by Eden Rivers
Oh, goddess, no!
A branch snapped to the west, and as her survival instincts kicked in, she fumbled in Scott’s pockets until she found his keys and then bolted for the SUV. She wanted to cry, or scream, or at least stop and grieve. But someone was out there, more likely than not a human with a gun. Beyond thought or planning, she scrambled into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and floored it backward down the narrow trail.
By the time the rutted path widened enough to turn around, tears stained her cheeks, and she had a plan. She knew where to find Jaimis’s Craggy Rock Estate, had been there in the past. And she had the power to intercept the rogue witch’s thoughts if she could get within half a block of him.
Jaimis was one scary fuck, more than half mad from the blood rites that fed his power. But with Scott’s death, in her book, the dark lords officially became a greater threat. A supernatural mafia who seemed to have shrugged off “harm none” as an antiquated guideline, they’d run unchecked if Jaimis died before anyone had the chance to get a list of names. Swinging onto the highway with a spray of gravel, she wiped her nose on the back of her hand and tried to choke back her grief.
Although she’d hardly known Scott, Serena was a damn good kid, and the news of his death would rock the young witch’s world off its axis. Despite the queasy feeling that came with having inadvertently caused the dark lord’s death as she’d forced the forbidden spell back toward its sender while trying to free Scott, she stole a bit of comfort from knowing that particular witch couldn’t hurt anyone else.
As for the rest of them, when she had the opportunity to learn their names she was going to scream them from the rooftops, until every fucking witch in North America knew who’d been breaking the rules that formed the very foundation of their belief system.
* * * * *
Alec cursed under his breath as he hacked at the underbrush with a sharp blade. Two humans caught, toting enough weaponry to start their own militia, and two to go. After discovering they were too late to do anything for Scott, they’d found the dead dark lord fast enough, a handsome man who looked like he should have been presiding over a boardroom rather than wielding death magic in the north woods.
The man and woman they’d rounded up babbled out the details of what their comrades had planned once Zach summoned some showy lights and issued vague threats. And despite his fear on Sky’s behalf, he couldn’t let the two witch-savvy humans still at large, packing poisons and explosives with mayhem in mind, regroup and get a fresh set of orders from Jaimis.
Fuck!
Knowing Sky had been with Scott when he died didn’t help Alec’s mood any. Finding fear unpalatable, he opted for fury. He’d tried to reach her every few minutes since she called out to him from the woods, with no luck. If he knew her as well as he thought he did, what started out as blind, panicked flight had probably turned into a run right for Jaimis’s estate.
Forcing himself to focus, he brushed his fingers across a swath of broken brush and bent to look for footprints, keeping his concealing cloak of mist around him. Damn trick made him the ideal one to track these bastards and kept him from taking off to follow Sky. With any luck, Zach would catch up with her before she made it to Jaimis’s lair. With better luck, he’d be done here and could catch up with both of them before anything hit critical mass.
But damned if his luck wasn’t shit lately.
* * * * *
Keeping to the shadows, Sky darted from tree to tree, approaching Jaimis’s estate from the rear, where it bordered the woods. She’d only been here once before, when she and the rogue witch first became lovers. But she remembered the layout of the place well enough to stay away from the main gates and service entrances.
Her mouth felt parched, and she wished she’d thought to bring a bottle of water with her from the boxed supplies in the SUV. The sun shone directly overhead, and sweaty hairs clung to the back of her neck under her sweatshirt hood. Hiding her face wouldn’t do much good if she stumbled into a nest of Jaimis’s guards, but the instinct to cover herself proved too strong to resist.
As she approached a seldom-used back entrance, she squinted at the flux in power. A cart of spilled flower pots lay near the gate, with soil and seedlings spread haphazardly over the ground. And for a four-foot stretch, the entrance remained unwarded.
Sinking back into the dense brush, she tried to think this through. Everything about that setup screamed trap. But since she’d parked off the road and walked the last several miles through the woods, it’s not like she’d advertised her presence. If in doubt, sit back and sniff out the locals’ intentions.
