by Elle Thorne
Alannah crept the vehicle forward slowly, taking one turn after another. Moments later she pulled in front of a mansion just as dilapidated as the gate. Three stories high, it sprawled out like an overgrown bug clinging to the ground.
Lights dotted less than a third of the windows.
“Spooky.”
Alannah nodded. “You get used to it.”
I don’t think I could. “It looks like it’s only partially inhabited.”
Alannah pulled up to the staircase that jutted out from the middle of the structure. “It’s not what it used to be. Our numbers aren’t what they once were.”
The sadness in Alannah’s voice made Fiona curious about why there were less witches now, but the opening of the door in the eyesore of a building halted her thoughts.
A tall woman, so lean as to not have an ounce of flesh to spare—so very unlike Fiona—stepped out, the light framing her silhouette.
“Ilse.” There was a definite tone of dislike in Alannah’s voice.
“Who’s that?”
“Of the Krauss branch.” A sneer crossed Alannah’s features as she turned toward Fiona. “Head chair of Northfork.”
Alannah didn’t have to say it, but Fiona got it—she was the decision maker.
That bitch is the reason Jonah was shot.
Hate blurred anger, forming a red haze in her vision. She took a deep breath. Emotions wouldn’t serve her. Not in this cause. She wanted vengeance.
“Took you long enough.” Ilse’s tone was chilly when Alannah and Fiona reached the top of the stairs.
“Complications.” Alannah pushed by her.
“Welcome to your new home,” Ilse said to Fiona in a tone far from welcoming.
Chapter Ten
A few days later…
Ilse’s lackluster welcome characterized the next few days for Fiona. She was given a room on the third floor with the other lesser witches—as they were called during whispered conversations.
Ilse had demanded Fiona’s cell phone that first night, claiming she’d have it adjusted so the GPS tracking was misdirected, and then she’d return it to Fiona.
Yeah, that was a few days ago.
And still, Ilse claimed the technician was backed up and would be done with it when he could get to it.
Before turning the phone over to Ilse, of course, Fiona sent Eric Vargas an email saying she needed to take a leave of absence—family business. She didn’t have the heart to give permanent notice of her intent to vacate InterForce. She should have but couldn’t.
Training was to start in a few days. Evidently it was handled in a group setting and the next class was to start the following Monday.
So Fiona had plenty of time on her hands.
Plenty of time to do nothing, because the only one who would talk to her was Alannah.
It seemed that Ilse’s general disaffection for Fiona was contagious and the rest of the witches (except Alannah) were eager to please Ilse.
So unless Alannah sought out Fiona, she spent her time in her room or exploring the surrounding grounds.
Surrounding grounds, another way of saying the thick overgrown forest that hid the mansion from any prying eyes for acres and acres.
One day around twilight, Fiona had let time get past her when she’d been in the woods. The sun had dropped, darkness was falling, and Fiona was certain she saw glowing eyes watching her from the thickness of the woods.
She’d ran out as quickly as she could, chest heaving, falcon screaming. And she’d ran straight into Ilse.
“What are you doing out here? You know the rules.”
Rules. Yeah, Northfork had plenty of those.
Can’t be out of the mansion after dark without a senior witch.
Can’t have unapproved cell phones.
Can’t take pictures of anything or anyone on Northfork territory.
Can’t talk back to senior witches.
The list went on and on and on…
“I’m sorry, Ilse. I lost track of time.”
“Inside. There is danger out here.”
I’m pretty sure you don’t give a shit if something bad happens to me.
Fiona didn’t give voice to her thoughts. That damned deal. That arrangement.
She thought of Jonah. The way he’d looked the last time she’d seen him, right before he shifted.
Pale. Close to death’s door.
I did the right thing.
She hoped.
“Tomorrow is the initiation.” Ilse’s smile was tight-lipped. “After that, classes start.”
Fiona nodded. “Thank you.” She’d talk to Alannah.
Dinner was an organized event every evening. Close to four dozen witches, all at tables in a large room. The only one who sat with Fiona was Alannah, if she wasn’t absent.
Fiona hoped she wouldn’t be absent tonight. She had questions for her about initiation.
And she had a favor to ask.
Fiona spied the curvy auburn-haired witch come in the door and raised her hand for a quick wave, hoping she’d see her and grab a spot next to her.
It’s not like it’s hard to see me, sitting alone at this table for six.
Alannah went through the serving line, then brought her tray to Fiona’s table.
“Hey.”
“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days. How’ve you been?”
Alannah glanced around, as if to ascertain no one was interested in their conversation. “Was in the city.”
“More dirty business for the coven?” Fiona kept her voice to a low hiss.
“Don’t talk like that. You have to at least pretend to have buy-in.”
“You mean, they’d believe that act, after blackmailing me to bring me here? After almost killing Jonah?”
Alannah shook her head. “Can’t hurt to pretend. At least that way if you…” She looked down at her tray, picked up a slice of apple and took a bite.
“If I what?”
“Nothing.” Crunch. Another bite and the apple was gone. She picked up another.
