War Witch

by Layla Nash

  I surfaced through deep water to the glare of floodlights in the alley. A weight on my chest made it difficult to breathe, each gasp a gift from the saints. The young witched argued with someone near my feet, gesticulating wildly. My head rolled to the side despite the burn of the iron collar, searching for a way out. Leif stood nearby as well, buttoning his jeans and still barefoot from the shift. He spoke to Jake, the clownish shifter frowning as he pointed at me, and Leif shook his head.

  Leif bent to retrieve a clean T-shirt and the stretch and slide of muscle under his skin mesmerized me. A cross-hatch of stripes covered his back, along with round weals from bullets and a few patches slick and smooth from burns. The shifters healed quickly, but ten years of war tended to mark the body and the soul. And the humans had been ruthless in their pursuit of him, the most feared general in Soren’s Alliance, the wolf who infiltrated the humans’ command center and rampaged through their leadership. He left behind bodies and dinner plate-sized paw prints in their blood.

  A month later, the humans signed the Truce.

  Leif carried burdens from before the war as well, some as heavy as the weight that kept me from breathing, but despite the scars and ridges across his back and chest, he moved like a fighter—all grace and controlled violence as he drew on his shirt.

  I shivered, staring up at the stars, and sucked in air. His face appeared over me, gray eyes more like blue in the eerie light of the SUVs and streetlights. But he spoke to someone else. “You have to heal her, Kyle. Otherwise the change will take her.”

  Jake, standing nearby with his arms folded over his chest, scowled. “Let her change. Damn witch made me kneel.”

  I smiled, imagining them on their knees. Served them right for challenging the War Witch.

  “We can’t afford to lose another war witch,” Leif said, his voice sharp. “Kyle, do it.”

  “I can’t unless we remove the collar,” the young witch whispered. “And without the collar... She’ll be angry. I don’t think I can—”

  Leif’s eyes narrowed. “Do it.”

  When the witch hesitated, Jake rolled his eyes and stepped forward, dropping more cold iron near me. “Here, you coward.” Jake fixed cold iron shackles around my wrists. “Now she can’t cast.”

  I watched Leif through a gray-violet haze of fatigue and blood loss, and a little bit of smoke from inside the bar. The lines deepened around his eyes as he watched me. “You have to cooperate, Lily. Kyle will heal you and we’ll give you the antidote.”

  “Because you can’t lose a war witch,” I said, choking on the weight of the collar. Not because he cared what happened to me, but because of my utility to the Alliance. My ability to serve was all that mattered. It reminded me of the day he almost killed me at Sanctuary. The bites burned with a deep unhealthy fire, eating at my skin and muscle and bone until fire raced through me. Too late. It was already too late.

  Kyle’s hands trembled as he whispered the spell to unlock the collar, moving his hands through the air like a conductor.

  Leif crouched next to me and leaned down until his beard tickled my cheek. “My life would be far easier if you turned and joined the pack, witch.”

  I wanted to know why, but the world swam around his face and my mouth didn’t work. I’d definitely lost too much blood. My skin crawled as Kyle lifted away the collar, taking chunks of my skin with it, and Leif recoiled. “What the hell?”

  The mender dropped it on the broken asphalt and wiped his hands off, and the heaviness of the iron coiling next to my arm tested my control. Kyle didn’t look at Leif. Disciplining witches was witch business; seldom did the shifters see the results of witch justice. “Iron is more dangerous the more powerful the witch. Leaving the collar on for more than an hour will permanently scar any witch above charmer.”

  The wolves exchanged looks, and Jake toed the collar with the bits of my skin, pondering the mass of metal. I wanted to make a joke, but Kyle’s magic gathered in a slow crawl next to me and I knew I’d only have one chance.

  He still looked frightened, leaning away from me, though his magic brought a measure of self-assurance. Leif pinned my upper arms when I tensed, and pieces of my collarbone ground together under the pressure. I moaned through the crepitation, blinded by tears, and pain shorted out my brain and whatever plan I’d had to steal Kyle’s magic.

  Leif’s expression turned grim. “You have to hold still, Lily.”

  It would be easier if he hadn’t jostled my broken bones.

