Witches Get Stitches

by Juliette Cross

  “I suppose not.” Understanding the source of pain and grief doesn’t alleviate it.

  I’d finished the wolf’s head, choosing to keep it around two inches in diameter all the way around. “What color do you want the eye to be?” It was the only vacant space within the tattoo. “Yellow?”

  He flashed me those amber eyes again. “That works.”

  “Seems only natural,” I said, standing to change out the ink and needle for color. “Whoever’s next, get ready.”

  “I’ll go next,” said the auburn-haired one with the dimples, flashing them to me again.

  “There should be a warning label with your kind,” I mumbled to myself when I sat back down to fill in the almond-shaped eye of the wolf’s head.

  “Why’s that?” asked Shane.

  Sighing, I laughed a little. “I forget that werewolves can hear and smell everything.”

  “Yeah. And we can smell Nico all over you,” remarked Dimples teasingly.

  “He’s definitely under the skin,” another remarked with what seemed like admiration.

  I settled and finished adding the final ink to Shane’s tattoo, though this was for aesthetics, not the spell. The spell was now etched into his skin along with my whisper of magic. It would seal to his own spirit of magic once I’d chanted the incantation.

  “His scent should be all over her,” said another barrel-chested guy I didn’t know.

  I shivered with excitement and hope, knowing full well what scent marking meant for a werewolf. That was fine by me. I wanted to be his as much as I wanted him to be mine.

  “Okay, sit still a minute, and everyone be quiet please.”

  The low murmuring and chatter stopped at once. Placing both palms at the center of Shane’s chest, not touching the tattoo but needing direct contact with him, I closed my eyes and concentrated.

  Whispering “Venez à moi,” calling my magic to me, I tapped into my psychic eye. The response was violent in its swiftness. The witch sign I’d seen in that vision when I first touched Nico’s scar swam in my mind. I honestly didn’t have to do any of the work. It was like the magic itself longed to right this wrong, the channel opening like a floodgate of pulsing power, pouring right through my fingers into Shane.

  It was the exact same when I did this for Nico’s tattoo just a few days ago. I was positive it was the universe using me as a vessel to correct the error of that first witch, my ancestor, so long ago. The Divine Goddess, the persona we called to embody all magic, seemed to be wielding me to do her will. All I had to do was open up and let it go. So I did.

  After only a moment or two, the gate closed, and the light glowing from my skin dimmed. I sat up and pulled my hands away from Shane. The circle of werewolves was silent. The crackle of magic buzzed in the air.

  He sat up, breathing heavy as he stared down at his skin. It didn’t look any different other than the faint ghostly glow as the magic dissipated.

  “Be still,” I said, wiping the area once more with antiseptic. Then I covered it with the clear tape.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  The sincere look of appreciation on his face made me smile. “You’re welcome.” I glanced around. “Who’s next?”

  Shane stood only to be replaced by yet another hot, shirtless vampire reclining back on the sofa. I settled next to Dimples who’d adopted Shane’s position, curling one forearm behind his head so I could lean over him with ease.

  “Lucky fucking guy, that Nico,” rumbled Dimples, flashing me his pretty smile.

  Rather than comment on his flirtiness, I simply said, “So am I, big guy. I just hope I can finish these tats and get back to him before he finds all of you.”

  “Worried about us?” asked Shane.

  Knowing the depth of Nico’s feelings for me because I was positive his matched my own, my response was one simple word but heavy with an ominous promise.

  “Very.”

  Chapter 27

  ~NICO~

  * * *

  It was four a.m. and I sat where I’d been for the past few hours—on the sofa of our shop lobby with my phone in my fucking hands, waiting for Shane to call.

  I’d called his cell number, which he hadn’t changed, one hundred and seventy-two times. He’d let every single one go to voicemail. I’d sent some heinous, life-threatening texts with explicit details of how he would come to his imminent demise. All had been left on read. Then not even that. Presumably, he’d turned his phone off so his it couldn’t be traced.

