Besieged by Rain (Son of Rain #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  With a level of care that I now believed creatures deserved until they’d proven otherwise, I pulled the witch into my hold and carefully extracted her from the torture devices Lou had forced her into.

  Her body sagged against my arms as I brushed her hair away from her face and did a rudimentary examination of her injuries. A trail of swollen red blisters ran along her face where the iron mask had rubbed against her skin. Her tongue was swollen and bloodied from both the iron and a spike that protruded from the bottom of the mouthpiece of the bridle. Through her obvious pain, she appeared to thank me.

  She roused herself a few seconds later, standing in my hold and attempting to mutter a few words. I was on edge, knowing that a witch’s tongue could curse as easily as thank. I could only hope I’d been right to release her.

  Lou returned, and before I could react, she’d plunged her knife into the witch’s back. I could tell by the way the woman went slack that Lou had damaged her spinal cord on the way to her lungs

  The witch’s breath burbled in her chest and when she exhaled, a stream of blood rushed from her mouth. She fell to the floor, as good as dead before she’d landed.

  “That’s what you’re supposed to do,” Lou said in a disgusted tone.

  Unable to stomach the sight of my sister, I’d left the room and spent the rest of the night ranting to Eth about what a sadistic bitch she was. In turn, he reminded me that she was only repeating the tortures she’d endured at the hands of the fae.

  As always, I got the distinct impression that he thought I was being a little dramatic when I complained about the way all non-humans were treated, before they’d even been investigated. It was a case of implied guilt by breeding, and I hated it. Evie wasn’t like that, and I had no doubt that at least some of the other species were in the same boat. The problem was finding the evidence to prove it.

  After that incident, I refused to work with Lou unless I had to, so I was mostly teamed with Eth. He and I had been able to find a happy medium where he took point for all cases where I felt we lacked justification, and I took the lead on most of the others.

  By the time Evie’s birthday rolled around again, I almost felt normal. I was still awakened to the new realities of the world she’d shown me, and wasn’t willing to give that up.

  In fact, because of the balance I’d found with Eth, I was more comfortable than ever about what I had to do. I was no longer constantly tied up in knots of guilt and regret about having to choose loyalty to my head or my heart. At some point, they’d both come to some sort of amicable agreement, and I couldn’t have been happier about it.

  On the day of Evie’s birthday, I locked myself away, just like I had in the years before; only this time, I was able consider what we’d shared in a celebratory way. For a few precious days, I’d been able to spend time with a wondrous being who made me feel alive and opened my eyes to the real possibilities of the world. It was a relief to think of it that way rather than looking back with regret and anger. I assumed it meant I was finally healing.

  “Or her spell is just wearing off.”

  It was Eth’s and Dad’s voice that I heard in my head, answering my own thoughts with skepticism. Maybe I had been under some sort of spell, but if that were the case, it was worth for the empowerment I now felt.

  “WE’RE GOING on a witch hunt.” Eth threw my bag at me.

  “Really? Where?” We rarely deliberately hunted witches because many of the lower level sisters were almost human. It was only the Priestesses and a handful of special coven members who’d forsaken all humanity—and it was unusual for them to make an appearance unless there was a special ceremony. Lou’s victim was a rarity. Or, at least, that was what the Rain had learned from the witch trials centuries earlier.

  “There are rumors getting around of a big meet-up in Salem, celebrating something or other. The full moon.” He frowned. “Or maybe it was the new moon. I know it was definitely something to do with the moon and the trials anyway. Regardless, there’s supposed to be three different covens there.”

  “Priestesses and all?”

  He nodded. “We’ve got three days to prepare.”

  “And we’re just going after the Priestesses?”

  “Dad said he’s researched the particular covens that are coming, and they’re all maleficium practitioners.”

  That meant that even though some of the girls would still be human, they were deliberately causing harm to others, which made me feel a little better about it. When I’d finally come clean to Dad about the fact that I couldn’t blindly kill—I needed justification and evidence—he’d provided me with confirmation, backed up by evidence from the Rain, that the creatures I was hunting were evil.

  After a quick stop at Hell to ensure we had the right supplies and information, Eth and I drove down to Salem, Massachusetts in our Lincoln LS V8 while Dad and Lou followed closely behind in the Chevelle. From what I’d gathered, we had a day to prepare before the covens joined up in what they were calling a “convention” at the Hawthorne Hotel on Saturday night.

  Under Dad’s instructions, we booked into the Lafayette Hotel and unpacked our equipment. Because witches were mostly human, all weapons could potentially inflict damage but only if the wielder could get close enough to attack. The witches wouldn’t exactly stand still long enough to allow us to kill them—at least not without sending a raft of spells and curses at us first. It was important to diminish their magic before we attacked, so our arsenal consisted of as many defensive items as offensive weapons. By the time we’d finished, small iron slivers, holy water, lighters, protective amulets and gems, as well as our trusty guns and athames, were all laid out on the hotel beds.

  After double-checking our inventory and arranging it into smaller bags that we’d smuggle into the Hawthorne Hotel later, Eth and I headed out to scout the streets.

