Evernight

by Donna Grant

  “From everything I’ve heard about the Hunters, I expected more from you,” the witch stated.

  Synne smiled, more at ease than she had ever been in her life. “Everyone has to deal with disappointment.”

  The witch peeled back her lips in a fake half-laugh. “Very funny. I’ve been tracking you for days. If I’d known how easy it would be to kill you, I would’ve taken my time to reach you.”

  “If I’m so easy to kill, what are you waiting for?”

  “You can’t be the one who has killed three of us.”

  Synne shrugged and glanced skyward. “That’s me.”

  The witch’s gaze narrowed as she stared. “Then why aren’t you preparing to fight me?”

  “Who says I’m not?”

  “Stop toying with me.”

  Synne couldn’t stop the smile on her face. She didn’t want to look Lachlan’s way, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. Could he hear their conversation? Did he realize that she had things under control? He must. Otherwise, he would’ve already made himself known. “Aren’t witches the ones usually toying with their prey? It doesn’t feel good, does it?”

  “Just for that, I’m going to make your death painful.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  The witch pulled up her hands as deep orange magic flared between her palms. Synne was on her feet in the next instant with an arrow nocked and pointed at the witch.

  “Impressive,” the witch said with a smile. “It’s almost too bad that you have to die.”

  Synne twisted her lips. “I don’t feel the same about you. You deserve what’s coming. You chose the wrong side.”

  The witch laughed as the magic grew, expanding as she pulled her hands apart. “We can’t be stopped. You should accept what’s coming.”

  “I fight for the freedom of all,” Synne stated. “And I stand against those who would kill without thought or mercy.”

  “You would’ve been a great witch,” the woman said and flung the magic at her.

  27

  The way Synne moved was mesmerizing. Lachlan was awed at the ease in which she flipped her body to miss the magic thrown at her. Then land and fire off an arrow before nocking another. He’d known that she was agile by the way she climbed the trees and that she had hinted at different training, but Lachlan had never seen anything like this before.

  “The Hunters are very skilled,” the man said.

  Lachlan’s gaze followed Synne as she ducked, rolled, flipped, and spun around the witch, who turned in circles, trying to hit Synne with magic. Unfortunately, none of Synne’s arrows had found their mark yet.

  “Synne said that she never misses her mark. This is the second witch she’s faced that she can’t strike,” Lachlan said.

  The man made a sound in the back of his throat. “This witch is using magic to move the arrows out of the way. I bet the other did, as well.”

  “Then Synne needs help.”

  “Does it look like she needs anything?”

  Lachlan looked back at his woman. In fact, it appeared as if Synne had things well in hand. He realized as she moved around the witch that Synne was getting closer and closer to her. Lachlan couldn’t wait to see her finish off the woman.

  “Come,” the man said.

  Lachlan frowned. “I thought you said that Synne didna need help.”

  “She doesn’t. I do. More witches are coming.”

  With one last look at Synne, Lachlan followed him. As he fell in step behind the warlock, Lachlan realized that the man had never given his name, said anything about the Varroki or Blackglade, nor had he done anything to help Synne.

  Lachlan halted suddenly. “Where are the other warriors?”

  The man didn’t turn around. “You and I can take care of the witches that are coming.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I told you. A friend.”

  “I want your name.”

  This time, the man stopped. He slowly turned to face Lachlan so the light from the rising moon fell upon his face. “I could say any name. How would you know I spoke the truth?”

  “I doona think anything you’ve said is the truth.”

  The man chuckled. “You’re smarter than you look, though it took you long enough to catch on.”

  Lachlan stared in bewilderment as the man before him shifted into a woman. Three others came out of the darkness then. He widened his stance and looked at all four of them. “If you think to frighten me, it’ll take more than that.”

  “Did you really think I was some Varroki come to save you and that Hunter?” the witch who had pretended to be a man asked. “How pathetic.”

