K A Knight - [Her Monsters 01] - Rage

by Knight

  A noise catches my attention and I turn to look at the opening, where flames are licking the side of the plane. I turn back to the front and refuse to close my eyes. If I am to meet death today, I will do it with my eyes open and a curse on my lips.

  We hit something hard, sending me bouncing in my seat, before we touch down again and again. I shoot forward when the brakes are applied and I have to grip my seat to avoid being thrown out. The plane turns to the left, tilting dangerously before we right ourselves.

  We slam to a stop and the engines overheat until the whole cabin feels like it is on fire. I rip off my seat belt and jump from my seat, throwing my bag over my shoulder. Striding to the cockpit, I grab both pilots, ignoring their yelling and incredulous noises, and leap from the hole in the plane.

  Landing on both feet, I start to run, the sounds of the plane catching fire close behind me. So close I can feel the heat singeing my back before an explosion rocks the air.

  I’m thrown forward and I quickly turn so I don’t crush the humans. Landing hard on my back, my breath is knocked out of me from the impact and I lay there for a minute trying to breathe before pushing to my feet. The plane is on fire, and its smouldering remains are still shrouded by the storm.

  It looks like a boiling cloud around it, with lightning snaking out, and thunder rumbling within it, yet the air and sky everywhere else is clear. It slowly starts to dissipate, and the clouds are sucked back up until nothing but the fire and the corpse of the plane remains.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see both dazed pilots climbing to their feet, with their eyes locked on the fireball that they were inside not seconds before.

  “You’re welcome. Call Carmichael, tell him to get our location and get me another form of transport,” I order.

  When they don’t move, I step closer with a growl before the one on the left yanks out his phone and starts dialling. Fucking witches. That was close, too close. They are getting brave, first a demon and now a circle? What will they do next?

  They will never stop, I know that. They can’t, not after I took their queen from them.

  Putting the phone on speaker, which took me more tries than I would like to admit, I place it on the dash and wait for Jean Paul to pick up. He does, on the fifth ring, sounding out of breath.

  “Sir?” he greets.

  “I need directions,” I say bluntly.

  “Erm okay? Where to?” he asks.

  “A ship, I need to know where it has made port. It is called The Witch’s Delight. It’s usually around here somewhere,” I growl out.

  I had thought I could find it by myself, but after driving for five hours and only getting farther and farther away from my mate, I have given up and enlisted the help of Jean Paul.

  “I’ll look, let me call you back,” he offers, his voice already distracted, and I quickly end the call before looking back at the road I’m on.

  I’m hoping the witches who run it are still about, but it should have been passed down through their family at least, and they are the only ones I can think to go to. They have no affiliation with the council or other supes, and their main concern is money. They sell their services to buyers, travelling the world with their wares. They don’t even hide what they are and have been around as long as I can remember. All I will need to ensure their loyalty is money and I have plenty of that, but time is running out.

  The storm is circling, I can feel it. My mate, the hunters, I’m running out of time.

  Not two minutes later, my phone rings again. I answer without looking and Jean Paul’s excited voice blasts through the speakers.

  “I found it, and I tracked your phone, you aren’t far. I will text you the address, simply click on it and it will open in your navigation. Anything else you require, sir?” he asks.

  “No, thank you. Be careful, it seems I have more enemies than I thought,” I warn, it would be a lot of work to find a new human to serve me and he seems like a nice boy.

  “Of course, sir, do not worry about me. I have means to protect myself. Have a good meeting.” I hang up again with nothing else left to say. I pull over and horns blare, but I ignore them as Jean Paul’s text comes through. He sent me the address and a little dancing man. Staring at the phone in confusion, I watch it move for a while. How did he do that? It is fascinating.

  Typing out a text with clumsy fingers, I ask as much.

  Aska: How did you trap that man in this phone to dance, is it magic?

  I wait for a reply, truly concerned my phone is spelled.

