War Witch

by Layla Nash

Inside, the bar heaved with bodies packed tight in front of the stage where the band played. I caught sight of Moriah in the lounge area across the bar, roped off and decorated with bridal-themed tchotchkes. I fought through the sweaty masses, barely emerging on the other side, and perched next to her on a long sofa.

  She put her feet up and waved at a waitress. “So much for being loki.”

  “What?” I froze, heart jumping to my throat.

  Moriah leaned closer and yelled over the music. “I said, so much for being low-key. Blending in.”

  I exhaled through my teeth and managed a weak nod, thinking of Eric.

  I didn’t sit still for long, though it was less about adrenaline and more that I was out of practice at casting long-range. Bad aim could fricassee half the bar if I tried to take someone out and missed. I nudged Moriah and shouted over the shrill of the electric guitars. “Going to circulate. I’ll send up red sparks if there’s trouble.”

  She nodded, making eyes at a tall dark wolf hanging at the bar, and sipped her drink. “I’ll be here, trying to forget that my brother is an ungrateful asshole.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  I plunged into the crowd, skirting the dance floor as I sensed who surrounded us in the crowd. I breathed a little easier after discovering no other witches hid in the bar, though I paused with my back to a wall as I scanned the dance floor. Or maybe there weren’t any witches left to cause trouble. I squinted at the dancers, but saw only the bloody wreck of my apartment. Maybe demons attacked all of the witches in the city, not just Tracy and me and the coven. Maybe Anne Marie wanted to remove all of her competition at once.

  For a mad minute, I considered calling a witch—any witch—just to make sure someone survived. My chest tightened and sweat gathered between my shoulders, chilling me even in the oppressive heat of the bar. The urge to flee passed as Mimi gyrated closer and reached for my hand. “Dance, Leelee!”

  “I don’t dance.” I gestured behind her at all the people desperate to fall within the sphere of her charmed life. “Dance with them.”

  Alcohol and excitement brightened her eyes, and she nearly crushed the bones in my fingers as she dragged me toward the dance floor. “But you can’t come to my wedding and dance with me then. Dance now!”

  “For cryin’ out loud...” I craned my neck to catch Moriah’s eye, but she was fully occupied flirting with the tall wolf. I couldn’t tell who was in more trouble—her or the male. But either way, she wouldn’t rescue me from Mimi.

  Mimi dragged me into her crowd of friends, shrieking until the girls cheered. Being nonaligned might save me from blood feuds on a truce night, but it kept me from attending Mimi’s wedding. The Alliance only allowed pack and the aligned to attend official ceremonies, including weddings and funerals. I pretended I didn’t resent the restriction because there was no way around it—when the Peacemaker himself would attend the ceremony, Mick couldn’t even bend the rules.

  Mimi was a force of nature on the dance floor, despite my best efforts to remain dignified, and so I was laughing and whirling around her as three men infiltrated the crowd around us. A bridesmaid beckoned to one of them, drawing him closer as the chiseled jaw and perfect cheekbones distracted the rest of the girls. I circled closer to Mimi, the music beating in my brain as my instincts screamed a warning. The hard edge to those men was not a calculated facade, like so many others in the bar. The ones eyeing the bridesmaids moved with dangerous intensity, and I started looking for the bouncers, just in case.

  Then Mimi squeaked, “Hey, don’t—” and I left the bridesmaid to her fate.

  Mimi grappled with a fourth man, his bulk nearly overwhelming her as she fought in her stiletto heels and mini skirt. My brain clicked slowly through the disorientation of smoke and music and heat. He touched her. Touched Mimi.

  My Mimi. Sweet child with wide eyes and my magic coin.

  He pulled her away, toward the rear exit and undoubtedly a waiting car. A waiting life of servitude and exploitation, a pampered doll for some Old World asshole. I bared my teeth.

  The truce did not apply to me.

  He looked at me and smiled. Recognition twisted that smile, an anticipation of conflict, and the rush of memories almost distracted me. Another ghost risen from the ashes of war: Brandr, an Old World alpha and son of an Ancient, one of the shifters closely related to Lord Fenrir. He’d been scary when the war started; a decade of killing made him terrifying. And even five years of peace hadn’t dulled that edge.

