by Patti Larsen
This was the mafia we were talking about. He probably had damned Russian hackers diving into my private life as I stood there, all up in my business.
Another smile, this one tight and cruel. He steepled his hands before him, resting his elbows on his round stomach and struck a classic bad-guy pose. It took all the strength I had not to sigh and roll my eyes.
I was so over this already.
“Perhaps we do,” he said. “But we would like to hear you beg.”
I’d already been forced to plead for Charlotte once today. No way was I doing it again. Especially not in front of this charlatan and his little god show.
“I’m here for my wereguard,” I said, slamming against his power with mine while the girls tensed inside me. “Give her back and I’ll leave peacefully.”
Gwendolyn’s anxiety was palpable, coming at me in waves from over my right shoulder. The girl really had to learn to hold in her crap or at least shield properly. Then again, she hadn’t exactly been prepared for this, I didn’t think.
I had to thank Margaret Applegate for sending rank amateurs along for the ride.
Even as Yure reacted, I understood the European Council Leader’s strategy. She could have sent more seasoned witches as backup/guides/babysitters, but she wanted me to fail. To have an excuse to kick me out of her territory forever. To start a war, likely, one the Brotherhood could use to their advantage.
“Your wereguard.” He was still smiling, even more deeply. Yeah, his lunch leftovers were turning my stomach. “You claim her?”
“I do,” I said. “We’re bonded.” Okay, so not exactly true anymore. Actually, not true at all from what I could tell. But we had been. That had to count for something.
“Is that so?” The sorcerer wriggled in his chair like a chubby puppy eager to play. “Well then, in that case, we have made a terrible error.” He clapped his hands, gestured at Vasyl. “Bring her.” His eyes fixed on me again, power pushing, pushing. “Her пов'язана одна awaits.”
Me, presumably. This could be bad. My vampire stilled. I’m certain Charlotte isn’t bonded to us any longer.
So? My demon’s anger sizzled. We remake the bond and get the hell out of here.
If it is that easy, Shaylee sent, why didn’t Charlotte do so previously?
Maybe she didn’t want to be bonded to us anymore. That truth hurt. A lot. But I had to offer it up.
I fear there is more to this than we know, my vampire sent, her worry rising to the surface of my mind.
Her worry was mutual.
Yure must have been keeping Charlotte close, because it was only a moment later a large door opened on my right. I turned toward it, knowing my eagerness was a sign of weakness, but unable to help myself. I caught a glimpse of Gwendolyn’s unhappy face before I locked my gaze on Charlotte.
***
Chapter Twelve
She looked fine, at least physically, as she approached with her head down, held firmly between two of her fellow weres, the males towering over her. Her long, blonde hair had been cut to her shoulders, her normal leather jacket and skinny jeans replaced by a rather frumpy dress. Just seeing Charlotte in a skirt made me wince. Even when she’d accompanied me to the court of the vampire queens, she’d refused to wear one. Whatever Yure had done to her had to be nasty if she willingly wore all that ugly pink satin and ruffled lace.
Charlotte didn’t look up, hands clasped before her, bound with heavy cuffs. A choker of the same metal hugged her neck. She looked so weak, frail, compared to the powerful, stoic girl I knew, I wanted to reach for her, but I held off, looking up to glare at Yure as she was pulled up the first step to stand with her back to him.
He giggled in evil glee, reaching out to prod Charlotte between the shoulder blades with the toe of his boot. Well, tried to. I hit him so hard the moment I realized what he was doing, he pressed back into his throne with a grunt.
“Don’t.” I hit him again. “Touch.” And one more time, even as the weres around me growled as they finally realized I was the source of their leaders discomfort. “Her.”
I let him go even as Vasyl waved the protective guards back. His shark eyes blinked once, slowly, as though in approval of my act.
Now that was interesting.
Yure’s red face bloomed like a rotten flower, spit flying from his lips as he jabbed a finger—and his sorcery—at me. “YOU DARE!”