  Jean Paul: Noooo, it’s an emoji. I will teach you when I see you again, trust me, it’s normal and just part of the technology. LOL.

  Frowning even harder, I eye the phone wearily before thumbing out a reply.

  Aska: Okay, what is the meaning of the word LOL?

  I wait impatiently, waving on disgruntled drivers as they overtake me, their impatience sounding in their horns and angry voices.

  Jean Paul: This could be a long conversation. Go to your meeting, sir, and I will explain text speak another time, but LOL means laugh out loud.

  What the—

  Aska: Fine, but that seems stupid. Why would you laugh out loud and why not just type that? Humans.

  Clicking on the address like he said, I watch it boot up a navigation app before an angry, female voice blares through the car.

  “Navigating. Make a U-turn if safe to do so.” Placing it back on the dash, I throw it a narrow-eyed look before pulling out and making a U-turn, further angering drivers.

  “You will reach your destination in approximately one hour and eleven minutes.”

  “Thank you.” I nod at the device but it doesn’t speak again, how rude.

  “I will burn you!” I scream at the phone, gripping the wheel hard.

  It had been going smoothly, even if the ‘sat nav,’ as Jean Paul called it, woman’s voice did grate on my nerves, but now she is being purposely difficult. Telling me to turn where there are no turns or taking me to the middle of nowhere.

  “Your destination is on your left,” she says in that same monotone voice.

  “I will eat your soul!” I warn.

  “Your destination is on your left.”

  Grabbing the phone, I glare at the screen. “You lie to me, phone witch! Now you die!”

  I roll down my window and go to throw it out when I stop because there, on my right, is a sign pointing to left saying dock. Oops.

  Bringing the phone back in I throw it another narrow-eyed look. “You shall live another day, tiny trapped magician,” I rage, before throwing it over my shoulder into the back.

  Turning, I head and follow the signs, gritting my teeth as the woman continues to mock me. “Your destination is on your left.”

  “Silence!” I roar, and for once she listens to me as I travel down the twisty road.

  “You have reached your destination,” she mocks.

  “Make it stop!” I scream, banging on the wheel.

  Pulling over to the place it says to park, I reach into the back, grab the phone, and stare at the screen before dialling Jean Paul.

  “Sir, did you find it?” he asks straight away.

  “The woman you sent through the phone with the directions will not shut up and I thought you would be displeased if I broke this device,” I growl.

  I hear him struggling to breathe on the other end. “Jean Paul? Are you being attacked? Are you choking?” I ask, concerned, and he makes a weird high-pitched sound before laughter flows through the phone.

  Pulling it away from my ear, I eye it strangely before bringing it back to hear him trying to control himself. “Sir, that’s the sat nav, you just have to click end route,” he chokes out.

  “Will that make the tiny magician go away?” I question seriously, and he barks out a laugh again—strange, maybe he is watching a humorous film?

  “Yes, sir,” he eventually tells me.

  “Okay.” I hang up and eye the screen. I spot the button he mentioned and I press it t
imidly. The app closes and no more voices come from inside. Sighing in relief, I pocket it.

  I look at the dock I have been brought to and roll my eyes. It’s busy and surrounded by humans, only witches would be this bold. Leaving the car, I take my keys with me and walk along the path designated for pedestrians. I have to circle the dock a few times, trying to find it.

  A spell cloaks the boat, making it look like any other, but I haven’t seen it in centuries and they have clearly upgraded the appearance. Instead of the old barge mixed with a pirate ship look the boat used to assume, it now looks like a freighter, including steel boxes on the back of the ship.

  Only when I stopped looking for the ship and the name did I notice it. Looking around, I head over to the boarding dock, which is already set up. I walk across and stop when I stand on the hull, letting the magic wash over me. If I was here to kill them or part of the council, the magic would feel that and I would be vaporised, but I had also seen them do it for fun sometimes. So I stand respectfully and wait.

