Malicious Envy (Sins of Proteus Book 1)

by Kitt Rose

  “Repellent maybe. I already gotta use it. Keeps all the ladies from fighting over me.”

  I rolled my eyes. My brother was a lone wolf. I wasn't sure if Elliot would ever slow down, but someday I hoped he'd meet a girl that would turn him on his head. Someone he would have to work for and chase. Just because it would be fun as hell to watch my overconfident brother get turned upside down and dumped on his ass.

  We climbed out of the truck and approached the front door.

  “This place looks abandoned,” I said.

  Elliot grunted in agreement.

  A cracked and broken sidewalk led to the front door. Weeds choked the flower beds lining the walkway, one thorny stalk stood nearly chin high. The wooden stoop had rotted through in several places, and I stepped over it all.

  The cheap front door looked like it would give with little effort. But I didn't even need to try. The door was unlocked. When I put my hand on the handle, it turned with ease.

  Acid churned in my stomach, stirred into motion by the unease that filled me. I glanced at my brother and Elliot nodded.

  I pushed the door open.

  Through the doorway, the room inside was surprisingly clean. Dust motes floated through the air, visible in the shafts of sunlight that spilled through the front window. The floor was mopped, the old wooden planks worn but clean.

  Ears alert for the slightest sound, I took a step into the room, sniffing the air. The witch's scent was here. I could smell her and the urge to hunt roared through my veins. Skin stretched tight, muscles aching, my entire body begged me to change. With an act of sheer will, I reeled it back in, taking another step into the nearly empty room. Elliot followed.

  Step, pause. Step, pause. Step, pause.

  Nothing moved in the house. Not a mouse. Not an insect. Not a single heartbeat sounded. It was too quiet. Too still.

  My hackles rose, uneasiness making me pause, halfway into the room.

  “There's something wrong here,” Elliot whispered.

  Some primeval instinct streaked down my spine.

  I spun, intending to leave, but my foot wouldn't move.

  I tried again. Tugging at my feet. First the right, then the left. But it was like they were glued to the floor.

  Elliot was in the same predicament. Twisting and wrenching, he grabbed his calf with both hands and pulled. The muscles in his arms bunched, veins rising to the surface with the effort.

  But our efforts were futile.

  A groan beneath our feet was our only warning. The floor turned liquid and swallowed us an inch.

  My eyes flew wide with alarm. And we sunk again, another inch.

  “What the fuck?” Elliot yelled, yanking more furiously at his legs.

  We sunk again, this time a stomach-dropping distance, until the boards were at our waist.

  I put my hands on the floor on either side, bracing myself and tried to push free. And then the wood consumed my hands.

  Elliot fared no better, both hands imbedded in the wood.

  Suddenly, the liquid wood surrounding them hardened again. Daggers pierced his flesh, digging in painfully. Like hundreds of huge splinters.

  Elliot bellowed in pain and anger.

  Beyond the sound, my ears caught footfalls. Then a heartbeat started.

  A woman, appearing in her mid-thirties, stepped out of a door that might have led to the kitchen. She was wearing jeans and a tight tee that showed a sickly, gaunt frame. Her hair hung

  in greasy locks around deeply shadowed eyes.

  “Heidi West, I presume,” I said softly.

  The witch nodded, her expression blank.

  She crossed the room to stand in front of me, kneeling. Her eyes were dead, madness lingering in their grey depths. In another life, in another time, she might have been attractive. But she had lived a hard life and it was written in every line on her face. This close, I could smell the darkness, the decay of black magic on her.

  “Why?” I whispered.

  She tilted her face and reached out one hand to stroke my cheek. Nearly a lover's caress in tenderness. Her fingernails were long, and on a second downward motion, she suddenly slashed.

  Fire raced through my cheek. Heat and the wetness of blood followed.

  She brought one red-tipped finger to her mouth, painted her lips with my blood, then licked them clean.

  Her eyes closed, as if in bliss. “So much power,” she whispered. “What I can do with that power.”