Curling in on herself, with her hands grasped tight around her knees, she snuggled into a little hollow at the foot of an oak. Carefully, she peeled away the first few layers of her shields, not reaching for Jaimis, just seeing what the general chatter would hold.
Anger. A hell of a lot of anger. Then terror, with a decidedly feminine flavor. Her stomach curdled to think Jaimis might be treating someone to the very special hell he’d created for her and Alec. Peeling back a few more layers, she all but whimpered under the miasma of ulterior motives, plots and counterplots, and evil intent.
Eric! I’m Eric!
Holy goddess, that mental cry carried an imprint as strong as if he were standing next to her, shouting in her ear. Sky had never entertained the possibility that Jaimis would be bold enough to bring the child back to his estate. Hell, every witch in Sorren’s employment would be looking…
Oh, fuck.
Sorren would be wild to find Gillian’s grandson. The child would be like family to him. And with Sorren’s gift of Sight, and Eric’s uncanny ability to project his psychic plea, with time, no doubt the elder witch would trace Eric’s presence here.
Thus, the trap. Jaimis hadn’t lowered a seemingly haphazard section of his wards in attempt to lure her inside. The rogue witch had set out the red carpet for Sorren himself. And more likely than not, planned to kill the child and use the power from the blood rite just as Sorren drew near.
Eric, I’m Skyler. I’m a friend. Tell me where you are.
Static, and more rumblings from the guards and several witches with a power signature strong enough to belong to dark lords. Then, more fear from the woman. But nothing from the child.
Her stomach clenching with dread, she dug her nails into her palms and tried to keep thinking. Let terror take charge, and she and the boy would both die here. Simple as that. Jaimis might be insane from feeding off others’ power, but even crazed, the man’s intellect bordered on genius.
She may as well face down a fiercely intelligent serial killer with a psychiatric disorder. Come to think of it, with the blood rites, that about described Jaimis these days. And as a witch who’d messed with him in the past, she fit his victim profile better than just about anyone.
Right, if I’m going to go in there after the boy, may as well get what I came for first. Centering and grounding herself until she felt connected to the roots of the trees, she followed the psychic blood trail to Jaimis. The man’s shields rivaled anything she’d encountered, but rather than try to push head on, she followed the cracks.
Like a vampire, the rogue witch had a nose for blood and fear, and sure enough, before long she found the psychic tendrils he’d connected to the child, and the woman over whom he wielded a small blade. Through him, she saw the thin line of blood spring up on the woman’s silky white calf, a delicate flower design, almost as if Jaimis were creating a tattoo. She smelled blood. Heard the woman scream, long and hard, thrashing against her bonds. Saw Jaimis’s hand move to cut again, expanding the design on her snowy white flesh.
Fighting to block out details, she rode the connection deeper into his thoughts, undetected given his fascination with his macabre task. Names. She just needed names. Sorren’s people could sort out who was who later, if she could only offer a list to investigate.
Probing gently, she knew she was violating just about every ethical rule in existence.
But desperate times, and all that… Alana Hoffman. The name floated amid images of the bloody rose Jaimis outlined with his razor-sharp blade on his victim’s thigh. Then, a confusing image of huge, bloodied rats. Nia Johnson. Christopher Engleman. Nicole. He spoke that one aloud, simultaneous with the thought. She must be his victim, then.
More rats, and a sickening wash of arousal, the lust mixing with images of droplets of blood beading near the woman’s knee. Bryan. She pushed harder, desperate to get this done and move in to find the boy. Tyrell. Adrienne. These would be witches ‑‑ the ones Jaimis filed by first name only. She repeated the list to herself like a morbid fairy tale.
Amanda. Devan. Josh. Terrified he’d detect the intrusion once he lost interest in his prey, she scrambled for more information. Adria. Dee. Jacob.
With the force of a blow, shields slammed down, and she felt herself thrown from his mind. Trembling as if she’d fallen down a flight of stairs, she rocked back-and-forth and hoped the goddess favored fools’ missions.