  The tingling of it runs over my skin, and when it finally drops to my feet and back into the deck, I blink my eyes and the ship I remember appears. Striding across the wooden hull, I knock three times on the only door on the whole ship. Magic, it can make strange things.

  If you were to wander alone, looking for another escape, you would find yourself lost in a never-ending maze, or maybe in the water. Who knows.

  The door swings open by itself, letting out the smell of incense and sulfur. Someone has been summoning. Stepping into the darkened galley, I run eyes around, searching for one of the sisters.

  I spot no one so I walk around. Looks like they are playing games today, that never bodes well. I pass trinkets, voodoo dolls, cursed items, and ingredients for spells as I search the room until I find them waiting for me, with a spell brewing behind them.

  The three are almost identical, apart from their eyes. These witches have been alive even longer than I can guess—not that I will ever ask them how, it would require a lot of blood magic and death, I imagine. Yet, they still look no older than twenty-five. Their hair is all the same shade of ash, a mix of grey and black, and curled down to their waists, even in the same style. They all wear jeans and boots, but have on different t-shirts.

  “Mercy,” I greet the first, the one on the left with the green eyes. “Chloe,” I address the second with the blue eyes. “Loxley,” I acknowledge the last one on the right, with brown eyes.

  “Askaliarian, first of his name, the soul eater,” they say at once, their voices mixing together.

  I incline my head and they all smile at the same time, the effect creepy, before they break away. Mercy walks straight up to me and places her hand on my chest. Chloe circles me until she lays her hand on my arm and Loxley stops at my back, running her hands down it. Gritting my teeth, I stop the growl from leaving my mouth with their hands on me. Before I could endure it for a purpose, but having met my mate and feeling her touch—this feels wrong.

  “Witches,” I warn and they giggle.

  “Wait, sisters,” Mercy says, her hand stilling above my heart. Grimacing, I hold still as I feel her magic moving through me. I never quite know what they are capable of. It pulls back and I shiver at the sensation. I will never get used to that.

  “I feel something as well,” Chloe murmurs, her hand stilling on my arm as her eyes cloud with her magic.

  Loxley’s hand presses to my back before she hisses and steps away. “He has found his one,” she declares, before rejoining her sisters in front of me. “Congratulations are in order dragon, it has been a long search.”

  All signs of teasing leave their faces and genuine smiles stretch across them. “She will test you, be warned,” Mercy adds before Chloe laughs.

  “Oh yes, she is trouble indeed. Please bring her to us when you can, I would love to meet her.” She licks her lips and I narrow mine with a growl.

  They all step back, laughing. “Fear not, we mean you nor your mate no harm, dragon,” Loxley promises and my shoulders slump.

  “You have seen her?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

  Loxley nods, stepping forward. “Yes, she will have your need for death and blood,” she states, her darkness showing. She always was a lover of death.

  Chloe steps forward next, linking her arm with her sister’s. “She will be kind and caring,” she vows, her obsession with love obvious in her tone.

  “She will be one of a kind, a true monster,” Mercy declares with a wicked grin. “But that is not why you came to see us, was it?”

  “No, it looks like some hunters are working with witches and they have placed a tracer on me,” I admit, and then trying to appeal to Chloe, I add, “It is preventing me from going to my mate, I do not want to risk her safety.”

  They all laugh and I watch them in confusion before Loxley grins at me. “Do not fear dragon, your mate is fraught with danger and she thrives in it.”

  “But we will help,” Chloe interjects with a dreamy looking smile.

  “For a price,” Mercy finishes, ever the practical sister.

  “I have your money, I need the tracer gone,” I growl and they nod as one. Their weird quirks and teasing disappear as they all turn and start to work on their spell to break it.

  Turning and leaving them to their work, I wander through the room, careful not to touch anything.

  “You fear she will reject you,” Chloe whispers from behind me, making me jump and spin. I don’t know how they do it, sneak up on me, but it is unnerving to say the least.

