A Witch's Fury

by Kim Schubert

  I sucked in a breath, holding my phone delicately as though one false step on my part would end the call forever.

  “Miller,” he barked into the speaker.

  “It’s Olivia, from the Supernatural Council. We are here, where is everyone?”

  Miller grunted, “About fucking time. We are taking shelter in the high school gym. I hope you brought back up.”

  The call ended and I pulled back to see whether he had hung up on me or my luck had just run out. The “service disconnected” light flashed.

  Jerry increased the pace as best he could, weaving around the obstacles in the road. Mark navigated, having heard both sides of the conversation.

  Ten minutes later, we pulled up to the high school, a modern building entirely fenced off with light teal wrought iron. A few dead zombies littered the lot as we parked.

  “So, I guess I should have asked this sooner, but how does one kill a zombie?” Mark asked, taking careful stock of our surroundings.

  “Head shot,” I answered, checking the clips on my guns before tucking my blade back in its sheath at my back. Over the sheath I slipped two long blades. A girl could never have too many accessories.

  Mark turned. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously, or kill the necromancer, but I’d like to keep her alive if possible.”

  “I’m going to shift,” Mark announced. “It feels less creepy to kill zombies as a wolf.”

  I shrugged. “Jerry, you want a gun?”

  “I’d prefer a sword.”

  “Do you know how to use it?” I questioned, strapping throwing knives to my thigh.

  “No more than a gun.”

  Mark grunted, “Stay between us.”

  “I’m not helpless,” Jerry snapped.

  Mark sighed, “No one said you were.”

  “It was implied,” he seethed.

  “Jerry! Get your head out of your ass. Mark and I are the better fighters. You are the only magic user. We will need you once we find the necromancer.”

  Jerry turned to glare at me and I handed over a spare dagger. “Don’t hurt yourself with it.”

  With that he rolled his eyes and threw open his door, to my horror and Mark’s. He stood there for one moment before the horde descended upon us. “SHIT!” he cried out.

  Having opened his own door, Mark was throwing off clothing, his body hastily morphing from attractive male to pissed off wolf.

  I pushed my own door open and slammed it behind me, pulling both guns. I was grateful Myrtle had talked me into the extra clip compartment sewn into the harness.

  I shot two that were off to the side doing a slow shuffle to our location, being careful not to aim at Mark, who was fighting several with his massive paws. He was trying to keep the zombie filth out of his mouth. It wasn’t working.

  I took a step forward and Jerry yielded, stepping behind me as I took care of anything Mark missed, which wasn’t much.

  There were more than the original fifty-two from the graveyard. The bitch witch had been busy. A few were not human, although what race they were was beyond my knowledge. Probably something they picked up portal hopping.

  We weaved through the high school, following the steady trail of zombies. I had emptied and replaced one clip already. Taking in the scene before me, I realized I might have underestimated my ammunition needs.

  “Shit,” I hissed.

  Mark growled low in his throat padding next to me, in front of Jerry.

  The necromancer and witch weren’t in sight, but the original graveyard gang was beating mercilessly against the gym doors with slivers of glass windows. Decaying hands smashed against small sections of glass. The horde pushed forward, crushing their own kind in an attempt to feast upon living flesh.

  Little known fact: while zombies are the true undead, you still have to feed them, massive amounts of live flesh. That’s the primary reason no one fucking brings them back.

  Well, no one of intelligence.

  As one, the horde shifted, slowly, faces without eyes, mouths rotted away to reveal wasting teeth and the putrid stench of death.

  “Lord have mercy,” Jerry cried out, holding his nose.

  Mark pawed my foot. “I know,” I whispered.

  “What does he want?”

  “There isn’t enough room here for us to take them all.” I began pushing him behind me as I stepped carefully backwards, keeping my guns aimed. “We need space to kill all of them.’

  Jerry nodded once, his dark eyes nervously taking in the scene before him.