  Brandr shoved Mimi into the waiting arms of a younger wolf as she tried to reach me. Her arms flailed and she screamed. “Leelee?”

  I moved before I knew I moved—slapping my hands together and stripping every ounce of magic from the room in one giant drag. Dancers stumbled toward us with the force of it, and the band jangled to a halt as the bass player fell. I threw a ward around Mimi and me, protecting the bystanders if things got ugly, and isolated Brandr from the rest of his pack.

  He might have been a hero from the war. He might have been a direct descendant from Fenrir Varg Himself. He might have come for all the girls, or maybe he’d decided to challenge the Peacemaker by kidnapping Soren’s goddaughter. It didn’t matter. Brandr signed his death warrant the moment he touched Mimi.

  Magic curdled as I hexed the wolf restraining Mimi, blowing him off his feet and through my ward into the mirror over the bar. I sent a cascade of red sparks into the air as silence followed the shattering glass, all before Brandr even stepped in my direction.

  I may have grown complacent in retirement, but I could still fight.

  And the magic. The blessed magic removed any hint of guilt or grief or emotion at all. Just rage. Only rage survived as a muted burn in my chest, a pressure where I clenched my jaw. Finally.

  Brandr snarled, “Witch,” and I whipped a killing hex at him. Mimi squealed as he raised his arm and a charmed metal bracelet deflected the hex.

  I ducked the magical shrapnel and started to rethink my strategy. He had a strong witch in his pack. Fine. Whoever she was, the bitch wasn’t stronger than me. I dragged Mimi behind me. “Keep your back to mine. Shout if they come at us.”

  The bouncers and other wolves shouted about the truce, but Brandr and I never looked away from each other.

  Power swelled around me and I smiled. It had been too long.

  Battle.

  My heartbeat slowed and steadied, I stacked hexes in preparation, and everything—the noise, the lights, the cold clamminess of Mimi pressed against me—faded away. I tossed hexes at his feet to make him dance, and when any normal witch would have needed to pause and Brandr lurched forward in anticipation, I winged a stunning spell and caught him full in the chest.

  He crashed backward into my ward, and I jumped forward to finish him off. Never turn away from the enemy until he was dead. True-dead. I gathered blue death spells in my right hand, prepared to finish him off, when Mimi choked and said, “Lily,” and I turned.

  I swept her behind me, keeping her protected as I faced the new threat.

  Protect the children in Sanctuary. Keep them safe. They’re the future. Safeguard them.

  The three males from Brandr’s pack circled my ward, all business as they tried to reach their alpha and Mimi. One flung a handful of coins at the power glowing in a blue dome around us, but the coins bounced off as they cracked the wards. Burning sparks of magic fizzled through the bar, and the crowd stampeded for the exits.

  The coins broke apart, too weak to really damage my spells, but it only increased my certainty that the Cold River pack had a powerful witch working with them. Saints help me if Brandr kept a basher, because even a war witch could have trouble with a basher’s work. I sucked in a breath and glanced back to check on Brandr, still trying to stand.

  One of the three betas pulled a metal hoop from the small of his back, and I gritted my teeth as I backed Mimi into the center of the wards. “This might get a little…loud.”

  He threw the rending hoop, as the ring was
officially known, and it sliced through the air; edged in steel and charged by a powerful basher, it collided with my wards and whipped around us.

  Mimi blinked at me. “What will—” she started, just as my magic gave in under the hoop’s relentless assault.

  The wards should have exploded inward, stunning me and probably killing Mimi, but I flexed and released the spell out just before they broke. The magic boomed like thunder, leveling everyone else in the bar.

  Enough of that. I tossed my hair back as I brought my hands together at my chest and faced the three wolves, prone on the dirty dance floor. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  One pushed up on his elbow as blood drained from his ear. His eyes glinted gold in the flashed strobes lights of the bar as he bared pointy teeth. “No.”

  The magic buoyed up inside me, and I reveled in it, turning as clinking echoed behind me.

  Brandr regained his feet, unwinding a heavy gauge steel chain, loop after loop coiling at his feet as he hefted a powerful breaking charm in his other hand. A red-orange glow leaked through his fingers.

