So you didn’t go there to meet anyone? You didn’t normally frequent that particular cabin?”

  She shook her head, shrinking further into the bed with each question as exhaustion took its toll. “No one was scheduled to be there yesterday.”

  Raven stepped back, pathetically relieved to put distance between them. The air was less polluted by the door, and the headache gnawing at her skull eased a fraction. If the witch was doing something, it wasn’t intentional. “I should let you rest.”

  The woman wheezed again, amusement and resentment wrinkling her face. “You don’t get it, do you? There is no rest. I’m broken. I can’t absorb or wield magic. Without magic, I age and die.”

  “But they—”

  “There is no reversing the process. Once you lose your ability to cast, it’s gone.” The woman turned and faced the wall. “You should have just let me die with my dignity intact.”

  Death hovered in the room like a cold chill, seeping into Raven’s lungs with every breath, ready to lay claim to her, too, if she lingered much longer. She left the woman, her words ringing in her ears…once you lose your ability to cast, it’s gone. Did that apply to her as well?

  “Raven?”

  She hadn’t realized she’d stopped in the hall until Durant spoke. Not wanting to answer any of his questions, she headed back toward the stairs. “I want to talk to the familiars next.”

  “Why?” His brows lowered, and he seemed genuinely baffled at her request. “They’re not responsible. They can’t cast.”

  “Maybe not, but I bet they know more about what’s happening than anyone
else. They’re practically invisible to the witches. If anyone has any idea of who would want to harness magic, it would be them.”

  Chapter Ten

  It was afternoon before Raven was granted permission to visit the familiars. “This is absurd. How do they expect me to work if I have to ask permission every step of the way?”

  Durant’s long legs quickly ate the distance to the familiar camp. The farther they traveled away from the coven, the lighter she felt. Usually, being around active magic was more of a brush of cobwebs…annoying but bearable. The absence of so much magic was as if a smothering weight had been lifted.

  She glanced back, but the sprawling campus had disappeared from view some fifteen minutes ago. After the first mile, the witch following them had to struggle to keep pace. The supervision was to thwart any attempt on Raven’s part to steal any more familiars…or so they said. She was beginning to suspect Durant was correct. They were more interested in her than what was warranted. To be watched every second of the day gave her a creepy-crawly feeling she couldn’t seem to shake.

  “If you could come this way, please. The familiars are gathered at the lodge.” The witch was rumpled and sweaty after the three-mile hike, out of breath and very, very annoyed. She marched to a long, single log structure.

  “Why are the shifters tucked out of the way like a dirty secret?”

  She aimed the snide comment at the witch, but Durant was the one who spoke. “Would you want to live any closer to the witches?”

  “No.” She didn’t even hesitate. She studied their surroundings more closely. The cabins were similar to the one they’d been assigned, but the atmosphere was completely different. The air was fresher, sharper and tinged with a lick of wildness that caused her creature to stir with curiosity. The sickly sweet smell of magic was almost non-existent.

  The closer they came to the lodge, the more her steps slowed. Shifters might not have magic, but she sensed them just the same. Power seethed in the air like a bubbling mess. Since these were the weakest of the pack, there had to be a sizable number waiting behind that door.

  Things usually didn’t go well when she was around so many. Trepidation put its meaty fist around her throat and squeezed. The urge to turn tail and run curled around her, nearly sending her sprawling as her feet struggled with the mixed signals.

  “You all right?”

  The concern on Durant’s face strengthened her resolve…never show weakness to a shifter. They would exploit it. If she wanted answers, she couldn’t hesitate. “I’ll be fine.”

  As she reached for the door, she expected menace to thicken the air. Instead, something worse happened.

  The creature shifted restlessly.

  It didn’t wake, didn’t wrestle for control, instead leaving her scrambling to figure out if her overactive imagination had disturbed it or if there was an actual threat waiting for her on the other side of the door.

  As soon as she entered, the room fell silent, not gradually trailing off, but noisy one moment and absolute quiet the next. The shifters turned toward her and stood at attention. No one even fidgeted.

  The smells of so many crested over her, threatening to drown her in the first wave. Breathing through her mouth only helped a little. Her creature filtered the different breeds, categorizing them, allowing her to suck in a tiny snippet of fresh air without choking.

  There was so much expectation and curiosity crowding the room, her first instinct was to bolt. The missing jaguar perked up when she entered, and wound his way toward her through the crowd. He stood taller, not the hunched-over creature she’d first seen. His black hair was wavy and clean, if a bit shaggy. But when she looked into his vivid blue eyes, pure animal stared back with a hunger that made her swallow hard.

  She’d hoped a night of rest would have helped him regain some of his humanity, but feared something inside him was broken beyond her ability to fix. He stopped a foot short of touching her, and Raven shifted uncomfortably under his regard. He leaned forward and inhaled, his eyes darkening with such yearning that her stomach flip-flopped.

  Unable to refuse his plea, she held out her hand.

