by Kim Faulks
Sarah held her ground. If anything, she raised her chin higher. “And I suppose you think you’re the one to rid me of my pesky little hobby, Loc?”
“Damn straight.”
The woman laughed. She trailed a lacquered nail down the side of his cheek. Helaine gaped at the red streak left in its wake, but Loc didn’t flinch. “Careful, big boy, or I might have to leave that cage here after all. With you inside.”
The heat sparking off this pair set Helaine’s cheeks burning. She couldn’t help noticing the way the giant’s jeans tightened in front. He was so tall, it was unavoidable. She cut her gaze to Fate, who grinned like a monkey.
“Bring it,” Loc barked. “If you think you can put me on my knees, Sarah, you’re welcome to try. Name the place and I’ll be there. But bring your knee pads, baby, because I know you have tender skin.”
With a huff, the woman stepped to one side. With a flirty wave of her nails, she acknowledged Helaine at last. “He’s all talk, you know.” Then she pushed past him and disappeared through the doorway.
“Talk, my ass.” Loc spun and bellowed. “Is that why you’re running, Sarah? Because you fear my tongue?”
What the hell am I doing here? The room became too hot. Too crowded. Walls closed in and her vision greyed. Hands wrapped around her upper arms, pulling her out of the way. Her heart thudded, each hard beat a quake that threatened to swallow her whole.
"... you have to listen to me. Listen to me, Helaine, for god's sake!" Creed spun her towards him and the room swayed out of control. Panic stabbed her like a knife. She lashed out, striking Creed on the cheek. Fire licked her hand. The blaze traveled along her arm. She froze and her anger gave way to fear. Jesus, what have I done?
Creed's eyes blazed. His jaw bulged and his grip on her tightened until the bones in her arm ached from the pressure of his fingers.
There was nothing she could do to stop him. Creed snarled and yanked her body against his. Her head snapped back as she impacted with his chest. Her body felt smothered under the sensation of hard muscles and brute force. His lips smashed down on hers, melding their flesh until she couldn't think, until there was nothing left but the feel of him, the taste of him....
Until there was nothing but him.
His lips were smooth, warm. His tongue urgent, pushing deeper, drawing more and more of her into him. The invasion was hard and fast, taking her thoughts along with her breath.
She felt herself responding, slowly at first and then with a hunger, savage and raw. She pressed harder, feeling his body react to hers. His arms tightened around her. His body quaked, sending each ripple along her body.
She dragged her nails across his skin. His chest rumbled with a moan, sending vibrations through his shirt and against her breasts. Heat ripped through her, shooting from her core to tease and electrify. Creed broke the kiss, wrenching her away. The severing of their connection was brutal. She inhaled hard and moved against his grip, wanting more, needing more.
His eyes blazed brighter in the heat of passion than they did with anger. She bit her lip, the pain instant. She inhaled his air and felt herself come alive. No man had ever kissed her like this. No man had ever wanted her like this. Her emotions rushed to the surface, exploding in a wave of confusion and denial. Had she been asleep all this time? She held onto Creed, taking strength from his body.
"Stop. Please," he whispered, pushing her away.
His plea brought with it the familiar pain and loneliness. The red outline of her palm marked his cheek and she felt a sense of pride and of shame at the same time. She'd never hit anyone in her life before, not in anger, or in fright. Never, but she felt a fierce sense of pleasure from marking him that she couldn't deny.
His eyes followed the way she bit her lip, and then he turned his tortured gaze to her eyes. "I can see you're going to be the death of me."
"I heard voices from inside my wardrobe." The words slipped out. She waited for the repercussions.
Creed answered without missing a beat. "The voices, what did they say?"
Wait. Not Helaine, you're just imagining things? Or, someone call the damn psych ward?
She spoke slowly at first and then the words spilled out. "Claire was screaming for me, calling for me to save her and I couldn't save her. I couldn't do a damn thing."
She held on to her anger, hoping to use it to make them understand. "I'm not lying to you and I didn't imagine it. Her car is back at the apartment and there's blood on my bathroom floor and I heard her scream my name."
