Witchromance: Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Reluctant Necromancer Book 5)

by Kaye Draper

  He shook his head in fond exasperation. "Come here, idiot magic user." He folded me into his long arms, and I turned my head to see Jazz watching us as Jet stabilized the flow of energy inside me.

  Maybe now she understood. I didn't care about her stupid problems with the council. I was too busy trying to hold myself together when it felt like the weight of the world was pressing in on me. "Don't come here anymore," I whispered to her. "Things are coming. And you're just a weak little human. You'll be dead in an instant if you get caught in the crossfire."

  Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. "Esper…."

  Then Luna was there, her green eyes glowing with rage, and her muscular arms and shoulders on display in the tank top she wore to work out in. "You. Whatever you did, you're lucky I don't tear your limbs off and beat you with them, you spying, sneaking little liar." She gripped Jazz's upper arms so hard the human winced, then hauled her toward the front door and threw her out on her ass. "If I ever see you again, I will end you."

  I pulled away from Jet. I wanted to tell Luna to calm the hell down. I wanted to tell Jazz that Luna was just trying to scare her. I was pretty sure she wouldn't really rip her limbs off. But…maybe it was better this way. If Jazz really meant what she had said, then she was my friend. And what I'd said was true. If Jazz was hanging around when a bunch of angry vampire hunters or the psychotic collector dude showed up, she would probably end up dead.

  It was safer this way. It was safer for her to be afraid.

  "Go home, Jazz," I said in cold voice. "And don't come back."

  A cold gust lifted my hair and the door slammed all on its own, the lock turning itself with a very final sounding click. I glanced at Toma to find his purple eyes glowing. He gave me an apologetic smile and let go of his power. "Sorry. But I think you're right. It's safer this way."

  I nodded. He was right. But it still sucked. I let out a shuddery sigh and tried to keep my spine straight and my shoulders back. Like I was in control. I'd never lied so hard in my life.

  Chapter 11

  Later that afternoon, I was on guard duty with Van. My poor brother had been allowed to go home, for once. I felt terrible about the way Jet and Toma were plotting, using him to sweeten up the hunter. But I had to admit, the sullen redhead was a bit more tolerable today. He hadn't spouted any rhetoric at me so far, just sat quietly sulking in the window seat while I tried to work my way through the last of the books I'd borrowed from the black witch. It was giving me a headache, and I still didn't have a clue how to find and beat the collector and get my dad back.

  I sighed and closed the book. Van was still staring out the window, a deep look of concentration on his face. "You realize he's probably close, right?" the hunter finally muttered, his voice so low I barely heard him.

  I put my elbows on the desk in the corner, where I'd spread out all of my useless notes. "That's what the others have said," I admitted. "They think he won't be far away because he is plotting how to get me back…and probably Luna and Drake with me." He didn't know about Toma's freakish new abilities, hopefully, or he'd want to add him to the collection too.

  "I can find him," Van whispered, still staring out the window at the gray day. It was spitting snow, and cold as hell outside.

  I blinked at him. "You what?"

  He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something terrible, then turned to me, his dark blue eyes still intense, but just a degree or two less frosty than usual. "I can track him." He gave me a feral smile. "Hunting monsters is what we do in my family, from the moment we're big enough to know which end of a stake is the pointy one."

  "Why would you help us?" I asked slowly.

  He shrugged. "It's not like I have anything better to do until my family gets around to finding me."

  I sighed. "You know Toma and Jet are using Ryan to soften you up, don't you? They think he's like…your soul mate or something stupid like that."

  "He is," the young hunter said, looking down at the rug. Then he made himself drag his eyes back up to meet mine. "Why would you tell me they are using the pull between us? Doesn't that defeat the purpose?"

  I shook my head. "Because it feels gross and wrong. I'm not whoring out my brother to get you to call off your family. And I want you to know that. It only seems fair."