  “No time like the present,” I muttered, standing my ground as Jerry and Mark moved further back.

  I was really wishing I had taken more blades.

  The hallway was covered with floor to ceiling lockers, bright shiny paint soon to be marred with zombie guts.

  Heaving a sigh I stopped, widened my stance, placed one foot slightly ahead and began taking head shots. If I had thought of it first, we should have placed bets. Two shots plowed into their intended targets.

  Zombies as a species were not fearsome, but in large numbers they didn’t stop, didn’t rest, and didn’t care about being hurt. They were the perfect soldiers, assuming, of course, one could keep them fed.

  Where the fuck were that damn witch and necromancer? The witch might not be close by, but the necro had to be in order to give the command for the zombies to switch targets.

  Cold dread settled into my stomach.

  “Jerry, get Mark into the gym. Find the witch!” I screamed, stowing my guns and cleaving a path through the zombies for them with my twin blades.

  “Hurry!” I urged them on, hoping I wasn’t right.

  My blades twisted and turned, faster than the blasted zombies, but a fucker still latched onto my shoulder, sinking his filthy teeth into my flesh.

  With the guns I had reduced the mob in half. My swords reduced it further until only a few were left, including the asshole still attached to my shoulder. I had hoped he would dislodge with all my movements, but he was more aggressive than I guessed.

  Flipping my blade around I struck behind me, meeting the soft flesh and bone of his stomach before wrenching the blade up and to the side. The weight of the zombie lifted as I cut his legs from under him. The teeth, however, continued to gnaw.

  Disgusted, I slammed my back against the goo-covered lockers several times before he finally fell off. With a triumphant cry I hacked the head off and marched into the gym.

  Had I not just fought with a zombie attached to my shoulder, I probably would have given the whole marching in without thinking thing a little more thought.

  Instead, a blast of power had me dropping my sword and falling to my knees the moment I cleared the doors.

  “Fucking witches!” I screamed.

  Yep, I just revealed the witches to the general public. Oops.

  “Well, well, well, who do we have here?” The robe gave her away as the witch, parading in front of me. “The legendary Executioner Olivia, trapped by the simplest of spells.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” I informed the chestnut haired woman. She smiled, her brown eyes rich in swirling colors.

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  “You know, I’m not actually really particular on how it happens, just that it gets to be me.”

  She laughed again. That’s just rude. She had obviously heard of me.

  “Your mage,” she continued, heavy disgust on that word, “was no match for me, either.” She waved her hand over the limp forms of Jerry and Mark.

  “Yeah well, we all have our bad days.”

  I took in the room. I know, a little fucking late for that decision.

  The humans were huddled to the side, staying low to keep off the radar but watching with wary eyes. From my kneeling position, I could see that the children had been shoved against the far wall. The adults were trying their best to protect their small forms from the unknown danger. Steel replaced my features. Children are not to be harmed. Ever.

 
I swung my gaze to the other side of the gym, seeing the woman in white, also on her knees. Her robe was stained, the intricate silver thread designs pulled and ruined. Her hood was pulled back, revealing sunken eyes and silver hair. Her chin jutted out as her gaze remained riveted to the witch in front of me. Silver manacles circled her small wrists, connected by a delicate chain.

  Her gaze fell equally hard on me. “You’ve killed my creations.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

  She nodded, still unhappy. I was willing to bet freeing her would earn unneeded forgiveness.

  “You pain in the ass witch, what the fuck are you up to?”

  “Calling our makers,” she answered with a flourish. She held her hands out, head tilted back, insane smile on her lips.

  “Uh, who are you claiming are your makers?”

  “Why, the Fae, of course.” She withdrew her arms, tucking her hands into the wide sleeves of her robe.

  I groaned. “Why in the seven hells would you think the Fae are your makers? Please don’t tell me you believe the legend that witches are the result of a breeding experiment between the Fae and humans?”

  The witch narrowed her eyes at me, her jaw clenching. “How dare you defile our heritage!”

