Witch Unexpected: The Thirteenth Sign Book 1

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Witch Unexpected: The Thirteenth Sign Book 1 Page 19

by Cassidy, Debbie


  “Fuck,” Leif said softly. “Tor? What are you doing?”

  Tor’s eyes locked on me, and he attacked.

  My brain short-circuited.

  I was going to die.

  Crimson slashed across my vision.

  Leif in wolf form.

  The wolves collided, and I leaped out of the way with a scream trapped in my throat. They growled and fought, rolling, snapping, and clawing. Tor was so much bigger than Leif, but Leif was wily and fast, twisting and evading Tor’s powerful jaws.

  Tor’s red-rimmed gaze kept coming back to me, his body twisting as if wanting to leap at me, but Leif kept tugging him back. Slashing at his face and demanding his attention.

  I had to do something. I had to stop this. My hands tingled, fizzing with power, but I didn’t want to hurt either of them. If I let the power loose, it would most definitely cause damage.

  “We could make popcorn,” Jasper said from beside me. “Enjoy the show?”

  He was fully corporeal now, which meant he could use his power to incapacitate Tor.

  “You have to stop them.”

  He arched a brow at me. “You want me to stop the competition from killing each other? Do I look stupid to you?”

  “Jasper, please.”

  My brooch flared bright green, and Jasper’s gaze dropped to it with a frown.

  Tor smacked Leif across the room. The crimson wolf hit the bar so hard the whole structure shook. He slumped to the ground, and his body morphed into human form, eyes closed, unconscious.

  Tor advanced on me, lips pulled back in a snarl.

  Jasper blasted him with power, knocking him into the wall and holding him there. “You better get out of here,” he said calmly to me. “I won’t be able to hold him for long.”

  Tor roared, bucked, and snapped, trying to be free of Jasper’s hold.

  I rushed over to Leif. “Leif, come on. Get up.” I slapped his face, and his eyes popped open.

  “Cora…” He squeezed his eyes closed then open again, alert and awake. “Tor?”

  “Jasper has him; we need to go now.”

  “I can’t,” Leif said. “Cora, my spine is broken. It’ll take time to heal. You need to run. Get out of here now.”

  “Do it!” Jasper ordered. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold him.”

  I didn’t want to leave Leif, but it was obvious it was me Tor wanted. Getting out of here was the only way to keep my friend safe.

  “Go!” Leif and Jasper said in unison.

  I turned and ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Running in a sheath dress was a fucking bitch. I hitched it up to my hips, knickers on display, and barreled out of Tor’s quarters, through the hallway, and into the glass corridor. Darkness pressed in on me from outside, and the lights flickered ominously.

  I was almost at the entrance to the main Den when the doors behind me crashed open.

  Oh fuck. Don’t look back.

  I looked back.

  Tor’s paws skidded on the floor as he went from carpet to hardwood. He regained his trajectory quickly, though, heading straight for me.

  “Move, dammit!” Jasper stood at the exit, ethereal and furious.

  I dove past him and ran for the games room filled with wolves. Someone would help; someone would stop Tor.

  His roar was an angry abrasion that clawed at my back as I barreled into the brightly lit Den.

  Heads whipped round to take in the spectacle of a wild-haired witch with her knickers on show being chased by a huge black wolf.

  “Help!” I ran for the bar.

  Liam’s eyes rounded in horror. “What the fu—”

  A huge shadow flew over my head and landed on the bar in a mass of muscle, fur, and angry teeth. Tor shook his head and snarled, spattering drool everywhere. He made to lunge, then pulled back and made to lunge again, as if torn on whether to attack or stand down.

  I took a slow step away, then another, gaze flicking around, searching for the closest exit.

  Tor’s red-rimmed stare latched onto mine. I caught a glimpse of desperation, of the man beneath the beast, but it was gone too soon.

  His body coiled, ready to attack.

  There was no way I was outrunning him. I had to fight. My hands crackled and lit up with lightning.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Tor.”