  Twin spots of color burned high on his cheekbones, but he didn't look away again. "I'm not offering to help because of your brother and whatever may or may not be between us. I'm offering because…it's my job to hunt monsters. And whatever my feelings about you lot, this collector guy sounds like he's a rabid dog who needs to be put down."

  I nodded. "He is. Honestly, I think we're strong enough now, with Toma's new mage powers, and the backup from the vamps and wolves. I can probably convince the old witch to help too. And…I'm willing to stop trying to be normal and good, and just…do what I need to do too." I held out my hands. "But none of that matters if we can't find the asshole. The sorcerers have been looking for him since we escaped. But they haven't turned up a single clue. Quite frankly, I'm terrified about what the hell he might be planning while we just sit here."

  "I can find him," Van said with a determined nod. "But you have to convince your murder to let me cast a tracking spell, and open myself up to my abilities enough to follow it. You have to convince them to actually let me hunt."

  I smiled at him. "So…you're asking me to trust you? I don't think monsters are supposed to trust their hunters."

  He didn't smile, just stared back with that usual cold blue gaze. "Sometimes, I'm more than a little fed up with being told what I'm 'supposed' to do."

  "Me too, kid," I said on a sigh. "Me too." Standing, I went to him and held out a hand. "If you'll help me and not stab me in the back, I'll make sure the other idiots let you go home."

  He took my hand and gave it a firm shake. "It's a bargain, abomination."

  I scoffed. "Like I haven't been called worse."

  Blue eyes stared steadily at me. "I'm sure you have."

  I still kinda wanted to smack him, but if putting up with one petulant teenage hunter was all it took to get my dad back, I'd deal with it. "Let's go tell the other idiots. They're going to argue for hours about it. Might as well get it over with now so we can get going sooner."

  One corner of his mouth twitched in a barely suppressed laugh. "Just tell them if I betray you, you'll keep me from my soul mate. Clearly that would be enough incentive for a poor, fawning hunter to behave."

  I huffed. "Gross. Stop."

  He was right, though. The meeting with the murder, vamps, and weres was long and drawn out. When they found out the hunter could track the collector, half of them were convinced it was a trick and he was just going to run on us the minute he got the chance, or turn some secret spell on us instead of doing the tracking spell.

  Fed up, I rolled my eyes and banged my fist on the coffee table to get everyone's attention. "He won't betray us, because if he does, Van will never see his soul mate again. I'll make sure of it."

  Van, who was leaning against the mantel in boredom while we argued, bent his head so his hair fell forward to hide his eyes, his body language saying he was wounded, vulnerable. But I knew better. Secretly, he was laughing at the stupidity of it all. He might feel drawn to Ryan, but he wasn't compelled to act because of that.

  How was the teenage vampire hunter in the room more reasonable than most of the adults?

  Jet, who had been sleeping in cat form on the window seat through all of this, finally deigned to get up, stretch, and morph into cat form. "I can't nap with all this racket," he complained. Then he turned his yellow cat eyes to me. "Since my nap is ruined, can we go hunting and find your father now, idiot necromancer?"

  I nodded. "Yep." Even though an icy lump was forming in my gut. It was all fine and dandy to talk about this, but the idea of going up against that fucking madman again was terrifying.

  Ashton threw up his hands in exasperation. "Doesn't anyone else find it even remotely suspicious that this
guy just suddenly happens to be the missing key to all your problems? That's too much coincidence!"

  Jet padded toward the hallway, pausing to look at the vampire. "What coincidence, stupid baby leech? It's not a coincidence. It's fate magic."

  Everyone froze. I slapped a hand to my own forehead as it hit me with sudden clarity. For fuck's sake.

  The wolves, the vampires, the hunter with his connections and his unusual ability to track monsters. Nothing could make all these pieces line up so perfectly. Unless it was…fate. Like, say, if a fate mage was involved.

  My dad was at work again, I knew it. He had somehow managed to cast a spell to bring me reinforcements and tools. Again.

  It should make me feel relieved. After all, if my dad's magic had brought me Van and the new vamps and weres, that meant I could trust them to be what I needed, when I needed it.