My shields met his hit and repelled it easily, even as I let the bubble of wards slide backward to protect the witches and vampire who accompanied me, and forward to hug Charlotte.
“I do,” I said. Snarled, my demon forcing her fury out of me. “You touch her again and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it whole.”
Syd. Syd. What the hell? Yeah, my temper was going to get us killed.
What else was new?
Yure lurched to his feet, spluttering, losing his crap. And I’m certain, if it hadn’t been for Vasyl, I would have been fighting an army of werewolves in three, two, one—
“Your Most Royal Majesty.” Vasyl’s power joined ours, slipping along the side of his leader’s. “The test?”
Yure spun on his security head, fury still at full throttle. But it eased visibly as the other sorcerer calmly siphoned off his leader’s rage. I watched through the touch of our power, fascinated, noting the shark-like Vasyl absorbed the other man’s anger to feed his own dark blossom.
I added that little tidbit to my lineup of questions for Demetrius. I knew sorcery worked by destroying objects, even people, by drawing out the natural power they held. But I had no idea extreme emotion could also be a source of fuel.
Which made me wonder who was the real power here. And think of the Brotherhood.
Focus, Syd.
Yure finally sank back into his throne, the wereguards standing down, though they remained tense and snarling. Let them. I met Vasyl’s eyes and cocked an eyebrow before turning back to the glaring Czar.
“Let her go,” I said.
“Our faithful Vasyl is correct.” Yure spat every word, the acid of his tone burning the air. “The test.”
What test? “Fine,” I said. “Whatever.” I saw Charlotte twitch, the first time she’d reacted since she’d been brought out.
Was that excitement or fear? Or something else?
“Fool,” Yure said, eyes rolling in triumphant madness. “You’ve already failed.” He gestured at Charlotte. “We’ve had her back in our possession for months now. Were you still bonded, she would be dead. No true bonded can be separate from their пов'язана однаfor more than a few days and survive.”
Damn it. So it was true. No more bond. Charlotte’s body quivered again.
Well, we really did know that already, my vampire sent. The question is, can the bond be rebuilt?
And does Charlotte want it rebuilt. I hated doubting her loyalty. I knew she loved me, she’d come back from the dead for me, left me that note. But she’d left, hadn’t she? Without telling me where she was going or why.
Maybe she really didn’t want me to save her.
“Charlotte.” Screw the weres hovering, threatening. Screw Vasyl and his cold stare. Screw the witches sent to make sure I messed up and the damned false Czar almost foaming at the mouth in pleasure of seeing me fail. I reached for her with my power, but couldn’t get to her. A black sheath of slime surrounded her, coating her in filth. I recognized Yure’s power, the same touch I still felt, pressed against my own sorcery. “Charlotte,” I repeated. “Look at me.”
It took her a long time to lift her chin, blonde hair shielding her face. When she finally did, her blue eyes were dull, lifeless. Devoid of the girl I knew.
What had they done to her? Rage reappeared in a flash of fire, my demon roaring her fury, but I held back, hands trembling with the effort.
“There,” Yure said with great satisfaction in his voice. “You see? She is no longer yours. She is ours.” His eyes narrowed, cheeks sinking, as he tried for shrewd. “But we will make you an offer
.” He giggled, wriggled again, clearly getting a sick kick out of the whole thing. “If you can renew the bond, we will allow you to leave peacefully.” He snorted, slapped both knees. “With her.”
He expected me to fail, that much was glaringly obvious. “And if I can’t?”
Yure’s humor turned to dark pleasure. He leaned forward, sniffing at Charlotte’s hair, though he kept his distance. Was he afraid of me, after all? “You leave,” he said. “And the lovely Charlotte becomes my bride.”
Um, what? The weregirl’s face crumpled. Only a flash of fear and despair, but enough I caught it.
Hell. No.
Any doubt I had she didn’t want to be here was gone in a flash of protective anger.
Okay, I sent to the egos inside me. What do we do now?
Crickets.
Seriously? My own desperation rose. We have to save her.