  I say nothing and she smiles sadly. “My love rejected me when he found out...” She trails off, shaking her head. “Yours will not, I have seen inside her heart. She is pure, dark, but pure. She will love you completely, she will endure your wrath, your life, and your dragon.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. The witches always require a payment.

  “Not for the reason you think, dragon. The world is always such a dark place. Can I not wish well for the love of one I know?” she counters, tilting her head, and Loxley appears next to her.

  “Her darkness will match your own. Nothing to fear dragon, she likes it kinky too.” She winks as I choke on air.

  Mercy appears next. “Come, we are ready.” She turns before calling over her shoulder. “Yes, she will be able to take all of your...size.” They all giggle and I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling. I really wish they wouldn’t use whatever magic they wield to see my fears, but it does settle me a little—though it is a bit concerning that the witches are thinking about my cock.

  “Don’t flatter yourself dragon, we have our own cocks on hand.” Loxley grins, her eyes flashing before she turns and follows her sister.

  “Maybe one day, you will meet our death-defying men.” Chloe laughs and follows as well.

  Witches.

  Nos disappeared back into himself after that early warning. He told me not to disturb him and kissed me before his eyes closed. When he closed them it felt like his soul left the room and I shivered hard. Watching him sleep, or whatever he’s doing, isn’t exactly very fun and after an hour or so I get bored. Slipping from the room, I sneak downstairs, and then stop on the landing, unsure what I want to do.

  I could go find out some more information from Ray, or even bug Griffin, but when I spot his bedroom door open I grin, knowing exactly what I’m going to be doing. Snooping.

  Hey, it has to be okay since we’re mates, right? Plus, he’s never left his door open before and when it was closed I respected his privacy, it’s not my fault he forgot to shut it. Walking towards it, I stick my head inside just in case he’s waiting in the shadows like a weirdo or something. Hell, it might even be a trap knowing Griffin.

  When I don’t spot him, I slip inside, close the door softly, and wait in case he springs out of the shadows and attacks me. When no booby traps or fallens come at me, I relax a little.

  His room is nearly barren like the first time I was in her
e, and the only real decorations are his figurines he carves, which line the shelves in the corner. Walking their way, I admire the craftsmanship and the story they tell. There are so many of them— wings, angels, men with knives, a woman held in a man’s arms. Running my hands along the shelves, I grab a book at random and flip through it before pulling out another. Putting them back again, I look around and grin when I spot the bedside table. Do I dare? Of course I fucking do.

  Plus, if he catches me, he might hate fuck me again and I’m down for that. Pulling open the drawer, I freeze. All that’s in the drawer are different cameras and lenses. So, this is what he uses to take such beautiful pictures? Picking one up delicately, I put the strap around my neck to make sure I don’t drop it before switching it on. It boots up, flashing a screen before it goes dark. Lifting it, I look through the lens and move it around the room. Only then do I realise his room is like his photos— colourless.

  Turning, my eye still to the lenses, I look about his room but freeze when I get to the door. There, standing with it still open behind him, is an angry looking Griffin. My heart pounds and before I can question myself why, I click and take his photo. Pulling down the camera slightly I stare at him. His mouth is twisted in a snarl and his hands are fisted by his sides. He looks so much bigger framed by the door, impressive and terrifying at the same time.

  “Give it to me,” he orders.

  Grinning, I strut over and pass him the camera. He checks it over and I roll my eyes. Throwing me a glare, he turns his back on me and hunches his shoulders as he clicks through the menu until he can see the last photo taken. When he does, he sucks in a breath.

  Peering over his shoulder, I arch my eyebrow. Not bad if I do say so myself. He looks fierce and fucking sexy. “What?” I ask, confused.

  “Is this how you see me?” he questions harshly.

  Blinking, I lean back as he spins to look at me. “Is. This. How. You. See. Me?” he grits out each word, his face turning red.

  “What do you see in the picture?” I counter, baffled.