by Layla Nash
“The alley behind the Pug,” Leif said quietly from my right. He didn’t look at me, but instead studied the floor near Soren’s desk. “Cold River.”
“One of them died?” I shook my head and sighed. “They attacked me in beast form. I defended myself when they bit me. You and the Chief Investigator witnessed their attack earlier in the night, and when I... departed the Pug through the back door, Cold River attacked me again.”
“You mean when you fled the Chief Investigator when he intended to arrest you?” Soren didn’t wait for an answer, his expression sour, and scratched something else off his paper. “Fine. You are entitled to self-defense, and Cold River admitted to attacking you in the alley. This alleviates you of further criminal charges, but understand the pack can still levy blood debt against you.”
“Stone Hills will deal with that,” Moriah said. “They owe us blood debt for attacking Mimi during the blood truce.”
Soren arched an eyebrow at her and said, “I’m sure you will.”
I wondered if he still respected her as much as he apparently had during the war. His patience seemed to have disappeared when it came to Moriah, although Soren never grew impatient with Mick. Maybe the equality we’d earned in combat faded in the peace.
“Next charges. Killing three Alliance witches.”
“Just three?”
“Those are the ones we can prove are connected to you, thank Fenrir,” he said. “Whether you killed the First Coven witches remains to be seen.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “My apartment was destroyed, too.”
“It what?” Moriah leaned forward and smacked my shoulder. “What the hell has been going on with you, Lily?”
“We can talk about that later,” I said, and sat up to ease the pain in my lower back. The chair wasn’t as comfortable as it appeared, or maybe I’d aged thirty years in the last hour. “Soren, two of the witches practiced dark magic on a human girl. I did not kill them. Demons did.”
“And the third?”
“She and the rest of her coven broke into Anne Marie’s home. I happened to be there looking for a book the Morrigan stole from me, and the witches attacked me, thinking I was her. I defended myself.” Fatigue slowed me down and snarled all the thoughts in my head. I couldn’t remember what was real and what had only been a dream. “Their coven attacked me again in your foyer.”
“I bear witness to these facts,” Leif said.
The Peacemaker sighed, rubbing his forehead. “We don’t have enough strong witches for you to just go around killing whomever attacks you. Stop pissing so many people off, for Hati’s sake. Seriously. Stop killing witches.”
“Stop letting your witches attack me.”
He wrote more on the paper. “Against my better judgment, you’re absolved of legal consequences for the deaths of three aligned witches.”
His gaze went to Leif as he went on. “The next issue. Attacking Alliance representatives in the course of an official investigation, including hexing the Chief Investigator, misleading efforts to identify the perpetrator of other crimes, fleeing the scene of a crime, and resisting arrest. Leif, do you wish to comment?”
“I provoked the witch,” Leif said, no emotion in his face or voice. “I intended to get a reaction out of her, but did not anticipate the degree of that reaction. I recommend the charges be dropped.”
My heart stuttered as hope took hold. Saints preserve me.
Soren drummed his fingers on the desk, irritation in the thin slash of his lips. He finally crumpled up that paper and threw it into the basket next to his desk. “Great. Upon further testimony from the Chief Investigator, these charges are dropped. But don’t think you’ll get that lucky again, Lilith.”
Moriah exhaled, and I glanced back to study her face. Relief etched across her expression. Those must have been the charges she worried about.
The Peacemaker leaned back in his chair and watched me, face impassive. “Which leaves us with dark magic. You fled Externals as they attempted to identify the source of dark magic on two occasions. Dark magic contaminated your apartment, as well as Anne Marie’s after you’d been there. You admitted knowing dark magic to Leif. The dark magic from your apartment was linked to a horrific crime in another witch’s home. Explain yourself.”
I took a deep breath and marshaled my thoughts through the fog of memory and fatigue. Explain myself. Right. Saints save me from myself.