None of us really explored the feeling of the bond, my vampire sent. We have no idea what it was or how to recreate it.
It was one-sided, my demon sent. And subtle. We didn’t even know it was there for ages, remember?
Damn it. No way I was letting Charlotte down.
We have to do something, I sent. Shaylee?
I’m sorry, the Sidhe princess sent. I caught a flash of her wringing her hands. I wish there was something we could do.
Thanks for nothing. It came out in a snarl, though it wasn’t their fault. This was as much mine as anyone’s. Why hadn’t I pushed Charlotte for answers? Why did I just let her keep her secrets?
She watched me, had to know I struggled with what to do. I had felt the bond, at least briefly. Didn’t really understand it at the time, or know how to recreate it. Not without exploring how it felt again. And now that I thought it through, I realized the only magic I’d thought to explore it with was my witch power.
Power I couldn’t use.
As my shoulders slumped, Charlotte’s chin dipped again, eyes on the floor.
My powers reached for her, tried to force past the sorcery. I even used my own to slice it open, to let the girls inside. But there was nothing to latch onto. I felt the soft thrum of the wolf within Charlotte, but the faint connection we’d had was gone. And I had not a clue as to what to do to remake it. My family magic, forced to remain dormant, was useless. I wasn’t even sure I could reform the bond from my end. She’d created it in the first place, hadn’t she?
Shaylee dug down deep, her earth power looking for anything to grasp while my vampire spun a sticky spider’s web of spirit threads around the weregirl in an effort to pull apart the sorcerous shell and let me at her.
My demon roared in fury, burning the edges of the Czar’s containment, singeing herself in the process.
They all faltered, each of them in turn, unable to work together for the first time in a very long time. Without my family magic—that struggled, begged me to allow it to try—our cohesion was broken.
Only my sorcery seemed to connect, oozing around and through Yure’s construct, though when it reached Charlotte’s mind there was nothing to seize hold of, unless I wanted to fight the Czar for ownership.
I considered it as my demon fell back, panting her fury, Shaylee sending another tremor through the floor as her frustration cracked around the edges. Even my typically level vampire lashed a crackling bolt of spirit power at the base of the throne dais out of sheer irritation.
My sorcery waited, hunger burning, wanting to devour the Czar.
Wanting to devour Charlotte.
Which would mean her trading one master for another. While I could have fought him for her, enslaved her, where would we go from there? And if I did succeed, would she ever forgive me?
Not to mention the fact, if I failed, I doubted Yure Danko would kindly let me retreat from the fight before sucking me dry. And I’d been through that experience before, thanks, under different circumstances but still.
Which meant it was over. We were done.
I finally pulled away, regret burning a hole in the lining of my stomach, heart pounding, glaring up at Yure who laughed out loud.
“As we expected,” he said. “So much for your power, witch.”
Enough. I was done with this charade. I reached for the family magic hiding behind the girls, ready to call on my maji power and just take her.
Gwendolyn shouldered past me. “We see now our error, Your Royal Majesty,” she said while I gaped at her. “Forgive our intrusion. We won’t bother you any further.”
Yure flicked his fingers at us. “Despite your rude behavior,” he said, “we grant you safe passage from our territory.” His bulging eyes locked on me. “But if we catch you here again, we will kill every single person you love. And have ever met. Just before we kill you.”
Enforcer power engulfed me even as I fought against Finlay as blue magic flared, carrying me away.
***
Chapter Thirteen
I fumed as I paced the suite of rooms I’d been assigned, arguing with myself. I could have done more to escape this predicament. How had I gone from rescuing Charlotte—easy peasy in and outsie—to being pinned down by a pair of European stalkers in an ancient hotel in the outback of the Ukraine?
So much grief in so little time. I really should have been used to being imprisoned in fancy quarters. Happened pretty frequently. But this time, I was here by choice.
Okay, not really. I had put my foot down when Finlay tried to deliver me back home, taking a firm hold on his power and forcing him to put us down outside the gates to Yure’s territory. For the first time, I saw the young Enforcer’s temper flare, but I didn’t really give a damn what he thought.
