A Wicked Night

by Kiersten Fay

  Knox leaned down to examine the wound. “It was something big, whatever it was.”

  “Another animal?”

  “That’s what it appears.” He stood and surveyed their surroundings. On one hand, Mace could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Knox look nervous and he’d still had three fingers left over. Anything that could take down Meeka was something to fear indeed.

  Together, they locked eyes and blurted, “Guns.”

  They raced back into the house, splitting up once inside. Cora missing and danger looming meant Meeka would have to stay put for now. When they had time, they could tend to the feline, but finding Cora is what mattered most, and time was precious.

  Mace gathered his Glock from upstairs and rendezvous with Knox in the front yard moments later, who clearly had access to a larger stash than he did. Strapped over Knox’s back was an assault rifle, at his waist, a sheathed knife, and in each hand, a set of matching semi-automatic pistols.

  They exchanged nods, and then darted in opposite directions. This was a familiar drill, one he and Knox had performed countless times. It managed to calm him a smidge, helped his mind to focus on an objective rather than the horrifying images taunting him. Images of Cora, mangled and mutilated somewhere in the forest.

  As warriors, their actions were automatic, born from years of fighting together in the vampire/human wars. Instinctively, they knew what the other would do, where he would be. Knox would sweep left, then south and around clockwise, circling the perimeter at least a mile out. Mace would mirror him, heading right, then north, till they met back in the middle, either with Cora in hand, or if nothing else, a lead on her possible direction. God forbid either of them found a body, cold and lifeless, unable, even, to make The Change. Once a heart stopped, there was no hope of brining someone back as a vampire.

  Not that he or Knox would be able to accomplish such a feat were it an option. Trent was miles away and would never make it in time had they the need. And more likely than not, he’d refuse anyway. To Trent, changing an individual was done for the singular purpose of bettering the clan in strength, not just numbers. He was selective. More so than others.

  Mace beat a path through the forest, tearing around trees and shrubbery, kicking up bits of dried leaves as his boots dug into the earth. The moonlight was enough for him to navigate without any problems, yet there was still no hint of Cora.

  Suddenly, pain cut through his torso, serrating him from the neck down. He dropped to one knee. Brilliant blue-green light illuminated the area around him, originating at his neck. He reached for his collar, sucking in air like he hadn’t taken breath for hours.

  Agony turned to a desperate need to keep moving. If Cora was mortally wounded, there might still be time to save her with his blood. But with every second, her chances dwindled. He couldn’t afford this delay.

  He pushed the pain down, shoved it out of his mind and buried it underneath an ironclad determination. He wouldn’t fail her now, not like he had Elizabeth. He couldn’t. The devastation would kill him.

  With sweat permeating over his skin, Mace forced his muscles into action and lurched to a stand. A few yards away, in a damp patch of mud, he noticed the distinct impression of large animal prints. Next to them, headed in the same direction, were two sets of prints, one of them bare and significantly smaller than the other boot-like impression.

  The bare footprint had to belong to Cora, but who owned the other?

  He followed the trail to the road where he caught the scent of motor oil. A car had passed by not long ago.

  Had Cora been fleeing and managed to flag down a passerby?

  Impossible. This road was way off the beaten path, the access point nearly hidden by overgrowth. Never before had a lost tourist stumbled upon it, or even a local nature enthusiast. And there were no dwellings within miles of the cottage, which was hidden by a powerful spell meant specifically to keep people away. Mace had never been certain, but he imagined anyone who might happen upon this particular location and looked upon the cottage would see nothing but forest mirrored in its place.

  So then who had been here?

  Saraphine?

  She was the only outsider, aside from Cora, who had been invited to the cottage, making her the only other person who could find her way back.

  He sniffed the air, not scenting the young witch. Damn this wind. It was swirling through the treetops now, as if a storm were coming.

  The sky was dark even though high up birds had begun pre-dawn chirps. Late autumn cold nipped at his nose.

  Cora, where are you?

  His mind went to work.

  He knew that if Cora was alive, she was nowhere in the vicinity. He couldn’t sense her through the bond.

  If she was dead….

  He clutched his chest to stave off the pain that had nothing to do with the curse.

  If she was dead, he’d have found the body by now. He’d have sniffed her out like a damn bloodhound and then fallen upon her in a heap of blubbering incoherency.

  No. She’d been taken.

  He searched the area farther, seeking any clues that might have been left behind. From the jagged piece of a tree, where the bark stuck out sharply, he retrieved a bit of black fur.

  A bear, perhaps?

  After several more minutes of searching, he circled back and met Knox in front of the cottage. He was perched on the hood of the black sedan as if not a care in the world.

  “Find the girl?” he called when he spotted Mace emerge from the forest.

  As Mace approached, he wound his arm back and then slammed his knuckles into Knox’s cement hard jaw. Knox took the blow like a pro. He’d expected it—undoubtedly due to the rage flowing freely off Mace.

  “Are you enjoying this,” Mace accused. “Probably think it’s my just deserts.”

  Knox wiped away a smear of blood, his wound knitting together already. “Have you got that out of your system? Because you’ll want to be focused now. What’s our next move?”

