by Lola Taylor
Horrors raced through her head, made her heart race and a cold sweat chill her flesh. She couldn’t lose her powers. Sure, they had terrified her before, when they were new and she was less certain of herself. Now, on the cusp of losing what she had coveted for so long, Verika found the thought of not having her Black Magic as terrifying as dying. And knowing Mistress Black, she planned to kill her shortly after she had stripped her of her powers.
Any number of ritualistic deaths floated through her mind, driving her heart rate up, making it harder to concentrate on escaping.
If she could escape. All circumstances considered, her chances of that looked grim.
“Do not look so alarmed, my dear,” Mistress Black purred. “I have brought you company so you won’t feel so alone in your final hours.”
Final hours. Two words that held so much weight and seemed to thin the air, making it harder to breathe.
She truly was about to die, and it didn’t appear she had a chance in hell of doing anything about it.
But the thought of dying didn’t sound so bad when she looked up, and her worst fear came to life. “No,” she breathed.
A pair of flesh guardians marched Elijah forward, chained in those damnable manacles. Pure malice and loathing pooled in his dark eyes as he passed the coven. Then his gaze landed on her, and she swore she could see his heart breaking.
“Verika,” he rasped, stumbling forward. The flesh guardians were quick to snatch him up, hold him close.
The cold, wicked teeth of a blade pressed into Verika’s throat, and she fought a wince. Her eyes locked on her mate’s, who’d gone still.
“That’s a good pup.” Mistress Black dug the blade deeper into Verika’s throat. Verika had been so transfixed by Elijah’s presence she hadn’t heard Mistress Black creep up behind her.
A cry escaped before she could press her lips together as her skin stung and split, and a warm trickle of blood dribbled down her throat.
Elijah went still. And white, much too white.
He didn’t move to fight as the flesh guardians dragged him to the second stake and tied him up. He craned his neck to look at her sidelong, a look of apology and despair in his eyes.
She shook her head. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I got us into this.
Don’t be absurd, kitten. I bring nothing but trouble and chaos with me. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.
Well, we can play the blame game all night, and it won’t do us a damn bit of good. Any ideas for getting us out of here?
He stared gravely at Mistress Black, trailed by her flesh guardians, as she walked back to the inner circle surrounding her body. They shifted, made way for her.
I wish I did. Elijah looked defeated. Even if they were bad ones. Hell, I used to be the king of bad ideas.
If he was the king, that made her the queen. Verika racked her brain, scrambled to come up with a plan, a prayer—anything—but she didn’t see how they’d be able to claw their way out of this mess.
She tried accessing her power one more time.
Nothing.
Mistress Black raised her hands to the sky, and her coven went silent all at once.
“My comrades, you will not have to lend me your power to preserve my true body any longer. After tonight, I shall be restored to my original self, my powers made complete by the souls and magic I’ve absorbed these past few months. And once I take my descendant’s power, I—we—will be unstoppable. We can create a world where we don’t have to live in fear of being judged, tortured, or killed for being different. A world where we can be ourselves in broad daylight. My friends, it’s time to come out of the shadows. It’s time for the Order of the Sun to lead the Underworld into a new era. Let us step into the light together.”
Verika frantically searched the coven’s faces as Mistress Black approached her with a knife. “She’s using you! Can’t you see that? She’s going to start a war!”
“You’re damn right I will,” Mistress Black said coldly. She stopped in front of Verika, eyed her with nothing but contempt and malice. “And it’s one, with your magic, I’m now positive we will win. Any last words?”
“Go to hell!”
Mistress Black’s mouth twitched. “Been there, done that about a gazillion years ago. You haven’t been through hell until you’ve watched your family burn. Thank you for your sacrifice. Your magic is about to aid a lot of suffering creatures who’ve been kept in the dark for too long.” She angled the blade, tilted the point upward toward Verika’s chest.
And plunged.
Time slowed. Verika became vaguely aware of sucking in a breath as her eyes dropped to the approaching knife, knowing there was no way for her to stop it. Elijah screamed her name, though she barely heard him over the ringing in her ears.
This is it. I’m going to die.
There wasn’t time to blink as the tip touched her chest, penetrated her shirt.
It was as if a bomb went off.
Blinding light exploded from her heart, making Mistress Black hiss and drop the knife. She shielded her gaze, stumbled back. “What is this?”
Verika had never felt anything like it before: a warm, rich glow enveloping her inside and out.
Pure, raw power, coming from a crystal that had materialized out of her chest.
She gasped.
It was her mother’s amulet, the one she’d seen in the picture.
“To protect me from all harm,” she murmured, staring in wonder. The light didn’t hurt her eyes. If anything, it was soothing. Dear God, her mother had hidden away the amulet inside her. The expanse of power it would take to accomplish such a feat—and to keep it sealed away for so long—was breathtaking.
She remembered a time when she was sixteen. At first, she didn’t know why she was remembering this, and then it all became clear as day.
