War Witch

by Layla Nash

  “You’re welcome, witch.” Mo took a deep breath and sat up, stress making lines around her eyes. She looked older, and tired. Very tired. “There are rumors in the Alliance that the wolves are starting to turn on each other. Pack against pack. And the felines will take advantage. We can already see the witches turning on us. It’s just a matter of time before the entire thing falls apart and we’re completely fucked.”

  I didn’t bother with platitudes or cheap reassurances that the worst wouldn’t happen. We’d both lived through ten years of the worst-case scenario. “Rumors are just rumors. Until they’re truth, anyway.”

  She scowled up at the ceiling, running her hands through her long hair. “It feels like it did right after the Breaking. That pressure-cooker feeling when the dominoes start falling and you keep hoping something will stop them, but...”

  “But nothing does.” I took a deep breath. “Maybe you should delay Mimi’s party. It doesn’t sound like you’re in the mood to celebrate anything anyway.”

  “That kid is going to have a normal life,” Moriah said, leaning forward with a hint of the wolf in her eyes. “She’s engaged. She’s getting married in a month, and she’s already had to cancel this freaking party half a dozen times. I’m not doing that to her again. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”

  She pushed to her feet and headed for the kitchen, anger in every line of her body, but I didn’t blame her. I’d envied Mimi’s normal life for the past several years, and though Moriah loved her sister fiercely, I knew part of Mo mourned that she’d lost her own twenties to the war. Mimi’s charmed life was just a reminder of what we’d lost.

  I covered my eyes and hoped I was doing something noble and kind rather than self-destructive. A smart witch would have heeded Eric’s warning and lain low until the storm blew over. A smart witch wouldn’t go running into an Other bar with the goddaughter of the Peacemaker and the entire Bureau of External Affairs on her tail for practicing dark magic.

  But history had proven I wasn’t a particularly smart witch. “It’s dark magic. That’s what they’re worried about.”

  She froze in her tracks, still facing away from me, and waited.

  “Dark magic, dark witches. There’s something bigger going on. If that’s what Mick’s worried about, I’m not sure you and the pack will be enough to protect everyone.”

  Mo turned on her heel, arms already folded over her chest. “I’m not worried about witches, Lily. I’m worried about other packs trying to steal my sister.”

  “I’ll go with you, then. I can protect her from both.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “You look like you’re on death’s door, and if I don’t feel like celebrating anything, you look like you’re ready for a wake.”

  “I owe you,” I said. “Plus I got some rest, so I’ll be fine. Seriously, Moriah. I’m sure the party will be great for Mimi, but you’ll never forgive yourself if something happens.”

  Moriah took a deep breath and headed for the fridge. “Okay, witch. But I think we’re both going to need a beer before this gets much further.”

  I wanted to laugh, but she was right. The beer filed the edge off my grief. I couldn’t help Tracy until I had more information, and Moriah needed my help in the meantime. I owed Mo my life, and she seldom asked anything in return. She faced a serious challenge that night: preventing another pack from abducting the bride-to-be or the bachelorettes while avoiding the blood feud that would ignite if she fought any would-be abductors.

  Snatching remained a popular way for young male shifters to demonstrate hunting prowess to a prospective mate and her family. The girl usually agreed to it beforehand, with only the timing and method of abduction unstated—it was up to the male to get his mate from a well-protected home without getting caught. I found the whole idea rather Neanderthal in execution, but the wolves in particular thought it necessary for a young man to prove his worth, particularly the young men who had not fought in the war. They called it culture and made excuses when the women who objected raised issues of compulsion and choice. Moriah hated it. But even her standing in one of the most powerful packs, and her reputation from the war, wasn’t enough to change the practice or protect her sister. There had even been threats from a few packs that they’d steal Moriah herself, just to make a point. The only man who tried didn’t survive the attempt.