  Kyle’s magic was clean and new, unsullied by dark or even gray magic, haunted by no memories of war or demon dreams. It was like drinking cold spring water on a blazing summer day in the desert. I shivered as it flushed through me, and started to fill a bottomless pit in my center. Kyle froze, staring at me as his magic disappeared.

  The power cycled through me, from Kyle’s right hand and through me to his left, until the bones and flesh in my shoulders and ankle knit. The poison in the bites burned as the magic tried—and failed—to eradicate it.

  “It’s so strange,” Kyle whispered, peering down at me as his magic slowly disappeared. It always happened when other witches healed me, as if my magic hungered for more power. Even through the haze of pain and drunkenness of pure magic, I wondered what he felt as he healed me.

  But I didn’t want to see his face, and focused instead on Leif. At first I thought my eyes played tricks on me, or the blood loss made me see shadows in the night. Then a laugh wheezed out between my clenched teeth.

  His cheek pressed against mine. “What could possibly be funny about this?”

  “Purple under your collar,” I whispered, choking. I thought maybe my hex missed him, but apparently I’d struck the Warder at least a little.

  He hid a smile in a frown, though he tried to look stern. “About that. I—”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as Kyle’s magic receded, leaving pain behind. Leif stroked my forehead but I ignored him to focus on the retreating magic. I only had one chance. Kyle struggled to engage as I touched his right hand and drew away a few strands of magic. I couldn’t truly absorb it, not with the iron around my wrists, but I twined it through my fingers to keep it safe. Once I had enough to free myself, I released Kyle and he flopped backward into a pile of garbage.

  I examined my shoulder and the tender new skin; it looked like it would hold. It wasn’t as good as Rosa could manage. The thought of Rosa made my throat close, and it grew hard to breathe once more.

  Leif took a breath as he touched my throat, a hint of concern in his eyes, but a cleared throat drew his attention to Jake’s disapproving frown, and Leif’s demeanor stiffened to the Chief Investigator. As his hand fell away, I felt his distance as strongly as the absence of my magic. When Leif spoke, his tone was formal and reserved, as if we’d never kissed on that damn couch. “By my authority as Chief Investigator of the Alliance, you are under arrest for attacking Alliance representatives in the course of their official duties. You are required to present yourself to the Alpha for judgment.”

  I concentrated on the magic in my hand: the ticket to freedom. “I do not recognize Soren’s authority to judge me.”

  Kyle picked up the collar and the iron descended once more around my throat, and as Kyle fumbled to secure it, I forced myself to wait passively. Let them think me cowed. I cringed as it snapped closed around the wounds in my neck, and Jake exerted a little more pressure on the wrist chains as I tensed again. I wanted to lash out as panic rose up. Collared and chained, my very worst nightmare.

  But I focused on Joanne’s mantra. I needed patience. The magic remained in my hand. I could free myself at any time. I just needed to wait for the correct time. The iron grew weightier with each empty heartbeat.

  Jake and another grim shifter grasped my arms and hauled me up, securing the collar to a chain around my waist as they walked me toward one of the giant SUVs on the street. I took measured breaths to combat the growing panic of not feeling magic, of knowing I was defenseless against any demons that
might spring up in the night. I didn’t trust any of them to protect me when it came to demons.

  I set my heels as they lifted me into a dark SUV, Jake shoving me in despite my struggles. He pinned me against the center bench as the second shifter dug through a medic bag and produced a giant syringe.

  “What the hell is that?” I kicked at the man with the needle, trying to dislodge Jake as well.

  Jake easily put me in a full nelson, assisted by the chains. “It’s the antidote. Unless you want to join the pack, hold still.”

  I thrashed, my panic boiling over as the shifter dodged a wild kick and seized my leg. “No,” I said, voice breaking. “Please, no. I’ll risk it. I’ve already had the antidote once. Please don’t—”

  “It doesn’t hurt,” he said, adjusting his grip as the new skin near my throat began to tear. “Don’t be such a baby.”

  A cry escaped as the needle plunged into my hip and the antidote raged into my muscle, scorching and destroying everything until it ignited a thousand times the pain of the earlier attack and the collar combined. Tears burned my cheeks as I writhed, almost losing the magic I held onto like a lifeline.