Thanks to him, Charlotte was still back there. And now I knew her fate, no way was I leaving her in Yure’s clutches. Not when the girl I knew was so broken she couldn’t even fight to protect herself.
“I’m going back in there,” I snarled at Finlay and Gwendolyn while Isabelle pushed back the hood of her robe, revealing her pinched features while she stared at the gate as though confused. “And I’m getting Charlotte out.”
“No,” Finlay said. “You’re not.”
“Coven Leader,” Gwendolyn put herself between me and the hulking brute. Good thing. For him. My demon snapped and snarled her need to launch his ass into orbit while the young witch went on. “Please, don’t do this. Our two Councils are on shaky enough ground as it is.”
“If you’re asking me,” I said, jabbing her in the chest with one finger while Finlay growled like a were himself, “to leave Charlotte behind because your Leader happens to have an agenda, you can just forget it.”
She flinched. Looked away. How much did she know—suspect? Was she aware Applegate was under sorcerous control? “We will do everything in our power to free your friend,” she said, meeting my eyes again. “But I beg you, allow us to handle it.”
“I’m not going home.” I crossed my arms over my chest, glared at Finlay who glared back. “You’re stuck with me until I get Charlotte back. So unless you want that incident you’re trying to prevent, I suggest you work fast. I won’t wait long.”
Gwendolyn seemed relieved, bobbed her head in a nod, nervous smile returning. “As you wish.”
Which was how I ended up pacing the top floor of a very old-fashioned hotel. The only hotel, it turned out, in a picturesque town only a few miles from Yure’s fenced-in territory. The whole place was a throwback to history. Square, whitewashed buildings lined with balconies, with red tiled roofs lined the streets, octagonal architecture topped with multiple spires towering over the narrow, cobbled ways. I shivered as my anger dissipated, hating how my fear for Charlotte and the choice I had to make caused me to feel colder.
A cheerful older woman and her husband, both dressed in traditional garb, greeted the group of us. Her flowing white blouse and massive black velvet skirt reminded me of Mom, though this woman was almost a head shorter than me and twice as wide. His round belly was tucked behind a wool vest, a cap perched on his balding head. It took me only
a heartbeat to realize they were, in fact, witches.
“Yutsk is a coven town,” Gwendolyn said as she turned to the couple who bowed to me, faces eager. “Вітаю, Nataliya.” She gestured to me. “Coven Leader Hayle, this is Coven Leader Nataliya Makosky and her husband, Fedir.”
The woman grasped my hand, kissed the back of it, her round cheeks pink, equally round body quivering in what seemed like excitement. “Вітаємо, welcome,” she said in very thick English. “You come.” She pulled me into the building, still clutching my hand, while her husband bowed over and over again.
“They are very honored to have you,” Gwendolyn said. “Nataliya may be Coven Leader here in Yutsk, but you are legend.”
Seriously? Kind of freaked me out, considering I wasn’t even legal to drink back home. I smiled at the woman as I freed my hand. “Thank you,” I said, not sure what else to do. Glanced at Gwendolyn. “I’m not supposed to use my magic,” I said. “But can I greet her?” Traditionally, Coven Leaders shared a tiny fragment of family magic, a show of respect.
Finlay scowled, but Gwendolyn’s face brightened with a relieved smile. “I’m sure such a personal use is fine,” she said, kicking her Enforcer’s foot.
I turned back to Nataliya and held out my hand again, letting a small ball of blue form over my palm. The family magic came willingly, happily, though I could feel its discomfort at being contained. I soothed it with love and begged for patience while Nataliya’s eyes widened. Fingers shaking, she slid hers across my skin, her own small magic mingling with mine.
The family power surged and offered her more than the usual. She beamed at me, lunged forward, kissing both of my cheeks before turning, arm around me, pulling me tight to her soft body, chattering to her husband in Ukrainian while he smiled at me and bowed yet again.
Thank you, Gwendolyn sent. That was very generous.