  Some Old World packs allowed, even encouraged, males to pillage as they wanted. No women were off-limits, and the packs generally refused to return even reluctant brides to their families. Appeals to Soren and the Alliance usually resulted in a negotiated settlement, at least for those Old World packs in the States, but in the five years since the Truce, half a dozen full-scale pack wars erupted and threatened to tear the Alliance apart. Grabbing Mimi, the sister and fiancée of alphas and goddaughter of the Peacemaker himself, could divide the packs permanently and remake the face of the Alliance—if it survived. The kidnapping would be the type of escapade that made a young shifter a legend forever.

  Of course, knowing Moriah’s family—and Mimi herself—forcing Mimi to do anything she did not want to do would make that particular shifter a dead legend. But young males rarely thought with their brains.

  Moriah handed me another beer on her way to answering the door and allowing in the bridesmaids and maids of honor and other attendants that would support Mimi on her wedding day, and I covered my eyes so I didn’t have to see their excitement and giddy joy. If Moriah killed anyone, she’d embroil their pack in another blood feud. As a nonaligned witch, I could spill as much blood as I wanted without endangering anyone but myself. The Truce didn’t apply to me, but at least in that particular situation, neither did the consequences. It left me open to retribution from the other packs, but we both knew I could take care of myself.

  Of course, after last night, maybe I couldn’t.

  I borrowed lipstick and a pair of comfortable boots from Moriah, leaving my hair down instead of in my usual ponytail to try and change my appearance a little. Using a full glamour around Moriah required more of an explanation than I was prepared to give, so I went as myself. I hoped I didn’t have to use any magic, but if there was anyone in the entire city that deserved the full force of the War Witch’s protection, it was Mimi.

  Mimi entered kindergarten three months before the Breaking. She spent the war high in the mountains, sheltered with other shifter and witch kids in a place called Sanctuary. Even they didn’t escape the horrors of war—Mimi lost both her parents before she got to know them, and an older brother as well.

  I met her seven years into the war, just after her twelfth birthday. She should have been in school with ribbons in her hair and a pink backpack, worrying about spelling tests and who she would play with at recess. Instead, she guarded a nursery of toddlers with a lead pipe almost too heavy for her to carry.

  The humans threatened Sanctuary to split the Alliance’s focus, even as trouble brewed in the War Coven at the front. Sam and I bickered frequently, the coven walking on eggshells around us. Soren Warbringer was not unsympathetic, but he was pragmatic enough to know we needed a break from each other before things got ugly. So he ordered Lilith to reinforce the wards around Sanctuary and search for talent among the children, not knowing he sent the Morrigan away during the darkest days of the war. And because I desperately needed a break from Sam, I agreed to trek to the mountain stronghold in what used to be Colorado.

  It took four nights of traveling via Jeep and motorbike and hiking, hiding in glamours and darkness, with Leif and another shifter as guards. Even then there were too few war witches to risk one dying outside of battle. Of course, Soren also ordered the wolves to kill me if capture looked imminent: I knew too much about the Alliance to risk me being captured alive by the humans. It did not make for enjoyable travel, regardless of how fetching Leif looked when he first woke up and crawled out of his sleeping bag.

  Despite the secret nature of the mission, word got out among the fighters at the front that I headed west.
Many asked that I carry messages to loved ones at Sanctuary. Though the journey left me filthy and on edge, wishing only for a shower and bed, I’d exhausted the satchel of letters by the time I found Mimi. She was the last stop before I could rest.

  I’d seen their eldest brother Martin die a year or two earlier, and knew their parents died in battle in the second year of war. Since someone who probably looked a lot like me delivered the news of their deaths both times, her reaction should not have surprised me.

  She hefted her pipe, crystal blue eyes narrowed as she evaluated my bedraggled clothes. Her voice was child-high but steady as a rock. “Are they alive?”

  Taken aback, I frowned at her. She met my gaze, fearless, though terror lurked in her eyes. She would walk alone in the world, if she lost Mick and Moriah, and she stared into that abyss every time messengers came from the front. I crouched before her and nodded. “Yes. They wanted to say happy birthday.”

