“Why would she want you dead?”
Clenching my hands into fists at my sides, I shake my head. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
“I’ll take care of our witch friend here,” Tarnley offers.
“Thank you for not letting her kill me.”
He doesn’t reply, simply nodding, and disappears into the back. Needing the contact, I reach down and thread my fingers through Rainey’s as we walk through the security door and into the foyer of the bar. Its dim lighting is just enough that we can see the door handle leading outside.
Warmth from the sun beats down on us as we step onto the sidewalk.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Rainey asks, stopping just before her bike. She turns to face me and lifts her fingers to brush them over my cheek. I lean into her touch, the feel of her fingertips against my skin more than enough to push away the remnants of dark magic wielded against me.
“I’m fine. Better now,” I say with a grin.
“Good. Should we go visit Stella?”
“You don’t have to get back to work?”
She shakes her head. “Ramirez and I hit a bit of a wall with the case we picked up this morning—it’s supernatural—so I told him to go home. And since I can’t figure it out using typical methods, I needed to see you anyway.” I can’t help but watch her appreciatively as she swings a leg over and straddles her fire engine red motorcycle. “See you in a few.”
I watch Rainey pull away before heading toward the black sedan I purchased to replace the silver one blown to shit before Salem.
Ever since, I make sure I’m a safe distance away before I hit the auto start. I climb behind the steering wheel and take a calming breath.
Stella.
If she’s behind this, it’s either because someone put her up to it or she wanted to get my attention. For what reason—I have no fucking clue, but I’m betting on the latter. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s gone for the shock method.
And it’s sure as shit not the first time it’s worked.
8
Rainey
“Tell me about your morning,” Elijah asks as he pulls out of the parking garage of my apartment nearly half an hour later.
“What do you want to know about it?”
“How was it?”
“Ramirez is irritated that we’ve seemingly hit a wall with Beatrice Smith’s murder, and since I can’t very well tell him she was probably killed by a powerful witch who stole her magic—it’s going to stay that way. He’s rather incorrigible when he doesn’t have his answers. The man’s a Pitbull. I’m not entirely sure I can keep him at bay if any more witches pop up.”
“Which, if Aoife is correct, is a possibility.”
I glance over at him and reach across the center console to touch his hand. “How are you doing with that?”
Elijah shrugs. “I have you, therefore I’m grand.” He grins, which has my body answering with a warmth that pools low in my belly. “We’ll figure out who killed your witch,” he promises.
I turn my attention back to the cityscape as we pass it by. If anyone can help me, it’s Elijah. Even without Aoife, he has extensive knowledge about the supernatural world, and I trust him completely. After all, he’s been burned by the fuckers just as I have.
Bearing Elijah—a half-witch, half-vampire—earned a death sentence for both of his parents and nearly cost Elijah his life as well.
Maybe that’s why we’re drawn to each other. He toes the line between witches and vampires, and I maintain balance in both the supernatural and human worlds. Navigating two worlds is not an easy thing to do.
For either of us.
“I know.”
We fall into silence, and I stare out of the window at the cars we pass. Some humans are singing behind the wheel, some dancing, some just staring straight ahead. I hate that I envy them so much. To have nothing to worry about? Must be fucking nice.
My thoughts drift back to the scene from yesterday. I can still see Beatrice’s eyes every time I close mine. The way she stared at me, her black soulless gaze glaring up as she spoke.
Logically, I would explain it by saying it was all in my imagination, but there’s a nagging part of me that tells me not to be so obtuse. That writing it off as such would be foolish.
“What’s on your mind?” Elijah asks as he takes the off-ramp and heads out of the city toward the national park.
“Something weird happened at the crime scene yesterday.”
“What?”
“When I was standing over Beatrice—the victim—she opened her eyes. Only, they weren’t her eyes—they were solid black, and when she spoke—”
“A dead woman spoke to you?”
“A dead witch,” I clarify. “And yes.”
“What did she say?”
“‘We are you,’ but when she spoke, it wasn’t just her voice.”
Beside me, Elijah stiffens. “What do you mean?”
“It was dozens of voices, all layered on top of each other. It was really strange, and I can honestly say I’d rather it never happen again. I had to tell Ramirez I saw a spider because I about jumped out of my skin.”
“That’s never happened to you before?”
I shake my head. “And she was hardly the first witch whose death I’ve investigated. Most of the time, it’s another coven member who committed the crime. I know Aoife told us she stayed to herself, but I looked into her anyway, and she had no coven that I could find. No family, no known friends. She worked alone at that bed and breakfast previously owned by her grandparents.”
“So, no connection?”
“Not a single one that we could track down.” I lean back against the seat and close my eyes. “She’s definitely the first one to die with zero trauma and in the center of a crystal circle. Ramirez is still reeling over it all.”
“How do they think she died?”
“The M.E. said Beatrice died of old age. Which makes sense to you and me since it’s their magic that keeps them young in the first place.”
“Can’t very well put that in your report though,” he adds.
“No, I can’t.”
