Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Message to the Reader
Also by Stephanie Foxe
About the Author
Price of Magic
Witch’s Bite Series Book Two
Stephanie Foxe
Price of Magic
All rights reserved.
Published by Stephanie Foxe
No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.
Cover Design by Melody Simmons
https://ebookindiecovers.com
Thank you, Michael, for your tireless assistance and endless support. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.
Always and forever.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Message to the Reader
Also by Stephanie Foxe
About the Author
1
Four vampires. Three werewolves. That’s how many died that night. Avoidable deaths.
That’s all I can think about as I stare at the Detective across from me who is waiting for an answer to a question he has already asked twice. He’s going through everything that happened for the third time and it’s starting to feel like an interrogation.
“You stated that Detective Alexander Novak was able to kill Chevy before succumbing to his wounds?” He repeats, his brows pinched together as he looks down at me over his glasses like I might be too stupid to understand what he just asked.
“Yes,” I answer, again. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from adding a ‘for the last fucking time’. My hands clench into tight fists where they are tucked under my arms.
Lydia glances at me and shifts to sit up straighter. “This interview has gone on long enough. If you have any other questions you can refer to my client’s written statement. After all, she’s a victim here, not a suspect in a murder investigation.”
I should be. But I’m not stupid enough to say that aloud, though I wonder what they’d do if I did tell them. It’s possible they wouldn’t even believe me. No one should be able to do what I can do, it’s abnormal even for a witch. My mother had made sure I understood from a young age that if anyone ever found out, my life would be over. I’d be killed or used, and I don’t like the idea of either.
I want out of this tiny, cold room and out of the police station. There are too many memories that creep up on me in these places.
“Of course, Ms. Holland.” Detective Ross says, his mustache bristling as he purses his lips and nods his head. He stands and thanks each of us. His warm hand is a sharp contrast to my frigid one as we shake.
Lydia leads me out of the room. “Do you mind stopping in to say hello to the police chief? He wanted to apologize in person for Martinez.”
I sigh but nod. Turning down the Chief’s goodwill offering would only lead to me looking bitter. I don’t want to have to deal with him ever again, but if I do, I’d rather he remember me fondly. “Let’s just make it quick.”
I follow Lydia down the narrow dingy hall. There are office doors every few feet with little brass nameplates. Most of the doors are closed, but a few are open. A woman with a pixie cut is sitting in one office, feet propped up on a chair. She watches as we walk by, eyes narrowed.
The Chief’s office is at the end of the hall around a corner. The door is shut, but raised voices are clearly audible from where we stand.
“Your coven member interfered in an ongoing investigation. If that witch hadn’t gotten involved, an NWR cell would have stayed active in my damn town! For the last time McGuinness, your coven’s petty bullshit feud with the vampires ends now or I won’t have another witch in this department. I’ll report you to both councils if I have to.”
McGuinness’ response is muffled by the door.
Lydia and I share a look, her brows are raised and she’s smirking. I can’t help but smile as well. I’ve waited my entire life to hear a coven leader get dressed down like this, and it’s just as satisfying as I imagined.
McGuinness went out of his way to make sure I understood I would not be joining his coven as soon as I moved into town. It had almost been enough to run me off before my stubbornness kicked in.
The door flies open and a red-faced man in a suit that barely stretches across his chest comes barreling out, almost running right into me.
At first, he just looks annoyed, but then he recognizes me and his face turns even redder. He bares his teeth at me, brows furrowed, and nostrils flaring. He steps forward, his fingers twitching like he’s thinking of casting a spell. I uncross my arms and take a step toward him, holding his gaze. He can fucking try, but it’ll be the last thing he does.
Novak’s magic is buzzing through me. The coven leader has no idea I have it. I want to fry him to a crisp. I feel a spark on the tip of my finger, then Lydia is jerking me back and getting between us. Sound filters back in and I realize the Chief is shouting at McGuinness again, ordering him out.
McGuinness brushes past Lydia and stomps down the hall without a backward glance, taking the smell of fire with him. My breath is coming uncomfortably fast. The Chief and Lydia are both staring at me, the latter with pinched brows and lips pressed tightly together.
“Olivia, are you alright?” Lydia asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, clearing my throat and straightening my jacket.
The Chief holds out his hand. “Chief of Police Samuel Timmons, it’s good to meet you in person Ms. Carter.”