  The shortest of the group eyed him. “Maybe, but he is handsome. I’d like to have him in my bed for the night.”

  “As if you’d get first pick, Gelda,” the oldest of the group snapped.

  The first one rolled her eyes and said, “Gelda. Hester. Enough. At least Ruth is smart enough to keep her mouth shut.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “The only thing the four of you are getting this night is death.”

  “Oh, I do like your spirit,” the leader said. “Too bad you have to die.”

  They came at him together. Lachlan threw his dagger, but one of the witches easily moved it aside. He lifted his sword, shielding himself as their bodies and magic reached him. Lachlan braced himself in a lunge, but even still, he slid back in the snow and dirt. The witches bounced from his sword and lay sprawled around him.

  Lachlan didn’t hesitate to plunge his blade into the one nearest him. Her scream stopped mid-cry as she turned to ash. The other three stared in shock. The leader was the first to gather herself and come at him again, this time with only magic.

  He blocked it, only to move his blade in time to stop two more shots of power sent by the other witches. Lachlan used Synne’s technique and maneuvered himself closer and closer to the witches until he was able to spin and lunge, piercing Hester’s heart.

  The witch burst into ash just as a man came out of nowhere, landing beside Lachlan and battling the remaining two witches. The man struck Gelda down in short order, and then joined Lachlan to take out the leader. Lachlan didn’t stay to find out who the man was. He turned and ran back to check on Synne, except she was no longer near the fire.

  Lachlan scanned the area and caught sight of movement in the dark, seconds before Synne rushed to him and flung herself into his arms. He held her tightly, thankful that both of them had survived another attack.

  “You were amazing,” he said as he drew back to kiss her.

  She smiled up at him, but before she could reply, her gaze moved to the side. “Armir,” she said in greeting.

  The man bowed his head of blond hair. Lachlan saw that it was shaved on either side with various tattoos showing. The rest of his hair was gathered in a queue at the top of his head and bound with leather strips every few inches.

  “Lachlan, this is Armir, the second in command of the Varroki, and a formidable warlock,” Synne said. “Armir, this is Lachlan MacCullum, the best warrior of his clan.”

  “I saw his skills,” Armir said as his gaze moved to Lachlan. “You’re very good.”

  “I appreciate the assist.”

  “I’m not sure you needed it,” Armir said with a grin, then he held out his hand.

  They clasped forearms as Synne looked on with a smile.

  “Come,” Armir said. “Let’s get the two of you to Blackglade.”

  In short order, Lachlan and Synne had their horses and were getting ready to leave when Armir paused and turned his head to Synne. The silent way the warlock watched her put Lachlan on guard.

  “What is it?” Lachlan demanded.

  Synne glanced at them as she settled the reins over the mare’s head. She quirked a brow at Armir. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  “What happened to the witch you were fighting?” the warlock asked instead.

  Lachlan immediately became defensive. His lips parted as
he readied to give Armir a piece of his mind, but at the last moment, he held off. His gaze swung to Synne.

  “What?” she asked as she looked between them. “Both of you are staring at me as if you don’t know me.”

  Armir lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I know you very little, actually.”

  Synne then turned her attention to Lachlan. “And you? What’s your excuse?”

  Lachlan thought about the days he’d spent with Synne. From the first moment he’d met her, she’d been fiery and determined. She gave all of herself in everything she did, including lovemaking. She had been winning against the witch before Lachlan’s attention was diverted.

  “You can’t be serious,” Synne said, a hint of anger and confusion in her voice. “Lachlan, you know me.”

  He blew out a breath as the fire he’d been about to put out crackled between them. “I was tricked by a witch moments ago. She made me believe that she was a man, a Varroki. I saw her transform right before my eyes into a woman as three more witches came at me.”

  “I can see how they would trick you since you didn’t know Armir or any of the Varroki, but you can’t say that about me.”

  No, he couldn’t. And yet…he found himself unable to decide. He looked around for any ash from the witch and found nothing.

