by Holly Evans
“Life magic is where you can play with people’s life essence, right?”
Dante laughed.
“I wouldn’t call it playing with it, but yes. My mother’s in the business of extending people’s lives. Of course, she’s also in the business of shortening and ending them, too, but that doesn’t make for good PR, so that’s kept quiet.”
“Wait, so you come from a coven of assassins?”
His eyes became sad and his body stiffened.
“Something like that. Kane’s a combat witch, isn’t he? How did he get into salves and other hedgewitchery?”
“Yea, he’s the coven guardian. He has always striven for balance. His magic makes him an incredible fighter and protector, but he wants to heal and help people, too. He tried for years to learn healing magic, but he has no talent for it, so he turned to hedgewitch magic and alchemy to achieve it.”
“He has a talent for it; his salves were quite remarkable.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Did you just compliment Kane?”
He gave me a half smile.
“He means a lot to you, and I’d rather keep you close.”
I had nothing to say to that, so I turned the radio on and returned to watching the ocean out of the window. Why couldn’t I be the cool, sexy heroine the women in the movies were?
Witches covens tended towards large extravagant houses with lots of land. It gave them privacy and, of course, it showed off their great wealth. From what Kane had said, there was a lot of back-biting and bitching between covens. There was a lot weight put into status, and money was at the heart of most status. I'd been expecting something flashy and beautiful, but the house, if you could still call it that, was absolutely stunning.
The cream building was carved into the hillside, smooth walls emerging from the rock as though it had been grown rather than built. A series of arches with heavy white plaster pillars between them formed the outer layer of the bottom level. Between the arches were simple sweeping murals depicting local landscapes. Bright flashes of emerald green and bright turquoise seas showed the beauty of the surroundings. A wrap-around balcony sat on level with the driveway and manicured lawns. Simple white balustrades marked the barrier between the confines of the house and the outer world.
Palms were dotted around the space, something I hadn’t really seen in the area thus far. They gave the entire picture a slightly tropical feel, while hardy dark-leaved vines growing up the corners of the building softened the edges a little. Tall narrow windows were evenly spaced across the three floors. I couldn’t shake off the feeling of it being a prison, and surely it was dark inside with so little light pouring into such a large building. Of course, the smaller windows would be easier to defend. There appeared to be a terraced garden below the archway level where I thought I could see small suggestions of greens, oranges, and yellows. I had no words. It was ridiculous and beautiful.
The gardens around the main driveway were perfectly maintained, every flower in full bloom with evenly sized blossoms of every shade of red, orange, and yellow you could possibly imagine. There wasn't a single blade of grass that stood above the rest. Everything was pristine, and it felt alien and wrong. I had to think that trying to live there would be claustrophobic and unpleasant.
A teenage guy with the local tanned skin and pitch-black hair opened the door. He kept his eyes down and spoke quietly yet clearly.
"Dante Caspari and Wren Kincaid, we're here on Council business," Dante said.
He had put his shoulders back and walked with military precision. It couldn't have been easy for him to be back on witch territory, since it had sounded like he wasn't particularly welcome in their world any more.
The guy ran off into the great expanse of a building, leaving us to stand on the porch looking into the darkness. The floors were silver-veined marble, and the staircase casually curved to the right up to the next floor, which was lined with silver and black balustrades. There was no art on the plain off-white walls, no cut flowers or anything else to give it some personality. It was just a large, cool, off-white space. It would have been intimidating if it weren't so bland.
A woman who appeared to be in her forties, though witches lived long lives if they had the money to invest in the right type of magic, wore a flowing linen dress in a bold cerulean that brought out the bronze in her pale brown eyes. Her hair was done up in an elaborate up-do that must have taken an hour. My own hair had been pulled up into a messy bun because it was practical. I couldn't imagine fighting with it enough to put it into something finicky like that. When I wasn't fighting, I let it fall down my back. It was down to my hips, which really wasn't practical, but I loved the feeling and femininity of it.
"Come inside. We had heard about you speaking with the purists. We expected you," the woman said.
She closed the door behind us, and I got the feeling of being shut inside a large tomb. Our footsteps reverberated around us as we followed her through the space, down a long hallway, and out onto a terrace. The edge of the terrace was marked by series of glass panes that did nothing to hide the sheer drop below. Two stories below us was a large rectangular swimming pool surrounded by terracotta tiles and small scrubby bushes scattered around the edges of that floor. The feeling of falling began to overwhelm me, and I stepped back, trying to ignore the large drop here.
When we sat down on the wicker furniture, the views were breathtaking, though the sunsets must have been like nothing else. Another woman came and joined the original, her platinum-blonde hair and deep golden skin in complete contrast to the original woman. Yet, their bone structure looked to be very similar. They must have been related somehow.
"And what brings you to our coven?” the blonde said.
"We're investigating the disappearances from the Olapireta," Dante said stiffly.
The women looked at each other before they looked at us with tight little smiles on their faces.