  Mace cocked his head. “Our?”

  “I hate being weak,” Knox explained. “Without that witch, I’ll weaken in days until I’m as pathetic as you. I’d like to avoid that, and that means getting Cora back. Did you find anything?”

  Mace held up the thatch of fur.

  Knox took it and gave it a good sniff. “I don’t recognize the animal.”

  “Me either. I thought bear, maybe, but the footprints were more like a large cat or dog.”

  “You don’t think it was Cora’s own pet that made the tracks?”

  Mace shrugged. “I don’t know, but it appeared as though a scuffle happened roughly where Meeka is.” He glanced around, looking for Meeka’s limp body.

  It was gone.

  Knox gestured negligently to the cottage. “The beast lies within.”

  Mace sent him a bemused look.

  “It was a sitting duck, so I dragged the thing inside. Get this, the little pain in the arse decided to go all small after I got her in there.” He huffed.

  “The wounds. Are they mortal?”

  “She’s a familiar, remember? She’ll heal.”

  Of course she would. Mace recalled hearing there wasn’t much that could kill a familiar while its counterpart was still alive. At the thought, a mental sigh of relief chased away much of his pessimism. Proof that Cora yet lived.

  “Did you complete your search?” Mace asked.

  “Yes. There was nothing to find.”

  He offered a clipped nod and then told Knox about the scent of motor oil in the air by the road. “I have to assume she was taken.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go after them.”

  “We have no idea which way to go.”

  Knox pushed off the hood and yanked open the driver side door. “We gonna sit here and debate it, or get our shit in gear? The longer we wait, the farther they get.” He folded himself in the driver’s seat and keyed on the ignition. “Get in.”

  Mace claimed the
passenger seat. “I have no idea which way the car had gone. We could very well turn right when they went left. I want certainty.” A sense of foreboding rolled out with his next words. “We need Saraphine’s help.”

  ——

  Hurrying along the sidewalk, Sara tugged her coat tighter as a gust of wind hit her. Fall was well underway, and winter encroached ever closer.

  It wasn’t even light out yet, though she was late opening the store. Too much partying slash drinking away her depression that Devon hadn’t so much as shown up to say “boo” since that night at The Pork and Bone, or offered her a note along the lines of Hey, sorry I ditched you and left you with the bill. Let me make it up to you.

  Nope. He had just disappeared.

  Still feeling jilted, she’d been resigned to write him off completely, but then curiosity had her scrying for him last night. Turned out her scrying had failed, which wasn’t that surprising, since she wasn’t the best at it to begin with.

  Well, anyway, who cared where he was? Good riddance.

  She could say that now. Last night, after three shots, some gin, and a couple glasses of wine, not so much.

  It wasn’t as though she fancied herself in love with him. Gah! As if. She barely knew him! But with him had come the possibility of connecting with someone else her own age who—aside from being of the opposite sex—was also aware of the supernatural community. Someone she could speak freely with and who understood she was a witch…and who happened to be freaking hot.

  She’d never really felt lonely before. She’d always had her gran, which had been enough.

  The majority of her coven resided a few towns south, and didn’t often venture north for shits and giggles. Gran used to take her down a few times out of the year to keep up with acquaintances, but there were no young witches for her to make mischief with. Most were Gran’s age and wouldn’t know what fun was if it kicked them in their sagging jowls.

  Aside from Devon, she hadn’t met another witch close to her own age—and she wasn’t even one hundred percent sure if he was a witch—and Cora didn’t count. She’d made Sara’s fuck off list, in which Devon’s name was dangerously close to being added. If he hadn’t given her some proactive advice, she’d be preparing a hex in lieu of his return—if he ever did return. A hex that involved itchy rashes in intimate places.

  Instead, if he was ever interested in speaking with her again, she’d merely resort to giving him the cold shoulder. At the most, she would sourly mention how the rose he had given her had wilted and died the very next day. More than that, it had appeared as if it were several months old, stiff and dried like potpourri. Odd, since she could have sworn it had been newly picked when she’d received it.

  As she approached Wicked Wares, she retrieved her keys from her pocket and unlocked the door.

  An urgent bark of her name from behind made her jump and spin around.

  “What the eff!” she yelled at Mace. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  She clamped her mouth shut when she saw Knox step out of the black sedan and cross the street to stand beside Mace.

  The nerve!

  But, she though, perfect timing. What did Gran say? Everything happens for a reason?

  Without another word, she turned her back on them, headed inside, and flicked on the lights before casually strolling to the counter. She figured they’d follow her in without invitation.

  They did.

  Normal routine, she tried to convey. Nothing out of sorts here.

  She suppressed a grin and reached for the small glass orb she had placed by the register just two days ago. She would have had it ready sooner, but she’d had to prepare the basement for its new occupants. The cellar that had positively creeped her out when Gran had bought the building now felt serendipitous.

  Mace and Knox were already to the middle of the room when she innocently glanced up.

  “Cora’s in trouble,” Mace blurted.

  In spite of herself, Sara pelted out a boisterous laughed. “When isn’t she in trouble?”