  Abruptly, she popped to her feet and hurried out of the room the way she came. The sound of her feet and her heart stopped as she crossed the threshold.

  Spell. Some sort of concealment spell. I thought.

  “She's crazy,” Elliot whispered.

  “Driven to madness.” I couldn't help but agree. “I can't place who her mate is. I'd hoped that I would know whenever we… Met her.”

  “Well, it doesn't really matter, does it, we're trapped. Whatever the fuck she wants to do to us, we're at her mercy.”

  “Not quite,” I said. “I can still shift. Maybe a dragon.”

  “Damnit, I forgot. Do that. Get us out of here,” Elliot said, sounding frantic.

  I reached inside myself, to the place the Titan blood lurked. The power was both darkness through the light, and a light in the depths.

  Contradictions. Strength. Intoxicating and alien.

  It writhed inside me. A seductive dance meant to encourage me to let go of my self-control. So I did.

  Pulling to mind the way the dragon felt. The heat—like the beating heart of a sun in my chest. The power of the form, from mighty jaws to immense wings. And all of it covered in dense scales.

  I felt the form in my bones, stirring my blood… And then it slipped away from me. Sliding through my grasp, like trying to catch water with my hands.

  Remnants of the power from the well inside followed me to the surface, clinging to my body. But it wasn't enough to change. It wasn't enough.

  Panic—a rare feeling—filled me. I tried again, but this time even less followed me out.

  “I can't,” I said, my voice a weak whisper. “It's not there.”

  The witch strode out, making a tsking sound. She was carrying a handful of black taper candles and a canvas bag. “Did you really think I would be stupid enough to let you have access to your powers?”

  “Why are you doing this?” Elliot asked, struggling in vain against the floor trapping him.

  The witch dropped to the wood in front of me, sitting cross-legged. The move was strangely child-like, and the way she tilted her head at me animalistic.

  She pulled out a short knife, the handle carved with swirls and symbols I wasn't familiar with. But I'd seen them before. At the coven house.

  Heidi extended her left arm and cut the length of her forearm. The surface of the shallow slash welled with dark blood and she dipped a fingertip into the crimson. She reached out with a dripping finger to trace something on my forehead. The blood felt cold. And it burned.

  Under her breath, she murmured something in another language. The words sounded dark. They sounded wrong.

  My eyes rolled frantically around the room, trying to find a way out. Any way out. I just got Libby back, I would not die at the hands of some crazy ass witch.

  “Heidi,” I shouted.

  The witch jumped.

  I poured every ounce of my power into my voice until my words dripped with it. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because this is all your fault. If you never existed none of this would have happened.”

  “How is it my fault?” I asked, holding her gaze.

  “Because he hates you. So much,” she whispered. Her voice had reverted to that of a child, sweet and high.

  Somehow, that was more disturbing.

  “Who does?” I said gently. So gently. I had her and couldn't risk spooking her.

  “Greg. My master. My mate.” She spat the last word.

  I went rigid with shock. Greg. Holy fuck. Libby was right.


  Greg. That was the scent. I took a deep breath and there it was. So obvious. How could I have missed it?

  Elliot made a noise behind me, and I hoped he would keep quiet. I needed Heidi to keep talking.

  Fortunately, after a moment, she went back to drawing bloody symbols on my face, moving to my cheeks now. “You have no idea the things he's made me do. The horrible… Things. I hate him so much. I hate me so much. So I'll use your power. Take it, use it, and kill him. Your death will be a noble sacrifice. Not like the others. Nothing like the others,” she babbled.

  “Others?” I asked, stomach sinking.

  “Yes. Too many. The mother, the nurse, she was the first. The man, her brother, was last. All to hurt her, and you. Ultimately to hurt you. He hates you so much. I never knew someone could hate like that. And then he made me do those horrible things.” She shuddered violently. “Now I know. I know how you can hate someone that much, because I hate him that much.”

  Suddenly, she stopped speaking, straightening up. She narrowed her eyes on me. This time, when she spoke, her voice was different. More grounded, steeped in anger. “I don't know what you were hoping to accomplish with that, but I'm not letting you go.”