“And what makes you think we had anything to do with that?"
"History. You have had many poor experiences with the Olapireta before. It is hardly a jump to think that you would decide to take things into your own hands."
The blonde witch raised her eyebrow. “You think we'd risk the reputation of our coven by harming the purists?"
"Why aren't you registered?" I asked.
They both tensed at that.
"That is nothing to you," the dark-haired woman said.
"Given that we work for the Council, it is very much something for us," Dante said sharply.
"We have not harmed the purists-" the blonde said.
"-and we are offended that you would insinuate that we have," the dark-haired woman said.
Dante snorted. "Offended? It was a logical step."
"That doesn't explain why you felt the need to hide your magic," I pushed.
"That is between us and our coven," the blonde snapped.
"The Council will be very curious to hear your reasoning," Dante said with a false smile.
"The Council is aware of the situation," the dark-haired woman said her eyes stormy.
"And they allowed you to remain entirely unregistered?" Dante asked.
"Yes. Now, we did not hurt any of the purists. We have remained entirely out of their business. Your time here is done," the blonde said.
They were hiding a lot, and I wasn't going to give up that easily.
"You haven't given us anything more than your word that you haven't harmed the purists," I said.
The blonde levelled a cold glare at me. “Are you saying our word is not good enough?"
"Yes," I said with a sweet smile.
"You have nothing but a wild theory, get out," the dark-haired woman snapped.
A trio of witches appeared in the doorway, ready to escort us out. I was surprised to see them in simple white knee-length dresses. It lacked the over-done pomp that I had come to expect from large covens such as this. The coven that kept hassling Kane insisted on wearing full emerald-green
robes when guests were around. It was absurd.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The chances of us getting the missing people back alive were slim to none at that point. Yet again, we had hit a dead end, and we had to be careful how we approached the witches as they clearly had someone in the Council in their pocket. I ground my teeth and quietly fumed. I wasn't cut out for this.
Dante's phone went off. He growled and dropped it in the cup holder between us.
"Someone else just went missing. No one knows how they took them, no witnesses, and this time they weren't an Olapireta, so we don't even have that connection anymore," he growled as he pressed the accelerator, throwing the car around the corner.
I put my hand on his knee.
"I'd rather we didn't careen off the cliff to our doom," I said with a smile.
He laughed and slowed the car down to a more sensible pace.
"We are being toyed with. And someone in the Council is working against us, which means there's a chance this was planned as a way to make us chase our tails."
That thought hadn't even occurred to me. Things were getting bleaker and bleaker by the minute. We returned to the city in an absolutely foul mood with a literal storm cloud hanging over us. Lightning arced overhead as we got out of the car, the thunder crashing and echoing around us thanks to the high walls. Dante didn't bother putting up his bubble as we got soaked by the heavy sharp rain. It felt fitting. I didn't pick up the pace as we casually made our way back into the city. The water splashed up the back of my legs, but at least my boots were completely waterproof, so it wasn't an absolute shit show.
A shadow moving over the roof of the pharmacist’s caught my eye. There was something wrong with it. I stopped and peered at the red tiles, trying to pick out the details, but I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Another shadow caught my attention a few steps later, this time on my left.
The main path through the Old City was completely empty. It was the middle of the day, and there should have been great swathes of people huddling under the umbrellas and in the doorways. The silence was broken by a crack of thunder.
The shadows became far more solid and converged on us. They were people dressed entirely in black with little capes and hoods, and they were wearing masks, because apparently that was the done thing with assassins and the like. Maybe I should get a mask, after all.
I pulled my daggers and put my back to Dante's. He was tense, his bloodsong pounding a deep beat that spoke of war. The assassins couldn't have picked a worse time, a time when we were both eager for a good fight, and they'd brought it right to us.
There were four of them in total. Two each was a perfectly manageable number. They sprang down from the rooftops and landed in the stereotypical superhero pose. I rolled my eyes.
"Really?" I asked.
They were supposed to be badasses, but for a moment I wondered if maybe this was actually some tv show or something that we'd been caught up in the middle of. The wannabe ninjas were all around about 5’9, slender build, and wearing a simple dark red mask with no eye-holes. Then one of them threw a small slender black knife at my throat, and I was quite sure that a tv show wouldn't have done that. The knife sailed past both me and Dante.
I was torn between remaining close to Dante to cover his back and stepping away a bit to give myself some more room to take these flashy posers on. The wannabe ninjas circled around us, one spinning their kris blades, trying to draw my attention and distract me, another tossing a small throwing knife up and down. I ignored them and stayed near Dante, protecting his back as I waited for them to rush us, knowing they were stupid enough to do it. Kris Blade did exactly that three steps later. They were almost in my blind spot when they ran at me. A throwing knife caught in my shoulder. It had somehow made its way through the Silk and Thread magic, which was inconvenient. My parents had taught me how to compartmentalise the pain and not let it get in the way from a young age. I buried the pain and slashed at the kris blade user’s lower stomach. They dipped away and tried to hack at my ribs. I twisted away while keeping close to Dante’s back. I tore the knife out of my shoulder and threw it at the original wielder’s face. It missed by a good bit. I never was very good with throwing knives. Another throwing knife nicked my ear and landed between Dante’s shoulder blades, though he didn’t seem to notice it.