  Cold adrenaline sharpened my vision as magic built like lightning in my chest. I felt powerful and dangerous and alive for the first time in years. In forever. Finally. Finally. I could fight. I could feel again. Could release all that anger and fear that built up, and finally feel nothing at all.

  I spread my hands in front of me, daring him to use the charm. Fool.

  My laughter rang out in the silent bar. Brandr’s scarred face creased as he watched me, but he raised the charm, drawing his arm back to throw. I pointed my right hand at him, covered in a soft blue glow from elbow to index finger, and everyone who’d fought alongside witches in the war took a collective breath. Blue. Blue to bring death. I smiled. I relished the power and fury rolling through the blue death in the palm of my head. No one survived blue death. “Don’t do it. Because I will.”

  But mutually assured destruction only deterred relatively sane combatants. I wasn’t sure either of us actually was.

  Brandr snapped the end of the chain at my legs, making me jump as the iron in the chain raised a tickle in my sinuses. At least it wasn’t cold iron. I sent a blue orb out and he barely dodged in time. Mimi squeaked behind me, and whispered, “Get him, Leelee.”

  “Blue death will destroy your soul,” I said, unfeeling through the cold clarity of the magic, though I edged Mimi away from the splintering magic.

  His teeth shone white and long, sharpened by rage and battle and the moon. He flexed his shoulders and played with the breaking charm. Whatever reply he prepared disappeared in the roar that emanated from the door. Everyone in the bar froze. Pack magic flooded the room, sending every shifter to their knees and threatening to end my fight.

  No. My fight. I snarled and sent power crashing against the pack magic in a tide; no one would steal that from me. I’d been so bored for so very long. They wouldn’t take it from me.

  Another roar and the door exploded in; pack magic raged against mine until the rational part of me reasoned it would behoove me to let it go, regardless of how much I wanted to finish it and raze the bar to the ground. I bared my teeth at Brandr. “You do not go after the pups.” I arced blue lightning at him in a final message.

  He didn’t even try to block with the shielding charm, bracing for death instead, but a red mist rose up and deflected my hex. Protecting him. He had a moment to look surprised, then the timbre of the roar changed and a crushing gravity settled on the room.

  I grabbed Mimi’s arm so I could run with her if I needed to, but I didn’t take my eyes off Brandr. He still had that charm.

  The crowd of shifters parted to let someone through. Even with the haughty indifference of magic, my heart climbed into my throat as I recognized the set of his shoulders. I would know him anywhere in the world, even in the dark of night: Warbringer and Peacemaker. Leader of the Alliance. Alpha of alphas.

  Soren.

  Pack magic surged as he loomed over Brandr, and my hands fell. Soren protected Brandr in order to make his own point. That was irritating. I could have killed Brandr myself. He probably would have preferred it to the Peacemaker’s justice, by the look on his face as the chain fell from his hands.

  Mimi, better schooled in shifter etiquette than me, pulled free of my grip and bowed to the Peacemaker as his gaze swept the crowd. I didn’t budge. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed, boosted by magical arrogance, to keep my knees locked as Soren’s rage suffocated the bar.

  I was nonaligned. I would not bow. I might not stand for long, but I would stand. I edged back a step.

  But no one would blame a witch for leaving. Clearly it was a pack matter to be resolved among the Alliance.

  A hand slid around my elbow and pulled me back when I took a step. I clenched my right hand, preparing the blue death. Just in case one of Brandr’s guys decided to go out in a blaze of glory right in front of the Peacemaker.

  “Imagine finding you here,” a low voice said, close behind me.

  My heart sank. Leif.

  Chapter 23

  I kept my eyes on Soren despite Leif’s touch. The Peacemaker loomed over Brandr, shoulders so tense the muscles rippled under his shirt, and his goons spread out to guard the rest of the Cold River pack. Soren’s voice was deceptively mild for someone on the verge of an uncontrolled shift, a scary trick I’d heard only one other time during the war. Right before he went straight fucking berserk. “Brandr. The moon must have stolen your reason, for you to break a truce I guaranteed.”

  The kneeling wolf didn’t look away. “I can’t say I knew there was a truce to break.”

  Leif’s voice stirred the hair at my temple. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

  “I’ve been a little busy.”

