by N. D. Jones
“We don’t use that word anymore, but you’re essentially correct,” stated Makena. “Ever since the Ferrells were murdered, we’ve been bombarded by local witches we knew nothing about. They were off the grid and living without the protection of one of the chapters, as were the Ferrells. After the murders, they realized they could no longer afford to ignore or deny their identity at the cost of their lives, so they sought us out.”
“So, you two have spent the last three weeks charm-proofing the whole damn city,” accused Mike “And you didn’t see fit to tell us?”
“This is witch business, Mike,” Makena swiftly responded, her tone reproachful. “No matter how deep our friendship goes, there are certain things I cannot and will not share with you. I don’t ask you to divulge the inner workings of your dwarf society, so don’t ask me to share what goes on in mine.”
Mike grunted; the old man too smart not to understand the finer points of maintaining intraspecies secrets but too stubborn to concede her an inch.
“You should’ve at least told, Assefa,” he snapped back. “He’s one of you. Not a bauble-and-broomstick kind of witch, but a bite-your-arm-off-like-catnip kind of witch.”
Assefa placed his hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “They’re under moral oath to keep their secrets from everyone not sworn to their bonded family, even a trusted friend like you. As for me,” he smiled at Sanura, “they couldn’t share such details with me until after the handfasting ceremony. Now that it’s complete, and we know for sure that I’m her familiar, we’re now part of each other’s inner circle and can share more personal details about each other.”
Mike looked at the three women and Assefa. The special agent had a good idea of what was going through the older man’s head. Assefa and the women were aware of the rules of a society to which Mike could never and would never be a part. He had severed ties with his own dwarf clan years ago, trading it in for a life among full-humans. Yet, it was Makena and Samuel Williams who had accepted him into their world, claiming a dwarf as family, friend and godfather to their only child.
Makena bent down to give Mike a reassuring hug and whispered, “Worry not, my dear friend, in all other things you have my absolute confidence. I trust you as Sam trusted you and as we’ve raised our daughter to trust you. Don’t allow today to make you doubt this essential truth. You’re our rock, our stalwart, our special dwarf, and we love you. You’re a part of our clan, Mike.” She stood tall then and said mock-sternly, “Let us not have this conversation again, Detective McKutchen.”
“Yes, ma’am, Judge Williams.” There was relief and an actual smile on the detective’s face.
Well, Judge Makena Williams is a damn snake charmer.
Assefa started to ask Cynthia a question about the attack, but then he smelled it. Smelled him. Before he could stop himself, a low growl rumbled in his chest, halting the chatter around him.
Everyone’s eyes flashed to Assefa.
But his eyes and words were all for Sanura. “What is he doing here? Did you call him?”
“What are you talking about? What is who doing—”
“The dickhead,” Mike said, the smile gone, buried under the dwarf’s obvious annoyance.
Her eyes moved away from Assefa and around his body, then quickly skated back to him. “I didn’t call Richard. I have no idea why he’s here.”
Assefa swallowed—hard—balled his fists—even harder—then told his cat to relax and allow him to handle Richard Houghton. How could a day that had so much potential end with a teen in a hospital and Assefa ready to drop his control and let his Mngwa have a little mathematical snack?
“Sanura,” Houghton called from down the hall, his long arm up and waving as if they were on a busy street instead of a quiet hospital hallway.
“I didn’t call him,” Sanura repeated before stepping around Assefa and walking toward the ever-smiling professor.
A snarl. Mike this time. “He’s a dickhead. Don’t worry about him, kid.”
“He’s not as bad as all that, Mike.” Makena gave Assefa’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “He’s just not right for our Sanura.”
“Full-humans never are right for our kind, fun to play with but nothing more.”
Fun to play with? Assefa didn’t like Cynthia’s words. But she and Sanura were best friends, and she probably knew all about Richard and how he and Sanura once played. Is she playing now? With me? Wants to know what it’s like to be with one of her own?
“He’s a nice enough man, but my daughter knows her future isn’t with him.”
