“I would never let you kill me,” Vanessa sneers at Gunnar. “You don’t deserve my life, or any other. We made you!” she screams, dropping to one knee, her eyes still locked on Gunnar, but then she turns her focus to me. “He’s coming for you,” she whispers, before crumpling face first onto the gleaming wooden floor.
Her stench of death and rot permeate the room far quicker than what should be possible. The last witch standing’s shoulders are trembling as she heaves sobs into her hands. “How did you see this playing out?” I question the woman who promised to take me to Aeson. “Did you think you would just get away with killing people?”
“He said he’d been doing it forever,” she snivels, as if it’s an excuse.
“I can’t even look at her.” I turn around and storm out of the room. Grim is close on my heels. I trust Gunnar and Calix to bring the witch. I have every intention of finding Aeson tonight, but I need to get the hell out of this house.
“Are you sure we should trust her alone in there? Couldn’t she cast some sort of spell or some shit?” I glare through the car window at the witch locked inside. There was no way I was letting her contaminated ass in Betty. Calix left his bike at the Lakeview house and drove here with the witch in one of the cars that were at Vanessa’s. It’s not like she needs it now.
“That woman couldn’t do a spell right now if her life depended on it.” Gunnar balls up his fists. “As soon as I know she isn’t lying about this being the location of the rituals, she’ll be dead anyway,” he adds.
“Just dying might be too easy for her. You wait until I find Aeson before you do anything,” I demand, looking around at the empty alleyway.
We’re at a crossroads, in the center of four dilapidated warehouses. All the buildings are tall and look abandoned for the most part. A few have overflowing dumpsters next to them, but I don’t see any cars or activity to indicate anyone is using this place.
“Which one is it?”
“That one.” Gunnar extends his hand and points to the farthest building on the right side. It looks the worst. The high windows are nothing but shards sticking up and out like crocodile teeth. There are even slats of wood missing high up on the building. Would they really use a place like this for something so important?
I step forward, but Grim braces his arm across my chest, stopping me. “Nemean, shift,” he demands.
Calix doesn’t argue, instead, he strips out of his shirt and tosses it onto the hood of the car the witch is sitting in. I storm over in his direction and get into his space, forcing him to take a step back. I don’t stop until we’re behind the car and he’s out of the witch’s sight.
Calix looks down at me, his brow furrowed. Then he looks at the car and a smile blooms on his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he inches a little closer and reaches for the fly of his pants. His nostrils flare as he drags in a deep breath.
He finishes stripping quickly and puts his jeans on the trunk of the car before giving me a wink. I stuff my hands under my arms and narrow my eyes at him. I don’t like that I was just a possessive bitch, and he knew it.
Calix takes a few steps away from me, he’s completely nude and looking pretty fucking good. He lowers his chin the slightest bit and it changes the features of his face, shifting from the hot motorcycle riding man, to something much more predatory, and fuck me if it doesn’t make him even more appealing.
I watch Calix closely to witness his shift, curious if the process will be slow and subtle like it is when Gunnar hulks out or different. “You know I like an audience,” he comments, while taking one more step backward. I nod my head, still waiting.
Calix’s tawny skin seems to glow from within. I squint my eyes as a wave of golden light bellows out of him, and in its wake, I see a fully-formed, huge-ass lion with a golden mane, standing where Calix was. The small light show, which happened in a matter of microseconds, is the only evidence of his shift.
“Wow.” I don’t hide the awe in my voice as I take a step closer to him. My hand is already lifted, reaching out to touch him, not concerned in the least that he would hurt me.
“Wait.” Gunnar steps forward. “His mane—stay away from his mane.”
I let out a small snort. “I touch the baddies all the time, Kitten, I’m not worried.” Calix steps back and turns to the side, as if he’s presenting me with a safer option to touch. His flank is a golden bronze and looks smooth as silk.
Go ahead, Dami, I hear in my thoughts, and my eyes bounce up to meet Calix’s.