“I’m wondering how Jonah is. I wanted to call Isaac. Check on him.” Because I don’t want to admit it but I don’t think Jonah ever wants to talk to me again. Not that I blame him.
“What happened between you two?”
“My being a damned witch happened.” Fiona’s voice was a little louder than she’d intended. And a lot more vehement.
She looked around, caught two young witches at another table watching her with more interest than she wanted. She gave them a dirty look, they averted their gazes.
“Shifters and witches don’t mix.”
“I didn’t know that. I…” Fiona pushed her tray aside. Any appetite she had was well gone. “I never wanted to hear what Mae had to say. I found out the hard way.”
“You… what do you mean… the hard way?”
“I was pregnant.”
Fiona let out a small gasp, then covered it with a loud crunchy bite on another apple.
“I lost the baby. That’s when I finally listened to Mae. That’s when she told me witches can’t carry shifter babies full term. Not without intervention. And I couldn’t do that. If I asked a witch to intervene, then he’d know I am a witch.”
“Why doesn’t he know?”
“His parents…” She stabbed the meatloaf with her fork, over and over, crumbling it. “Witches were involved.”
Alannah raised a brow. “Involved in what?”
“Jonah losing his parents. He hates witches. I mean, shifters and witches have a tenuous relationship, at best, but for Jonah and his brothers… it’s very personal.”
“That explains the way his brother behaved, doesn’t it. Too bad they don’t know the sacrifice you’re making.”
“Some might say it’s no great sacrifice at all, not really, since I’m returning to my roots.”
“Yes, but you’re losing your other half to do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your falcon.”
&nbs
p; “What about it?”
“You have to make a choice. You can’t have a dual citizenship, per se”
What the hell? “What’s supposed to happen to my falcon?”
“She’s taken out of you.”
“I’d lose everything that makes me a shifter.” Then it hit Fiona. “That could kill her—we can’t be apart indefinitely.”
“I know.”
“No. I won’t do that.”
“You won’t be given a choice. Ilse will boil it down to your falcon or Jonah.”
In Fiona’s head, her falcon began a low thrumming sound Fiona had never heard before.
It was too much to process. “I can’t think.”
They wanted her to kill off her other half? Her best friend? The only one that had been there for her?
I’m not killing my falcon. I’ll figure something out.
“Don’t think that.”
“Don’t think what?” Fiona narrowed her eyes, studied Alannah. “You’re an empath.”
Alannah nodded.
“What am I?
“The aptitude test will determine that, after your falcon is gone. Your falcon suppresses your witch skills.”
“That’s why they want her out?”
Alannah nodded.
“Can’t she be trained? Can’t I work around her? Has that never been done?”
“It has. Twice. More often than not it fails, particularly because the two types are in contradiction and you can’t serve two masters, so to speak. You can’t be a witch and a shifter.”
“But it’s been done before?”
“As I said, twice. Ilse will never allow it though, so don’t consider it. It’s not an option.”
The hell it’s not. I just need to buy myself some time.
“Stop that train of thought.” Alannah’s tone was low but stern.
“Get out of my head. And stay out!”
“I can’t. The Rathmores and the Belthunes have a connection.”
“Yeah, I know. I got it, our great, great, umpteen, great grandmothers were sisters.”
“It’s more than that—”
“Ladies.” Ilse took a seat at the head, put her hands on the tabletop, and spread her fingers wide.
Why do her fingers remind me of a spindly-legged hairless tarantula?
“Are you ready for tomorrow’s swearing in and initiation ceremony?”
“Sure.” Fiona forced a smile.
“Excuse me.” Alannah pushed her chair back and grabbed her tray, hightailing it, leaving Fiona alone with the witch who reminded her of a cross between a dragon lady and a dominatrix.
Ilse scowled at Alannah’s departing back, stood and made an about-face, and was gone.
Chapter Eleven
Sleepless.
That summed up Fiona’s night. She got up with the first rays of sunshine and sat in a chair, looking out the window. Her room was at the back of the mansion, overseeing the thick, impenetrable woods.
Would this be her view for her remaining days? Would she be subservient to Ilse’s demands and orders?
Her eyes burned, a combination of fatigue and tears of anger and helplessness.
This was never a choice she thought she’d have to make, between her falcon and her mate—former mate, she reminded herself.
Who am I kidding? He’ll always be my mate, even if we aren’t together.
A knock at the door made her leap out of the chair.
“Time for breakfast.” It was one of the lesser witches’ voice. Fiona wasn’t sure but she thought her name was Annie or maybe Victoria.
“Breakfast’s not for another two hours, I thought?”
“Schedule change because of today’s events. Didn’t anyone tell you?”
Seems no one tells me jack.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
Hair, teeth, deodorant, a quick change of clothes, and Fiona was downstairs in twelve minutes.
The line for breakfast had dwindled, most were sitting and eating.
She grabbed an oatmeal, muffin, orange juice, and a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table closest to the back
A podium and a microphone had been pulled to a central position at the front of the room. Ilse flicked the mic with a red-tipped nail.
