by Sierra Cross
“Don’t you think I’ve tried? Even if I could pull myself up, it’s enmagicked.” The girl started to cry again. “I had to hide the burns on my hands for a week last time I touched it.”
“Asher, can you do anything?” I asked.
We waited as our warlock tried to work his magic. His tattoos roiled, sweat beaded on his forehead with the effort, but he shook his head. “The old piece-of-crap ward’s built like a tank. I can move it around, but can’t get it off the fence.”
“Liv, get on my back,” Matt ordered.
“This is not a good idea,” I said, but Liv was already climbing on Matt’s back. Maybe my leadership only mattered in tie-breaking situations, like some sort of magical vice presidency?
“Move the ward back as much as you can,” Matt said to Asher. I heard a sizzle of skin as his fingers touched the fence.
I wanted to tell him no, to pull him back. But I knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“Use your guardian magic as a buffer,” Asher said.
A thin sheen of blue covered Matt as he climbed, but his face was still contorted in pain. Asher’s arms twitched with the sustained effort of pulling back the ward. While I could see it still clung to the bars, it was less dense.
Matt hopped down on the other side. “Swap places,” he barked at Liv and Bethany.
They did it—with remarkable speed. Then Matt started back over the fence. The process was grueling. Twice, sweat on his burned hands made him slip. Bethany’s arms were wrapped so tightly around his neck it looked like she was choking him.
When Matt and Bethany got to this side of the fence, he jumped the last five feet with her, I took a breath. I realized it was the first one since he started climbing.
“Well done,” Asher said to Matt, clasping him on the shoulder. A look passed between them. Friendship? Respect? I don’t know, but it made me proud of them both.
I reached for Matt’s arm. “Let me see those hands.”
“Later.” Matt took a step forward on shaky legs. He was drenched in sweat.
“Bethany?” Liv called from the other side of the fence. “I look like you now, but I can’t pull this off without your help. Tell me about your friends. Your schedule. What dorm room you’re in and who your roommate is.” The two Bethanys stood huddled on either side of the fence, and if I didn’t know who was who, I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. While they talked, I convinced Matt to rest for a minute and put his hands in the snow.
“We’ve been here too long,” Matt said. “We’ve got to get moving.”
“When you’re settled send the email to the account we set up,” Asher said to Liv.
“Won’t that blow her cover?” I asked.
“It’s disguised as a vendor site on the magic web,” she explained. “I’ll just send a product inquiry if I’m okay. If I’m in trouble, it’ll be a product complaint.”
Trouble. Liv said it so blithely you’d think she was talking about detention, not being tortured and killed by demonic forces. All of a sudden, the weight of what she was about to do hit me. Was I foolish to let her do this? “Liv, it’s not too late to change your mind,” I said. “You promise to spellbead out at the slightest hint of…trouble.”
She gave me her yeah right face. “Yes, mommy.”
“This is serious.” Asher’s voice was low, his jaw set. “Throwing a glamour will tap deep into your reserves. If you’re not careful, a sneeze could throw you out of it.”
“Asher.” Liv matched his serious tone. “I’ve got this,” she said, hands on hips.
I couldn’t help wincing at the way her confident voice and posture made her look less like Bethany. Would she be able to pull this off, even if the glamour held? “We all want to set Callie free,” I said. “But you’re our first priority now. Your job is to remain in one piece. I’ll accept nothing less than that. Do you understand?”
“I love you too, sister witch.” Liv smiled back at me with Bethany’s face. And I prayed I’d made the right decision.
Bethany’s parents were only a short-hop commuter flight away in Green Bay. Her father sounded anxious and protective on the phone but promised to jump on the next flight to Marquette. Asher drove us to the airport, and I rode in the back with a shell-shocked Bethany. In the passenger seat, Matt dozed in and out of a pained sleep. By the time we made it all the way back to Marquette, her parents had already landed.
Seeing her family from across the terminal, Bethany bolted from underneath my arm and embraced them.