Chapter 29
My head ached and I braced my hands on my knees so I wouldn’t keep rubbing my shoulder and irritate the wounds on my neck. “I know dark spells and hexes because my parents believed the only way to defend against evil was to understand how it works. As you remember from the war.”
“Fine.” Soren tapped his desk. “But you are nonaligned. No one can verify your intent now. And knowing what you did in the war, that concerns me. You are a dangerous weapon to have roaming the city, uncontrolled.”
My pride rankled as I scowled at him. Uncontrolled. I’d almost forgotten what an asshole he was. “I follow my own code of conduct, and I’ve got remarkable self-control, dick.”
“Clearly,” he said under his breath, though his eyes glinted gold with irritation. “Watch your mouth, witch. Does your code of honor allow breaking and entering, as well as theft?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You broke into Anne Marie’s house and stole a book from her, possibly more.”
Damn. I tried to remember if I’d already admitted to that, but as I formulated a response, Leif started to smile. Expecting a pack of lies, no doubt. So I threw caution to the winds. If they’d forgiven me for killing a couple of witches and a wolf, how could stealing a book that Anne Marie shouldn’t have had in the first place put me in jail?
“In certain circumstances, yes. She stole the book from me in the first place, and it’s a dangerous book for just anyone to have around. She didn’t even have it warded. Anyone could have taken it.”
“And did you leave something behind?” He dropped a scrap of parchment on the desk in front of me, and I immediately recoiled as a hint of sulfur curled through the room.
“Why is that here?”
“What is it?” Soren traded a look with Leif, and Moriah leaned over my shoulder to sniff at the little scrap.
“Dark.” I shivered, and the bile rose in my throat as I caught a reflection in a decorative mirror on the wall. At least it wasn’t set in silver and a perfect circle, otherwise we might have already been overrun. “It’s a focus for summoning demons.”
Soren pressed his fingertips together near his mouth, frowned at me. “How do we render it safe?”
“A bowl of salt water,” I said, drawing my feet up on the chair. “Don’t burn it. Some activate in fire.”
Leif went to the door and spoke to someone outside, but Soren’s attention never left me. “Did you make it, Lily?”
“Of course not. That is demon magic—not light gray, not dark gray—just dark. Worse than dark.”
“And yet you recognized it easily.” He grunted and waved a hand. “I do not absolve you of the charges related to dark magic—that will stand until we determine what happened to the coven and I am convinced of your innocence. You’ll remain in the custody of the Alliance until you are either released or sent to the Reserve.”
I didn’t like it, particularly that custody part. I didn’t want to hang out with Soren a second longer than I had to. But I breathed easier as Jake returned with a shallow bowl of water, cloudy with salt, and submerged the parchment. Soren watched him before going on. “So why were you at Anne Marie’s house, if not to leave dark magic behind for her?”
“I thought there might be information about what happened at Tracy’s house.”
“It is not your place to—”
“The investigators were following the wrong leads,” I said, not daring to look at Leif as he resumed his casual stance near the wall. “And you have no one else with the magic to find them. I
t is witch business.”
The Peacemaker opened a desk drawer and brought out a velvet ring box, tossing it to me. It fell with a thump in my lap. I picked up the heavy thing—lined with lead, no doubt, so the silver wouldn’t make him sick.
I cracked open the box and sighed: a beautiful princess-cut black diamond ring, set in silver, with the Peacemaker’s crest engraved on one panel and the Alliance crest on the other. The box clicked shut in my hand, the snap loud in the still room.
Soren pointed to the box, eyes hard. “You want to be part of the investigation? Wear that and consider yourself acting Morrigan.”
The silence quaked around me. Interesting, to go from accusations of dark magic and horrible crimes to an offer of alignment. Something wasn’t right.
I turned the box over in my fingers, imagining all the benefits that came with it: guaranteed paycheck, a place to stay, carte blanche for research and spell testing, insincere but obligatory respect from lower-ranked witches. I shook my head and placed the ring box back on his desk. “The first time a man gives me a diamond, I have to give it back. Not fair, Peacemaker.”