  She popped back to her feet and pulled chalk from her bag. She walked around where we were trapped in the floor, drawing something on the worn boards. A pentagram? I couldn't turn to see. Next, she placed five candles around the room, lighting them. From her bag, she pulled a crudely made bowl and dumped the contents of a Ziploc bag inside.

  Heidi's eyes met mine and she drizzled her blood into the bowl, mumbling her strange language again. A miasma of force gathered around her. The hair on my arms rose.

  The witch nodded, satisfaction written on her face, before she wandered back out of the room again.

  I looked over at Elliot, who was gazing at me with wide eyes.

  “She killed Libby's mom. And Justice. Holy fuck. Ash, this chick is cracked. Whatever Greg did to her, or made her do, she's fucked in the head.”

  I agreed. My mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what I'd learned. Trying to find a way out of this situation. I'd promised Libby I wouldn't leave her. I couldn't break that promise.

  My heart sank when Heidi came back carrying a gas can. The fumes clogged my nose, burning. When she started to pour it on the floor around us, I choked. Gasoline splashed into my face and I slammed my eyes shut just in time.

  “Don't do this,” I pleaded.

  But she ignored me, emptying her can. Then the witch sat down in front of me seven feet back, her eyes wild and frightened. “I'm sorry about this,” she said. Sincerity was in every word.

  Oceanus help me, this insane woman is sorry she's going to kill me.

  The surrealistic quality of the moment tempted me to laugh. I needed an escape from the pressure that boiled under the surface of my skin. Scream, laugh—fuck, it didn't matter. The tension inside me wound tighter and tighter with every one of her movements.

  She took out a box of kitchen matches.

  Opened the box with a rasping slide.

  The soft ticking of the matches knocking together in the box was too loud in the room. And then she drew out a single wooden match, the red tip garishly bright. Her hand trembled as she closed the box, setting the match against the striking surface on the side of the cardboard.

  The match shook in her hand, her fingertips turning white with the pressure she was using to grip it. She pulled back.

  And the match snapped, the sound like a gunshot in the room.

  Elliot cursed.

  She exhaled.

  “Please,” I begged.

  Elliot murmured something next to me. A prayer. Begging Oceanus and Proteus to save them.

  The witch didn't even look up, just opened the box again, and selected a different match. Time seemed to slow down as she dragged it along the side of the box.

  The sound of it, the indescribable sound. The sudden tang of sulfur, and then the inhalation sound of it lighting.

  Flame leaped and danced on the match head, and the witch stared at it for a long moment. “Forgive me,” she breathed, then dropped the match in front of her.

  “No,” I bellowed, jerking and twisting in my wooden prison.

  A crashing sound behind me made me jerk around as far as I was able. My pulse, already fast, climbed even higher. The door—

  A shining ax blade embedded itself in the door. It pulled free with a groan, and then the door cracked down the middle in a thunderous crash.

  Johnny stood on the other side of the wreckage, shoulders heaving and ax in hand. He took one look at the fire that was quickly consuming the witch. Her eyes were closed, serenity on her face as she was engulfed by the flames.

  Johnny took it all in and ran for me.

  The fire was crackling, getting closer, moving strangely slow. My eyes darted between Johnny and the fire. Johnny raised the ax and brought it down in front of me, splitting the floor. He pulled it free with a groan of wood, raised it up over his head again. His eyes were hard and determined.

  “Hold on, I'm getting you out,” he said, sinking the ax into the floor one more time.

  The second blow allowed me to free my left arm, and I started working on my right side. The third strike helped me free my right arm and I dug myself out of the hole while Johnny moved on to Elliot.

  My shirt started to smolder, the flames licking my side as I pulled myself out. As soon as I was up, I ripped off the shirt and tossed it aside, grabbing Elliot's arms and pulling as Johnny hacked at the wood.

  Once my brother was free, we ran for the door. I turned back only once to see the witch fully engulfed in flames. The fire raced along the floor, engulfing the entire room.

  That had been far too close.