  He smiled, more fangs than anything else, and grabbed her fingers. He licked the backs before she could jerk away, then scurried to hunch at her side, almost but not quite touching.

  When she faced the room, she found the attitude had changed, sharpened, until she wanted to duck aside and look behind her to see what held them in such awe.

  She glanced sideways at Durant. “What’re they doing?”

  “You’re an alpha and a female. They’ve probably never been this close to one before.”

  But he was tense, watching them closely as if he expected some retaliation. “Tell me.”

  Then he sighed in defeat. “A shifter who loses his humanity is nothing more than a beast, a threat to the pack. It’s a death sentence. By giving him your hand, you publicly accepted him into your pack.”

  She scrunched up her face, wishing she understood if that was good or bad. “He’s in control. He hasn’t killed anyone. I won’t condemn him to die for something that wasn’t his fault.”

  “Most alphas wouldn’t take the chance.” Durant shook his head, but his eyes were warm, belying the censure in his words. “My guess is they’re trying to decide if you are a fool or the strongest alpha they’ve ever seen.”

  She didn’t care to be the focus of so much attention. All were devastatingly male, their beasts hovering just under the surface. They beat at her shield, seeking to rile her beast. Testing her strength. In a room packed with more than fifty shifters, she had to proceed carefully and get out before anyone decided to challenge her for a spot in her pack. “Someone is killing witches.”

  That got her no response. “If the witch is tied to a familiar, her familiar will die as well.”

  Still, no one spoke.

  Durant cleared his throat.

  She faced him and raised a brow. “What?”

  Durant rubbed a hand over his mouth as if deciding what to tell her. “They’re not like humans. You have to ask a question to get answers.”

  She flushed, feeling her face heat as she surveyed the room again. She expected them to vent their anger against being virtually enslaved. But no one appeared malnourished. No one was bleeding or maimed.

  They appeared content.

  Which surprised her until she remembered Durant’s comment. This was normal for them.

  The door opened in the back, and a lean man with trimmed dark hair entered. The other shifters stepped out of his way as he approached, identifying him as their leader.

  There was nothing special about him that should have caught her attention. He was handsome, but not stunning. Powerfully built, but not a full shifter. No, what caught her eye was the way he stared at her…like he recognized her.

  Something about him was familiar, and she found herself drawn forward, weaving between the tables and chairs, barely aware of Durant following hard on her heels. Danger simmered in her blood. Beneath her skin, power was dragged from her bones, the heat gathering, before hardening to armor.

  “I know you.”

  The man tensed, and Durant stiffened at her side.

  A barely healed scar marred his face.

  One she recognized.

  She should, since she put it there when he used wild magic to try to kill a man under her protection. She stalked him, paying little attention to the people scattering out of her way. It was all she could do not to strike first before he attacked one of hers again. What stayed her hand was the need to understand why. Determined to protect her, the jaguar prowled at her side, growing more feral with each step, feeding off her agitation.

  Everyone fell silent when she stopped before the dark-haired shifter. She inhaled slowly, waiting for the wild magic to reach for her again. Instead, all she smelled was wolf. Oh, there was a hint of wild magic on him, but only the smallest of traces, not the amount she would have expected if he had any involvement.

&nbs
p; Secrets lurked in his eyes, memories of things he wanted to forget.

  He carried himself proudly, but the fragile way he moved indicated pain.

  Shifters could take a lot of abuse. That he was still showing injuries, meant the spell caster who’d purchased his contract enjoyed inflicting pain, passing the brunt of the cost to use magic over to his familiar.

  The cruelty he suffered didn’t make up for his invasion of her home. “You tried to kill me and mine with the same magic being used now to kill the witches.”

  If everything was silent before, you could hear the air move now.

  No one even dared breathe.

  “I have no control over what a witch does with their magic, be it good or bad. We’re just objects to be used.” Bitterness sharpened his voice, his brown eyes hard, as if she was no better than his master.

  “When was this?” The witch spoke sharply, taking notes of everything discussed with a shrewdness that didn’t bode well for the one on the receiving end of her ire.

  Raven ignored the demand. Something about this shifter put her back up. It was more than his trying to kill her pack. Her skin tingled as the creature shifted restlessly, the animal eager to emerge and rip the man apart.

  Instead, it showed restraint and left the decision up to her.

  It made her suspicious.

  “You’re saying your witch cast the spell?” Raven persisted with her questions. He wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling her the truth either.

  The shifter shrugged. “Who else?”

  “Give me a name.” No more games. She crowded into his personal space until only inches separated them and allowed her creature to peer out from her eyes. He would tell her, or she would make him.

  “Evans.” The witch with them spoke first, her face twisting in disgust. “He should just be finishing with class.”

  The woman disappeared out the door. Raven hated leaving this shifter behind, but the need to find the killer and finish the case was paramount…at least for now.

  With a growl of frustration, she charged outside.

  Raven twisted to catch a glimpse of the witch, spotting her a few yards away. When she took a step forward, cobwebs tickled against her skin, and she sneezed at the overly sweet stench of someone using a shitload of magic.