  “Here, Nico.” Clara sat next to me, offering a cup of coffee. Not that there was a chance of me falling asleep. My body was riddled with so much anxiety-laced adrenaline that there was no way I would nod off for even a second. Not until I found her.

  Clara smiled while patting my shoulder and urging me to take the cup.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, my heart cracking at seeing Violet’s twin, her features a lovely mirror of her sister’s.

  I took a gulp, glancing around the room. Mateo and Evie were curled up on the other side of the L-shaped sofa, whispering to each other. Isadora was making tea in the kitchen. Jules was still out of town, apparently high-tailing it back here.

  Livvy sat behind the computer at the reception desk, tapping away, trying to find help through the SuperNet. Devraj and Ruben had taken the small amount of information that we had and then left to rally the local vampire covens to search. Sean had left with Henry the second we’d returned from that wild fucking goose chase Shane had led us on. If I could’ve throttled myself for being so stupid, I would have.

  Shane had understood my depth of affection for Violet the moment he’d met her face-to-face here in the shop. He’d used my insane level of protectiveness against me, knowing full well that touching and kissing her would have only one result. Me coming after him. Which is what I’d done back at the Cat’s Meow.

  He was testing my attachment to Violet that night. And I’d done exactly what he’d wanted tonight, leaving Violet behind without protection from his lackey assholes who’d snatched her right underneath everyone’s noses.

  We’d had to slowly shut down the party without terrifying the locals. We had let them know that my co-owner of Empress Ink had been kidnapped from the event, but no one had seen anything. Not a soul. Evie had to force JJ and Finnie to go home, both of them feeling guilty they hadn’t seen anything or been able to help. JJ had wanted blood, which I one-hundred percent empathized with. But there was nothing to do. Not yet. And when there was, it would be a matter between me and Shane. Humans shouldn’t be present when I got my hands around that fucker’s throat.

  Shifting on the sofa, I turned to look at Clara who had that worried look on her face. She’d been trying to pump me with her happy spell, but it had rebounded almost as soon as she’d touched me.

  “You’re not worried?” I asked her.

  She gave me a small smile. “She’s okay. I promise.”

  “How do you know? Are you psychic like Violet?” I knew that all witches had one leading power, but they also carried secondary magical gifts. But Clara shook her head then pressed her palm to the middle of her chest. “I can feel it.”

  I wondered if that was hopeful thinking, like when you say you just know someone is going to be all right, but you honestly have no idea. She seemed to see where my thoughts ran.

  “As an Aura, I can read people’s emotions, which I’m sure you know. But I don’t have to be in the room with someone I have an intimate connection with to know how they’re feeling. I’m closer to Violet than anyone in the world, and I can sense her right now.” She glanced up, tapping into her magic. Into Violet. “She isn’t afraid or in pain.” Her gaze swiveled back to me. “I can promise you that.”

  “Will you tell me if that changes?”

  She gave me a nod.

  “I just can’t believe how calm you are,” I admitted.

  Her smile widened. “This is Violet. Those werewolves have no idea who they’ve kidnapped. It’ll be fine.”
<
br />   I wish I could’ve been as confident as Clara. If Violet were as safe as she’d implied, then why hadn’t she found a way to reach out to us? I’d already drilled Livvy to death to use her telepathic link to send Violet messages that we were looking for her and would find her soon. I was pissed as hell that Livvy’s telepathic link didn’t work in reverse. What’s worse. Livvy had said that she didn’t have the sense that Violet had received her messages. That told me one thing—she was unconscious, which was also why Clara hadn’t sensed her afraid or in pain.

  If that asshole hurt her in any way, I’d make him regret ever being born. If this was his way of getting back at me for abandoning the Blood Moon pack, then I’d say he’d done his job well. I felt the pain of it acutely. Sharply. Deeply.

  The door whooshed open. I leaped to my feet. Henry and Sean strode in with another guy I didn’t recognize right behind them. Oh, wait. Yes, I did. He was that guy we saw at The Brat Pack. He was of similar build to Henry and wore the same attire. Dark. Though he seemed slightly more polished than Henry, wearing a black cable sweater and slacks. An indecipherable tattoo filled the back of his left hand. Same black hair and obsidian eyes, pale complexion. Definitely a grim with a powerful punch of darkness pulsing off him.