“Amy and Ted?” I extended my hand to the worried-looking couple, who looked to be in their late thirties. Asher did the same. I’d forced Matt to wait in the car. No good could come from them seeing him in his current condition.
“Thank you, for bringing our girl safely back to us.” Ted was a man almost as large as Matt, with chestnut hair the color of Bethany’s cropped close to his scalp. As he wrapped his arms around his family, bending down because he was at least a foot taller, I picked up his woodsy signature. Guardian.
“We can’t thank you enough.” Tears, streaked with jet mascara, streamed down Mrs. Brooks’ cheeks as she smoothed her daughter’s long brown hair and held her close. Like all light witches, the woman’s magical signature carried the soft scent of honey. Watching her and Bethany cling to each other fiercely, I almost wished Matt could have seen this. I didn’t know what sort of rigmarole her mom and dad must have gone through to hide their illegal relationship—and Bethany’s parentage—from the magicborn world’s judging eyes. Lived among Wonts? Pretended to be a single-mom witch and her guardian? Whatever lie they might be living, Bethany was being raised by her two loving parents. Something most Mal kids didn’t have growing up. Including Matt.
“How did you…?” I paused, realizing most of the questions I had about this family were too personal to ask, and might take hours to answer. We needed to drive back to campus and grab Liv. I settled on, “How did Bethany end up going away to the academy so young?”
Mr. Brooks stepped back, his facial muscles sagging with pain. “It’s all my fault. They said she was so talented. That keeping her back would have been cruel.” He rubbed his tired eyes. “I knew she was too young for this. And her…nature would be an extra burden on her.”
Her nature? I felt myself bristle at his tone. I knew it was the way he’d been raised and couldn’t help it, but it pissed me off how he talked about his own daughter like she had a defect.
“None of this had to do with Bethany’s age or her nature, for that matter,” Asher said what I was thinking. “No one could have known a Caedis would show up.”
“I should’ve protected her.” His anger was clearly directed at himself…in true guardian fashion. My annoyance at him melted into sympathy.
I glanced over at Bethany’s mom. She looked too distraught to offer him solace or advice. As much as they both loved Bethany, each of them seemed locked in their own pain. I was starting to understand the dynamics of this family.
“You can still protect Bethany,” I said. “Go into hiding. Don’t contact anyone you know.” I opened my purse and handed him a pre-paid phone we’d bought at an electronics kiosk when we entered the airport. “When it’s safe to come out, we’ll call you on this.”
“I know what to do,” he said solemnly.
I had to pray, for all their sakes, that he did.
The sun was setting as we turned off the highway heading toward Traverse Bay. Five hours in the car and my body was wrecked, my hands numb from gripping the steering wheel.
I missed Liv. Giving Bethany and her family a chance to go into hiding was a noble cause, but was it a mistake leaving Liv in her place all day? I consoled myself with the thought that if Liv were truly in danger, I’d have seen it in a coven vision. No news was good news…right?
We hit a bump in the pavement, and Matt woke with a grunt.
I ran my hand along his muscular thigh. “How you doing, big guy?”
“Fine.” The word came out raspy and cracked and anything but
fine.
“As soon as we get to the motel,” Asher piped up from the backseat, “I’ll put a warlock’s poultice on your hands.”
“I don’t need any—”
“ZZZZ,” Asher buzzed. “I will do this. And you will not argue.”
Matt must be in big pain because he groaned but stopped protesting.
Our headlights swung across the parking lot. Almost every spot was taken by what looked like a sea of black rental cars—nondescript sedans and SUVs.
As we got closer, silhouettes came into view. Half a dozen men, clustered in front of the building. I pulled into one of the few remaining parking spaces, and the sound of my car door slamming cracked through the silence of the freezing night. From twenty feet away, the men looked up…and even though I knew they were coming, my blood ran cold. None of them wore coats, even though the temperature had dropped to the single digits. They were all in bespoke suits. Though they were thirteen hours behind us, the vampires had arrived. I guessed having to hire a new witch to perform the deactivation spell had slowed them down.