  But it just reminded me of the other time my dad had used fate magic to protect me. It was because of his magic that my murder found me. And it was only because of magic that they all thought they loved me.

  I put a hand to my middle, trying to ease the ache that started there. "Jet's right," I said, trying to move past the pain and focus on more important things. "It has to be my dad's magic."

  Drake laughed, his eyes going silver and predatory as they landed on Van. "We are going to go hunting, little hunter."

  Toma brushed a hand across my lower back, tilting his head so his long hair shielded his face from the others. "Are you okay?" he murmured to me, his purple eyes filled with concern, and his aura caressing my own as he likely sensed the disquiet in my soul.

  I took a deep breath. "Fine. Let's go hunt a madman, shall we?"

  Chapter 12

  I stood in my kitchen in a pair of ratty sweatpants and an ancient anime t-shirt while our underage vampire hunter ignored centuries of family tradition and prepared to cast a top-secret monster tracking spell in front of the enemy.

  Just when I thought life couldn't possibly get any weirder, this kind of thing happened. It was almost boring at this point.

  Drake was standing next to me, his silvery-blue eyes glued to the hunter's every movement. I took in all six-foot something of vampire, from his tousled brown waves to his chiseled, good natured face, to the broad-shouldered form clad in jeans and a band t-shirt. How anyone looked at him and thought "nightmarish abomination from hell" I would never understand. Jealousy, maybe?

  "Why are hunters so against other supernatural beings, if they can do magic themselves? Doesn't that make them just as bad as the rest of us?" I asked quietly, gesturing at Van while he set out a candle and some herbs.

  Drake lifted an eyebrow in an expression that said, "good question," but he didn't take his eyes off the hunter, too busy making sure there wasn't some dastardly plot afoot.

  Jet shifted from crow from to person-form, flowing off my shoulder and into his human body in a curl of black smoke and feathers. I think he was just showing off, since we had such an audience these days. "They all think they're blessed by a higher power," the familiar said, crossing his arms and looking at the hunter with a sad expression, one you'd usually see reserved for adults who had just learned their kid didn't believe in Santa.

  "The goddess of the hunt blesses our family lines, so we can be strong enough to fight back against the evil that lurks in the world," Van said in an even voice as he poured salt into a circle on my kitchen table.

  I blinked at him. "So, you think…a goddess gave you magic so you could go out and kill other magical things?"

  He shrugged, still intent on what he was doing. "That's what the books say. But it's more likely the hunter families just have some supernatural ancestor."

  Toma piped up from the other side of the room. "That's how most of us human-types get our power. Sorcerers usually claim some ancestor from one of the forgotten races. My family insists we have fae blood from somewhere back centuries ago."

  Jet nodded. "That's where you get the different nuances of each type of magic. Sorcerers with their ability to manipulate the innate magic within them, witches with their ability to harness the power of nature and the elements, hunters with their speed and ability to marry different forms of magic to make minor spells and charms. The supernatural community likes to try to divide things up into neat little categories, but that's just ridiculous."

  My head hurt. "You're saying there were some sort of older races? And that all magic users descended from them?"

  Jet patted my head. "Good job, idiot necromancer."

  I scowled at him. "What about you? What kind of being gave familiars their power?"

  He raised his black eyebrows at me, then smirked. "No one gave us our power, stupid magic user. Familiars are originals. We've been around since before humans first felt the spark of magic in their veins."

  I sighed. Of course, Jet was superior to all the supes around him in yet another way.

  Van's stormy blue eyes met mine. They had grown darker. "I need a knife. Silver would be best, but I assume you don't own anything like that, since you're new to all this."

  Toma looked to Drake and me. "Are you okay with giving him a weapon? I have a silver athame."

  Drake narrowed his eyes. "I can move faster than you, even with your abilities," he reminded the hunter. "And silver won't kill me unless you're really, really lucky."

  Van didn't roll his eyes, but I could sense the urge. "I'm aware."