  His gaze swept the room coolly until it landed on Livvy behind the receptionist desk. He tensed.

  Her typically casual demeanor had fallen, her eyes wide as she yelped, “Gareth. What are you doing here?”

  His hands went to his hips, his mannerisms holding an air of authority as he stared at her for a heartbeat more before giving her a casual nod. “Lavinia.”

  Lavinia? That must be her full name, which I’d never heard anyone speak before.

  His gaze swept away from her. He scowled as he scanned the room till he found me. When Henry whispered in his ear and gestured toward me, he walked over and extended his hand for me to shake.

  Touching a grim, especially one who held an intensely powerful aura like this guy, wasn’t something I should do in my fractured state. I shook my head.

  “No offense, man. But that’s not a good idea right now.” He must’ve heard the deep gruffness of my voice because he only nodded.

  “No problem. I’m Gareth Blackwater. I know where they’ve got your girl.”

  An audible sigh of relief swept over several people, including Isadora who’d run up to the lobby, an unopen teabag in hand.

  “Where is she?” asked Livvy, having rounded the reception desk closer to where we were standing.

  “The West Bank,” he answered her before turning to me. “On the outskirts of Belle Chasse.”

  “Let’s go.” I glanced at Mateo who was already on his feet, whispering to Evie to stay put.

  “Wait!” Livvy stepped closer. “Jules is on her way back from Houston. She should be home in about two hours.”

  “I’m not waiting.” Even if Jules had the power to walk into a room and null every supernatural, which would obviously give us an advantage to take down human-level strength as opposed to werewolves, I wasn’t waiting a fucking second to get Violet back.

  “Ugh. Fine! How the hell did you find her anyway?” Livvy looked both impressed and perturbed at Gareth.

  He grinned down at her. “It’s easy if you have the means.”

  “The grim data network, I suppose?” She arched a brow.

  “No need for that.” When he shifted slightly toward her, she took a step back. He grinned before saying, “Tracking phones isn’t that difficult.”

  “Seriously?” she scoffed. “You didn’t even know their names or have SIM card info or anything.”

  Apparently, Shane hadn’t shut his phone down quickly enough then. Grims were famously fast at any and all tech work.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “That’s easy to get. For me.”

  Clara stepped up to her side and whispered rather loudly, “Guess you can’t call him cockwaffle anymore.”

  Henry smiled like the devil himself before adding in his deep tenor, “You can definitely keep calling him that.”

  Gareth tossed a scowl at Henry.

  “Are y’all brothers?” asked Mateo, glancing between the three grims, their features so similar, fair skin with black hair and eyes.

  “Cousins,” said Gareth.

  “Can we do introductions later?” I snapped out, my wolf pulling at the leash. My canines were already fully extended. “I’ll drive.”

  “Wait, let me get my shoes,” said Livvy, running back to the reception desk.

  “You’re not coming,” said Gareth, his gaze sweeping down her body, which was no longer in a dress but black jeans and a casual red top.

  “What?” She stormed back over and propped a hand on her hip. “You can’t make decisions for me, Mr. Blackwater. You might be group leader in our contest finals, but you have no pull here.”

  “How can you possibly help?” he asked. And while the question might sound condescending, his tone was even and calm.

  “I can—”

  “You’re an Influencer with light telekinesis ability, not heavy like Violet and Jules. An Influencer planting thoughts only works with subtle persuasion. This will be a brute force mission. No time for mind games. You have one-way telepathy. With your sisters.” The way he added that last bit made Livvy scowl. “What good does that do? You’ll be a liability more than a help. We’ll have to protect you while trying to get Violet out. So the wisest course of action is for you to stay here.”

  Livvy’s face flushed pink with obvious anger. Whether that was because the grim spoke sense or that she just hated this guy giving her orders, or perhaps both, I wasn’t quite sure.