  He leaped at me.

  A crack like thunder split the room. Light flashed in the periphery of my vision, then Tor was suspended mid-air, trapped in a blue sphere of energy. His eyes rolled, and he went limp, floating in the bubble of power.

  The Elites stood to my left and right, crackling and fizzing with energy, dressed in black as usual. Fuck, I was happy to see them.

  Sloane approached me. “You okay?”

  “I am now.”

  She looked at Tor then jerked her head in Jessie’s direction. “Find the source and neutralize it. Now.”

  “What are you talking about? Wait, how are you here?”

  She tapped the brooch pinned to my dress. “This. It went off, which meant you were under a magical attack.”

  “What? No, Tor attacked me.”

  “I know,” Sloane said. “And if my theory is correct, it’ll explain a fuckload.”

  “Cora!” Leif pushed through the crowd and wrapped me in his arms.

  He was butt naked, bits on display, but I didn’t care. I hugged him back, allowing the tension to drain from my muscles.

  “Den’s closed, people,” Liam said. “Okay, everyone out. Thank you.”

  Leif pulled back slightly and scanned my face, his expression grim. “Thank god you’re okay. I can’t believe he attacked you. It’s not who he is.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Sloane said.

  Leif released me, and I made a conscious effort not to look down at his crotch. The room around us was empty now, and only Liam remained with us.

  Sloane walked toward the sphere that held Tor. “What we got?”

  Jessie circled the sphere, hands up, palms outward. “Not witch magic.”

  “Where’s the source?” Sloane demanded.

  Jessie stopped and pushed her hand into the sphere. I noticed the silver band around Tor’s front paw for the first time. The bangle. How had it morphed with him?

  She gripped it, muttering under her breath. The bangle glowed bright red, fell through the sphere, and hit the ground with a clink.

  Jessie fell back, chest heaving. “Fuck. That was… Fuck.”

  Brie crouched to pick up the bangle but dropped it with a wince. “That’s some strong magic.”

  The bangle fizzled and then disintegrated.

  “Ah, shit.”

  “What is it?” Leif asked.

  Sloane’s mouth turned down. “That, my friends, is pure chaos power.”

  * * *

  Only one type of being used pure chaos magic. Warlocks. The bangle was Order made, but a witch must have delivered it to Tor.

  The traitor in the Grimswood Coven.

  Problem was, Tor had no memory of who’d given him the damn bangle.

  He sat at the bar nursing a glass of whiskey while holding an icepack to the back of his neck. Liam had made himself scarce, promising to be back to clean up in the morning.

  Tor winced and adjusted the pack, and I took an involuntary step toward him, wanting to help. Leif gently gripped my wrist and shook his head slightly in warning.

  Fuck, what was I doing? I didn’t even know this guy, so why did I care that he was hurting? Fee must have rubbed off on me with her empathetic nature.

  The pain in his head was what they called a magic hangover. Tor had been under this enchantment for at least a year, and coming out from under its influence was going to be an adjustment to his mind.

  He kept his gaze down, refusing to look at me or Leif, almost as if he was ashamed.

  “It’s not your fault,” Leif said.

  Tor’s lip curled. “I fucking know that.” His gaze flicked to me then away. “I woul
d have killed her.”

  “That bracelet was saturated with chaos magic,” Sloane said. “It wanted you to kill her.”

  “I don’t even remember where the fuck I got it,” Tor growled. He frowned. “No… Wait, I think… I think someone gave it to me…” He made a sound of exasperation. “Why the fuck can’t I remember, Slo? Fix this shit.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Tor,” Sloane said.

  His chest rumbled, and he downed his drink before slamming the glass on the bar.

  “I don’t think you were supposed to remember.” Sloane paced; her whiskey glass clutched loosely in her hand. “Someone gave you this bangle a year ago. They wanted you out of the picture. They wanted the anchor binding ceremony compromised, and the magic in that bangle messed with your head.”

