“Brain damage?” Phoenix the tackless asked.
Axel said, “Yes. Darcy is going to try to find a witch to help her.”
“It may take awhile.” Darcy's voice came over the speakers. “Crone hasn't popped up yet.”
“Ah, there's my eavesdropping witch.” He had figured she'd listen in.
“Darcy,” Sutton said, “are you still mad at me?”
Axel zeroed in on Sutton. “What did you do?”
“You told me to keep an eye on her. Hannah came into your room and I told her she should go back downstairs. She used witchcraft to disconnect the monitor so I couldn't see her with the webcam.”
“I was just looking at Axel's iPod! I wasn't doing anything to it. I was just looking at his music.”
Axel winced. “Darcy, he wasn't accusing you of anything. No one cares if you were looking at my iPod.”
She didn't answer. Didn't say another word.
Joe said, “She uses her iPod to block out the noise in her head. I found it outside the mortuary door the night she went missing.”
He looked back to the laptop where the mike was. “Why the hell didn't you tell me, Darcy?”
Nothing. She wasn't talking to him, again.
His mom walked back in. “I'm going to make Darcy some tea.” She looked at Axel.
He put his hand over the sensitive speaker that picked up their voices.
Filling the kettle with water, she said, “She's desperately trying to get something from the tapestry, but no luck. Crone isn't around and Darcy can't reach her. She's on her last nerve. She's threatened the cat on the tapestry if he doesn't talk to her.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Put something in her tea to relax her, Mom. She took a hell of a lot of pain from me to heal the knife wound.”
Shutting off the water, Eve looked at him. “It might slow her down.”
“We're not trying to kill her,” he snapped. Closing his eyes, he said, “If she's in too much pain, she won't be able to center and connect with her powers. I didn't stop her when I should have.”
She put the kettle on the stove, and then put her hand on Axel's arm. “It's more than that. She's afraid of what she's going to get from the tapestry.”
He shifted his gaze to Joe.
The man's expression was guarded. After a few seconds he got up and walked over. “Can she hear?”
Axel shrugged. “I have the mike covered but your cousin is resourceful.”
“Her dad, her adoptive dad, told her over and over that she was evil. That her bio-mom threw her away because she was a little heathen, a pagan, an evil child. He wouldn't let Darcy touch him, ever. When Aunt Eileen, that's Darcy's mom, would get sick, he'd blame Darcy and tell her she made her mom sick because she brought the bad stuff to the family. Darcy would get more scared, and she'd do stuff like talk to people who weren't there, or sneak out back in the middle of the night and talk to herself. When he caught her, he'd lock her in the hall closet away from the moonlight, or any light at all.”
Axel heard the roar of his fury, and the scream of his hawk. They both wanted to hunt and kill the man who had hurt Darcy. “Her mother allowed this?”
“Aunt Eileen? Hell no. She didn't know. She'd be in the hospital or laid up in bed. Darcy never told her when she was well because she didn't want to make her sick again. She begged me not to tell her either. It pretty much stopped by the time I got old enough to really understand what he was doing to her. Or I'd have stopped it myself.”
Axel believed Joe would have. He knew that Darcy had repressed her powers, and she'd found a way to cope in a mortal family that didn't understand. Now she was facing a new fear. “She's afraid she's going to find out from the tapestry that he was right.” It wasn't a question.
Joe nodded, refilled his coffee cup, and returned to the table.
To his mom, he said, “No synthetic drugs, she can't tolerate them. Put in some herbs. When you're down there, find out what more she needs from us.” He wanted to go down there and ask her himself, but he was too edgy. The compulsion for her blood burned his skin. And the need to strip her naked and claim her pounded inside of him with each beat of his heart.
He had to go to the club. For Darcy's safety, he had to go find a willing woman. Or two. Though he knew in his gut that there weren't enough women to cool his need for Darcy.
He wanted, he needed the witch.
“I'll take care of her and ask her what she needs,” Eve said while crushing some herbs and adding them to the steeping tea leaves.