Creed flinched. Pity softened the anger in his gaze. There was nothing else she could say. "Can someone please tell me what's going on here? Am I... crazy?"
She waited for someone to answer and when they did, the response wasn't what she was expecting. "You aren't crazy, Helaine. We believe you. But they weren't after your friend. They were after you."
The air turned cold. Her chest tightened. "I knew it. Who are they?"
Creed paused for a moment, as though he was deciding how much to tell her, or whether to tell her anything at all. The image of her bloody bathroom returned. "You can trust me, Creed. I have to know."
"We call them the Corrupt.""
He stopped and watched her carefully. She tried to take it all in, but none of it made any sense. She nodded. "Go on."
"The Corrupt are soulless vessels that take form in a human’s body."
She flinched, her mind stalled, unable to understand. "Soulless vessels?"
He nodded. "Yes. Demons."
"Are you telling me that demons have been chasing me, that they broke into my home... and kidnapped my best friend?"
He stared directly at her. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. The Corrupt aren't human... and neither are we."
Helaine gave a quick bark of laughter and she clapped her hands to her cheeks. She could feel the stares around her, gauging her response. "This is a joke, right?"
No one laughed. Not one person smiled. Her hands dropped away, as did her laughter. "I don't understand... I don't understand any of this."
Creed reached over his shoulder and yanked his shirt from his body by the nape. Helaine didn't know where else to look. There was nowhere else she wanted to look. The cotton shirt slid up, exposing the hard, flat muscles of his abdomen before flaring out to the rise of his chest. She caught the jagged edges of a scar across this heart and an ache bloomed in her heart. She'd never looked at another man's body since Mark. She never wanted to—until now.
Curled around one forearm was the most vivid tattoo she'd ever seen. The outline of a snake was coiled, ready to strike, the ink so fresh it shone like glass. "God, that is stunning."
She stepped closer, reaching out to trace her finger over his skin until Creed grabbed her hand. "You don't want to do that."
He relaxed his grip, but didn't let her go and spoke in whispered words of a language she didn't know. The serpent on his arm blinked. The movement was so quick her mind shook it off, and then the snake reared up, its head turning into scales and flesh. She spied a slash of red as the snake slid from Creed’s body. Helaine cried out and leaped back. The snake sensed her movement and lashed at the air, mere centimeters from her hand. Creed spoke again. The reptile flattened its body once more on Creed’s massive arm. Helaine could only stare while the serpent appeared to join with Creed’s skin once more.
Her words were uttered in one long hiss. "What the hell?"
"We're witches, Helaine. We have powers that humans don't understand. We can see things, become things, that defy logic and... we're as close to immortal as you can get."
She stood stunned. Her mind was vacant. Witches... tattoos that came to life?
"Helaine? Helaine, say something." Fate's voice filtered through the fog inside her head.
She lifted her gaze to where Creed stared, looking like he was waiting for her to freak out. Her voice trembled, but held steady as she whispered. "I thought witches were women, hitting a midlife crisis."
His fo
rehead creased. His lips pulled back in a snarl before smoothing out into a smile and the deep rumbling sound of his laughter filled the room. "
She mumbled. "You can make a tattoo come alive."
"No." He shook his head. "I can't. But I can make my familiar become a tattoo."
"A familiar?" Something moved against her. She reached down and touched the hound’s head. He sniffed at the air and sat down beside her.
"Witches like us have what's called a familiar. An animal that comes to them in times of need. Each one is picked according to the god or goddess connected to the witch. This snake is a familiar to Ares, my god. Each animal, each deity, and each witch is different."
He looked down at the animal beside her and then back up. There was something she was missing. Some crucial piece of information hovered just out of reach. "So how do we get Claire back?"
"I don't know. I don't even know where they've taken her. They move from one place to the next before we can get a decent bead on them, using whatever building or houses sit inside the portal."
"This is just too much to take in." Helaine turned and headed toward the table, taking a seat with the rest.