  We had a drink in a couple of different bars before ending up at the Hawthorne Hotel to meet with the local Rain operatives and get the lay of the land. As we passed under the awning for the hotel, I pointed to the statue of a griffin and commented about how much of a pain in the ass they’d be to fight if they’d still existed. Legend had it that the first Rain members of the Hathorne family had destroyed the last one long ago, during the crusades.

  Eth and I were on our way back to our hotel room, under the influence of perhaps a drink too many considering what we’d be facing the next day, when we heard the sound of footsteps behind us. Both of us shook off the buzz from the alcohol and gave the area around us a careful assessment. The street was quiet and appeared empty, which most likely meant there was someone or something nearby that didn’t want to be seen.

  A muffled giggle sounded through the air, and Eth and I reached for our guns.

  “Fuck, it’s gone.” Eth lifted his shirt to reveal an empty holster. He spun quickly on the spot, watching his feet to ensure he hadn’t just dropped it, even though we both knew that wasn’t the case.

  “Fae,” I stated as the evidence became clearer. The little fuckers got off on stealing things and playing pranks. Because they could exist on the ethereal plane, it was possible for them to be entirely invisible if they didn’t want to be seen.

  Without words, Eth and I closed ranks, walking in a slow, tight circle with our backs pressed against each other.

  “We know you’re there,” I called. “Do it,” I whispered over my shoulder to Eth.

  I continued to follow the same circle, watching for any sign of the fae. Eth dropped to the floor and drew the rune for protection against fae with chalk. In front of me, two screams issued from the air. I shot in the direction of the sound and an instant later two of the fair-looking foul creatures appeared before us, drained of energy by the protection provided by the rune. I fired once more and my lips twisted upward when one of them cried out in agony as my bullet hit its mark.

  One of the fae, a tall, slender female with long blonde, almost pale-white hair reached for her companion. Her face was grief-stricken as she
saw the bleeding wound of the black-haired male who was with her.

  Watching the pair carefully, I lifted my gun to fire again.

  The female pulled on the arm of her fallen companion, trying to drag him away from the circle of protection Eth’s drawing had provided for us. The male fae climbed to his feet and clutched at the wound.

  I lined up my shot and fired again, missing by a narrow margin when the fae ducked to the side. With my gun still raised, I followed their retreat, leaving the protection of the circle.

  “Clay, don’t,” Eth called behind me.

  I didn’t need to see his face to know the worried look that would be etched onto it. As ruthless as he could be, and as much as he probably wanted the fae dead as well, he also knew the fae were the one type of creature I would hunt to the ends of the Earth—even at the cost of my own life. Charging into the darkness of night, half inebriated, after creatures that could become invisible at whim was more than just crazy. It was suicidal.

  The instant Eth’s words registered with the fae in front of me, the female spun around and looked straight at me. Her eyes widened and then she whispered something to her partner before they both disappeared as they left the area Eth had protected.

  I refused to holster my gun again even after Eth had convinced me that the coast was clear and we should continue on to the Lafayette.

  NEITHER OF us mentioned the fae to Lou or Dad when we met up with them again the following morning. They were both too amped and excited about the witch executions they were planning for that evening for us to reveal that we’d encountered—and failed to destroy—two fairies. It would put Dad in a mood, but worse, it could send Lou shying into herself. If we wanted to survive the night, we all needed to be at the top of our game.

  Instead of talking about the fairies, we discussed final preparations. We agreed that Dad and Lou would arrange disguises for us all while Eth and I went to retrieve the book from the local Rain chapter based out of the Witch History Museum. If the covens were converging on Salem to celebrate something to do with that heritage, the best thing we could do was be armed with the same knowledge.

  Eth and I fell into our now familiar pattern as we walked from the hotel to the museum. We were joking and laughing as we pushed through the crowd.

  I was about to enter the museum when a strange sensation crept down my spine. It was almost as if someone was watching me, like I was caught in their stare. Deep in the pit of my stomach, I felt something tug at my instincts. Although it was similar to the feeling I got when Lou was nearby, it was also different somehow. Not sinister, just different.

  Disregarding the strange pull at my emotions, my mind instantly traveled to the fae from the night before, and I wondered whether it was them watching me. Whether they were planning a renewed attack as vengeance for the injury I’d caused.

  As a certainty grew within me that I had garnered the attention of someone, or something, I turned to scan the crowd thronging behind us. At first I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  And then I saw it.

  The sight that almost made me question my sanity. Again.

  I saw her.

  Evie.

  My breath left my body in a whoosh, and I had to blink to ensure I wasn’t seeing things.

  It wasn’t the same vision I’d seen in Canada, with her steeped in fire and stepping toward me with a confident stride, her multi-faceted hair long and loose in curls around her face—the way she’d been when we were alone together in Charlotte.

  Instead, she was a timid girl, cowering in the shadow provided by the hoodie pulled low over her forehead. Lilac irises openly stared at me, almost as if she refused to blink in case I disappeared when she did. I could understand that feeling. Her mouth was set into a small frown of concentration.