He met his mom's stare, knew she was reading the tension in him, that she understood as well as any mortal could. It gave him the strength to wrench his thoughts from Darcy. He took his hand off the mike. “Okay, we need to research Morgan's husband. Phoe nix, find the bastard.”
Phoenix nodded. “Oh, yeah, good times.”
Morgan said, “You can find him? I can't even tell you his name.”
Ram said from his block on the screen, “We're running a search now. We'll see if you have a valid marriage license.”
Phoenix added, “I'll find him, blondie. It's what I do.”
Morgan's mouth fell open.
Axel rolled his eyes. “Phoenix's a bounty hunter. He tracks down scum all the time.”
Key grinned. “Hanging out with all that scum is why he doesn't know how to talk to women.”
Phoenix shot back, “You're all talk, Key. I'm more a man of action, the kind of action that has women coming back for more.”
“Enough,” Axel said.
Sutton cut in, “I have something.” He looked up at Morgan. “Can you read a name and tell me if it's your husband?”
“I don't know. I think …” She frowned, huddling deeper in the jacket.
Sutton said, “Don't think about it. I just want you to tell me if this name looks right.”
ERIC REED scrolled across the screen, then faded, replaced by the pictures of the four men.
Morgan's square jaw tightened, and lines appeared around her mouth. “Yes.”
Joe put his arm around her. “Morgan, how old are you?”
Axel knew Joe was shifting her train of thought to a pattern that wouldn't hurt. “Twenty-eight.”
His mom came back upstairs and sat next to Morgan.
Ram looked up from the screen he was working on. “You were an on-air reporter in San Diego?”
Her face eased. “Yes. For almost three years. I was working on a big story about some missing women who never turned up, and my instincts were screaming, 'serial killer’ when I started having headaches and forgetting things. It got worse and then I had these cuts …” She brought her fingers up and rubbed her temples.
Axel said, “Mom, can you show Morgan a place where she can rest? She's been through enough.”
“No, wait. Damn it!” She dropped her hands and took a breath. “I didn't know where the marks on my stomach and breasts came from. My husband told me I was cutting myself. But I'd never been a cutter before.” She stopped, putting both palms flat on the table.
“Morgan, easy.” Joe put his hand on her back.
“I'm not a cutter.”
Axel walked around the counter to Morgan and dropped down to face her. Looking into her eyes, he said, “You're not. He did this to you. The wounds, the memory loss, and the headaches.”
“You believe me.”
“I believe you,” Joe said softly.
“We all believe you,” Axel assured her.
She nodded slowly. “I will rest, if that's okay.”
“You'll both stay here. It's safer.” Axel looked over to Joe. “Darcy will feel better if she knows you're both safe.”
Joe nodded and took Morgan's hand as she stood up. “You want me to go with you?”
“No. I'll be okay if I sleep for a little bit.”
His mom took Morgan's arm. “There are two bedrooms you can choose from down the stairs. That way Darcy won't be alone down there.”
They headed through the pantry and down the
stairs.
Once Axel heard the door slide shut, he looked at the screen. “That bastard scarred her brain tissue. He cut her repeatedly to force a pain memory whenever she tries to think of his name and certain other things. I'm thinking it's connected to the last story she was working on about women who went missing.”
Phoenix's black eyes narrowed. “I'm going to enjoy finding him.”
Joe folded his arms. “I'd like a piece of that action.”
Phoenix looked at him. “What are you, another super-mortal like Chuck Norris?”
Leaning his chair back on two legs, Joe said, “Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his rugged good looks and superior martial arts ability.”
Phoenix met Joe's eyes. “Yeah?”
“Then Chuck Norris roundhouse-kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciated irony, said he should have seen it coming. Now they play poker every second Wednesday of the month.”
Phoenix grinned. “When Chuck Norris was denied a Bacon McMuffin at McDonald's because it was ten thirty-five, he roundhouse-kicked the store so hard, it became a KFC.”