But did Sanura think her future was with Assefa? He thought she did, but maybe not.
Makena and Cynthia joined Sanura and Richard, the women polite, granting him smiles, appreciating his seeming concern over Gen’s health.
“The man’s a charlatan.”
Assefa glanced down at Mike. “I know. What do you know about him?”
Mike shrugged. “Not much. He’s always treated Sanura with respect. Said the right things, did the right things. You know, all that bullshit men do to make a good impression.”
“So why don’t you like him?” Not that Mike liked too many people. Still, if Houghton treated Sanura with respect…
“Why don’t you like him? And don’t give me some bullshit about being jealous of the math geek. He’s not even worth one of your expensive-ass ties.”
“He smells of lies and secrets.”
The detective nodded.
“He also doesn’t quite smell human.”
“What do you mean?”
Assefa watched Houghton with the women, catching bits and pieces of their conversation. Apparently, the professor was at the hospital visiting a friend. On his way out, he’d seen them get on the elevator and asked the security guard their destination. And, of course, being the top cop, he was, the incompetent fool gave up Gen’s room number to a stranger. Maybe on the way out Assefa would break the idiot’s hand anyway.
Mike followed Assefa when he put some distance between himself and the group, his cautious eyes still on Houghton. No way did he believe that story he’d just spun for the women. Convenient didn’t begin to cover it.
“I don’t know, Assefa. The dickhead has full-human written all over him.”
“I’m not saying Houghton isn’t fully human, only that he carries the scent of…something else.”
“Something else?” Mike glanced back at the group. “Do you mean something preternatural?”
Their gazes met, and Assefa slowly nodded.
“Shit.” Mike rubbed his hands together. “It’s always the nice, geeky-looking guys, you know, kid.”
Yeah, Assefa knew. He used to be one of those nice, geeky-looking guys until he’d hit puberty and discovered weights and a hardcore beast lurking within. Now, well, the geek remained, hidden behind muscles, overpriced suits, and a badge. As for him being nice, a highly overrated trait, unless one happened to be a sexy fire witch with a beast of her own.
“So, what do you want to do about the dickhead?”
Assefa’s eyes darted back to the group, then narrowed when Houghton oh so casually touched Sanura’s arm. Rip the lying bastard’s throat out.
Staring at him, an all-too-perceptive Mike laughed. “I can’t believe I once thought you were a happy-go-lucky Boy Scout who loved nothing more than being a pain in my ass and dressing like you were too good to do any real police work.”
Assefa dropped his gaze to the shorter man. “I do like being a pain in your ass, Mike. But,” he leaned closer to the detective, “I also like getting my hands dirty, and I’ve already dug up some interesting dirt on our Dr. Houghton.”
Two bushy brows arched. “Let’s talk.”
“We will. But first…time to get a little caveman.”
As Assefa walked away from Mike and toward Houghton, the ladies now making their way away from him and heading in the direction of Gen’s recovery room, he heard the detective mutter, “For the love of Larry Talbot, show the dickhead you
r fangs, kid, and send the geek running home to Mommy.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Absolutely not,” Mike said.
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to allow you to do this, Sanura. Are you insane?” Mike yelled. “You have to be out of your ever-lovin’ witch mind if you think any of us will allow you to take such a risk.”
“That’s the second time you used the word allow, Mike,” Sanura shot back, tired of going over this. “Whether I have your support or not, I’m doing it, and what you will or will not allow doesn’t factor into my decision in the least.”
Yes, this conversation was past old. Ever since the four of them had returned to her mother’s, next steps comprised the entirety of the late-night conversation. After seeing Gen’s pale, weak form and bandaged neck, Sanura knew what she had to do.
Mike spun around in Makena’s kitchen; his pleading eyes fixed on Assefa. “Tell her she’s insane. Tell your mate she can’t do what she’s considering.”
Mate? Hell, Assefa had barely spared a few words for her since Richard had shown up at the hospital. And what was all that about, anyway? Something about being in the area and a friend? She didn’t really know. But Assefa hadn’t been pleased, even going so far as accusing her of calling Richard. Yeah, like she would do that.