“You need to be careful with this one, Rainey. The witch who stole the magic must be incredibly powerful, though, and the spell is dark. As in, she was not born into the power. She must have sold her soul.”
“Shit. So that takes warlock off the table then.” The fae who broker the deals for power have only been known to deal with women. Men can be born into the power—warlocks—but they’re rare. I’ve only crossed paths with a few dozen. Typically, the magic is passed down the matriarchal line.
He nods. “If that’s who you’re up against, she’s going to put up one hell of a fight.” Elijah pulls into the driveway of a small house at the edge of an older neighborhood. The wood siding is stained a deep mahogany, and the red door has four charms hanging from the knocker.
The first one I recognize—it’s to ward off hunters like me. But the other three? I’m not entirely sure what they are for.
“Vampires, witches, and shifters,” Elijah explains.
“Did I say it out loud?”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Tell me you can’t read minds.”
He chuckles. “No, but I assumed you knew about the hunter ward, and the way you were staring at it made me think you were a bit confused as to the other three.”
“Stop knowing me so well. It’s disconcerting.”
He grins at me for a moment before we both turn toward the house. The bright red door opens, and a breathtakingly beautiful woman steps out, her black hair braided up on top of her head. Her dark skin is covered in white swirls of tattoos I sense are more to do with her power than vanity.
“Welcome, Elijah. I’ve been expecting you.”
“I’m sure you have.” He steps toward the porch, and I move with him, close enough to protect him if I need to. Though, I’m not getting that kind of vibe from the witch before me. If anyt
hing, she seems almost pleased to have him here.
“I’m glad you received my message,” she says softly as if she sent a fucking text message or carrier pigeon. Not a witch who damn near killed him. I clench my hands into fists, and Elijah rests a hand on my lower back. His touch soothes some of the anger, giving me back control.
“That’s what you’re calling sending a witch to kill me? You had to know she wouldn’t survive.”
“It was necessary.”
“Why is killing an innocent woman necessary?” I ask, and the woman turns her crystal gaze on me. Power radiates off her in waves so potent that I’m forced to take a step back.
“She was hardly innocent. Unless, of course, you believe killing other witches for their power is justified. Her punishment was death.”
I glance at Elijah. Is it possible this woman sent my murder victim’s killer to her death?
“I can sense your questions,” she says, reaching up and removing the charms. “You may enter now.”
“Fine. But before we step inside, I’m going to caution you.” I meet her gaze. “You ever send a message to Elijah like that again? And I’ll fucking kill you.”
Stella stares at me a moment before grinning ear to ear. “I knew I would like you, Rainey Astor.”
Elijah takes my hand, leading me up the sidewalk and into the house. Shades of red and gold adorn the space, giving it a comforting and elegant feel. The living room is large and hosts a massive, plush couch covered with throw pillows. A long table spans the back of the couch, which would be super normal if not for the different covered bottles and the leather-bound spellbook sitting on top.
“You may have a seat,” Stella tells us.
“I prefer to stand.” To demonstrate it, I cross both arms over my chest.
Stella smiles. “You are very different from Delaney.”
Mention of her sends a pang of grief through my heart. “You knew Delaney?”
“I did, quite well. I was so sad to learn she was not going to survive much longer.”
Elijah’s hand tightens on mine, though I’m not sure if it’s to hold me in place or to keep himself from losing his temper. He and Delaney were close. She made him promise to look out for me should anything happen to her.
It’s why he sought me out and why I’m standing here now.
“You knew she was going to die?” Elijah’s voice is strained as if he’s fighting the urge to raise it.
“I was the one who saw it.” She turns and heads into the living room, taking a seat on a leather-backed chair facing the couch. “If you wish to know more, such as why I called you here, you will sit.”
We move toward the couch, strain in each step. I want to hear what she has to say, but I fear letting our guard down in front of this woman would be a tremendous mistake. As soon as we’re sitting, Elijah’s hand goes to my thigh.
Stella smiles, no judgment in her gaze. “I’m happy to see you didn’t allow your fear to get in the way,” she tells Elijah.
“I trust we can count on you to keep this a secret?”
“Of course.” She waves her hand, dismissing it. “I’m overjoyed for you, Elijah. It’s been a long time since you were happy.”
Beside me, Elijah relaxes just enough that I take notice.
“As for why I sent the witch after you, I knew if I simply called, you would not bring your hunter with you, and I have been dying to meet her.”
“How do you know I wouldn’t have brought her with me?” Elijah questions.
“Because you foolishly think you can protect her from what’s to come. It’s in your nature, Elijah. With those you love, you are a shield when you should be a sword.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I snap. Everyone keeps warning us that something’s coming, and yet no one can give us a fucking glimmer into what that might mean.
She turns her gaze to me. “In due time. Let us start with Delaney.” She leans back and puts both palms on her knees, over the rust-colored dress covering her body. “Your cousin came to me with questions about four years ago.”
“What questions?”
“She wished to know more about the Lunar Divide.”