  She exhaled her terror, and I caught the pipe as it slipped from her fingers, pretending not to notice as she widened glassy eyes. Mimi composed herself and put her shoulders back, offering her small hand to shake. “I’m Miri—”

  “Mimi,” I said, squeezing her fingers despite the dirt crusting my skin. “Your sister told me. You shouldn’t give your name to someone you just met, kiddo.”

  She nodded, weighing this advice, then made a face as she eyed me. “You need a bath.”

  It nearly made me laugh, but she held herself with such dignity I couldn’t. “Yes, I do. My name is Lilith. It was nice to meet you, Mimi. And happy birthday.”

  “Did they send anything?” She managed to sound both very adult and very wistful as she studied her hands, a toddler tugging on her sleeve.

  Every kid deserved a present on her birthday. Except Moriah and Mick were very far from any place where appropriate presents could be found, and hadn’t sent one anyway. I chewed my lip, then reached into my pocket. I could protect myself; Mimi needed the help more than I did. The coin, covered in Chinese characters, had a small hole punched in the middle, and had been spelled for protection by my mother a few weeks before she died. I put it in Mimi’s palm and shifted my feet as she just stared at it. “This. They couldn’t find a ribbon or chain for it, but it’s for luck.”

  Her eyes grew shiny again, and she bolted forward to hug me, nearly dropping the coin. “Thank you, Leelee.”

  I untangled myself and patted her head gingerly, uneasy with the affection. “Okay. Be good,” I said, and walked away to find a hot shower.

  During the week at Sanctuary, I slowly forgot about Sam’s clinginess and tested the older kids for basher or warder strength gifts, not daring to hope I’d find a summoner. And I watched Leif, saw the promise in him despite his grim focus on the war. But the blonde kid with her pipe constantly intruded on my thoughts. She and I were not so different.

  She was one bad day away from being entirely alone. I made a quiet promise to the saints and the universe itself that it wouldn’t happen. I re-spelled the coin for additional protection before I left, and when I returned to the front, I paid more attention to Mick and Moriah, determined that at least one of them would return to Mimi.

  I couldn’t save Martin, but I saw Moriah and Mick through the war. Mimi flourished, became an outgoing teenager and a beautiful young woman, living a charmed life as the peace took hold. She finished school, fell in love, and took her place in a pack. Charmed.

  I remembered it all in a flash as the front door flew open and Mimi tumbled into the foyer. Reconciling the doe-eyed Mimi I remembered with the young woman in a miniskirt whooping it up with her friends took some effort. As Moriah herded the unruly girls toward the stretch limo parked outside, Mimi leaned on my shoulder, giggling.

  “Meems,” I said, steadying her. “You doing okay?”

  She straightened and her smile fell away as she held out her hand, radiating the same solemnity I remembered from Sanctuary. “It’s my ‘something old.’”

  I blinked several times at the old coin on a faded pink ribbon resting in her palm, and struggled for words.

  “This protected me,” she whispered, wide-eyed and serious despite being totally smashed already. She nearly strangled me in a hug. “Whatever luck I have, Leelee, I owe to you. Thank you for making sure they…at least they came back, even if Marty couldn’t.”

  I swallowed a sudden knot in my throat, pretending to cough so I could hide the break in my voice. “It wasn’t anything special.”

  “It was to me.” She winked at me, once more a party girl, and dove into the limo as she bellowed for someone to pass the vodka. I wiped under my eyes as Moriah gave directions to the driver, then ducked into the backseat. I stared out the window, my stomach clenching as we drove out of the city and toward one of the open parks where the packs held their mysterious ceremonies.

  At least it wasn’t anywhere near the witching hour yet.

  The girls hopped out of the limo and headed into the field, even with their high heels and party gear, and Moriah paused near the door to give me a regretful look. “You’ve gotta stay here, babe. It’ll just be a second.”

  “Not a problem,” I said, and pretended to put my feet up. “I’ll just take a nap.”

  Mo winked at me, “I’ll bring you back some rabbit blood,” and shut the limo door to jog after Mimi and her crew.