  “Great, now it’s an insane witch I have to deal with.”

  Jerry stirred from the pile of arms and legs he and Mark had fallen in. I glued my eyes to the super bitch, trying not to give him away.

  “You’ve clearly never met the Fae,” I taunted.

  Her eyes riveted to me, a small smile played over her lips. “You have?” Her voice had gone breathless. Quickly she crossed the distance between us.

  I swallowed my groan. “Yes.”

  “How? When? Who did you meet? How did you contact them? How?” she demanded, her eyes glassy with the mention of the Fae.

  “It’s a long story.”

  She sat down in front of me, her black satin robes swishing pristinely around her.

  “Tell me everything,” she commanded.

  “Release the humans.”

  Intelligence sparked in her eyes as she calculated my request. As she tapped her fingers against her knee, I could practically see her make a decision. Straightening her posture, she turned with an evil smile to the captive necromancer.

  “Darling, won’t you be so kind as to have her and the mage taken to our home?”

  The necromancer hissed, “I’m not your darling.” Her jaw clenched. It appeared she was physically fighting the command.

  “Oh dear, it appears the obedience spell is wearing off.” She stood in a fluid movement, brushing off her butt before moving toward the necromancer with brutal intent.

  She bent at the waist, whispering below my hearing. Jerry groaned, reaching up to hold his head. With a snap of her spine, the witch spoke four words that rendered him unconscious again.

  Great.

  “You know what, let’s bring them all,” the witch announced. I strained against the invisible bonds. She confidently stalked in front of me. “Don’t worry Executioner, I’ll leave the humans.”

  With an index finger against my forehead, she only had to utter one word to render me unconscious.

  Fucking witches, I can’t say it enough.

  Chapter 12

  My head was split in two, it had to be. There was no other explanation of the misery that regaining consciousness was causing me. Judging from the pain in my shoulder joints, I must have lost my arms along the way as well.

  With a groan, I forced my dry lids open.

  “Oh wonderful, the star is awake.”

  I groaned again. “Shut up, witch.”

  A slap rang out against my cheek, forcing my eyes closed again. My arms were bound above my head, my feet dangling on the concrete. Not unlike the vampires I had interrogated and killed.

  I opened my eyes with new vigor, seeing the necromancer in a dirty pile of blankets, resting against a stone wall. From the high, small window, I was guessing we were underground.

  Fucking hell, I had about had it with basement torture.

  Turning my attention to the bitch whose expiration date had come to my gleeful attention, my green eyes hardened.

  “Keep it up and you will beg for death.”

  She slapped the other cheek and I got to see Jerry and Mark tied to chairs.

  “Yes, we can’t have them escaping from their restraints like you did with Nari.”

  “Remind me who that was again?” I knew the answer. He was a crazed demigod taking vampires and shifters, making them insane before playing with them. The deranged asshole was hard to forget. Was there some bad guy club where fuckers commiserated about my escapes from them?

  She huffed before moving back behind the sparkling tray filled with gleaming torture devices. I grunted, lifting my head back up. If this bitch thought this was the first time I’d had my flesh sliced and diced, she was in for a surprise.

  “Now, you will refer to me as Destiny when you beg for me to stop.”

  I laughed. Jerry and Mark didn’t share my mirth.

  “Stripper name?”

  Her eyes narrowed at me, her hand coming to rest on a wickedly curved blade used for skinning animals.

  “Right to the good stuff?” I continued to taunt.

  Closing her eyes, she drew a long breath, hands lifted and elbows bent. I was fairly certain I had seen Kass do the same move in her prenatal yoga videos. She exhaled, releasing her shoulder as she did, smiling yet again.

  “Now, that’s better.” Her hand slid to a small knife, handling the blade with confidence.

  She approached Jerry with the same calm and cheerful demeanor.

  “Jerry Abbot, you have quite the reputation in the magic community. Did you know, Executioner, he had a bounty on his head—until he showed up under your protection, that is.”