  There was no doubt in my mind that it was her as everything else around me fell into obscurity. It was like the crowds rushing around her were painted with Monet’s brush while she was photo perfect. I would know the soft curve of her cheek anywhere. Those eyes had haunted my dreams since the first time I’d truly looked into them.

  I wanted to run to her, to take her in my arms and kiss her silly. At the memory of her warmth as my fingers brushed along her skin and the way her laugh sounded in my ears, I almost did. The only thing that stopped me was a quiet mantra in my mind reminding me that Eth was right in front of me.

  To stop myself from reaching out for her, despite the distance that remained between us, I curled my fingers into a fist.

  Is she here because of me?

  It was an utterly selfish thought, but I wanted so badly to believe it. I wanted to think that even after two years she was as affected by me as I was by her, but I couldn’t say for certain. Maybe it was all just a giant coincidence. Maybe it was another giant “fuck you” from the universe that she happened to stumble into town in time for the biggest gathering of witches in recent history.

  Maybe she was here with her boyfriend.

  Husband . . .

  I swallowed down the bitter taste that rose in my throat at the thought.

  There was so much I needed to know, and no way I could ask her any of it without alerting Eth to her presence—which I absolutely did not want to do.

  Taking a deep breath, I risked one more look at her—drinking in her features and savoring the knowledge that despite the odds she was still alive. And so close.

  Then I did the unthinkable. I turned from her and walked away once again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “EXCUSE ME,” A female voice called from behind.

  At first I thought Evie had lost her senses and come charging into the museum behind me. An instant later, before I’d even turned my head to confirm it, it struck me that the voice wasn’t hers.

  When I spun around, I saw a short girl dressed in a traditional puritan outfit, including a long black dress and a little white bonnet over her mousy-brown hair. She waved at me when she saw she had my attention.

  Glancing back toward Eth, I confirmed he hadn’t noticed I’d stopped so had continued to walk a bit farther into the museum. After an internal debate whether to ignore the girl or not, I jogged back toward her—she was clearly after me for some reason. I had to hope that it wasn’t a coincidence that this girl was looking for me so soon after I’d seen Evie.

  “Um, a girl outside asked me to give this to you.” She handed me a flyer about a tour of the witch trial walking trails that operated in the area, and I glanced down in confusion at it. The girl reached forward and flipped it in my hand, revealing a phone number. Then she seemed to appraise me carefully. “She said she was your girlfriend? Is she?”

  The note could only have come from Evie, and the thought sent an unexpected thrill through me.

  My hope grew that it wasn’t a coincidence she was in Salem after all.

  Breathless with anticipation over the clues Evie was leaving for me, I nodded in response to the girl’s question. Then I asked whether there was anything more.

  “She said something else, but it didn’t make any sense.”

  “We play these sorts of games all the time,” I lied, trying not to sound too desperate as I begged to find out everything Evie had told the girl. “Just tell me exactly what she said, and I’ll be able to work it out.”

  The girl frowned as she tried to remember. “I can’t remember exactly.”

  I resisted the urge I had to shake her in frustration. “Then just tell me what you do remember.”

  “She said something about the number being a griffin. Washington’s griffin.” The girl smiled proudly as she remembered that extra detail. “On the eve of . . . of a fire.” She sounded more and more uncertain with every word. “And then ‘meet me at Nathaniel’s house.’”

  Most of the words meant little to me. Nathaniel obviously meant Nathaniel Hawthorne, but he was celebrated as a local hero, so there were many references to him all around Salem. He was more than just that, but I didn’t think Evie would have kno
wn the history.

  Everyone in the Rain knew the cautionary tale of Nathaniel Hawthorne. He came from another distinguished line of Rain elite—his grandfather John Hathorne had presided over a number of witch executions. Because of the public interest in destroying the practitioners of dark magic—or maleficium, as it was known to the Rain—at the time, a small portion of his successes were actually made public.

  Only, when it came time for Nathaniel to learn the Rain traditions from his family, he refused. Despite his tender age, he was determined to take a different path.

  There were many rumors that still circled the Rain about why that happened, but the most popular one was that he’d had a childhood friend who was an other and the Rain had them killed.

  Whatever the reason, Nathaniel turned his back on everything, even going so far as to change his surname and locking himself away from the world to write novels about the hypocrisy he saw in his family’s beliefs. Then he further alienated himself by falling for and marrying a fae changeling, polluting the elite Hathorne bloodline.

  For most of my life, I’d accepted the story at face value and had regarded Nathaniel as a traitor. Ever since Charlotte though—since I’d been gifted the precious week with Evie—I’d begun to understand where he was coming from. At least a little.

  “I think that was all she said.” The voice of the girl in the puritan outfit pulled me from my thoughts.

  I said a quick thank you to her and let her get back to her job before glancing down at the sheet again. The area code on the phone number wasn’t a local one. Evie wasn’t going to make it easy, but I understood why. She knew the dangers of her clues being intercepted as much as I did.

  Although my fingers itched to dial the number, I restrained myself. It was something I could do as soon as I had a moment away from my family and a phone that they wouldn’t be able to track the calls on.

  “What’d she want?” Eth asked, looking around me to watch Evie’s messenger girl disappear back outside.