  Armir said nothing as his gaze remained locked on Synne.

  “Tell me about the battle,” Lachlan urged Synne. “Tell me how you defeated the witch because I doona see any ash.”

  “Because I didn’t get a chance to kill her. She got away.”

  It was possible that Synne spoke the truth. Lachlan wanted to believe her, but he wasn’t sure he could.

  Synne walked from the mare and came to stand beside him. She took his hands in hers and gazed into his eyes. The red-orange glow of the flames danced around them, casting dark shadows across her face. “You felt my kiss. Did I taste different?”

  “Nay,” he replied with a shake of his head.

  “The Varroki have kept themselves hidden from the Coven. How would I know Armir unless I’d met him?”

  Lachlan looked at the warlock, but Armir wouldn’t look away from Synne. Lachlan’s eyes slid back to the woman he loved. “I doona think I’m the only one you need to convince.”

  “You’re the only one I care about. You told me I had your heart,” she said in a soft voice.

  He couldn’t believe he had doubted Synne, all because Armir—a man he didn’t know—looked at her oddly. For all Lachlan knew, Armir was the one who wasn’t who he said he was. Lachlan smiled at Synne and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, lass. I doona know what I was thinking.”

  In the next breath, Lachlan was thrown to the side. He gave a shake of his head to clear it and searched for the culprit to find Armir standing over Synne with his hand outstretched above her. Words Lachlan didn’t recognize fell from the warlock’s lips. Shocked to his core, Lachlan half-crawled, half-ran toward Synne.

  Armir’s shout of, “Nay,” stopped Lachlan in his tracks. The warlock’s pale green eyes landed on Lachlan as he jerked his chin to the left. Lachlan followed it and saw his sword lying near Synne’s outstretched hand.

  Lachlan reached behind him, but even before his hand came up empty, he knew that was his sword on the ground. He hadn’t felt Synne reach for it, hadn’t felt the blade being drawn from its scabbard.

  “This isn’t Synne,” Armir stated.

  Synne—or whoever it was—began to laugh, the sound evil and cold enough to chill Lachlan to his bones.

  Armir’s lips peeled back as he glared at the woman. “Who are you?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Lachlan got to his feet as rage pounded through him. “What did you do with Synne?”

  The face Lachlan had come to love turned to him, and while this woman looked like Synne—and even sounded like her—it wasn’t her.

  “I’ll never tell,” the witch replied with a smirk.

  Lachlan strode to his sword and grasped it before he turned to the witch. “Oh, you’ll tell,” he threatened, the blade at her throat.

  The witch threw back her head and laughed.

  The sound was suddenly cut off. Lachlan frowned, not understanding why he could see the witch laughing but no longer hear her.

  “I didn’t want to listen to her anymore,” Armir said. “I used a spell that will keep her imprisoned and unable to hear us.”

  Lachlan could barely fathom what was happening. He looked to the warlock as Armir pivoted and walked away, keeping his back to the witch. After a moment, Lachlan joined him.

  “When you speak, keep your back to her,” Armir cautioned. “She might not be able to hear us, but she could read our lips.”

  “Bloody hell,” Lachlan mumbled and ran a hand down his face.

  Armir blew out a breath. “I can’t take you to Blackglade now.”

  “I would do the same in your shoes.”

  “We know it’s only a matter of time before the Coven finds us, but I’m more concerned with why the witch wanted your sword.”

  Lachlan glanced at the weapon in his hand. “Synne told me a bone of the First Witch was in the hilt.”

  Armir’s eyes widened. “Did you know this?”

  “Nay.”

  “And how did Synne come to learn this?”

  Lachlan fought not to look back at the witch in the hopes that it was Synne there. “From a Gira named Asrail who claims to be her grandmother.”

  “Interesting,” Armir said to himself as he looked away. He caught Lachlan’s gaze and said, “If you do hold something of the First Witch, you need to get to Blackglade immediately before Sybbyl finds out. She’s close.”