  29

  Libby

  I leaned against the porch railing, trying to understand Greg's words. “I ruined your plans? What plans?”

  “Walk with me?” he asked.

  Uneasy, I shook my head. I didn't want to get far from the safety of Lila and Tobias. Greg was making me very apprehensive.

  “Come on, just to the barn and back. I think better when I'm moving.”

  “No, thank you. What did I ruin?”

  Greg sighed, moving to stand in front of me, somehow managing to block my path so I could only move deeper into the porch. So I did. Uncomfortable with his closeness, I moved to the end, leaning with forced casualness against the railing.

  Greg didn't follow. “You and your mate. I'm beginning to think that you were put on this earth to punish me for some sin I committed in a past life. I mean…”

  He dragged a hand through his golden hair. “Do you know that my father wasn't the previous Alpha's first choice? My great-uncle Anthony wanted his youngest son to be Alpha, but he flaked out at the last minute, and my great-uncle chose my father. Dad hated being Alpha. He's not much of a people person and never wanted the responsibility. His plan was to pass it off as soon as he possibly could. He picked me to be his successor when I was thirteen, and I trained for twelve years before your mate came along.”

  Greg laughed, a sound that sent shivers skittering down my spine. It wasn't a happy sound. Nor was it sane. It was dark, angry.

  “Fucking Marked. Looked like a damned freak with the glowing veins. Never seen a Marked One before. Never wanted to. And it meant that what was mine, what had been mine for years, was all gone. I'd skipped college. Stayed home. Picked and groomed a mate, who would be the perfect Alpha's mate. And in one fucking quirk of fate, some colossal fuck you from the universe. It was all gone. All of it.”

  Greg took two menacing steps toward me, shoulders rolled forward and jaw clenched. “He took what was mine.”

  The chills worsened, and my stomach turned over, sour. Acid bubbled up in my throat and I fought to swallow. To keep calm.

  “So,” Greg continued, his voice dropping to a volume I had to strain to hear. “I decided to take what was his.”

  That dread that had bee
n building punched me in the gut and I fought not to throw up. Tears flooded my eyes.

  “It took time, but once I realized what you were to him, it was so easy.” His voice was practically a purr.

  Greg gestured to me with one hand. “I think I knew it before he did. It wasn't hard to suggest to Tobias that you were all wrong for him. A human, only half Protean, and unable to shift.” He laughed, the sound lacking humor. “Tobias was easy to lead. And when he brought his concerns to my father, I just happened to be there. Just happened to suggest that maybe some time away would give Ash perspective. They sent him away a few days later. But I knew Ash wouldn't stay gone. So I found Mick.”

  Shock zipped like a bolt of lightning through me. “Mick?”

  “He tried to con me. It was perfect really. Like Oceanus or Proteus themselves had handed me a tool. I hired him to…” He tilted his head, the motion oddly birdlike. “To persuade your mother to leave. But the first time they met, she avoided him. Couldn't get far enough away, fast enough. I knew I had to do more. And then I remembered the coven.

  “I waited outside that damned house for hours for a woman to come out that wasn't paying attention. I bit her, tied her to me. One bite and Heidi was mine. My own pet witch,” he said bragging. “One simple love spell and your mom didn't stand a chance. But, damn, Ash had to grow a fucking spine. Came back to get you. I couldn't have that now, could I.”

  A sob escaped me.

  “I suggested the ban on phone conversations. Easy.”

  He trailed off, staring beyond me, with a faint smile on his face. I had never known what an evil smile looked like until that moment. Because, Greg… He was the devil in the flesh.

  I shuddered, and his eyes snapped back to me. His smile fell and the line of his mouth grew hard.

  “And then that two-bit thief got greedy. Told me if I wanted him to keep up the ruse, to keep fucking the old broad and dealing with her spawn, I needed to give him more money. I knew your mom would be back here fast if I didn't pay him, so I had Heidi get rid of her, and paid him to stick around.”

  The nausea rolled up and it took everything in me to choke it back. He was responsible for my mother's death? I couldn't believe it.