  Jake fought to restrain me as I convulsed, and looked at the other shifter. “You sure you gave her the right stuff?”

  “Yeah,” the medic said, and glanced back at Leif. “I’ve never seen this reaction before, boss. What do you want to do?”

  Leif gestured for Jake to get out of the SUV, then Leif climbed in as I curled around the festering pain in my middle. “I’ll take care of it. Aaron, drive. Kyle, up front in case something happens. The rest of the team can handle Cold River. Let’s get back to the pack-house.”

  A flurry of motion set off outside the SUV, and as Leif squeezed into the bench next to me, Jake cleared his throat. “Boss, should—”

  “Do you really want to finish that sentence?” Leif snapped, pinning my shoulder to the seat as I seized, trapping my legs with his body as my nerves misfired and convulsions raced through me. “No? Then shut the hell up and do your job.”

  In the silence that followed, Leif’s pack magic rolled over me in a warm blanket. He leaned over me, murmuring a few soft words against my temple. “Explain to me, Lily, how you can control a dozen wolves with pack magic, but your blood tastes nothing like a shifter.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and sank into darkness. It was easier than dealing with the pain coursing through my body and his questions. At least in my dreams, it didn’t hurt nearly as much.

  Chapter 27

  When I was eight, I cast a spell that knocked me unconscious for over an hour. The world was black when I woke. I tried desperately to undo what was done, despite Mother’s advice to be patient. In the end, my sight came back after a week without any intercession from me or her, but the damage was done: I loathed the darkness.

  After I forced my eyes open, I was back there, waking up in permanent night with no hope of ever seeing the sun again. I inhaled sharply, reaching out for magic, and nothing was there. A different kind of pain socked me in the stomach, and the weight of iron around my throat dragged me back to reality.

  Mimi’s party. Cold River. And... Leif.

  Something moved and a shadow moved away, and I could at least see the glowing dashboard of the car where we sat. Leif sat, motionless, beside me. I’d listed into his side during the drive, dozing off in the warm car and the comfort of his presence once the antidote ceased playing rugby with my guts. Heat bloomed in my cheeks.

  The SUV idled in a driveway in front of one of the castle mansions outside the city, a crowd of armed men and women blocking any escape. Jake opened the door of the SUV and eyed me with a hint of grudging respect. “Hati’s balls—you’re arrested, collared, and brought to face the Alpha himself, and you fall asleep. Are you so powerful, or just that arrogant?”

  I rubbed my chin on my shoulder, despite the collar, and wondered if I’d drooled on Leif. That wasn’t exactly the way to endear myself to him. “Neither. I’m just that tired. Where are we?”

  “Soren’s,” Leif said, then gestured for Jake to move so he could get out. The Warder kept the chains taut so I had to scramble after him, biting back a yawn. I would have paid the driver everything in my anemic bank account to circle the block a few more times so I could get another few minutes of shut-eye. With the collar blocking all my magic, I couldn’t even muster a pretense of energy. I felt eighty years old.

  Jake maneuvered a sawed-off shotgun as he stepped back, giving me as well as himself room. “This is your only warning, witch—you’re in the Alpha’s den. You try to run or cast, and I shoot.”

  I didn’t bother hiding another yawn. “So I kill you first. Got it.”

  For a moment he watched me with a grim, lifeless expression as he calculated the risk. Then the semi-familiar grin returned. “Fair enough. But you’d better be fast.”

  An answering smile tugged at my mouth, and I let my teeth show perhaps more than was wise around so many shifters. “Don’t worry, I’ll try not to make it hurt. Too much.”

  As Jake geared up for another threat, Leif tugged me toward the house. “Cut it out, both of you. And don’t do anything stupid, Lily. He’s not kidding—there are wards on the house to make sure no aggressive magic occurs inside.”

  I snorted, shaking my head despite the burning iron of the collar. “That’s bullshit. Wards don’t work like that.”

  He didn’t respond and instead headed for the door to the enormous mansion. We’d drawn considerable attention in the driveway; a circle of armed shifters surrounded us, eyes on me. The circle constricted and I sighed. I may have grown complacent, but there was an entire Styrma team that had forgotten war witches were more dangerous the closer one got to them.