Zach! Alec! As if she were throwing a filmy net, she cast outward, seeking the two men who’d stolen small pieces of her heart. Finding them ‑‑ Zach not far off, but Alec easier to connect with despite the distance ‑‑ she reeled off the list of names three times in a row. Then, she cut the contact before they could so much as send a thought her way.
Right, then. Zach’s not too far away, so maybe I’ll have backup if I can’t get out of this on my own. Fear clawed through her, a predator ripping out her gut. She stood bent over with her palms pressed to her knees and fought the urge to vomit into the underbrush. Every invisible scar Jaimis had carved into her back stung like fire, and she wondered if she had the will to see this through.
Eric! I’m Eric. Please, the rats’re eatin’ me!
Blessed goddess, that’s why Jaimis had been thinking about rats. The sick fuck liked to bleed people, bit by bit, like he’d rhythmically flayed skin from her and Alec’s backs. Like he’d been busy carving a mural on that poor witch’s skin. And the child…
Keep fighting, Eric! I’m coming.
Keeping low, she scurried through the neglected gate and felt the wards slam down behind her. Damn, she’d known it was a trap, but she’d hoped they’d keep it open so Zach could bail her ass out of here if necessary. Only thing in her favor, Jaimis would be expecting Sorren and a posse of pissed-off witches. He’d be all geared up for direct confrontation, counting on the blood energy from the child to carry him to victory.
Instead, he’d get her. She knew the estate layout, and the rogue witch had never been able to predict her next move. Plus, the child was still alive, with Jaimis hopefully still distracted with torturing the other witch. Unless he’d sensed her picking through his thoughts and that’s why she’d been thrown from his mind.
Bless it, too much introspection in a situation like this could leave her off guard. A good way to end up dead. Feeling around her for psychic echoes, she found a clear passage and ducked through the backdoor down a narrow hall.
Eric, tell me where to find you. Please?
Nothing. She felt his fear, heard him whimpering for her, but he seemed too frightened and exhausted to communicate. Well, she knew from experience that Jaimis had a flair for drama and liked to keep modern dungeons in his basement. Couldn’t be a bad place to start looking.
A flurry of activity lay between her and the basement stairs, if she even remembered correctly where to find them. Not just mental chatter, but shouts and scuffling feet. The alarm had been raised. Moving faster, she detoured down a servants’ corridor, heading toward the kitchens and the meager accommodations where Jaimis had the maids sleep.
“Thought it was the elder witch himself, at first, but no sign of that. Hardly sense any power at all, as if a human slipped through rather than a witch.”
The men caught her off guard, and as they approached at a run, she backed into the closest room without doing so much as a mental sweep of the surroundings, praying she’d find it empty. The footsteps hurried past as she whirled around to face the person behind her.
“Oh.” Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the stark naked, auburn beauty strapped to the bed, her body coated with sweat, and lines of blood covering her legs in elaborate patterns from ankle to thigh. Acting on instinct, she crossed the room and started loosening the ties. “Fuck, I know you, don’t I?”
The anguished mental chatter bore the telltale signature of a dark lord, the same woman who’d blown up Zach’s Jeep in the woods the other day. At least she hadn’t been trying to kill them, so much as frighten them off. Being sucked into the woman’s panicked thoughts while she’d been searching for Laura after Zach got shot had made that much clear. More points for her that she hadn’t planned on turning them in to Jaimis.
“Nicole, right? Do you know how much time we have? Did Jaimis say where he was going?” Freeing the straps across the woman’s chest and legs, Sky left Nicole’s hands bound behind her back, though she loosened the ties and rubbed at the witch’s chafed wrists until her hands took on a healthier hue. She’d be damned if she’d leave someone here to become another blood sacrifice, but she wasn’t stupid enough to let the dark lord remove the keystone to the dampening spell.
Sky touched the necklace. “Diamonds, very creative. Twisted bastard’s always had a flare for drama. Come on, can you walk?” She grabbed the witch’s arm and managed to pull her to her feet.
Nicole seemed to snap out of her stupor when her feet touched the floor, either sensing the potential for survival, or simply jolted awake by the pain as she moved her bloody legs. “I don’t know.” She managed to get out. “He’s got a boy witch downstairs. Maybe he went to check on him.”