  A growl lent an edge of Soren’s voice that sent the nearest shifters stumbling to retreat. “And you touched my goddaughter. Why shouldn’t I rip your throat out right here?”

  Brandr’s gaze slid to me and I couldn’t breathe. Would he blame me for this mess? Would he offer some excuse for trying to steal Mimi? After a long, long silence in which no one moved or spoke, Brandr said, “I offer no defense,” and waited, making no move to placate the agitated Peacemaker.

  Soren followed Brandr’s gaze to me, and his golden eyes narrowed. I clenched my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering under the weight of his scrutiny and the pressure of Leif’s presence. The Peacemaker’s personal power hit me like a punch in the gut, though he didn’t immediately order me collared. That was a good sign, at least.

  The Peacemaker gestured and a dozen Styrma, his most experienced and loyal fighters, seized Brandr and dragged him away. The Old World alpha tracked me even as he disappeared out the door and into the night.

  I hoped Soren would just turn and leave, but luck had long since abandoned me. Moriah finally elbowed through the motionless crowd to the small gap around us, her face flushed, as Soren surveyed the crowd. The Peacemaker’s attention shifted to where Leif gripped my arm, though he spoke to Moriah. “You brought a witch.”

  “Lily,” Moriah said, bobbing her head in deference to the alpha of alphas. “Our friend. From the war.”

  “Lily,” Soren repeated, as his gaze went to Leif and something passed between them—something unique to shifters or maybe just to men. I wondered what Leif told him about me, but the Peacemaker still did not accuse me of any crimes. “From the war.”

  He recognized me—he had to. My heart thudded a little faster against my ribs.

  A hidden threat lurked behind Soren’s mask of civility. “You didn’t bring assistance, witch?”

  “No,” I said, and tensed. Leif’s grip tightened as he shifted his balance, preparing to take me down if I threatened his boss. But I’d played these games before, and let my teeth show in the smallest of smiles, a socially acceptable statement of independence. “I’m dangerous enough on my own.”

  “So I see.” He glanced around the silent bar, canines glinting in the strobe light as he smil
ed back. “And which of my covens is lucky enough to call you sister, Lilith?”

  He knew. He had to know the answer to that. But for some reason he wanted me to say it. I hesitated and considered a lie. Lying to the Peacemaker about belonging to one of his covens, even a fictional one, would certainly haunt me. And declaring myself nonaligned meant I became a free witch for him to pursue—or censure. I pinched the bridge of my nose and I hemmed and hawed, until Mimi stumbled back to hug me, jostling Leif’s hand loose.

  She grinned at her godfather and winked as if she told a dirty joke. “Leelee’s nonaligned,” she said, and burped so loudly she startled herself.

  I swallowed a groan as murmurs spread through the crowd, but I met Soren’s gaze without blinking. I would not cower.

  Moriah caught her sister’s shoulder and propelled her to the side, trying to catch Soren’s attention as the Peacemaker’s focus sharpened on me. “Sir. Lily is a friend of our pack, and—”

  “I’m sure she is.” The Peacemaker studied me for an eternity before he looked at Leif and nodded. Soren turned to where Mimi swayed on her sky-high heels, and his demeanor went from homicidal alpha to doting uncle in a blink. “Are you having a good time at your party?”

  “Oh yeah, lots of fun.” Mimi peeked around Moriah, apparently having forgotten the last thirty minutes. “You should stay, Uncle Soren. Let your hair down,” and she dissolved into a mix of giggles and hiccups.

  Soren smiled indulgently. “I would love to stay and celebrate, honey, but I have other business.” His gaze swept the crowd, creating a wave of bobbing heads and audible gulps. His smile turned self-mocking. “And I would kill the buzz if I stayed. Enjoy your party. Leif will make sure no one else misbehaves.”

  Mimi flung her arms around his neck and smacked a kiss on his cheek, and half the crowd gasped as her audacity. One simply did not hug the Peacemaker. But Soren only hugged her back, studying me over her shoulder before untangling himself and redirecting her back to Moriah. Soren murmured to Leif, though their words disappeared in the rustle of the crowd, and he strode out without another word. The entire room exhaled as the door closed behind the Peacemaker and most of his entourage.