Witch Hunter

by Shannon Curtis

  “I am a witch,” she said earnestly.

  Jacob shook his head. She wasn’t sure if it was in denial, disbelief or disappointment.

  “I just didn’t tell anyone,” she said lamely.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said, and looked at Dave.

  “Oh, believe her.” Dave smiled, but there was no humor in it. “For the record, so am I.”

  Jacob closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, Sully saw the betrayal, the desolation in his eyes. And felt yay-high to a slug.

  “You lied,” he said in a harsh whisper.

  She blinked back the tears his tone, his words, brought forth. “Yes,” she admitted.

  “You pretended you were normal,” he accused her.

  She opened her mouth. Paused. “When I’m with you guys, I am,” she told him truthfully.

  Jacob straightened and brought his arms forward to fold them across his broad chest. “You’ve lived among us for four years, Sully,” he said, his voice low and harsh. “And that whole time you never hinted at what you really were.” His lips pressed tightly together, and he looked out at the shadows lengthening down the street. “Did Jenny know?” He didn’t look at her directly, but kept his gaze fixed on the middle distance.

  This time she couldn’t blink fast enough to stop the hot tears that spilled down her cheeks. “No,” she whispered, ashamed.

  Jacob’s gaze slid to her, and her lips trembled when she saw the accusation in his eyes. “Liar,” he rasped.

  She flinched, then looked away. “I know. I’m so sorr—”

  “Jenny’s dead,” he hissed. “My father. Susanne—we all welcomed you. We trusted you.”

  Sully squeezed her eyes shut, her heart clamping at the pain, the grief she heard in her friend’s voice.

  “There’s more,” she said, her voice catching. She glanced up at him. She had to tell him. She had to—oh, this was hell.

  Dave’s hand squeezed her shoulder, and she felt the comfort, the reassurance, the strength.

  “The man doing this...is my—” her stomach clenched, and the muscles tightened in her jaw. “He’s my ex.”

  Jacob’s eyes rounded, and he stepped forward.

  Dave drew her back behind him, shifting forward to stand toe-to-toe to Jacob, meeting his gaze directly. “Calm down.”

  Jacob’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t tell me to calm down,” he said through gritted teeth. He glared at Sully over Dave’s shoulder. “Is this guy here because of you?”

  “I—I think so,” she whispered.

  Jacob swore and closed his eyes in pain.

  “I’m so sorry, Jacob,” she cried.

  “Go.” Jacob turned back toward the front door.

  “But—”

  “Sully, just...go.”

  Dave glanced over his shoulder at her, and his brows dipped. He turned back to Jacob.

  “You need to hear her out.”

  Jacob turned on the witch, his expression fierce as he grasped the lapels of Dave’s jacket. “I said g—”

  Dave moved fast. Grasping the other man’s wrist, he twisted his body—and Jacob’s arms, and shoved Jacob’s chest against the wall, the man’s arm twisted behind his back. Sully gasped.

  “This guy is not a friend of Sully’s,” he whispered harshly. “She left him for good reason, and she never believed he’d come anywhere near her. She risked her life to work with you guys, to help you guys, and from the moment I’ve met her, she’s only wanted to keep you all safe. I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re angry. Calm down, and hear her out.”

  Jacob tried to struggle, but Dave shoved him back against the wall until the man stopped resisting. He looked over at Sully. “Go on.” He nodded encouragement.

  Sully took a deep breath. “He’s coming after more nulls. He needs to kill three more purebloods to complete his spell.”

  Jacob stilled. She had his attention. “We believe we can stop him,” she said, “but we’ll need your help.”

  Chapter 20

  Dave dabbed at the pinpricks on the wrist, then smiled at the tear-streaked face of the six-year-old red-haired pureblood. “All done, Noah. And you have a badass tatt to impress the girls when you’re older,” he said, and winked. He glanced briefly at the boy’s father, and he smiled hesitantly back as he rubbed his son’s back. Before tonight, he’d never tattooed a kid. Now he’d worked on four. Inflicting pain on kids was now on his “never do again” list.