“Miss Hill.” Bonaventura was at my side with preternatural speed, his coppery aura filling my nostrils. His voice was barely contained rage. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Without his saying a word, Wes and Griffin materialized behind their father, flanking him. Was this the blood-bond mental connection at work? I instinctively reached my arm out to keep Matt and Asher from charging. It was more a symbolic request than anything else. I felt their anger’s bite in our coven bond. They weren’t rushing the vampires, but both had called their magic. I was surprised Matt could, given his injuries. Adrenaline must be fueling him now.
“Right. Excellent question.” I stalled, trying to find a way to make this sound less lame. I was too focused on Callie, too surprised by Tenebris’s presence, too horrified by what was going on, to think even one move ahead on the chessboard.
“‘Urgent coven matter,’ my ass.” Wes’s lips twisted in a smirk of disgust. You were trying to get the drop on that Caedis without us. Weren’t you, witch?”
“No. I wasn’t lying about the urgent coven business.”
“Then enlighten us,” Griffin hissed.
Before I could go on, we were interrupted by a motel room door opening down the way. Giggles floated out into the air. Crystal, the college-aged feeder I’d met at Bonaventura’s, bounded out followed by several other Wonts—the vamps feeder brigade, no doubt. They were jovial and loud. I’d say drunk…if I didn’t know better. The residual post-feeding high was said to be a lot like a wine buzz.
“They said there was a diner on the property?” Crystal said in her Australian accent. Her blond hair bobbed as she looked left and right and didn’t see what she was expecting.
“Not sure I’d call it a diner,” I said, not taking my eyes off Wes, who looked the most likely to strike first. “It’s through the office.” I pointed, winding a huge golden fireball around my fingers. I knew the Wonts couldn’t see it, but the vampires could.
The feeders bobbed and weaved between us, playful and light. As they passed, a handsome, slim, young Wont ran his hand across Wes’s chest and whispered, “I’ll see you later.” Wes didn’t respond, nor did he relax his taut stance. Apparently too buzzed to notice, the lean guy joined the other feeders pouring into the office, where the closing door swallowed their buoyant conversation. The Wonts were clueless to the fact they just walked right through the line of fire.
“Wesley, we’ve discussed fraternizing with your food.” Bonaventura shook his head at his son and turned to us. “We’ll finish this conversation in private.”
I wondered, was that code for I’m going to rip you to shreds?
Matt, Asher, and I followed the Bonaventura men into the nearest motel room, an exact duplicate of ours—right down to the framed nature prints on the wall, showing Lake Superior’s waterfalls. I stood contemplating the art, preparing for Bonaventura to either get his shit together or lose it completely. Either of which I could handle. I was not prepared for where the attack actually came from.
Zing, zing, zing. Tiny pinpricks of pain hit the back of my neck. “Ouch!” I swatted at the stings like I was hitting mutant mosquitos. Only to have the pain radiate through my fingers.
“Oh no you didn’t!” The voice was strikingly familiar.
“Althea?” I turned around, continuing to swat madly at my neck. Matt and Asher were both hopping about as they too were assailed by the tiny strikes. Not lethal, but danged annoying.
Asher threw a golden blanket of deflection over us, but the blood witch ripped it up as fast as he conjured it. “For the love of magic,” he said, annoyed. “Use your words, witch!”
“You all want words? Fine…I had to leave my shop, rearrange all my plans, miss my nephew’s christening…”
“Ouch!” I shouted. “Shit. Stop already.”
Althea was using her words, but it hadn’t stopped her from throwing her magical darts.
“All because you backed out of a deal,” she went on calmly, continuing her dart rampage. “And I got bullied into one, by an exceedingly rude vampire…and then you show up anyway? What is y’all’s problem?”
“This is all a misunderstanding.” A dart flew right at my cheek, and I slapped my own face as it hit. Stupid reflex action. I heard a low rumble, and it took me a minute to figure out it was Griffins’s very dark chuckle.
“Enough.” Bonaventura’s voice held no trace of amusement.