He grimaced and retrieved the box. “Then consider the information you provide tonight your contribution to figuring out what happened at Tracy’s house.”
“I will answer what I can.” But he was a bigger fool than I thought if he assumed I wouldn’t keep looking on my own. Witch business was witch business, and no pack would get in the middle of me finding my friends. I folded my hands in my lap.
“Has anyone threatened you recently, Lily?”
“Only Leif.”
The Peacemaker snorted. “Anyone else?”
“Maybe Jake,” I said, nodded my head in the clownish shifter’s direction. “And Anne Marie called me a murderer not too long ago, but that’s pretty routine.”
Another hint of a smile touched his face, though it disappeared quickly. “When did you notice Cold River at the bar?”
“Three of them started dancing with the girls. They stood out from the crowd due to... intensity. Mimi said something and when I turned, I saw Brandr touching her. Everything got…a little red after that.”
“Had you seen them before tonight?”
“Not since the war.” Uneasiness bubbled up in my stomach, since I thought we would be talking about the investigation into what happened to the coven—not the relatively minor crimes of an Old World pack.
He and Leif traded one of their laden man looks, and Soren braced his hands on the desk, frowning down at them. “After extensive interrogation, they still insist Mimi was not the pack’s target. She was collateral damage.”
I rolled my eyes and prayed the saints would protect me from the wolf’s single-mindedness. “Of course he wouldn’t admit trying to kidnap your goddaughter, Soren, be serious—”
“Brandr says they were after you.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I’m a little old for bride-snatching, Soren.”
“No kidding,” Jake muttered, and I shot him a dirty look.
Soren said, “I know.”
No one else laughed, though. Any hope that he was joking faded as Soren continued to look at me. I shook my head. “That’s preposterous. I certainly haven’t done anything to Cold Water that would have warranted an attack like that.”
“Apparently you did something,” Leif said. I looked at him despite the creak in my shoulder and the breaking scabs on my neck. Just seeing him made me feel a little steadier. “Someone paid the entire pack to bite you, so you’d turn.”
A fate worse than death, after having that collar on. I took a deep breath, trying to focus despite a curious blurring of my vision. I really hadn’t done anything to deserve that, for someone to take away my magic. “Someone wants me dead.”
“Turned,” Leif corrected.
“Same thing,” I said. “For a witch.”
Soren got up to pace the length of the room behind his desk. “Why would anyone pay a pack to break a blood truce to bite you?”
“The truce didn’t apply to me,” I said. I watched Leif and his curious stillness from beneath my eyelashes, trying to account for all the reasons someone might want me dead. Maybe Chompers had a few favors to cash in with the packs? “I really don’t know. We ran into a little problem with a witch neighbor of mine, but that’s it.”
Soren faced me, eyes narrowed, but Leif stepped forward. “The witch who was beating his girlfriend. We took care of it. He wasn’t powerful—or rich—enough to employ a pack like Cold River. It wasn’t him.”
“How’s Amber?” I asked, wishing I knew where she ended up or what happened. I’d always liked her.
“She’s okay,” Leif said, nodding. “She’s in one of the sanctuary houses, getting treatment.”
“Good.” That helped me breathe a little easier.
Soren grunted, then held something up and tossed it at me. “What can you tell me about this?”
I caught it out of the air and winced as I recognized it: the powerful breaking charm Brandr carried in the bar. I cradled it in my right palm and instinctively fed a little magic into it, just to test how much potency remained.
A light flashed red above us as a siren whooped in the silence, and Jake lurched forward with a sidearm ready. Soren waved a hand to forestall him, still watching me. I sighed and crumbled the charm to dust between my fingers. Damn Anne Marie to the coldest of hells. What the hell was she doing working with Cold River? She hated them in the war, and feared them in the peace.