  The boy sniffed, and gave a tremulous smile as he glanced down at the white-inked tattoo. Dave reached for the antiseptic soap and gave the markings a gentle wash. Within minutes he’d taped the adhesive bandages to the boy’s wrist. The tattoo was an ancient rune quaternary design, a protective shield. Simple, but effective.

  “Does this mean I won’t die?” the boy inquired tentatively.

  Dave looked up at him, then raised his sunglasses to the top of his head. This was the son of one of the victims—a woman who’d been killed at Sully’s house. No wonder the kid was concerned. His mother had been murdered by this sick prick. “This means that you will forever have the witches protecting you,” he told the boy in a low voice, his tone sincere. “This guy won’t be able to come near you.”

  “Are you going after him?”

  Dave nodded. “Yeah.”

  The boy frowned, worried. “Aren’t you scared?”

  Dave tilted his head, assessing the kid. He could appreciate that, living in such a tight-knit community as this null one, the boy had heard about the recent murders, and was scared—as well he should be.

  But Dave had discovered he didn’t like kids to be scared.

  Dave lifted his chin in the direction of the boy’s wrist. “That tattoo makes you pretty badass,” he said, and lifted up his T-shirt to reveal his own markings. “These make me the king of badass.”

  The boy’s eyes rounded, and he nodded. Dave dropped the garment, then grinned. “Get going.” He gestured to the door, and turned back to clean up and put away his portable tattoo kit.

  The bathroom door opened, and the kid ran out. His father followed, mouthing “thank you” to him as she went.

  Sully peered around the doorjamb. “That was the last one. Can I get you anything?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” Dave answered as he gently placed the needles onto a little tray, and poured some bleach over them. He snapped the lid on the tray. He’d have to clean and sterilize them properly back at the motel room.

  He carefully loaded the kit into his backpack and turned. Sully was waiting patiently, but it was the older woman behind her that drew his gaze. His eyebrows rose. “Mrs. Forsyth.”

  Jacob’s mother smiled tremulously. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she told him. He could feel heat fill his cheeks, and he cleared his throat.

  “I wanted to say I’m so sorry about your husband, and Jenny,” he said in a low voice. If he’d managed to catch him the day he’d first attacked Jenny, or any of the other times before, he would have been able to prevent the deaths of half of her family. Sully had it all wrong. It wasn’t her fault her friends were dead. It was his.

  He ducked his head as he walked past, but halted when Mrs. Forsyth touched his arm. He looked down at her. Her wrist also bore the adhesive bandages of one of his recent white-ink tattoos. She was so tiny, so frail. How the hell could such a petite woman spawn a giant douche like Jacob?

  She smiled sadly as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “You’re a good man,” she told him in a low voice. Her smile broadened, although it was slightly shaky. “Even if you are a witch.”

  His lips curved briefly. She patted his cheek. “I know you had nothing to do with Jenny’s and Jack’s deaths. Neither did Sully.” She reached her other hand out and grasped Sully’s hand. “You both need to believe that.”

  Sully closed her eyes, her f
ace pained. Mrs. Forsyth pulled them both in for a group hug. “It’s not necessary, but if you need it, you have my forgiveness.” She took a deep breath, then stepped back from them. “Now, you hunt that bastard down.”

  She patted Dave once more, hard enough to make him blink, then turned and shuffled down the hall.

  He took a deep breath. That tiny little null had just given him more tenderness than his coven elder mother ever had. He frowned. It made him feel...weird. He shuddered. God, he was getting as sooky over these folks as Sully was. Yeesh.

  He stretched his neck, then eyed the woman next to him. She wore the same weary expression he suspected he did. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  They’d been at the Forsyth home for hours. Jacob had rounded up as many purebloods as he could find, but they knew there were still some who hadn’t been inked—and that ink would mean the difference between life and death.