She hadn’t had her license long, and had opted to pick up some late-night groceries for her adoptive mom. Cousins were coming in from out of town to visit the next day, and her mom wouldn’t have time to make a grocery run before they showed. Verika had been on her way home when a drunk driver crashed into her along the highway. It’d been winter, and the road had gleamed with ice. The car spun, twisted out of her control as she screamed, terrified. She’d hit a tree, had banged her head so badly on the side window that she’d been rendered unconscious. When she came to in the hospital later, the doctor said it was a miracle she was still alive. No one had ever been able to explain it, though her mom had been convinced it was a guardian angel.
Now, she knew. It was the amulet, forged by her mother’s love, that had saved her life that day.
And today, as well.
The brilliant burst of light retracted into the crystal, which shimmered and sparkled like bottled sunlight.
Mistress Black growled, a look of pure hatred in her eyes. “You wore a protection amulet. Very impressive, and sly. But it won’t work against me. I will break it.” Snatching the dagger up, she came at Verika with an enraged cry.
Verika didn’t even flinch, knew she had nothing to fear as the blade met the glassy surface of the crystal—and snapped in half.
“What?” Mistress Black shrieked, staring in disbelief at the broken dagger.
“Your hatred is overbearing, Diedre,” Verika said as images of Mistress Black’s past flooded her brain with each pulse of the crystal, as if it was siphoning them from her enemy.
Mistress Black’s eyes snapped upward. “How do you know that name? What power is this?”
“The kind you’ve forgotten. Or maybe you didn’t understand it in the first place. It’s the power of love and devotion, and it will trump whatever dark forces you throw at me anytime, anywhere.”
“This is ridiculous. A child’s attempt at thwarting me. Even a broken blade can be used to kill.”
Distantly, she heard someone calling her name, from inside her mind. She ignored it, her gaze intently focused on Mistress Black as she pointed the jagged piece of metal at her mate’s throat. �
�Surrender yourself to me, or your mate dies.”
Verika!
She blinked. She’d definitely heard a voice that time, calling out to her. Hello?
We’re… for you.
What? I can’t understand you! Your voice is breaking up! There’s some kind of magical interference. Either that, or the voice, which sounded so familiar, was too far away.
“Last chance!” Mistress Black gripped a handful of Elijah’s hair, jerked his head back to expose his throat. “Think very carefully about your next move, you sneaky little bitch.”
She only caught it for a second from the corner of her eye, but Verika swore the air over the field rippled. She blinked, stared.
There it was again, as if invisible fingers were trying to pry it apart.
A howl went up in the distance.
Mistress Black glanced at the woods, searched their darkness with wary eyes. “Go find out what that was,” she snapped, and two flesh guardians, along with a trio of witches and warlocks, took off into the night, torches blazing.
A sudden itching sensation spread over Verika’s skin.
Tilting her head back, she gazed up at the moon. Its light was so pure, so bright that it brought tears to her eyes.
“Keep running toward the light,” she murmured, feeling the tingling sensation growing in her skin as her bones began to vibrate. The moon was calling to her, begging her to let it take her, transform her.
That’s when she knew what she had to do—and the moment she figured out, truly understood, who she really was.
She was neither werewolf nor witch. She was Verika Elaine Tate-Johnson.
And she was going to kick this witch’s ass.
A gale picked up from around her feet, twisting and spiraling up and out. Not from her—from the crystal. It shone bright, clear as a star.
And Verika utterly trusted it. She could feel her mother’s love within her, and wept over the depth of her sacrifice.
Even knowing she’d face certain death by crafting this amulet, her mother hadn’t been afraid. And neither would her daughter.
Closing her eyes as power swirled around her, she gave in to the moon’s call. She didn’t fight the Change but let it take control of and transform her body. It hurt—oh God, it hurt—but she trusted the process, had faith she would be all right. That she could walk through fire, through pain, through suffering, and come out stronger on the other side.
As she morphed, the bracelets about her wrists groaned and snapped free. Her power flooded her senses, intoxicating, ushering in the Change. The world burst into brilliant sound and color as a great red wolf, the amulet swinging from its chest, took over her human body completely.
Her crimson fur and glowing golden eyes shone in the night, as did her fangs, which she took delight in baring at the closest warlocks and witches. Their eyes widened, and she drank in their fear, let it fuel the barely contained anger simmering below the surface of her control.
They had tried to kill her mate. And for that, her inner wolf was very, very angry.
Mistress Black staggered back, gazed openly at the red wolf with shock. “Impossible,” she breathed. “Those binds should’ve held you.”
“Nothing can stop a werewolf’s first Change, dumbass,” Elijah said.
Mistress Black seethed, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the broken dagger. “I’m going to cut that insufferable smirk off your pretty face. Then perhaps I’ll feed it to some of my monsters.”
It happened in a few seconds that stretched for an eternity. Mistress Black started forward, murder in her eyes. Her army of minions rushed behind her, surrounding Verika.
I will not be afraid, not anymore.
Fearless, she tipped back her head and howled.
A chorus of howls, achingly familiar, answered from the woods. She could hear them now, hear the paws running toward her. She’d heard them the second she’d Changed and the wind had carried the scent of their salvation toward her.
Everything smelled sharper. She could practically taste the earth, air, and sky on her tongue.