Soren’s expression darkened as he watched the mess the dust made on his floor. “And now I can charge you with destroying evidence.”
“It was too dangerous to leave active,” I said, wiping my hand on my tattered jeans. “Particularly with you winging it around like a fucking Frisbee.”
“And how are we supposed to find out who made it?” Irritation gathered in deep lines around his eyes.
“I know who made it.” Another burden settled on my aching shoulders. Saints damn it. The only question that remained was whether Anne Marie gave the charm to Brandr for a specific purpose, or if he’d purchased it from her store under different pretenses. “I’ll deal with it.”
Soren picked up the ring box again and waved it at me. “Not your responsibility unless you take this. Still no? Okay then—tell me who the hell made it and I will deal with it.”
“You seem to be missing all of your witches,” I said, not quite looking at him. “So who do you expect to handle it? I’ll take care of it for you. Pro bono.”
“Why?” Leif straightened from his casual slouch so he could see my face.
Because it was time I acted like a good witch. Something haunted the witches, not just Tracy. It might be too late to save the coven, but I could maybe spare others their fate. “Who else will do it?”
“I will guarantee you’re protected until the Morrigan is found,” Soren said. “Then she will deal with whomever aided Brandr. I cannot have a nonaligned witch doing Alliance work.”
“So you will wait for Anne Marie,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’d forgotten how infuriating the wolves could be. “When she is either dead or a dark witch, to arrest the witch who helped Cold River?”
He nodded along, then stopped and gave me his hard stare. “And how do you know Anne Marie is the Morrigan? She has not made that public knowledge.”
“She can tell you, when you find her.” I thought of my scrying bowl, the clouded water when I searched for Tracy, and I corrected myself. “If you find her. And you can’t expect her to punish herself, Soren. She’s the one who made that charm.”
“You think she made that charm?”
“I don’t think, I know. It was hers.”
“Why would the Morrigan want you dead?”
I smiled, resisting the urge to close my eyes and doze. At least his office was warm and comfortable. “Would you like the list alphabetically or chronologically?”
“The Morrigan would not do this,” Soren said, perhaps to convince hi
mself more than me. If he remembered the war at all, the Morrigan he knew most certainly would do something like that, and worse besides. “You’re the center of a lot of trouble, Lily. There has to be a list of people who want you out of the way.”
“Instead of guessing and keeping me up all hours of the night, why don’t you just ask Cold River?”
His expression, though I thought it impossible, turned grimmer still. “Someone erased their memories. They have no recollection of who hired them.”
I studied the knockoff Klimt on the far wall as I considered all the possible implications of such a thing. Memories burned out with precision. Only a powerful pre-Breaking witch would possess those skills, or someone trained by dark witches. None of their snooty academies taught that kind of magic. “Not many witches left with that kind of skill, not without turning the subject into a total zombie.”
“Who’s on the short list?”
When I hesitated, not wanting to reveal witch business, Leif’s expression darkened. “The time for playing games is over, Lily. Someone wants you dead or out of the way, and they used one of our packs to do it. Fill us in.”
I stared at the wall behind Soren’s desk. Leif was right, of course—the conflict went well beyond witch business. “The only witches I remember being capable of that are in Anne Marie’s coven now. The ones who still live—Anne Marie, Jacques, Tracy. Maybe Dana or Beth, although Dana retired out west and I don’t know where Beth is now. R-Rosa could have.” I cleared my throat against the burn of tears at saying her name. “It might be possible to tell from the hex itself. There’s usually very specific handiwork in something like that.”
“Changing memory comes close to influencing free will,” Soren said, gripping the edge of his desk. “And that’s against the witch code of conduct.”
Code of conduct? Like they signed a chastity pledge or something. “It depends on personal ethics. I would never change memory, but Anne Marie did not think it any great crime, so I assume the rest of her coven followed her lead.”
“Why wouldn’t you do it?” Leif remained on the perimeter of the room, somewhere behind me.