  “They wanted him out of the picture,” Brie said. “But that wasn’t enough. They went after the potentials too.”

  “I thought I wanted to leave,” Tor said. “The word anchor pissed me off and made me…scared.” He gritted his jaw. “I realized after Leif’s last visit there was something wrong with me, but I thought I was fucking broken, messed up in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Best to stay away.”

  “Our traitor has been working against us for some time.” Sloane’s eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s a fucking shame the bangle disintegrated. We could have used it to run a trace to pinpoint exactly who gave it to you.”

  An idea hit me. “But what if it didn’t disintegrate.”

  “What?” Sloane gave me a confused look.

  “Only we know the bangle disintegrated. The culprit doesn’t.”

  Sloane’s brow cleared. “I see where you’re going with this.”

  “Then maybe you could enlighten us.” Leif looked from me to Sloane.

  But it was Tor that answered, his steel-gray eyes narrowing. “They’re going to bluff.”

  I smiled. “And by doing so, we’ll flush out the traitor.”

  * * *

  Leif padded into Tor’s smashed up lounge dressed in his friend’s clothes, slightly too big for him, but better than wandering around naked. Okay, maybe not better, but warmer, definitely warmer, with less chance of snagging vital bits.

  “Have The Elites gone?” he asked.

  I nodded. “They took one of Tor’s cars. They’ll get the plan in motion. Sloane’s got this.”

  “Tor?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He sighed. “I’ll speak to him.”

  “Actually, I was thinking maybe I could. I think he and I need to clear the air.”

  Leif nodded. “I’ll wait for you at the car.”

  I found Tor standing on the gravel outside, looking up at the moon.

  His shoulders tensed when he sensed my presence.

  “It’s too cold out here for you,” he said gruffly. “Especially in that dress.”

  “Well, I’ve pulled it back down now, so it’s much warmer.”

  His mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t make it.

  I sighed. I knew what this was about. Guilt. “I’m not hurt, Tor. You didn’t hurt me.”

  He made a sound of exasperation. “Not the point, woman. You got lucky. I could have hurt you. I would have. I wanted to.”

  “No, that wasn’t you. That was the spell.” I reached out to tentatively touch his forearm. “I’d like to start again if that’s okay?”

  He looked down at me with a frown. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, buddy, I’ve seen scarier things than you, and if I wanted to, I could have totally kicked your ass.” I sniffed. “I didn’t want to hurt you, that’s all.”

  This time he allowed his lips to lift in a smile. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

  “Totally.”

  He sobered. “Cora, I want you to know I would never intentionally harm you. I would never harm a woman.”

  “I believe you.”

  He exhaled and nodded. “Good.”

  Our gazes locked for a heartbeat, and my lungs tightened beneath his regard. There was something raw and primal about Tor, and I could imagine the beast beneath the man looking back at me.

  I was first to drop my gaze. “Does this mean you’ll come back with us?”

  He looked back up at the moon, shoulders relaxing. “I should never have left.”

  The knot in my stomach, the one I hadn’t even realized was there, melted away.

  He smiled thinly. “And when we find the witch responsible for my exile, I’ll make an exception to my rule and crush her heart in my hand.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The journey back to the cabin was a silent one, just the late-night radio on in the background and the rumble of the road beneath the Land Rover’s wheels. I’d taken the backseat while Tor filled the front passenger seat with his muscled form. Leif drove, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his thigh, fingers tapping to the beat from the radio.

  We were almost home, the lights of Leyton visible in the distance. The clock on the dashboard winked at me, almost midnight.

  My stomach growled.

  Tor tensed and tipped his head to the side.

  It growled again. Shit. “Sorry.”

  “Leif, we need food.” Tor’s voice was gruff as if from lack of use.

  “On it,” Leif said.

  Okay, I was not gonna argue with that, but “will anything be open?”

  “Friday night,” Tor replied. “There’s a twenty-four-hour fast food place on the high street.”