  We moved en masse into Soren’s mansion. Gold-threaded marble covered almost every surface, with statuettes placed in recesses in the walls and gold-framed paintings reminiscent of Versailles. Well, Versailles before the Breaking. I craned my neck to look up, trying to relieve the pressure of the collar, and laughed in spite of myself at the enormous crystal chandelier dangling over us like a sword of Damocles. I caught Leif watching and shook my head. “He has the worst taste.”

  The Warder grunted noncommittally, but I knew he felt as out of place as I did in the nouveau riche monstrosity. Kyle chanted quietly behind me, making my skin crawl, and I set my jaw to keep from correcting his pronunciation. I turned my attention to Leif instead, wondering about the shifter I’d launched into the dumpster in the alley behind the Pug. “How is Nate?”

  “Fine. No permanent damage that we can find.”

  “Of course not,” I said, scuffing my foot on the marble. “I only knocked him out because he got in my way.”

  “Maybe instead of running away from your problems, you should face the consequences of your actions.”

  “Oh really.” Irritation boiled up as we stood there in the damn foyer, waiting for the Peacemaker to appear, and half the Alliance gathered around us. I didn’t care that they could overhear what should have been a more private discussion with the Warder. “Maybe instead of using pack magic on a girl while she’s drunk in a bar, you should have a normal conversation. Or—saints forbid—ask her out on a real date.”

  He stared straight ahead as his ears turned red. Jake beamed like a kid who’d gotten an unexpected and noisy Christmas present. I imagined he didn’t get many opportunities to tease the Chief Investigator.

  The mender stumbled on his spell and I winced. Kyle flushed as Leif shot him a warning look, and I pitied the kid just the smallest bit. From what I’d sensed when he healed me, Kyle could be powerful, a truly dangerous witch, with the right training and an appropriate mentor. Anne Marie would ruin him.

  One of the Styrma returned from inside the house, a curious tension in his demeanor for someone so heavily armed. “There’s a complication.”

  Leif shifted his grip on my arm so his weapon hand was free. “What—”

  “You chained her?” The shriek set
my teeth on edge even as it made me smile. Moriah.

  Jake muttered, “Fuck,” as Leif shoved me behind himself. “Mo—”

  She threw a shifter out of her way, and the two-hundred-pound man went airborne before crashing into the wall and rattling one of the fancy portraits loose from its hook. I blinked. Her sights zeroed in on Leif. “How dare you collar her! I’ll—”

  “Stop.” A ribbon of pack magic got through her red-eyed fury.

  As the silence stretched and the tension grew, I leaned around Leif to say, “Hey Moriah.”

  “I’m pissed at you too,” she said, though her gaze never left the bristling Warder. “You’re lucky I didn’t find you first.”

  Leif tensed, elbowing me behind him once more. “Moriah, you will not interfere. This is an official Alliance investigation, and she is a suspect in several crimes.”

  “She goes nowhere without me,” Moriah said, folding her arms and staring at challenge at his chest. “You cannot question her without pack representation, and the fact that you dragged her here without someone from my pack just speaks to how fucked up this investigation already—”

  A growl rumbled in Leif’s chest, and I wondered if Jake would still shoot me for running if I tried to get out of the way if they brawled. Leif advanced a step, posture aggressive enough that I edge sideways. “Is that a challenge, wolf? Strong opinions for someone who hasn’t seen the evidence.”

  They faced off and the tension in the foyer escalated until I hoped almost anything would break it and release us from the showdown.

  I stood in the foyer and concentrated on that thread of magic in my hand, all that remained from the contortions as the antidote burned through my muscles. Blessed saints, it hadn’t hurt that much the first time I was bitten. Maybe it got worse each time. I shivered to think of it, and drew breath to distract Leif and Moriah from fighting, maybe ask Leif to remove the collar. There was no need for it, not really.

  As I turned, the world slowed around me and my heart beat slow and steady. Threat. I looked for the trouble, breathing deep and even as I clenched my hands into fists. Then…appearing from an adjoining hall, three witches, all wearing the symbolic but ineffective steel bracelets the Alliance used when they detained witches but didn’t feel the need to block them from their magic. The tallest one’s face twisted, teeth bared, and her right hand snapped out to point at me. “You.”