"I know how crazy this all seems." Fate scooted her chair closer to Helaine’s. "But I want you to know that you're not crazy, not by a long shot. All of us have stood at the same crossroads you're standing at. Believe or disbelieve, it's fine either way. If you want to leave, no one will stop you. If you stay, you'll be safe with us."
"Who the hell are you and what've you done with Fate?" Nile stared open-mouthed at the woman next to Helaine.
The movement was fast, one middle finger extended in a simple salute, fuck you, and like that, the somber mood lifted. Helaine grabbed Fate's hand. "Thank you, all of you. I'll stay and try to get my head around everything that's happening. Besides, I can't find Claire on my own, can I? I need you."
"And we need you." Heath called out behind her, but it was Creed she turned to. Creed, who stared at her with pinched brows and a stony façade. Did he not want her here?
Fate chipped in. "You know, some humans think witches are the devil, and worship the left hand path and we dance naked under the moonlight drinking the blood of virgins, blah fucking blah, blah."
She listened to her new friend carefully, hanging on each precious word that meant she wasn’t crazy after all. Her head felt fuzzy, exhaustion closed in.
"The reality is that witches worship nature. Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. These five elements are what we live by. We call ourselves witches, but really we just channel a higher power, something bigger than ourselves."
"Who do you channel, Fate?"
Fate held her gaze. "The Goddess Nemesis, and my familiar's a tattoo like Creed's. Although my tattoo covers the scars on my back and arms."
"Wow, okay." This was getting a little too real. Being chased down an alley was one thing, but being caught in the middle of this weird freaking mess was another. She had enough beasts of her own to fight. "I know this is going to sound harsh. I want you to know that I appreciate all you've done for me. But, I can't be caught up in whatever you've got going on here. I can't be dragged into your problems. I've got enough of my own to deal with."
Fate dropped her gaze, shaking her head. "You still don't get it, do you? Haven't you understood anything we've said?"
Helaine's mind raced, trying to fit pieces of this puzzle together, but all she came up with was one big mess. Fate reached for her hand. The woman's long fingers were strong and warm. "Think about it for a minute, Helaine. You were chased down an alley that led you… where?"
Her voice took on a dull tone as she tried to catch up. "Here."
"Whose apartment was broken into, not once, but twice?"
She didn't want to answer... didn't want to look at the puzzle now that it was taking on a different picture. A cool breeze puckered the skin on her arms. She shivered and answered. "Mine."
"Are you making the connection yet? Do you now understand you may not want to be a part of what's going on here, but there’s a force at work that has other plans?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She waited for days, but there was no sign the elder she killed had returned. No sign of the backlash she'd expected from within her own ranks. Everything continued as normal. The world still turned. The naïve continued to disappear and she became increasingly worried.
Who was giving these new orders to the Corrupt? Whoever it was, they were her enemy. She needed to be careful and find out anything she could. This battle was her battle. This army hers to command. How could she be the Chosen, if she was no longer in charge? How could she lead the Corrupt into victory and bring life to the Ancient? These doubts plagued her. And who the hell was this woman they'd been sent to find?
She needed answers and it seemed the only entity that could give them to her was dead, by her own damn hands. Had the body been found yet? Was it time to attack the dark witch, Sarah, and infiltrate the Crux Coven? She wanted to attack, send them scattering to the winds… But with what army? The Corrupt now marched for a different leader, so it seemed. Could any of them still be trusted? A sudden sound sent mottled pigeons racing through the missing floor and roof toward the sky, tearing her from her musings.
Hidden in the shadows, she waited. Only the Corrupt could sense her, now that she was tainted. To the naïve, the building was derelict. To her, this forgotten place was home. A low scrape sent the remaining birds fluttering through the missing floorboards. The building was hidden in the eastern suburbs of the city, far away from the prying eyes of the elders, but it didn't keep out snot-nosed human kids.
Silence followed. Silence, where there was usually a scuffle and a call from pubescent boys cashing in on a dare. She rose from her chair and stepped out of the shadows. There. A step, and then another. The doorway loomed closer as she skirted splintered boards. From the balcony she looked down into the streaming sunlight. The brilliance was dazzling, like the breath of god. A god she didn't believe in. Down there, it was always dangerous and dusty.