“If you want a list of Chuck Norris's enemies, check the extinct species list.”
“Since nineteen forty, the year Chuck Norris was born, roundhouse kick-related deaths have increased thirteen thousand percent.”
Darcy cut in, “What's worse than a pissed off Chuck Norris?”
Joe shut his mouth.
Phoenix fell for it. “What?”
“A pissed off witch.”
Hurt crawled through his voice. “You don't like Chuck Norris jokes?”
“Do you like Enya, Phoenix?”
His dark eyes widened in horror. “No! That's not music, it's like listening to a cat in heat!”
“Then you probably wouldn't like me zapping your speakers so that only Enya played. Who I happen to like, by the way.”
Phoenix looked at Axel. “Your witch is wicked mean.”
Pride swelled through him. “Damn right.”
Axel rolled his shoulders beneath the pulsing lights of his club. Already, he wanted to leave, to go back home.
To the witch.
He was at the club to get some relief. Sex. He looked around. “It smells like sex in here.”
“Everyone is tense,” Key said. He wore jeans that rode low on his hips, a T-shirt, and a vibe of pure anger that drew women to him. Turning his gaze on Axel, he added, “Rumor is that hunters are being forced to choose.”
He raised his eyebrows. “To go rogue?”
Key's spiked blond hair reflected the red and purple strobes. “Or die.”
Turning his gaze back to the club, he watched the two dance floors. Hot lust pulsed with the lights. He shifted his eyes to the black couches. A young hunter had a woman wearing a short skirt and obviously no panties straddling him. Riding his cock while the hunter held the base of himself to make sure he didn't penetrate her too deeply and hurt her.
At one of the curved, fire-edged bars, he watched a hunter thrusting into a woman on a bar stool. The hunter had pushed the woman far enough back on the stool to limit his access, to keep himself in check and not hurt the woman.
Public sex didn't usually happen in the bar. He didn't give a shit as long as everyone played nice. But it was proof that the hunters were under growing pressure.
He kept his eyes moving, over the redhead with the tight jeans, past the blonde with the tiny dress, beyond the tall beauty chatting up the bartender. He saw them all, but Darcy was in his head. Her pale frantic face in the truck as she tried to heal him. Or earlier when he'd kissed her after waking her this morning. It was her skin his palms itched to touch. Her eyes he wanted to watch lose focus as she came for him …
“Hell.” He locked his jaw.
“Yeah, it's a real drag to have your pick of hot chicks,” Key commented. “Or maybe you're just getting old.”
The bastard was yanking his chain. “Not too old to kick your ass.” A good fight might ease his tension.
“I'm up for that.”
Axel had turned and was headed for the warehouse to do a little sparring when his phone rang. He pulled it out, checked the screen and saw it was his dad. “What?” he answered.
“I have a present for you. Let's see if you're man enough to handle it.” The phone disconnected.
He hung up, wondering what the fuck his dad was doing …
Before he finished his thought, his phone vibrated with an incoming text message. Snapping it open, he read, “Security breach in …”
A loud crash echoed from in the front of the club. He stowed his phone and pulled his knife in one movement. He grabbed his gun with his right hand as a backup.
Screams wailed. Glass shattered. The first bar splintered. Lights exploded.
Then everything came to a halt. He heard only the sound of an idling engine, weeping, groans, and a few snaps of electricity from broken lights.
Axel moved past the chaos to the front of his club where a huge H2 Hummer had crashed through the specially darkened security glass at the front.
“Get everyone out!” Axel yelled, thinking there might be a bomb in the Hummer. He ran to the idling vehicle to see if it had hit anyone and trapped them. As he got closer, the smell of blood grew. Thick, spicy, intoxicating …
Witch blood.
Sweat coated his body in seconds. His grip tightened on his knife. He had to get to the blood! Feel the blood! His veins burned everywhere, his lungs couldn't get a breath, if he just …
“No!” He backed up, slamming into two young hunters with their knives in their hands; their eyes glowing with bloodlust. They were screwed. The witches were alive in the Hummer, he could smell the fresh blood, hear their shuffling and crying. Hunters were circling, and his own need screamed through him.