  “I’m no’ going anywhere without Synne.”

  A woman with flaxen hair and gray eyes suddenly appeared before them. “Actually, you are.”

  28

  “Easy,” a voice said as Synne tried to open her eyes.

  She recognized the woman’s voice but couldn’t put a face to it. Her body felt weighed down as if something were making sure she couldn’t rise.

  “The spell will wear off, but you’ve got to give it time, Synne.”

  She licked her lips and tried to talk but couldn’t find a voice for her words. Synne attempted to open her eyes again and managed to see a glimpse of bright light before her lids fell shut once more.

  “You’re safe now,” the voice told her. “Be easy. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  It didn’t matter what the woman said, Synne wasn’t going to believe anything until she saw it for herself. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t force her eyes to open or move her body. Even as the blackness pulled her under, she fought until she couldn’t fight anymore.

  When Synne next came awake, she lay still. Her body still felt heavy, but not as bad as before. Fire crackled. The smell of fresh bread and herbs filled the air. Someone hummed lightly while a spoon scraped the sides of a bowl. Footsteps moved about short distances, coming from the same direction as the humming.

  There was a fog around Synne’s mind that she wanted gone so she could remember.

  Aye! You need to remember!

  The thought that went through her mind made her blood freeze in her veins. Something had happened, but…what? She needed to be somewhere, there was someone she needed to be with.

  A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder. “Easy.”

  The same woman as before. It did little to soothe Synne’s nerves. If anything, the woman made things worse by not telling Synne what she wanted to know.

  “You took a heavy dose of magic meant to kill you. It’s only because of who you are that you’re still alive.”

  This time when Synne tried to open her eyes, her lids obeyed. She looked up at the ceiling of a small cottage with dried herbs hanging everywhere. Synne turned her head and found herself staring into brown eyes that she felt she was supposed to know.

  The woman smiled. “It’ll take you a little longe
r before your memory returns. I’m Elin.”

  Synne remembered the name. “Asrail told me.”

  “Aye, Asrail,” Elin said, her smile brighter.

  When Synne tried to rise, Elin was there to help her sit up. Synne had never been so weak before, and she didn’t like it. It took Elin helping her hold the cup for her to drink the water. Even that little bit of effort tired her out. Elin used some pillows so Synne could prop herself up.

  “You had me worried,” Elin told her as she got to her feet. She walked to the kitchen area of the tiny cottage and asked, “Hungry? I’ve made some soup.”

  Until that moment, Synne hadn’t realized that she was famished. “Please.”

  Elin began dishing out some of the liquid into a bowl.

  “Tell me what happened,” Synne asked.

  The witch said nothing as she returned to the bed and sat on the stool beside it. She pursed her lips. “You need to give yourself some time.”

  “I don’t think I have it.”

  “That blast of magic you took was meant to kill you.”

  Synne leaned her head back against the pillows and blew out a breath. “But I’m alive.”

  “Barely. Have you heard nothing I’ve said?”

  She turned her head to look at Elin. “Every word. Now, tell me what I’m missing.”

  Elin set the bowl on her lap and lowered her eyes to the floor. A moment later, she met Synne’s gaze. “Do you remember meeting me?”

  “I do.”

  “And Asrail?”

  With every question, the fog thinned. Synne nodded. “She claims to be my grandmother.”

  “She is your grandmother.”

  Synne remained silent, waiting for Elin to continue.

  The witch filled a spoon with broth and brought it to Synne’s lips. Only after Synne had taken it did Elin speak again. “After you departed, Asrail wanted to follow you to make sure you remained safe. I convinced her to remain where she was and said that I would trail you. I caught up with you when you stopped for the night.”

  “Wait,” Synne said with a frown. Something was missing, something she was supposed to know. She closed her eyes and thought back to meeting Asrail, and how she couldn’t wait to get back to… The name escaped her, and no matter how hard she tried to see the face, she couldn’t.