“I am.” I set my fingers into his fur and I’m surprised at how coarse it feels compared to how soft it looks.
You heard that? Calix’s words filter through my mind.
“Yes, shush.” I bring up my other hand and stroke over Calix’s side. “This is amazing.” I hover my hand over his mane and let golden strands dance through my fingers.
“Okay, enough show and tell. Let’s get this handled.” Gunnar crosses his arms over his chest.
“Don’t get pissy, Kitten. I like your freaky teeth, too.” I step back and ball my hands up. He’s right, though; I shouldn’t have let myself get so distracted when I don’t know what’s happening to Aeson, or if she’s even here.
I’ll go ahead and see if there’s anyone else around, Calix tells me, and I repeat his words to the others.
“I’m not really picking up anyone around here, but it could be the witches working wards. I never even realize they’re there until I stumble into them. I might need to be closer to sense them,” I admit, feeling a little useless.
“I’ll meet you inside,” Grim tells Calix, as I feel him open a portal. Before I have a chance to ask to go in with him, he’s gone, leaving me alone with Gunnar and the witch in the car.
“Handy little trick you two have,” I mutter dejectedly.
“Don’t get pissy, Dami. I can think of several times your ability to kill someone without even touching them would be a nice trade-off.”
I can’t help but feel a little flattered, even though Gunnar is mocking me a bit. “I’m pretty badass,” I agree with him.
Gunnar lets out a little chuckle, and he casts a sideways glance at me. “Do you really like my teeth?” He sounds unsure, like he thinks I might have been teasing.
“Hell yes, I do!” I turn to face him. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished that I could make my outside look like how I felt on the inside.” Gunnar tilts his head and examines me. I feel like I’ve just given too much away, but I don’t really regret it either.
Almost everyone I grew up around, the monsters I consider my friends, my family, all looked so different from me. All still beautiful, but they looked how I felt I should look: scary and unapproachable. Instead, I’m stuck in this human-looking body that doesn’t always seem to fit right. I imagine it feels much like an adopted kid would feel when he looks at his family and can’t find his red hair or any other markers that would make him feel like he belongs with them.
A loud roar splits the night air. “Think that’s our sign?”
Gunnar reaches down and takes a hold of my hand. “There’s no doubt that your beauty has edges, Damiana. One look is all it takes to be ensnared. Most are just too captivated to heed the warnings.” He releases my hand and gives me a nod to walk ahead of him. “I’ll stay with the witch, make sure she doesn’t try to escape. Whatever’s in there, you could handle alone, but holler if you need me.”
Gunnar’s words and his faith in me makes a funny feeling erupt just below my ribs in the center of my stomach. “I’ll be right back,” I whisper, then turn away to head toward the building, but stop and retreat back to his side. Without any warning, I lean up on my toes and wrap my arms around Gunnar’s neck and hug him. It’s a little foreign, but when his arms come around my back, I lean further into him and a calmness settles over me.
His chest expands once, and he tucks his head down until his face is nestled in my hair. I step back without meeting his eyes, and mutter, “Be right back.”
I jog over to the warehouse door with the feeling of Gunnar’s eyes on my back. We must be at a rear entrance, because there’s no handle: just a smooth, metal door. I pound my fist on it twice. I didn’t even see how Calix got into the building.
I step back and look up, wondering if I could jump up to one of the windows, but the door opens seconds later, with one cloaked arm holding it ajar. “Thanks, Loverboy.” I slide through the entrance, and I’m met with inky darkness. I blink several times, allowing my night vision to adjust.
I feel Grim as he comes up behind me and molds his front to my back. I don’t miss the erection he’s sporting, either. I snicker—he’s like a randy teenager.
All humor evaporates when I hear Aeson’s voice. “Come closer, and I’ll wear your teeth for a necklace.”
“Aeson!” I shout, and take a blind step forward.
“Shit! Get out of here, Dami. Hey you, kitty-bright! Yeah, you.” Aeson is trying to draw Calix’s attention.