“I’ll say that’s enough.” Althea pulled her arm back mid-throw. “I’m done.” She grabbed her bag, a stunning embroidered satchel, by its tan leather strap. “You wanted a witch. You’ve got one.” She pointed to me, then scooped a set of keys off the dresser. “I’m heading back to Seattle. Taking one of your cars—and you won’t give me any shit about it.” She shook her finger at Bonaventura. “And I’m keeping the advance.” She had balls, I had to give her that. The director would never let me get away with speaking to him like that.
The door slammed, and Bonaventura was staring at me with a murderous look on his face. The vampire really had it in for me.
“And just like that, she gets to just walk out of here?” I couldn’t keep myself from asking.
“Alexandra,” Matt whispered, his lips were close to my ear, but I could barely hear him. “Maybe save that for another conversation?”
“No, this is a conversation we will have right now.” Of course, Bonaventura’s vampire ears had heard everything. His voice had taken on that otherworldly quality I heard the day I made the mistake of waking him up. But this time it was freakishly quiet, not an eardrum-busting roar. It hurt my head nonetheless. “That witch has earned my respect. Althea always thinks before she acts. Understands that actions have consequences. She’s an adult. Not a child playacting.”
“Oh really?” I tried to sound snarky, but there was no punch behind my words. I’d lost Callie. I’d just sent Liv into the jaws of the devil—literally. And much as I hated to admit it, Bonaventura had a point that I’d gone off half-cocked, without considering all the ramifications of my actions. Now what?
Griffin was sitting on the desk, so motionless he looked like a statue. Wes paced next to his father, pulling at a pair of silver bracelets he was wearing, but they didn’t budge. Huh. On closer inspection, the thick silver cuffs he wore were etched, like our blades, but with different runes. Those things weren’t decorative, I realized. They were magically restraining him—from escape? From violence? Between the incessant circling and tugging at his wrists, he looked like a tethered beast. Bonaventura was scary, but he lived by a code. Wes? Was a different matter. If the cuffs failed and he decided to go after me, could his father react in time to stop him?
“You should chain your beast better,” Asher said to Bonaventura, keeping his eyes on Wes. A vein on the side of his neck was throbbing with the effort he was using to restrain himself. Wes, fangs fully extended, hissed at Asher. “I know from personal experience; those cuffs hav
e a higher setting. Use it.”
Personal experience? I wondered if he was talking about Daria, the Fidei agent with a kinky streak. I shut that thought down. I did not want to be picturing this.
“My son,” Bonaventura growled. “My concern.”
“He’s also a known murderer on the loose, Director.” Matt emphasized Bonaventura’s title. “I thought the law was also your concern?”
“Strange fetish you have for law and order,” Wes snarled. “For a Deviant.”
“Wow, you really went there.” With a flick of fire, Asher lost his willpower roll and called his magic to his fingers.
“Everyone, chill.” I was practically drowning in testosterone and righteous indignation. This situation was rapidly approaching a no-recovery spin. The last thing I wanted to do was apologize for trying to do right by my coven sister. But we needed to get back on track. “Listen, Director, I’m sorry I left you hanging without a witch. But it was important—”
“You speak, and your ignorance is amplified.” He was instantly reengaged with me.
I decided it was past time to level with him. “I know it looks bad, but you’ve got to believe me that we didn’t come here to kill Tenebris without you. We were tracking my coven sister Callie, whose body was taken over by his Splinter. We’re here to destroy the Splinter…even though doing so will kill our sister.”
The Director’s gaze dissected me, and once again I thought I glimpsed for one second the warmth of…humanity was the wrong word. Understanding? Sympathy? Then he tore into me again with his usual gusto. “It didn’t occur to your brilliant tactical minds that they might be together, the demon and his Splinter? That you might have a responsibility to share that information with me?”
I looked away, ashamed. Because, sure, it had occurred to us. Not right away—at first all we’d been thinking of was Callie; the nightmarish prospect of killing our beloved family member. But for all Bonaventura’s condescension and high-handed criticism, he was our ally. When we realized the vamps must be headed to Michigan, we should have contacted them.