His bloodsong was a raging war beat that brought out my own bloodlust and desire to inflict pain. The ninja with the kris blades tried to slice at my wrist. I blocked and pushed their arm away, which left their stomach and throat exposed. I slashed their throat and felt the serene song of their blood wash over me as it spilled down their black tunic. They vanished in a puff of heather-grey smoke a moment later.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said.
Another throwing knife came at me, one I didn’t see it quite in time, and it hit my upper thigh. The jeans from Silk and Thread were doing their job. Maybe the wielder was running low on magic, so the knife didn’t get through the magic on the jeans. I didn’t care what the reason was, I didn’t have another knife in me. I gave a wild grin to the throwing knife wielder, who had empty hands. Dante half turned and threw the knife that had been between his shoulders at the wannabe ninja before he punched another square in the face. The one being punched went down like a sack of potatoes before becoming smoke. Two down.
I held up my hand and gestured for the throwing knife wielder to bring it. They continued to prance around me, going back and forth, trying to get in my blind spot, before they lunged at Dante. I dove on them and thrust my dagger into the muscle between their shoulder and their throat. They gurgled beneath me while flailing and trying to slash a small silver knife into my stomach. They didn’t have the strength to push through the magic in the Silk and Thread clothes, the best investment I ever made.
Dante landed a spinning kick that I was pretty sure knocked the head clean off the final wannabe ninja. I couldn’t check, as they, too, went up in a puff of smoke. Suddenly, the storm vanished, and people started wandering out from the alleys and such. They were wearing bright tourist clothes and chatting animatedly about how delightful the tour they’d just done to Montenegro was and how they absolutely must visit the quaint little cafe down near the ocean.
I frowned, looking around and trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened.
“Fae magic,” Dante growled.
He put his hand on my lower back and guided me back to the apartment.
“It was a complex magical weaving somewhere between a glamour and a pocket dimension,” Dante whispered in my ear.
“The fae are involved in this now?”
“More likely someone with enough money to buy some short-term fae magic,” Dante said as he opened the door to the apartment.
“So, what about the cameras that live-stream the main path onto the tv twenty-four-seven?” I asked.
I’d stumbled across the tv channel while I was bored waiting for some news from Kane.
“The fae magic will have covered that,” Dante said as he pulled his shirt off.
The blood trickling down his spine whispered to me, sweet nothings that called me to taste it. Just one little drop. I swallowed hard and turned away. I wasn’t like that.
“Why weren’t you wearing some of the light armour?” I asked.
He shrugged. “My father’s blood means it is very difficult to harm me. The wound will be healed within the hour.”
“You’re not at all concerned about the fact that a bunch of wannabe ninjas attacked us in broad daylight?”
He grinned at me.
“I’m delighted. It means we’re on the right path.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Kane fussed over me and put not one but two pastes on my shoulder where the throwing knife had pierced the muscle. They smelled of sweet rose, honeysuckle, and something like anise but not quite. To his credit, he did ask Dante if he needed any healing salves, to which Dante had smiled and politely declined before making us all coffee.
Kane trailed his fingers along my jawline, his sea-green eyes full of concern.
“Are you sure you won’t join me as an assistant?”
I glared at him. “You know better than that. Don’t try and cage me, Kane.”
He gently pulled me to him and kissed behind my ear. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intent, I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“You said you had the results back from the attempted assassin’s blood Wren gave you,” Dante said as he handed me a cup of strong black coffee.
“It contains a small bit of blood magic, the same blood magic as was in the fae-vampires but not as much.”
“We have a connection,” Dante said as he sat in the armchair.
Kane sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders before he gently pulled me to him.
“The coven, the Shadow Moons, seem like the most likely bet,” Kane said.
Dante nodded. “The fact they are hiding their type of magic is very suspicious. That could certainly mean that they are blood witches, although I don’t recall there ever being an entire coven of them.”
Kane’s thumb circled over the top of my arm, his blood song calm and soothing as I tried to remain still. What if they really were an entire coven of blood witches? What would that mean for me? I couldn’t exactly take one aside and ask them to tell me everything about my magic. There was a good chance they’d all be dead by the following sunrise, too, but what if they hadn’t done anything wrong? My head was spinning with questions and possibilities.
“We need to meet with the witch archivist, they will give us answers,” Dante said as he pulled out his phone. I frowned as he continued, “Witches keep meticulous records of their bloodlines. It allows them to arrange the strongest marriages and keep a track of who should have the highest status as well as watching for anomalies and such.”
“It sounds like a breeding kennel,” I said.