“Why didn’t you tell her we’re here to help? Calix can’t talk,” I ask Grim, forging forward.
“I would have frightened her,” Grim answers.
“Not if you lost the robe. I’m coming, Aeson. Where the hell are the lights?”
“She would know it was me even without the cloak, Damiana,” he reasons.
I spin to face Grim. “Can you just get us there?” I’m even more eager now that I know she’s here and okay.
Grim cups my cheek. “She’s hurt, Damiana, and her pride won’t allow her to ask for help.” His lips whisper near my ear.
“Take me to her, she’ll let me help.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
The air shifts and I’m standing in an open room. A yellowish glow emitting from Calix’s mane casts a slight radiance, but it’s hard to make out anything that he’s not near.
Aeson’s tiny body is anchored to an altar-like table made of solid stone. Her tiny wrist and ankles are shackled with heavy iron chains. They must have been designed especially for her, unless it’s some twisted magic that shapes them perfectly to the victim.
I choke on a sob but cover it up. “I know you’re a kinky bitch, but come on, Aeson! Next time call a safe word, okay?” I find my way over to her side, and even my dark humor can’t hide the fact that I’m near tears.
With my vision blurry, I grab hold of one of the shackles, and Aeson bows off the stone and lets out a hiss. “You shouldn’t be here, Dami.” She licks her dry, cracked lips.
I can’t focus on anything other than her ripped shirt and the way she’s half exposed. Please tell me that happened when she was fighting, not after they already had her tied up.
“How do I get these off,” I inquire, sniffling and ignoring her.
Calix steps a little closer, and I see runes etched all over the table and the metal holding her down. “Is there anyone else here?” I pull the chain links with my hands, but they don’t budge.
“It’s empty.” Grim takes his place at my side and gazes down at Aeson. Her eyes grow large for a brief second before she successfully hides her reaction.
“Do you know how to get these off, Loverboy?” My voice is soft, pleading.
“They won’t come off, Dami, that’s why no one is here guarding me,” Aeson informs us.
“Calix, will you run out and get Kitten and the witch?” I wrench the chain in my hands as much as I can without hurting Aeson. “It’s okay, honey, we’ll get them off.”
Aeson gives me a crooked smile. “I can’t believe they got me, Dami. Three hundred years old, and I was lured by a witch.” Her eyes close and I see her jaw tighten. “I’m going to lose my band. Who would want a leader that almost got sacrificed?” Her head lifts off the stone, and she pleads with her eyes for me to answer her question.
“Aeson,” I put some heat in my tone, “suck it up! You fucked up—not even your gorgeous ass is perfect. Now shut up so we can get you off this table.” I lean in closer with a steel set to my spine, and I whisper, “And I might even let you kill one of the bitches who trapped you here.”
When I pull back, Aeson’s lips thin into a flat line. I know—without her saying so—that she’s ready. Just the promise of retribution is enough to get her to stop feeling sorry for herself and fight just a little while longer.
I hear Gunnar’s heavy footfalls and the sound of him dragging the witch before I see them.
“This way,” Calix urges them. He’s shifted back to his human form.
“You better have clothes on,” I growl.
“What happens if I don’t? Do I get a spanking?” Calix jokes.
“Not one you’d like,” I mumble.
Gunnar shoves the witch forward, and she stumbles but doesn’t fall. Her eyes go to Aeson on the table, and they flash with greed and desire, before she looks to the left and her shoulders round in defeat.
“Unchain her,” I demand.
The witch meets my eyes briefly. “I can’t, not alone.” The lie floats through the air and flutters against my skin.
“Liar,” I accuse her, and take one menacing step toward her.
“Okay, okay.” She looks around, like someone else might help her. “If I release her, will you let me live?” The witch’s eyes dart all over the room.
I take a step back and raise my hands. “You have my word, I won’t touch a hair on your head.”
She bites her lip, as if she’s considering her options. “You gave me your word,” she confirms, while stepping closer to Aeson.
“I did.” I nod in agreeance.