“You know about that?”
“Child, I know all about that.” Her tone is sharp, darkened with a layer of anger.
“Then tell us,” I insist. “I—we—believe Delaney died for that information.”
“She did,” she confirms. “She was getting far too close to discovering the truth.”
“Which is?”
Don’t listen to the lies!
Murderer!
She tried to kill Elijah!
I shake my head, pain radiating up from the back of my neck.
“You are suffering.” Stella’s words snap me out of it, and I stare across the room at her. She’s watching me intently, her head cocked to the side.
“What?”
“I’ll be right back.” Stella stands and crosses the room.
“Suffering?” Elijah asks, and I shrug.
“I have a bit of a headache, but that’s it,” I defend, trying to erase some of the concern from his face.
Stella returns a moment later with a mug of tea in her hands. She shoves it at me, and I stare down at it. “Drink, it will help keep the darkness at bay.”
“How do you—”
“You are shrouded in it, Rainey Astor. This will bring you some light.”
I stare down at it. “You want me—a hunter—to trust you enough to drink something you say I need?”
“I expect you to trust Elijah. And I believe he’ll tell you I can be trusted. I mean you no harm.”
I glance over at Elijah. He stares down at the liquid for a moment before shaking his head. “She’s not drinking that unless you do first.”
Stella scoffs and shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the mug from my hand. She drinks deeply then hands it back. “Better?”
“It’s up to you,” Elijah tells me.
Don’t drink it.
It’s poison.
She tried to kill Elijah! The voice reminds me.
It’s those voices that push me to go ahead and drink the damn thing. Even if it kills me—at least I’ll have a break from all the chatter.
The hot liquid is sweet, sticky almost, and slides down my throat more like cough syrup than a tea. I cough, covering my mouth, then stare down at the liquid with disgust.
“You need more.” Stella scolds. “I won’t speak until the shadow is tamed.”
“Is this permanent?” I ask after forcing another drink down my throat.
She shakes her head. “But it will help you for a time.”
I choke down the rest of the drink, and Stella narrows her eyes on me, her gaze traveling over my body until, finally, she nods.
“We can talk now.”
“Why couldn’t we talk before?”
“It wasn’t safe. You’ve been hearing voices?” she asks, leaning back on her couch.
“How do you know?”
“I can sense them. You’re haunted. Plagued with death.”
I choke on a laugh, though one look at Elijah tells me he’s not the least bit amused by her assessment. “Haunted? As in ghosts?”
“They cling to you, mud to a pig. I will give you more tea to help until we can find a permanent solution to your problem.”
“Such as?”
“I thought you wished to know more about the Lunar Divide? I have no idea how long that potion will last, so let us speak on it while it’s safe.”
Her ability to shift focus in a conversation is not something I share. So as I’m still trying to recover from the nasty-ass drink and her knowledge about the voices, Elijah speaks up. “Are you the one who told Delaney about it?”
She shakes her head. “It was she who came to me. She was seeking out witches born on All Hallows Eve because she believed they were being targeted and killed. Though, she didn’t know who was behind it.”
“Were you born on Hallowee
n?” I ask curiously.
Once again, Stella shakes her head. “Though I sent her to a few who were. By the time she got to them, they were already dead.” Her voice trails off sadly, and her eyes fill. “They were killed in the middle of the night, slaughtered in their beds. Triplets who had just turned nineteen.”
“That’s awful.”
“It was. After that, I began looking into it, alongside Delaney, and what we discovered was an atrocity one cannot even begin to imagine.” Her voice is taut, filled with anger.
“What?” I’m desperate to know more, to understand this world my sister found herself engulfed in. And more importantly, to find out what bastards are behind these murders so I can introduce them to my silver.
“Delaney discovered the Lunar Divide is something that only affects witches born every nineteen years on All Hallows Eve—during a full moon. They have a split in their magic, a vacancy in their soul. It allows them the rare opportunity to possess more magic than a normal witch. Though most of them don’t even realize it.”
“A split?”
“Another side to them—think of it as a dual personality. They can be kind, great warriors,” she says, gesturing to me. “Or, they can be completely evil beyond words.”
Elijah’s hand tightens on my thigh. “Then you know Rainey was born on Halloween?”
“Yes. I also know she is of witch blood, though her powers are not active as yours and mine.”
“Do you have any idea who might have been hunting them?” I ask, wanting to shift the focus away from me and back to what we need to know.
Stella clenches her jaw and nods. “I have a few ideas. I believe the Immortal Council wanted them dead. I can’t tell you why, but this has been going on for centuries, and they’re the only ones ancient enough to see something like that through.”
More like the puppets pulling their strings. Though, I keep that particular knowledge to myself. “Perhaps due to the split? You said they would be immensely powerful?”
“Only if they embrace both halves. The divide gives them the extra space—so to speak—for the power to settle, but it doesn’t give them the option of accessing both sides. If that makes any sense.”
Blood Captive: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (Vampire Huntress Chronicles Book 2) Page 7