A pair of wolves emerged from the woods, charging across the moon-swept lawn. Gold and brown fur gleamed as they ran, fangs bared, magnificent in their ferocity.
Verika howled again, and Danica and Alara answered.
Then the sky split open.
As magic pried apart the fabric of time and space, a ripple went through the air, knocking the coven on their asses. Verika saw the ripple coming, felt its power, and threw up a shield of Black Magic without a second thought.
Her magic felt…different in this form. Not bad, just more pronounced, as if its wildness recognized the beast she’d become and had become one with it. She’d never felt more in command of herself, of her powers, than she did now.
Mistress Black hadn’t been as quick to react to the shockwave of power. Her shield was flimsy, shattering upon impact. She hauled herself from the ground, looking the most disheveled Verika had ever seen her. Her eyes were pinned to the sky in horror as a veritable army of witches, warlocks, vampires, and more werewolves than Verika had ever seen in one place rained down from the sky through a massive sparkling hole.
It was total chaos. Battle ensued, a bloody flurry of fang and claw. Above the cacophony of war, Mistress Black shrieked at her unorganized coven. They scrambled about, clearly not having a plan in place for this turn of events.
She truly hadn’t thought things would go south, she was that arrogant.
And so her vanity would be her undoing. How appropriate.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Verika immediately ran toward Elijah, but Gage had already freed him. The two brothers swapped looks, clasped hands, and then Changed into wolves of night and day. The pure-white wolf howled by its solid-black brother, who looked right at Verika.
Are you all right? Elijah asked.
She sensed her mate’s fear for her, his gnawing worry. He didn’t need those now. There was a time and place for them, but they both needed to focus on the battle at hand if they were to survive. And they’d been through too much together not to.
I’m fine, she assured him. You just worry about you, I’ll worry about me, and maybe we’ll come out of this alive.
No maybes about it. We will. Now let’s end this.
She barked her response and dove into the fray.
She’d never practiced fighting with magic growing up and had struggled to control her powers in the few scrapes she’d had since becoming a Black Witch. But in this body, her powers responded to her whims with barely any effort. Blood stained the ground quickly, saturating the air in a thick cloud that stung her nose and burned her throat. It was distracting at first, but the grisly images of torn flesh and the screams of the dying were even more so. They snapped her attention back to now, just in time to dodge an arrow made of ice.
The Blue Witch didn’t hesitate to fling another and another, though Verika’s nimble body dodged them all. Charging her attacker, Verika leapt and slammed her to the ground. She screamed, throwing her hands up as her face froze in terror. Verika raised a paw and did her best at bringing it down and across the girl’s temple without marring her face too much. Claws scored her skin in thin red lines, but she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do—she’d knocked her out cold.
The hatred and anger she’d felt earlier, two volatile feelings that easily could have turned into bloodlust, were gone now, attuned into adrenaline and sharpening her focus on staying alive. There was no need for her to kill, though if someone gave her one, she’d grant their death wish.
The cost of winning didn’t matter, not anymore. She had to walk out of this alive. She and Elijah both.
She didn’t look for him as she fought with magic, fang, and claw, relying instead on the tightness of their mate-bond. If it began to weaken…then she’d worry. Worry more, that is, though she knew she was being silly. Elijah was perfectly capable of handling himself, and he had been a wolf far longer than she.
S
he bit some half-Fae woman and sent her screaming for the woods. She bared her fangs, prepared to give chase, when a familiar vampire stepped into her path.
Rick looked significantly worse than the last time she’d seen him. His face was bruised, his jaw swollen on one side. His eyes held her with contempt. “My Mistress punished me because of you.” He flipped open a knife. “But she’ll revere me when I’m the one who takes down the—”
Oh, shut up! Verika thought, snarling. Her magic shot toward Rick, and he went still.
His eyes widened. “I…can’t move! What’s…happening?”
Verika reached deep inside, used the ancient magic flowing through her veins to push her thoughts into Rick’s head. Word to the wise—if you’re undead, don’t take on a Black Witch without expecting her to take control of you.
His eyes nearly shot out of his sockets, and his lips flapped stupidly. “Please,” he said, “have mercy!”
She was silent a moment, let him wallow in his panic. No one messes with my family. Ever.
Further pleas for mercy were silenced as she flung him high into the air and across the field with her magic, right into a throng of werewolves.
It took no effort to walk away without looking back, to turn her heart to ice at the sounds of his screaming.
More enemies approached, each stupider than the last. She sank so easily into her power, used it to twist, break, and bend.
Like snapping twigs, she thought with morbid fascination.
She could see, for a fraction of a moment, how Mistress Black could’ve succumbed to such seductive power. Blinking herself out of it, realizing her bloodlust hadn’t been satiated but rather stoked by what she’d done to Rick, she pulled herself back from the abyss, from that point of no return between woman and monster.
She had to get a grip on her powers, on her animal instinct to hunt and kill. She’d become one with her inner wolf so quickly that she hadn’t realized how much of an effect her spirit animal had an impact on her psyche. Had taken it for granted, it was so subtle, until it literally waved its dominance in her face with a trail of bodies littering the field behind her from where she’d passed and fought.