  Clara squeezed Livvy’s arm. “He’s right. The only one of us equipped to go up against a pack of werewolves is Jules. And Violet.” Clara faced Gareth and Henry. “We’ll stay. But I honestly don’t think it’s necessary. Violet is totally fine.”

  While Gareth and Sean looked at her like she might be a little off-center, Henry kept smiling. Seems someone else might be under the Savoie sister spell, but I didn’t have time for this.

  “Let’s go.”

  Isadora stepped closer. “We’ll be at our house when you return. In case you need me.”

  In case someone needs healing. In case someone comes back wounded.

  We’d stationed ourselves at the shop, staying near the scene of the crime. But now we had to prepare for the possibility of injuries. As long as they were on me and not Violet, I’d be fine. I couldn’t even think about her being hurt without wanting to maim and claw and be violently sick all at the same time.

  I gave Isadora a nod before storming out the door. Mateo and the grims were on my heels, following me out to my Jeep parked right outside.

  “You go up front,” said Mateo, gesturing to Gareth. “You know where we’re going.”

  With a nod, Gareth hopped in the front passenger seat. I gunned it before seatbelts were even clicked, speeding dangerously down Magazine toward the interstate. The streets were mostly clear now since it was closing in on five in the morning. Now was the time drinkers were well in bed or searching for an all-night diner like Daisy Dukes in the Quarter for a greasy cheeseburger or French dip po’boy to soak up the alcohol.

  I wished this night had ended how I’d planned. With Violet in my bed, in my arms, me worshipping her body as we celebrated tonight’s success. Of our business. Of our beginning. Because whether she knew it or not, this was just the beginning for us.

  Then Shane and my past crashed the party and fucked it all up. He had some kind of vendetta with me, and I was going to make fucking sure that shit ended tonight. Whatever unresolved issues we had, we’d be fighting them out once and for all.

  “Do you have information on how many of the pack are there?” I asked, needing to focus on the task at hand, my fingers white-knuckling around the steering wheel.

  Gareth glanced at me with that dismissive look grims liked to give other supernaturals. It was basically an eye-roll without the eye-roll. He
stared straight as I veered onto the on-ramp and toward the West Bank across the Mississippi River.

  “There are twelve werewolves holding her at the location. Ten adults. Two adolescents. It’s a small warehouse building made entirely of corrugated steel that was once a mechanic’s shop. It’s just south of Belle Chasse Navy Base off a gravel road. Head toward the base when we’re across the bridge, and I’ll tell you where to turn from there.”

  Mateo asked from the backseat right behind me, “So what exactly are grims capable of in a situation like this?”

  “You mean, a situation of brutal violence,” clarified Henry, not a question.

  Gareth kept his eyes forward, his head resting casually against the headrest.

  “We can—” Sean started but Henry slapped his chest with the back of his hand.

  I glared in my rearview mirror at him. “Look. I know you assholes are super secretive, but I need to know if you’re going to get in the fucking way or are you actually capable of doing something besides collect data when we get there.”

  My wolf filled the space with threat and warning. Mateo’s growl rumbled, echoing my sentiments exactly. It’s not like we lived in covens, or even organized packs, where we could spread their hidden abilities. Grims were odd supernaturals. No one had documented what they were able to do. Any time something was written down somewhere, the books disappeared, the digital documents vanished. Whatever people knew was only by word of mouth, and I’d never been able to acquire one single piece of information besides what we all knew about their auras.

  And the dark haloes around the three in my car were urging me to shift and eviscerate anything I could get my hands on. The impulse was a palpable shove against my skin, willing my bones to break and reform into the shape of my beast so that I could do real damage.

  And yet, both Mateo and I remained in man form with the exception of our eyes and canines. The tell-tale pulse of magic radiated from the tattoo on my ribs. If I wasn’t sure before, I was now absolutely positive that Violet’s spell had worked. If I hadn’t had this tattoo, I would already be in full werewolf form, scouring the city for any clue to her whereabouts. And I never would’ve found her. Not like these fucking grims who seemed to have everything they needed at their fingertips. But what I needed to know was, could they handle themselves in a fight?