“He’s not my mate, and if he were, he would know better than to try to make my decisions for me.”
Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have said the first part as if being mated to Assefa was such a loathsome idea. It wasn’t. It was just…well, more than she could think about right now. And she didn’t even want to see how Assefa had reacted to her bold, insensitive declaration. Gods, how come I can’t ever get this right?
“You see this, Assefa,” Mike said, waving his finger at Sanura. “This is what I was talking about earlier. Feminism has ruined this generation of women and the next. It’s best you see this side of her before you complete the other two parts of the handfasting ceremony and this bra-burning women’s libber becomes your wife. She won’t listen to a damn thing you have to say. If you’re not careful, she’ll wear the pants and put you in a frilly pink dress with garters and lace.”
“Stop.” The voice was boulder-hard and spoken just above a snarl.
Everyone stared at Assefa, his chocolate eyes shiny marbles of caged displeasure.
“Sit down, detective.” He cast those unforgiving eyes at Mike. “You may be Sanura’s godfather, but I’m her familiar. And if I ever hear you speak to her like that again it won’t matter how much I respect you, I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it back to you.”
Mike sat.
Makena stared.
Sanura gulped.
Assefa was in rare form and, from the look of the man, not nearly finished talking.
“Mike’s right, Sanura. What you’re suggesting is too dangerous for any witch, especially an untrained one.”
She scowled.
He ignored her.
“I’m not saying this because you’re a woman or for personal reasons. I wouldn’t ask any untrained person to do what you’re suggesting. There must be another way, sweetheart, and Mike and I will find one.”
So, they were back to “sweetheart.” She sighed, recalling Assefa’s words to Richard when she’d come out of Gen’s room in search of him. “You’re playing games, Houghton, and I won’t have it. I thought I made myself clear last week. But in case I didn’t, I will destroy you or anyone else who hurts Sanura. Go. Away.”
Richard went. But it was Assefa’s eyes when he’d turned and saw her standing there that silenced any cutting words she may have said to him. Under the heat of his unguarded gaze, words about a witch’s independence, a shifter’s possessive nature had melted on her tongue.
Concern, fear, and affection had stared back at her, his FBI mask discarded, eyes a vulnerable shade of dark-brown. And those same fathomless orbs watched her now, waiting with a patience she’d never known.
Taking a deep breath, Sanura reeled in her womanist ideals and said calmly, “There’s no other way. I wish there was. I can’t allow anyone else to be hurt because we’re too afraid to confront this demon. You said it yourself, Assefa. If we don’t capture this thing soon, it’ll start hunting full-humans.”
Assefa leaned against the wall in the kitchen, closed his eyes, and then brought his hands up to rub his temples. He appeared exhausted, the case clearly taking its toll, her request now adding to his worries. He shook his head, opened his eyes, and met her gaze. “She’s right.”
Sanura saw Makena catch Mike before he said something stupid. To her surprise, he actually settled down. That threat of Assefa’s must’ve really gotten to the dwarf. And that was saying something because dwarves did not frighten easily.
“We need bait and she’s the perfect witch to lure the adze to us.”
She mouthed the words “Thank you, Assefa.” But his arctic expression didn’t change. Apparently, the man didn’t want her thanks, didn’t, in fact, want any part of her plan. Yet he’d given in, seen the merit of her reasoning. If nothing else, Sanura knew Assefa respected her mind, her opinions.
No matter her bravado, there was no way Sanura could do this without the men’s support. She hated doing this to them, but she really didn’t see a better option.
Mike began shaking his head before the words of “Hell, no. I won’t do it,” came spilling out. “I made a promise to her father that I would keep her safe. I won’t voluntarily put Sanura in harm’s way.”
Makena took hold of Mike’s balled fist and slowly, effortlessly, smoothed it out. “You also made an oath to the people of Baltimore City to protect them against all threats. Would you turn your back on that oath? Is your family’s safety worth more than the security of innocent full-humans who will assuredly fall prey to the adze if we don’t do something now?”