  I waved a hand at Toma. "Go get the knife. He's not going to betray us." I hoped. Really, I didn't have much reason to believe that, but why would he bother fighting us, if I was just going to voluntarily give him back to his family after he worked this spell?

  Toma slipped out of the room and went to rummage around in the bedroom, where he kept a little box of random sorcerer stuff he'd brought with him from the coven. Returning, he handed over a small silver blade with a fancy hilt made of curling vines and flowers. "It's supposedly a relic," he said with a shrug. "My brother gave it to me in secret. My family would have kittens if they knew I had it."

  Van took the blade and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they'd gone even darker, almost black. "No supposedly about it, mage. This is a relic. Probably fairy."

  Then he turned away from a surprised Toma and used the tip of the blade to prick his finger. Setting the knife aside, he massaged several drops of blood onto the focus object—the gun Awan had stolen from the Collector—and whispered something under his breath. I felt a brief surge of magic, then Van used his finger to draw a design on the inside of his opposite wrist. He blew out the candle, sucking in a breath at the surge of magic that followed. When he lifted his wrist to inspect the symbol, I saw that it had etched itself into his skin like a rust-colored tattoo.

  "May the goddess bless this hunt," Van whispered, his voice just a little too reverent for someone who said he didn't believe in deities.

  Ashton whistled, his eyes darting to Drake's. "You smell that? The rumors are true. His blood smells like some kind of vampire heroine!"

  Van glared. "Don't get any ideas, bloodsucker."

  The blond vampire held up his hands and grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it. Your blood might smell good, but the rest of you is about as appetizing as a moldy fungus."

  I shook my head at them. I was surrounded by idiots. "Did it work?" I bit out. "Can you find him?"

  Van smiled at me—that rare, feral smile I'd only glimpsed a time or two before. "I can find him. And he's practically on your doorstep, necromancer. Assemble your forces and I'll lead you right to him."

  Within an hour, I was hurrying down the front steps to the car, bundled up in layers to fight the sharp chill in the air. It had started snowing again a few minutes ago, because of course it did. Around me, werewolves, vampires, a spirit mage, a skinwalker, and a monster hunter were packing themselves into various borrowed vehicles. Luna pulled up in front of the house in and old Buick that I didn't recognize. I assumed it belonged to the black witch currently sitting in the passenger se
at.

  We had to wait for full dark to fall, since moving an army of corpses across several miles to get to the area where Van thought the collector was hiding would be a little tricky in the daylight. As the sun started to sink beyond the horizon, Jet fluttered over and settled onto my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled, then reached out for my power.

  It was more a letting go of control than anything. I was always locking it down tight, but tonight, I let the black, coiling energy inside me unfurl like it was the most natural thing in the world. I sent it out into the night, reaching for the black-hole sparks that filled the nearby cemetery, as well as the dead werewolf in my back yard, and any other useful creature I could sense. I called them to me, told them to rise, then sent them ambling in the general direction of our enemy.

  Chapter 13

  Close. He had been so close to us all along. Van's spell led us down the dark country roads and through shadowy, snow-covered forest before he finally called a halt.

  "It's here," the hunter whispered, clapping hand over the glowing symbol on his wrist. I looked around. It was dark out, but there was some moonlight, so I could be fairly confident when I said I didn't see a single sign of human habitation in the woods around us.

  The hunter clearly saw my doubt. "Spelled," he muttered. "For the love of the goddess, don't you know anything?"

  I think I liked him better when he wasn't talking.

  Snow squeaked and crunched underfoot, and we were joined by the black witch. The old woman was bundled up in layers of old, well-used outerwear that made my thrift shop junk look like brand new, designer label treasures. Wisps of her white hair were tugged loose from its bun and her face was pinched against the cold wind. White eyes rolled about, as if seeing things in the woods that we couldn't see. She hadn't been too happy when Luna woke her up and dragged her out of bed, but she'd come. She said she'd like to stay in Hellsfork, and she seemed to think that was contingent on staying on my good side.