  Leif drove us into town, through the silent streets, and into the slightly busier high street. The bars had only just closed, and humans were making their way home or to their next destination.

  “Leyton isn’t big on nightlife,” Leif explained. “One club, a handful of bars, and two fast food places, but the food they make is delicious.”

  He brought the car to a halt outside a brightly lit food place. There was a bar a few doors down and a taxi rank across the street. The stores behind the rank were closed, but their signs were visible in the streetlight: Frills and Garters, Fashion with Passion, Game It.

  “Burgers okay?” Leif interrupted my sign reading.

  My stomach growled in approval. “Burgers would be great.”

  Leif climbed out of the car, crimson hair gleaming in the amber streetlights, and headed into the takeaway.

  The Elites would be back at the mansion by now. “Do you think the plan will work?”

  Tor met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “If it doesn’t, then I’ll do things my way. Either way, her heart is mine.”

  I’d seen his beast and the violence it could deal. I didn’t envy anyone who crossed him. Being caught by The Elites would be a blessing for the traitor, and honestly, after what she’d done, I wasn’t too sure I wanted her to get off easy. She’d tried to kill me, and she’d fucked with Tor’s head. She’d played with fire, and now she was about to get burned.

  But her heart? Would the witches allow that?

  “Are you afraid of me now, Cora?” Tors voice was a low, dangerous purr.

  I’d lived bound to a malevolent spirit for the past year. He had no idea what I could handle.

  I gave him a half-smile. “No, Tor. I’m afraid for the bitch who fucked with us.”

  Something passed between us then, an understanding. I didn’t forgive those who fucked with me and mine, and it seemed that Tor felt the same.

  Yeah, we were gonna get on just fine.

  * * *

  SLOANE

  Witches pour into the assembly room, shooting me curious glances and confused frowns. I can feel the questions on their lips, but they’re going to have to wait to get answers.

  This early morning meeting is compulsory, which tells them that it’s important.

  “This looks like fun.” The masculine drawl draws my attention.

  I spare the malevolent spirit a quick glance. Since he saved Cora’s ass, I have a littl
e time for him, and the fact he’s here means she isn’t too far either. My stomach flutters as cornflower blue eyes fill my vision.

  Yeah, the new anchor is something else, and I’d be blind or dead not to notice. Thing is, she doesn’t even know how special she is, which in my books makes her even hotter.

  I focus on Jasper. “You need to poof. You being here will tip off the traitor that Cora’s close by.”

  He vanishes. “Better?”

  I jump at the sound of his voice in my ear. “Fuck, dude.”

  A low chuckle. “I have a question for you.”

  I nod at the witches that pass me. “Shoot.”

  “Sons of Adam, you heard of them?”

  I have, but only because I did my research when studying to become an Elite. The Sons of Adam are an old, almost forgotten, myth. “Where did you hear about them?”

  He makes a sound of exasperation. “From Anna. The elder witches seem to be concerned The Sons of Adam are coming for the anchor.”

  “What? No. Bullshit.”

  “I heard them speaking.” There’s a definite annoyed edge to his tone.

  “The Sons of Adam are a myth, and you must have misheard.”

  He’s silent for a long beat. “What are they, Sloane?”

  “What’s this about?” Pen approaches in a hurry, smoothing her hair back from her face.

  “Compulsory meeting. All witches need to attend.”

  “I only just got the memo. It’s not like I live here. Is everything okay?”

  I smile, a perfunctory action. I don’t like this bitch. Never have. Too perky for my tastes and zero snark. I find it hard to trust people with no snark. Fuck, even Anna has snark—refined and sophisticated snark, but still fucking snark.

  “Take a seat, Pen.” I look away, letting her know the conversation is over, and she heads into the assembly room at a clip.

  It’s time to start the show. “I have to go.”

  “This is important, dammit,” Jasper snarls.

  I walk away from the doors, not wanting anyone to see me talking to myself like a fucking loon. “According to myth, The Sons of Adam are vampires—the original vampires from whom all others were spawned.”

 

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