It was a good lawyer’s argument. Makena’s face betrayed none of the fear Sanura knew her mother was feeling.
“Come on, not you, too, Makena. You can’t possibly want Sanura to do this.”
“No, Mike, I don’t want my daughter to do this. But I trust you and Assefa will keep her safe. Besides, she’s not as defenseless as the two of you may believe. Sanura’s received extensive training beyond that of a normal witch. Sam saw to it, as did my mother. The three of you will be able to defeat the monster and free the city from its threat. This I believe, Mike, unless you’re telling the three of us you’re too old, slow, or otherwise infirmed to hold your own against the adze. If this is the case, then perhaps you should retire right here and now.”
Yeah, her mother was good. Sanura needed Mike to be onboard with the plan. Her mother’s persuasive words were the only ones he would even consider.
Sanura gave her mother a thankful smile, while Mike treated Makena with a glare that screamed “traitor.”
A few tense seconds later, he released a defeated sigh. “For the love of Johnnie Cochran, I see why Sam never won an argument against you. You’re the consummate lawyer.”
Makena leaned over and placed a loving kiss on Mike’s cheek, leaving two shiny lipstick marks behind.
Mike blushed, adding his own pink color to the mix.
It was done.
Three grim but resigned faces met hers, and Sanura forced a smile, wondering if she’d just made herself the adze’s next meal. I will destroy you or anyone else who hurts Sanura. She knew Assefa meant it, and catching killers, after all, was his job, why the special agent was in Baltimore. Still…the thought of the man…her man, going up against a cold-blooded killer sent chills down her spine.
“We have a lot of planning to do,” Makena said. She rose then moved to the kitchen counter. “I’ll make the coffee, Mike will grab the pie from the fridge, and Assefa will sit down before he makes a permanent outline of himself on my wall.”
“What do you want me to do, Mom?”
“Pray that you’re right.”
Yeah, she’d started that when she’d come up with the idea to use herse
lf as bait.
Turning to Assefa, Sanura watched him approach Makena. “I need a few minutes. Mind if I use the heavy bag you have downstairs?”
Makena’s fingers went to Assefa’s forehead. “You have too much magical energy running through you.” She dropped her hand. “Sam’s treadmill is also in the basement. It hasn’t been used in a while, but it still works. I think a good run will help.”
“Thanks, I’ll try not to be too long.” Without a word to Sanura, he made his way to the door that led to the basement, opened it, and descended the stairs.
“What was that all about, Mom?”
“He’s running a magical fever. He needs to get it down before he can fully concentrate on catching the adze.”
Magical fever? Assefa didn’t seem the least bit sick. No, the special agent had simply retreated behind that damn mask of his again.
Makena approached Sanura, and Mike didn’t even have the good manners to pretend he wasn’t paying attention to them.
“Are you planning on taking Assefa as your mate?”
Umm. Well, she wasn’t expecting that question. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised, not when it came to Makena Williams. Besides, she had merged their auras, an act that wasn’t necessary to determine whether Assefa was her familiar. Yet such a merging was the way a witch magically bound her familiar to her. But it was the cat’s bite that bound the witch to the man. Until both occurred, the mate bond was incomplete.
Without waiting for a reply, Makena just kept going. “Look, I know you’ve never dated a were-cat before, not that I ever understood the reason why. Anyway, that’s old news. But you’re a master witch. Your lack of personal experience with a were-cat is no excuse. Your father and I raised you better than this.”
“No excuse for what? I’m not at fault here. I told Assefa that I didn’t call Richard, and I didn’t. Why are the two of you looking at me as if I’ve done something wrong?”
“Because you’re trying to turn a perfectly good FBI agent into a mangina. And I don’t—”
Whack.
“What the hell, Makena?” Mike rubbed the back of his head. “Did you just sucker punch me with a magical slap to the back of my damn head?”