“Hope not, because that’s where we’re headed. Any luck, he’s looking for me near the gate where I came in. With my magic damaged, I don’t present much of a power signature for him to track down.” Talk about your mixed blessings. “Here’s the deal. You help me find the boy, fight beside me if it comes to that, and I’ll do everything in my power to get you out of here alive. Even put in a word for you with Sorren if you help save the child.”
Nicole nodded, and Sky felt relief and hope pour off her like summer rain. Somehow, despite trembling hands, she managed to tear strips from one of the sheets and bandage Nicole’s legs. She helped the injured witch into the skirt she found on a chair, but since freeing the dark lord’s bound wrists could well prove suicidal, she settled for draping the rest of the torn sheet around Nicole’s shoulders.
That accomplished, she guided Nicole toward the door, wondering if bringing along an injured but fiercely powerful witch hurt or helped her chances of getting out of here with Eric. She’d witnessed Nicole’s dark magic, and there was one point in her favor. If Jaimis attacked, she could always pull off the diamonds and hurl them as far away as possible, unleashing the dark lord’s power.
The journey to the basement seemed to take decades, a painful progression of near misses, detours, and long stretches spent hiding when Jaimis’s people got too near. The pain must be close to unendurable for Nicole, but she never complained. Sky gave her credit for the fact that she seemed committed to rescuing the boy. Despite what she’d been through, Nicole hadn’t so much as suggested they escape themselves and leave the child behind.
By the time they made it down the basement stairs, flashbacks to what little she recalled from her own basement captivity all but paralyzed Sky, never mind that her hellish experience had played itself out at one of Jaimis’s other mansions. Each step set off quivering explosions of terror, as if Jaimis would hear the muted footfalls of her running shoes and swoop down upon her, whip in hand. The stone corridors blurred around her.
Alec cried out, begging for mercy. Blood flew off the tip of Jaimis’s braided bullwhip as he cut a fresh line along Alec’s back. When Jaimis lowered his pants, Alec pleaded with him, his voice raw and panicked…
This way. Round the corner. Nicole’s hesitant mental touch jolted her back from th
e horror.
Until they rounded the corner and she saw the bloodstained glass wall at the end of the hallway. Sky clenched her hands into fists, barely able to contain her fury and loathing. Jaimis will die for this. I swear. I’ll see him dead. She rushed toward the glass-walled cell where Eric lay wrestling two rats with his bare hands, his pajamas no more than bloody tatters.
“Electronic controls. Here, there’s a code, but I don’t remember…” Nicole frowned at the keypad while Sky tried to wrench open the glass doors.
Sweet goddess, if she only had the power… Desperate, Sky stopped trying to force the doors and jerked the diamonds from around Nicole’s neck, throwing the broken strand as far from them as she could. Within seconds, she managed to free the leather straps binding the witch’s wrists.
I’m trusting you. Don’t betray us.
Moving with more grace than her injured legs should allow, Nicole placed her hands against the latch on the doors and murmured under her breath. Even before the doors sprang free, two of the rats went limp on the bloody floor. Sky ached to use her own power, but as unpredictable as it was, she might hurt the child rather than the rats.
They were into the cell in a manner of moments, but those final seconds before Nicole dispensed with the surviving rats and Sky pulled Eric into her arms felt like years. I’m here, Eric. It’s me, your friend, Sky. We’re here to help you get out of here.
The child lay still in her arms, and though she didn’t have enough medical knowledge to say whether he was going into shock or dying from the blood loss, they didn’t have much time to speculate.
“Convenient, having you let yourselves into the cell like that.” Jaimis leaned against the wall at the end of the hall, his right hand tracing the furrowed lines marring his face.
Nicole let out a crazed sound, like an animal makes when it opts to die fighting rather than endure capture. Sky prepared to follow the dark lord’s lead. If she died here today, she’d die whole, without Jaimis’s seed in her body, or the mark of his whip or knife on her skin.