The two hunters attacked him, desperate to get past him and to the witches. Axel had a split second to decide if he would kill them or try to disable them.
He roundhouse-kicked the first one into the second, sending them flying across the room and into a pool of unconsciousness.
All hell broke loose as the witch blood inflamed the curse. More fists, knives, and bar stools came at him. While Axel fought, he was aware that several women had organized and were dragging the witches from the Hummer. A part of his brain urged them to hurry, get the witches out of there and to someplace safe.
When all the chaos slowed, he turned to see the Hummer was empty, the engine still idling. The scent-trail of witch blood was fading as the blood dried.
Key limped over, bleeding from one eye, his nose, and seven or eight places on his torso. “Fuckfest.”
Wiping his hand over the freshly opened gash on his arm, he grimaced. “The women who got those witches out of here, where'd they take them?” He picked his BlackBerry up off the floor.
“I don't know, but I saw Julie in one group, helping the witches.”
Julie worked as a server in the club, and was also the daughter of a witch hunter. Her father had secluded himself in a trailer in the middle of a desert to keep from going rogue and had died there. He pulled up her number and hit send.
“Axel.” Her voice was out of breath and stressed.
“Julie, do you have the witches, are they alive?”
“Yes. They are helping each other heal. Jesus, Axel, they were cut up pretty bad.” Her voice shook.
“Okay, listen, I'm going to give you the directions to a safe house. Take them there. Get them anything they need. And Julie, you and the other women saved their lives tonight.”
“Yeah, but for how long?”
“We're going to keep them safe.” He gave her the directions and hung up.
He meant it, they would keep those witches safe. But his skin burned with the craving. His gut cramped with the bloodlust. And a little voice whispered in his head, There's a witch in your house. All yours.
Hannah. He fought to bring Hannah's face into his mind. He thought of her as he'd seen he
r before he'd left tonight—sleeping fitfully, dark smudges beneath her eyes, and when he'd brushed back her bangs, that goddamned circle had turned an obscene shade of red. And Darcy had been downstairs, doing everything she could to pull the spells from the tapestry.
He wouldn't kill the witch trying to save Hannah.
He wouldn't kill any earth witch.
Sirens pierced the weird stillness. Axel looked around to see the hunters struggling to their feet. The bar was a mess. As soon as the cops poured in, mortal cops, he talked fast convincing them that a Hummer full of drunks had crashed through the wall, then the drunks busted up the bar and somehow escaped. It was lame as hell but they bought it.
Thanks to the push on their short-term memories.
They got the Hummer towed out, and started boarding up the club, all of them swinging hammers in spite of their injuries from fighting.
Axel's phone rang. He looked at the incoming call then slapped the phone to his ear with a growl of warning.
His dad taunted, “Did you like my gift? Did you run like a girl and puke all over yourself? Or did you take back your balls and harvest the power from the witches’ blood?”
He hated his father more than ever, but pulled himself together enough to say, “Why don't you come see for yourself?”
His father laughed. “Bet you smell like puke. Don't you get it? Your little witch is finishing the curse, turning you into her familiar. Then she'll have all the power and you'll be witch-whipped.” He hung up.
Witch-whipped was a particularly crude way of saying a witch had bound him as her familiar. Like the demon witches had tried to do with their curse. Darcy wasn't a demon witch, damn it. His dad was screwing with his head. Furious, he shoved his phone into his pocket and hurled the hammer to the ground, ready to go find his dad and confront the bastard.
Sutton shoved Axel back into the freshly nailed boards. “He's goading you, dumb ass! You're so wound up, it wouldn't take but a splash of witch blood to send you over. He's trying to get you to come to his house.” Sutton got into his face. “He's trying to turn you. And once he does, your witch is dead, and so is Hannah.”
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