  Twenty minutes later, I still wondered if she meant it.

  Chapter 22

  I waited until the driver stepped out of the limo to smoke a cigarette, then fished out my cell phone and called the number on the new business card Eric had given me. When she answered, I floundered for a response—the voice was female, bright and chipper and a little too much like Mimi. Clearing my throat didn’t help, but I managed to force the words out. “I don’t want to talk about that thing you said. It’s a lie and I don’t believe you.”

  “Whatever you say, sug.” Eric chewed on something crunchy, apparently unperturbed by my opening. “Then what do you want to talk about? Get arrested already?”

  “No, and I’m not going to be arrested.” I meant every word. I’d go out fighting rather than let them put a collar on me. “But I need to get to the Skein tomorrow night. Can you clear the Externals away from there? They’ve got it blocked off and I can’t risk being seen.”

  “I might be able to create a little distraction,” she said. “Although the Skein is Stefan’s territory, so he won’t be pleased if he catches me out there.”

  “He mentioned that,” I said under my breath, sitting up as the driver got back into the front of the limo. “Said you should stay the hell away or we’d both end up dead.”

  “What do I get out of it?”

  My heart started to pound as Moriah and the girls reappeared in the distance, making their way carefully across the field. Despite their hair being in disarray and a few carrying their shoes, they didn’t look like they’d held a wild revel in the middle of a field under the moon. I cleared my throat and scooted out of the way of the door, just in case. “The credit, if I can figure out what the hell happened.”

  She made a thoughtful noise, then chuckled. “Sure. Why the hell not. I’ll call you tomorrow to confirm. Be careful.”

  I hung up just as the door opened and Moriah stuck her head in. “Still with us?”

  “Bracing for the storm,” I said.

  “Good luck,” she said, and held the door open so the girls could pile back into the limo.

  I ended up stuck in the back corner between one of Mimi’s dearest friends and her future sister-in-law, a sour-faced girl who oozed jealousy every time she spoke. I stared out the window as we drove back into the city. My stomach clenched as we pulled up to the Pug: even for a Friday night, it burst at the seams, a crowd lining up down the block. I glanced at Moriah as she opened the door, and managed to say over the shrieking bachelorettes, “Are you sure?”

  The girls finished attaching veils and streamers and cardboard penises to Mimi, screaming with laughter until my ears ra
ng. Moriah shouted over their noise as the girls tumbled out of the limo. “Soren issued a no-blood truce for this block when we scheduled the party. I guess he didn’t cancel it.”

  I groaned, hustling to get out the door so I could scan for threats. No wonder every shifter in the city stood in line to get into the bar—the Peacemaker himself guaranteed no harm would come to Others there. Which meant feuding packs could break bread without requiring combat to defend their blood feud, and they would be tempted to mend fences during the truce to avoid the exorbitant fees the Alliance lawyers charged to resolve the same. Not that it ever went as planned.

  So every lunatic shifter in the city with a grudge would be in the bar, within reach of Mimi. Maybe hiding the half dozen lunatics who really wanted to cause trouble for her. I stood back as the girls extracted themselves from the limo in a tangle of arms and legs, and the waiting males roared in approval. The girls giggled and preened at the attention as they sauntered to the door, and I cursed Soren a little as I looked around. He’d made the promise, but provided no additional security. Just the Pug’s regular bouncers manned the door and kept things under control, but things could quickly get out of control based on the number of men waiting to get inside.

  A cloud of smoke escaped as the door opened, Moriah waving us onward, and I jostled the stragglers as I warned the hungry-eyed men away with a shower of sparks. I gathered a little power, my nose twitching. Trouble could come from those men, or the ones already inside the bar, or from something unnamed in the night that hunted me instead of Mimi.

  Mimi swayed to the throbbing beat as she flung her arms up and twirled, and I envied her with a sudden sharp pain in my chest. To be so sheltered, so cared for and protected. To love a man, and marry him, and look forward to a real future together. To be young and beautiful and free. Unscarred. My breath hitched in my throat.