The clicking sound came across loud and clear. Her second-in-command, an equally tall, equally lean dark-haired witch nodded and mouthed, “It works.”
“Good morning, Northfork.”
Voices murmured a “Good morning” in return.
“I’m thrilled we are initiating our two hundred and twenty-eighth class today. Initiates, please rise.”
Fiona took another bite.
Shit.
She tried to swallow the oatmeal, but it formed an unmovable lump.
Nine women stood.
Ilse’s index finger counted them. She frowned.
Fiona swallowed hard again and rose slowly.
Ilse made another show of counting. Ten.
She smiled her tight-lipped, carrot-up-her-ass smile.
“After breakfast, you’ll find your gowns in your assigned boxes. Put them on over your clothing and meet us here in two hours, promptly, at…” She glanced at a silver watch. “Nine.”
Her head snapped toward Fiona.
“Except Rathmore. You’ll be here in an hour. That should give us plenty of time to wrap up with you in preparation.” Ilse stepped away from the podium and resumed her seat at the major witches’ table.
After breakfast, Fiona grabbed a cardboard container from her assigned box and hustled to her room.
She’d change but she needed to talk to Ilse. There was no way in hell she’d agree to give up her falcon. She wouldn’t let her falcon’s soul wither and die.
Changed and ready to go, she glanced at the analog clock on the nightstand. She still had plenty of time.
A soft knock sounded at her door.
Fiona pulled it open.
Alannah. And she didn’t look well. She looked concerned, maybe even upset.
“What are you doing?”
“The Belthunes have a pact with the Rathmores. It surpasses all other alliances.”
What’s that supposed to mean, anyway? “Um… ohhh-kaaay.”
“Just remember that today. In case.”
“In case what?”
A rap at the door, then it opened, without anyone waiting for a response or permission.
Fiona frowned at the interruption.
Ilse entered, a grimace appeared on her face when she noticed Alannah there. “I hope you’re not interfering.”
“I know my duty,” Alannah pushed her way past Ilse’s second-in-command and turned the corner, out of sight.
“I thought I was to come downstairs,” Fiona began.
“We’re taking the back staircase. Follow.”
Ilse and her second led the way down the hallway to the other side of the building where she unlocked the door with a key she pulled from her pocket.
Fiona tried to get a look at it, could have sworn it had a skull on it, but before she could ascertain, Ilse slipped it back in her pocket and opened the doorway to a dark staircase.
Without speaking a word they took the stairs down both flights. Expecting a door, Fiona was surprised to find another staircase.
This led below ground. They went the equivalent of one flight down, then up a slowly inclining ramp in a tunnel.
Fiona was burning to ask where they were going, but she let her falcon’s sense take over and waited for them to speak first.
At the end of the long tunnel, Ilse’s second opened a door.
Fiona stepped out. Behind her, the door was carved into a monstrous tree with vines and roots growing in such a way to almost make the door blend into the tree’s trunk.
In front of her, a mist rose knee high in a clearing completely surrounded by trees.
Ilse turned to face her. “Your falcon. You will have to put it aside.”
She didn’t even pretend not to know wha
t Ilse meant. “I can’t. I am my falcon.”
“That’s the only way. We need your full allegiance. Your falcon makes your faithfulness questionable.”
“I can’t live without her.” She can’t live without me.
“You realize what you’re saying. You’re willing to choose your falcon over Jonah Romanoff.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“You are not complying.” Ilse’s eyes glowed red, her already pale face turned ghost white.
Her second’s eyes changed, matching Ilse’s.
In their right hands, each held up a wand with a claw on the end.
A wailing sound came from Ilse. Her second began to chant.
Fiona felt a tug on her brain, the tug became a searing scorching pain that tore into her mind.
Her falcon screeched.
The sound of tearing filled Fiona’s head.
What are they doing?
Fiona opened her mind to protest the magic they were using to pull her falcon out.
No words came out. Instead her falcon’s screech left her mind and flowed through her lips, piercing the forest’s noises, eclipsing Ilse and her second’s wailing and chants.
A crunching sound, a horrifying tearing, a stinging sensation, and within seconds, Fiona was in her falcon, no longer in her human skin.
Her falcon took wing, rose, was a few feet off the ground when a jolt rammed into her body, penetrating and painful. She lost her balance and became disoriented, wings fluttering. She tried to clear her mind, tried to resume her course upward, seeking refuge first in the sky, then over the trees.
She failed, collapsed, falling to the ground with a crash landing that left her wing crumpled in such a way she knew it was unusable.
She had greater issues as Ilse and her second stalked her way.
“If you won’t join us, I won’t have you sabotaging our efforts.” Ilse’s voice breached Fiona’s pain.
Fiona backed up slowly and called for a shift. Her falcon ignored her requests.
Fiona demanded a shift. Her falcon still ignored her, backing up, picking her way among twigs and grass.
A roar rocked the forest bringing everything to a halt.
Another roar joined the first one, similar yet different.