The sound of her boots was louder than she wanted. She winced, rolling her heels as she went, still, it did no good. The bottom floor fell silent. Seconds passed. Her boots clacked as she rushed. The broken stained glass window caused rays of red and green to splash across the blanket of fine dust on the floor. The church was once magnificent, a place of worship. Now it hid a demon.
Footprints marred the thick dust in a line from the doorway and into the center of the room. The outline of the large boot was as obvious as the colorful display. She crossed the room and knelt beside the footprint. The tapered toe of the boot was long and wide, the tread thick. The mark wasn't made by a woman's boot. It had to be a man's. Was this her adversary? A man?
Had he come here to kill her, or was he sent for a different purpose?
The low grinding noise from an ignition in the distance caused her to spring from the floor, heading for the boarded doorway. The rear bumper of a car disappeared as she shoved the board aside. There was a scent in the air, seductive and very male. Underneath that she sensed witch. She snarled and her heart raced, urging her to pursue. She knew nothing about this new rival. Going after him would be suicidal—especially now. She needed to keep her cool. She needed answers. Those lay between the ears of a pretty blonde. Getting her away from the elders wouldn't be easy.
She stilled as an idea occurred to her. Maybe, just maybe, there was another way.
The shadows in the church held no answers, but she knew a way she might be able to get some. She retraced her steps along the stairs to where the floor gave way and ducked back inside the room. Her lips moved in a wordless whisper. Her intent scattered the dust from the floor to billow into a cloud in front of her. She pushed the haze into the air and sent it skyward.
Her body tingled with a dull hum. She built her power, second by second, keeping it inside. Keeping the spell inside her body and her circle. The ancient language felt heavy on her tongue. She tripped over the wor
ds, but they were enough. Her power reacted, pulsing, filling her.
She knelt and placed her hands onto the floor, pushing the power through her fingers, calling to the animal she needed. A flash of black on black rippled through her mind. She smiled. Yes, that’s it. Come to me.
Her palms funneled the power from her body into the floor. The stone darkened as her power leaked out and slid into the open. This magic was different from the kind she’d been born with. This power knew no bounds, knew nothing of balance of light and dark. It took what it wanted, feeding on the room around her until she stood in the very center of nothingness.
In her mind, the animal jerked its head toward her. Dark pupils flashed as it blinked. The bird—a crow—was now aware of her. She focused on the floor, emptying her power, sending the shadow skyward.
She felt the crow hit the dust cloud she caused to form above the church. A panicked call cut through the air above as the animal spiraled downward. The shadow surged up, wrapping around the midnight plumage, and forced its way into the bird’s open beak. The erratic flutter inside its chest slowed as her power surged, and in this moment, she became one with the animal. Its power became her power, its life became hers to do with what she would.
Wings beat the air, slowing to a regular rhythm. The animal descended through the broken roof until it circled just out of reach. She caught a glimpse of glistening black feathers as she knelt on the church floor.
The shadow was part of her. It was her power, her true power, not one syphoned. She held her arm out, palms up, and waited. Wind buffeted her, shifting her dark hair from her face. Claws pierced her palm as the bird flapped and finally settled. She kept her eyes down and focused on the connection that now ran through her body and into the animal. The vibration built, ebbing and flowing, pulsing with a life of its own. The tremors echoed through her chest, spilling out in a rumble of whispered words.
The crow called out as her spirit rose. She could sense its fear, feel the rush of panic as though it were her own. As the echo inside her chest grew, so did the animal’s panic. Her mumbled words filled the room, rebounding back to her in a ferocious rush. She clenched her fist, seizing the bird in her grip. Her body jolted. Darkness flashed, black on black. She fought to breathe through the pain. Each word became a whimper until she seized again. The crow’s wings beat her breast and arms. The animal crowed frantically, warning others of the danger, but it was too late. The danger was already here. It was a living, breathing thing and it was choking the life from the creature.