The witch moves even closer and blows out a heavy breath of air. I don’t trust her not to try something. I grab a hold of her wrist as she lifts her hands to place them over the altar.
“If you do anything, and I mean anything other than unlock those chains, I will keep you alive for years and feed off your screams. Do you hear me?”
The witch blinks and swallows heavily, before finally giving me a jerky nod. “Go ahead.” I release her, and she rubs the spot I was just holding and stretches out her fingers.
Chapter 26
The witch closes her eyes, and I feel the oiliness of her coven’s tainted magic bubbling up from her. The stench of rot permeates the room, and I cover my nose with the back of my hand.
Everything about this is wrong: it feels evil, tainted in a way none of my baddies are. I glance around the room, expecting some shadow creature to be clawing its way out of hell to witness this.
Whatever power she garnered from this magic isn’t worth whatever it’s doing to her soul, or to the souls of the unsuspecting seekers that they’ve been using as a filtration system. I step closer to Grim, and he tucks me to his side, while Calix closes in from the opposite edge.
The clink of the metal releasing is loud against the stone table. Aeson sits up and bounds up the woman’s still outstretched arm.
Before the witch can do anything—such as fling the Brownie off—Aeson is at her ear, and the whispering starts. I can’t hear what she’s saying—not that I would want to. See, Brownies aren’t just deadly, skilled assassins. They’re also able to infiltrate your thoughts and then implant an idea in your mind—like a maggot that eats away at anything and everything—until that thought is all you know.
The witch’s eyes widen as she reaches up for her chest, but her face slackens while Aeson works deftly to untie a cord from around the witch’s neck. A metallic ping resonates off the concrete floor as her protection charm hits the ground.
A scream tears through the air as the witch starts clawing at her arms. Aeson hops off the woman’s neck and falls to one knee on the table, rising quickly to stand tall. I know the move cost her. I can see the raw bands on her wrist where she either tried to free herself from the shackles or the metal burned her skin with magic.
Small crinkles around her eyes tell me she’s fighting to hide her pain, but I don’t let on that I know.
Gunnar moves forward, and we all stand witness as the witch digs into the flesh of her arms,
until she’s covered in blood and gore. “I’m tired of her wretched screams, does anyone have a knife?”
I pull one of the tiny blades Aeson gave me from my belt. It’s small in my hand but looks huge in hers as I hand it over to my friend. She looks down at the blade and tests the weight, hefting it in her hand a few times and tossing it up. When it lands in her open palm for the third time, Aeson fists the blade and lunges at the witch. Her scream gets cut off midway and a gurgle bubbles up as the knife is buried in the hollow of her throat.
Without further ado, the witch crumbles to the floor in a heap. The reek of rot comes swiftly again.
“You ready to get out of here?” I step closer to Aeson. I know her pride won’t allow her to ask me to get her off the altar, so I pick her up and set her on the ground before she can object.
“What’s with the army?” Aeson strolls across the warehouse as if she hasn’t a care in the world, ignoring every ache and pain I know she’s experiencing. I can’t even imagine what other tortures she’s had to deal with. Who knows what else the witches did to her?
“Oh, so, new development.” I stop and the guys halt behind me. I turn and do a Vanna White reveal, waving my arms out wide. “These yummy morsels are my guardians.”
“Fated guardians.” Calix waggles his eyebrows.
“You’re the bleeder.” Aeson tilts her head to the side. “A Berserker, huh?” She eyes him openly with mistrust. Eventually, she moves on. “You must be the Nemean.” She jerks her chin at Calix, but purposefully ignores Grim.
“In the flesh,” Calix answers cheekily.
“Do you know what happens to Berserkers and Nemeans that cross Brownies?” Aeson stands tall, even though they have to look down to see her. Before anyone can answer, she does. “They die, just like anything else that gets on my bad side. You feel me?”
I click my tongue and smile. “Isn’t she the best?” I grin at the guys, having gotten her meaning right away. She’s threatening them for me.
Friends With The Monsters Page 24