  “We need you to scry for her location.”

  Sara stepped forward, struggling to hold back her trump face. They were standing perfectly, like two birds as she was about to let loose her stone.

  In a superior tone, she replied, “You’re out of favors and shit out of luck.”

  Then she smashed the orb at their feet.

  Chapter 12

  Cora stared ahead of her, not really seeing anything as the car continued its steady pace. They had been driving for a while now. It was well past noon.

  Something made her repeatedly question their destination. But each time, her driver reassured her that everything was fine.

  Of course everything was fine. Why wouldn’t it be? How silly of her.

  She shook her head and turned to study him. “I know you, don’t I?” Why did she feel like she’d asked him that already?

  “You saw me at Saraphine’s shop,” he replied, almost bored in manner. “Other than that, we have never met. But that’s okay.”

  “Yes. It is okay.” She straightened in her seat, musing that she had never before realized how okay everything was. Downright blissful. Why had she ever felt otherwise? Why had she once considered that fate was out to punish her?

  She laughed out loud.

  The man sent her a quizzical look. “What’s funny?”

  “I am a very untrusting person.”

  “And that’s funny?”

  “Yes. I should be more trusting. Everyone should be. People aren’t naturally evil,” she scoffed. “Strangers don’t always have malicious intentions. Look at you. You’re a good person. I can tell. I’m very happy to be here with you.”

  He frowned, not replying, his gaze intent on the road.

  “We’re kindred, you and I,” she said. “Don’t you feel like we’re kindred?”

  Again he didn’t reply.

  She glanced around, just now noticing the dead, darkly scorched earth surrounding them. The angle of the sun made it easy to spot the black mountains bordering the horizon ahead of them, closing in. Early on in the human/vampire wars, one of the first few uprisings had taken the life from this place. The desolation stretched for many thousands of acres. No life, little water, few entered this barren land other than to pass through.

  She turned to her driver. “What was your name again?” Once more she felt as though she was repeating a question she’d asked before.

  “Devon.”

  “That’s a nice name.” Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know anyone named Devon.”

  Again, Devon said nothing.

  “Where have I seen you before?”

  “I was at Saraphine’s shop.”

  “Right. That must be where I know you from.” She snorted. “We all thought you were a bad man.”

  “Is that so?”

  She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “People are after me. But I’m not worried about them now? Not anymore.” She let out a soft sigh and settled into her seat. “Goddess, it feels so good not to worry. I feel so free.”

  From the corner of her eye, she thought she noticed Devon’s shoulders hitch up a notch, but when she looked, he was perfectly at ease. Maybe he was just uncomfortable from driving so long. She could use a stretch herself, but it didn’t appear that they’d be stopping anytime soon as they finally entered into the narrow mountain passage.

  Dark imposing walls of compacted rock towered over both sides of the car, like immortal soldiers keeping the earth at bay.

  Some of the bedrock told the story of where the road had been hastily carved after the melee of war had torn them apart or buried them in heaps of dirt, rock, and debris. Sections were stained red as if by blood, but she knew that was the Earth’s natural color in this section of the world.

  They’d been driving all day at breakneck speeds just to get this far. Devon was clearly in a hurry, but Cora was starting to grow restless.

  Eventually, her ears began to pop from the altitude c
hange. She shivered, but she didn’t know why. The heat was blasting. Must be the sight of the snow flurries that had begun to swirl around the car, playing tricks on her mind. Plus she was still dressed in her nightshirt—one of Mason’s white button downs that fell to mid-thigh.

  Forget Autumn. Here, winter was ready to take charge.

  “Are we nearly there?”

  “Very nearly,” Devon replied, sounding almost relieved.

  “Will Mace be there when we arrive?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Will he be joining us later?”

  “I doubt it.”

  She considered that for a moment. It didn’t seem right. “Mace needs me. He must come. And just try keeping Knox away.” She rolled her eyes.

  “They are vampires,” he exclaimed, as if she hadn’t figured that out, and with a surprising amount of venom. There was also an underlying question in this tone.

  “You don’t like vampires,” she concluded.

  “I’ve never met an amiable vampire, no.”

  She perked up. Finally, something she and Devon had in common…well, until recently.

  Enthusiastically, she replied, “Me either. Not until Mace. He is wonderful, and he cares for me dearly.”

  “For your blood, you mean.”

  She smiled. “Yes, he does enjoy that part. But, to be fair, so do I.”

  Devon’s expression twisted into something like revolution.

  She bristled. “Don’t judge. It’s really quite pleasant. And Mace is gentle. Knox, however, is another story, although he hasn’t made it unbearable, which I guess is something.”

  “You feed them both…willingly?”

  She shrugged.

  “But you don’t like feeding this Knox?”

  Another shrug.

  “Yet you still do.” He sounded baffled.

  “I made a bargain. And anyway, I don’t think Knox would take no for an answer. But it’s not so bad. He’s been getting less and less obnoxious about it. And it’s easier to just let him do his thing.”

  “You give in to their stipulations?” Devon shook his head as if at a loss. “Sara said you were bonded to them, and that you are a witch.”