  He’d been a little wary when suggesting this option for the purebloods. Tattooing involved injecting ink beneath the skin—resulting in a minor contamination of the blood. Most of the shadow breeds would have balked at tainting their bloodlines, but the nulls didn’t seem to have an issue with it. And Jacob had been the first to accept the offer, showing his mother it didn’t hurt “that much”. Dave winced. He’d developed a basic design—something that could be done quickly so that more nulls could be protected in a short time, but also to try to limit the level of discomfort, especially for the kids.

  Sully slid her arm around his and gave him a gentle smile. “That looks like it was tiring.”

  Dave shrugged. “Meh. I think that was a record for me.” He’d worked quickly and consistently, and had managed to imprint the warded tattoo onto almost all of the purebloods in this area. He’d be coming back in the morning to work on anyone else who came forward. It was the Harvest Festival, with streets blocked off and stalls already being assembled. The nulls were determined to go ahead with the celebration. Which meant there’d be lots of purebloods walking the street fair, among many others. A skinshifter would be next to damn near impossible to locate in such a large crowd. All the witch would have to do is come into physical contact with a person, and he’d be able to take on their facade. It would be like having a haystack and looking for the needle—no, the ax—no, now the nail...

  At least, if Dave was a skinshifter, that’s how he’d do it. But with this protection ward tattooed onto the purebloods, they’d both tainted the blood supply with ink, which meant technically the purebloods were no longer pure of blood, but they also had a blocking ward to prevent attacks.

  Take that, skinshifter.

  They just needed to make sure they found all of the purebloods. If there were three left untattooed, this witch could still complete his spell. And that would make it incredibly hard for Dave to send him to the Other Realm. Sully claimed Mental Marty—his name for the witch, not hers—wasn’t a skilled witch. He wasn’t so sure he’d agree. He’d managed to come up with a really twisted plan, find an ancient spell and become almost undetectable in the process. It was like hunting and fighting a shadow—a shadow that had proven time and time again just how lethal he could be. Sully was so damn lucky she’d escaped him when she did.

  He eyed her. Sully had dark circles under her eyes, and that crooked pout was just a little more pronounced, the lines a little more drawn, her complexion just a little more pale.

  “You look tired.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He winced. Oops. “Sorry. But it’s understandable.” She’d had very little sleep since Jenny’s murder, and had startled awake with nightmares. “Do you need to recharge?”

  Witches used nature to feed their energy. Finding a place to sit with exposure to the elements...sun, wind, rain, earth. Even moonlight helped. It was a chance to be still, to meditate and to become a little more present. After his inking marathon, he could do with a recharge, too.

  She nodded. “That sounds great. I usually go the headland at the end of my street, but...” She shrugged, wincing.

  He nodded. Her home was still classed as a crime scene, and she wasn’t technically permitted access to it. If you followed the rules.

  He didn’t really follow the rules.

  “Sounds great. Let’s go.”

  Sully led him downstairs, but she halted when she saw Jacob coming out of the living room. The tall man paused when he saw them, his eyes on Sully. Dave stiffened. If this guy was going to threaten Sully—

  The fisherman shoved his hands in his jeans pockets as he took a step toward Sully. He gazed sheepishly at her for a moment, then sighed. “Sully, I’m so sorry—”

  “Shh,” Sully said, shaking her head. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

  “No, I do. You were Jen’s friend, you’re my friend. I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

  “You had every right to—” Sully’s words were cut off when the big man swept her up in a bear hug.

  “No, I didn’t. I was being a royal dick.”

  Dave’s eyebrows rose. Well, he wasn’t about to argue with a royal dick.

  Sully hugged Jacob back. “You’ve lost your sister and your father,” she whispered. “And you’re my friend. You can always speak freely with me, especially when I deserve it.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  Jacob lifted his gaze, and met Dave’s over Sully’s head. Dave arched an eyebrow. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give the guy a hall pass for being a royal dick. Sully had been so worried, so heartsick about telling the nulls the truth. And the big jerk had hurt her feelings when she was already feeling so much pain and guilt over the recent deaths.