I shake his hand. “Likewise.”
“I intended to apologize for the mishandling of the investigation, but it appears I will also need to apologize for the behavior you just witnessed. I would like to make it clear that I will not be party to the coven’s obvious prejudice.”
“I appreciate that,” I say with a tight smile. “Not your fault he’s an ass.”
“Do you have a mom
ent to sit down?” Timmons asks, waving back toward his office.
“Sure,” I agree.
Lydia tugs my arm to get me to follow Timmons into his office.
His desk is oversized and cluttered. There’s a bookshelf behind him filled with awards and pictures of his family, but no books.
“Now, we are still looking for Jason Martinez. We don’t have any information yet, which isn’t surprising considering his connections. I’ve been in contact with JHAPI and the Vampire Council, from what I hear, there will be a representative from the Vampire Council coming to town to assist JHAPI with the search if he can.”
Joint Human and Paranormal Intelligence are involved? They must be serious. That particular organization hasn’t actually been around that long, only six years if I remember right. It was formed after the NWR became a more public problem. It was the first cooperative human and paranormal task force created and it was a surprising success. The councils are always vying for influence over it, of course, but JHAPI has been successful in slowing down the NWR over the years despite that.
“Please keep us updated Chief Timmons. We, of course, will continue to help in any way we can,” Lydia says politely.
Timmons pulls two cards out of his desk and scribbles a number on the back of each. “My personal cell number is on the back. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything or have any information.”
I stand and tuck the card into my jacket. “Thanks.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Lydia says.
I walk out before he can think of anything else to discuss. I’m halfway down the hall before Lydia makes it out of his office. I can hear her hurrying after me, but I don’t slow down until I’m in the parking lot.
I lean back against my car and cross my arms. There’s a crisp coolness in the air that wasn’t there yesterday. The first hint of fall always comes as a surprise to me. Summer seems endless until I walk outside and it smells different, and a breeze raises goosebumps on my arms.
She comes to a stop in front of me. “Will you reconsider staying at the clanhouse for the rest of the week?”
“No, I need to feed my cat and catch up on brewing,” I say as I pull my keys out. “I also don’t want another night of Javier hovering over me like some kind of creepy mother hen.”
Lydia sighs, but her lips curl up into a smile. She had laughed at me this afternoon after I finally woke up when I had complained. “He means well.”
“I know.” I gnaw at the inside of my cheek. “How is Patrick?”
“He is not himself yet. Which is why Javier is being so ridiculous. Patrick won’t let him hover either.”
I roll my eyes. That’s the most I’ve gotten out of her since yesterday morning, and it’s not enough.
“You’re being vague. Not himself,” I mock, throwing up sarcastic finger quotes. “Javier wouldn’t let me see him, so something is obviously wrong. Just tell me.”
Lydia huffs and shakes her head. “Javier didn’t want you to worry, but I suppose that’s impossible. Patrick is angry. He has had several outbursts. He almost hurt one of the neckers and did not appreciate the manner in which Javier stopped him. They’ve been arguing like cats and dogs.”
“I want to talk to him.”
“Javier has said no visitors since the incident with the necker. He’s even having his blood delivered in a cup.”
I grimace at the visual. “That’s only going to piss Patrick off more. Is he really that out of control?”
“I don’t know.” Lydia clasps her hands in front her, thumb tapping restlessly against the back of her hand.
I need to see Patrick, but I can’t deny the little shiver of fear that accompanies the thought. Especially if he isn’t fully back in control. The rational mind has a hard time reconciling that a friend could try to kill you, and it is not their fault.
“I’m going to come see him soon, whether Javier likes it or not.”
“Just give him one more night, Olivia. I wouldn’t ask you that if I didn’t think it was best for Patrick too. He’s struggling for control right now.”
I nod. Lydia’s honesty is what I need right now. “Any news on when the council representative is coming? Or why they want to see me specifically?”
“Nothing yet,” Lydia sighs. “They won’t tell me who they’re sending, or when. Javier is preparing for the visit as best he can.”
“Do you think I’m in some kind of trouble?”
Lydia taps a finger against her chin, considering.
“Having the council’s attention is never a good thing, but I don’t think you are in trouble for something you did,” she says. “You’ll have to be careful, and I know this goes against all your instincts, but please be polite to the representative they send.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be polite if they’re polite.”