  “I didn’t know that.” I turned my face the best I could, watching Jerry’s face shut down. Mark glared at him, their already turbulent relationship strained even further.

  “It’s not what you think, Olie,” Jerry stated darkly, watching Destiny closely.

  “You know what Jerry, after I get done killing this bitch, you and I are going to have a long fucking heart to heart. Whether that’s before or after Mark says his piece, I’ll leave that up to him.”

  Mark’s eyes flicked to mine. He nodded his thanks before turning back to our more pressing problems.

  Destiny laughed a soft, throaty sound. “Your confidence is unparalleled. I haven’t had a specimen so undaunted by being restrained.”

  “This isn’t my first rodeo. Why did Jerry have a bounty on his head?”

  “Oh dear, I think I will let him tell you that. Jerry, if you please.”

  “No.”

  Destiny closed the distance between our bodies, taking no time to slide the blade down my left side over my ribs.

  “FUCK!” Biting down on the pain, I tipped my head back, breathing shallowly.

  Jerry was painfully silent.

  “Tell her,” Mark warned in low tones.

  “I’m so sorry, Olivia,” Jerry whispered.

  Another precise cut split the skin on my right side. I whimpered, taking shallow breaths. Destiny pulled the blade back, my blood coating the fine metal. She looked at Jerry expectantly, the back of her head facing me.

  “We’re waiting.” Her voice was soft, as though she wasn’t carving me up because Jerry wasn’t answering her questions.

  “They will need the back story,” Jerry grunted.

  Destiny moved away from me, cleaning the blade before setting it gently into its proper place.

  Waving her arm, she encouraged, “Please continue.”

  Leaning my head against my arm, I let my body sag, braiding the pain down deep.

  With a reluctant sigh, Jerry began softly. “The first thing you need to know is that witches gather and gain power by taking it. Our power is not a skill level we are born with. The only way to advance from witch, to mage, to magi
cian is to steal.”

  I didn’t fucking know that. How had I missed that? That was HUGE. I suppose my knowledge of the other Supernatural beings wasn’t as extensive as I would like to believe.

  I looked away from him and back to the stone ceiling.

  Jerry sighed, resigned. “Needless to say, then, I’ve earned my position as Mage by taking power from others.”

  Destiny tsked, “You are leaving out the best part. Tell them whom you took it from.” Her voice hardened on the command.

  “Everyone,” Jerry responded.

  “Everyone weaker!” Destiny yelled.

  Jerry gave no response.

  “How many families did you ruin? You didn’t have to kill them all!” Destiny was livid, clutching a wide knife in her hand until her knuckles whitened amidst her tan skin. “You didn’t have to kill them,” she sobbed.

  Throwing the knife down, she stomped out of the basement and out of sight.

  I said nothing, still staring at the dark stone above me.

  “How many?” Mark asked.

  Jerry was silent.

  “How many?” Mark roared.

  “I lost count.” Jerry admitted. “You don’t understand.”

  “Help me to,” Mark begged. Like me, he wanted there to be more to the story. We wanted Jerry not to be the heartless killer Destiny portrayed him as.

  “We have more pressing problems,” the necromancer cut in. “How do you plan to survive this?”

  I grunted. She was right.

  Closing my eyes, I pushed the pain in my ribs down again, hating how much energy I was wasting on the task. “Do you know where we are?”

  “No, I’ve been blindfolded.”

  “I’m assuming you tried screaming for help?”

  “While I’m not proud to admit it, yes I did.” The softness of her voice had me cutting a glance her way. The regretful way she held her head was telling.

  “The good news is we left a whole gym full of witnesses who can report back to Grams.”

  “Grams, this is your handler?” the necro asked.

  “Correct.”

  She nodded thoughtfully.

  “The containment spell she placed on the gym will not be broken until the next dawn.”

  I groaned. “So we are on our own. How did you get trapped? I thought necromancers were innately powerful.”