  But the big jerk had just lost his sister and family. He guessed if Sully could cut Jacob some slack, he could, too. He relaxed his features when he met Jacob’s gaze. And then realized the man’s hands were smoothing down Sully’s back. Dave narrowed his gaze. Well, there went that warm and fuzzy moment. He narrowed his eyes as he met Jacob’s, and this time it was Jacob’s eyebrows who rose.

  He gave Sully one more squeeze, then set her back. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

  Sully ducked her head and nodded as she stepped past.

  Dave made to follow her, but stopped when Jacob stuck out his hand. “Thank you,” the fisherman said sincerely. Dave eyed the extended hand. Aw, darn. The royal dick was being halfway decent. He grasped the man’s hand and shook it, giving him a nod, then he followed Sully out into the night.

  He handed her a helmet, and within minutes they were back on the coast road. The motel was on the other side of town, so passing Sully’s home and pulling in at the headland was virtually on the way.

  He slowly drove past the house. It sat, dark and silent, at the end of the street, the crime scene tape blocking off the drive fluttering in the night’s breeze.

  He pulled over onto the grassy verge, and waited for Sully to dismount before doing so himself. He removed his sunglasses and gazed out over the water. Light gray clouds drifted slowly across the sky. Stars glittered, and the moon cast a silver swathe across the water. The breeze was soft and still bearing the final warmth of a summer on the wane.

  He sucked in a deep breath. Held it. Slowly exhaled. Salt and sweet blossoms. He glanced about. Yep. Sully’s garden backed up to the fence.

  “What do you think?” Sully asked as she sat cross-legged on the grass. He joined her. He could feel the night dew soaking through his jeans.

  He looked out over the water. “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly. Even if he did have a wet seat.

  They sat there for a while, soaking in the serenity. Dave’s lips curved. No wonder this area was called Serenity Cove.

  He tilted his head back, enjoying the feel of the breeze ruffling his short hair and the stretch of his neck muscles after the long day of bending over to ink up nulls. He watched the stars for a moment, t
hen closed his eyes. He put aside his thoughts on Mental Marty, his very grave concerns that Sully’s ex would find an unprotected pureblood—or worse, get desperate when he couldn’t, and strike out in a much more dangerous and lethal way. He put aside his thoughts on Jacob, of the teeniest spark of jealousy that had awoken when the man wrapped his arms around Sully... He put aside the torment of fulfilling another task for the Ancestors, and the self-doubt and guilt over the six people already killed by the target he had yet to dispatch.

  He let nature have its way, let the calm and peace soak in, let the delight in a breeze against his skin take hold. He opened himself up, dissolving his mental wards, letting the energy gently roll in to fill his reserves.

  He sensed a lightness, a warmth that was sweet and pure, with the cooling edges of worry and anxiety.

  Sully.

  Instinctively, he touched those cooler, darker edges with his own energy, feeding her reassurance as he drew in her worries to make them his own—and then realized what he was doing.

  He snapped his eyes open and sat bolt upright. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. After what she’d told her relationship with Marty, he could well understand her resistance to link with another witch, to have that witch consume anything from her, especially without her permission. They hadn’t fully linked, but he’d forged a connection, one that hadn’t been invited.

  Sully sucked in a breath, her gaze fixed on the sea that glittered with silver diamonds under the moonlight.

  “It’s—it’s okay,” she said in a small voice.

  “No, no it’s not. You’ve never invited me in, and after hearing about Marty, I understand that. I—I didn’t intend for that to happen.”

  She nodded, and her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth again. She tilted her head, and it was almost as though she was wanting to look at him, but trying to avoid him at the same time.

  “You—last night you—” She sucked in a breath, and he watched as her breasts quivered beneath her cotton camisole top.