“Olivia, this will not be someone like any of the vampires you’ve met. They’ll be old, and strong, and possibly not willing to deal with any attitude.”
“I’ll figure it out. Just keep me updated, alright?” I say, crossing my arms. She has no faith in me. I’m not a six year old, I can be polite if I need to.
“I’ll keep you updated. Oh, that reminds me. Will you still be able to come by for the regular checkups this week?”
“Yes.” The return to routine sounds like a nice distraction.
Lydia squeezes my arm gently. “Stay safe and stay in touch, alright?”
“Sure thing,” I say as I slip into my car.
Lydia watches me drive off, her lips one thin line. I must seem worse off than I thought if she’s worrying this much.
We spent almost three hours at the police station. The sun is setting now, and since it’s a cloudy night, it’s magnificent. I roll the windows down and dance my fingers through the cool wind. Patrick is alive. I’m alive. We won. That should be enough to get this sick feeling out of my stomach.
Yet, all I can think about is how it felt when Novak died. I wasn’t even sure it was possible to kill someone just by taking their magic.
I smack the power button to the radio. I have to stop thinking about this, it’s not healthy. Avoidance is a much better option. Tequila might work too, but I don’t think I have any left.
I sing along with the radio as I drive. Classic rock, then some generic pop when commercials come on. I’m ready to be home. If I can just bury myself in normalcy maybe I can get this knot of anger in my chest loosen.
Martinez’s face, the skin twisted and burned on one side, seems to be all I can see every time I shut my eyes. That or Laurel Ramirez hanging from the ceiling like a side of meat. Or Patrick with empty eyes and spit dripping from his chin, nothing left but hunger.
I turn down my driveway, finally, and I’m relieved to see everything is as I left it. The kitchen light is on, and the porch is lit up. I park, grab all my things, and hurry to the front door, keys ready. As soon as I open the door Mr. Muffins is twining between my legs, meowing loudly.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I say as I trip my way inside.
She bites my ankle through my pants.
“Ow! Give me a damn second,” I dump my keys, gun, and jacket on the table and go to the laundry room to refill her water and food, only to find they’re both still half filled. I turn around and glare at her. She’s sitting in the middle of the kitchen licking her paw.
“Seriously? All that and you aren’t even starving?”
She meows and stalks over to the fridge.
“I see how it is. You miss one day of treats and turn feral,” I grumble as I get a can of wet food out of the fridge. Mr. Muffins is aggressively spoiled and I only have myself to blame.
The can opener is still in the sink from the last time I fed her. I open the can as she paces back and forth behind me.
“Here you go, Princess Butthead,” I say as I drop the can on the floor and ruffle the fur on her head. She buries her face in the food and ignores me.
Everything is where I left it, including
the pile of dirty clothes in the bathroom and the mess in the workroom. I don’t want to deal with any of it. It’ll still be here tomorrow anyhow.
There’s a knock on the door and I jump, my heart kicking into overdrive. No one ever visits me. If Javier was having someone dropped off to be healed I would have gotten a text.
I walk as quietly as I can to the table and grab the gun. I should have just gotten Mr. Muffins and stayed at the clanhouse.
“Olivia?” The person shouts through the door.
I’d know that voice anywhere. It’s Patrick.
2
I run to the door and pull it open, the gun forgotten in my other hand. Patrick is standing on the porch, face gaunt, and the blue eyes that should be sparkling with mischief are instead glassy and bloodshot. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his faded blue jeans and his mouth is a thin line of worry. His usually artfully tousled brown hair is dull and messy. He looks nothing like himself.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Do you think I could stay with you for a while?”
Lydia’s warning is ringing in my head, but I can’t stop myself from stepping out onto the porch and throwing my arms around him. He hugs back tightly, his body trembling. We stand there for a long moment. I wait until he stops shaking so much to pull back.
“So, is that a yes?” He asks, his mouth twitching up into a forced smile.
“Always,” I say, punching him lightly on the arm. His eye flicks to my forearm, and the bandage covering the bite he inflicted and the area the bullet grazed me. The smile fades into a frown. I grab his hand and drag him inside.
Mr. Muffins leaves her food and trots over to him. Patrick is her favorite, she definitely loves him more than me.
Price of Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Witch's Bite Series Book 2) Page 1