Witch's Storm (The Bone Coven Chronicles Book 2)

by Jenna Wolfhart

  I needed more answers. I needed the Daywalkers’ help in this fight. As I turned to extend a request to the leader of the Clan, one he would most likely refuse, shouts rang up from the lower warehouse floor.

  And then the entire place went up in flames.

  Chapter 19

  Coughing, I stumbled outside. Behind me, the fire blazed, windows popping and shattering glass onto the pavement. Sirens wailed in the distance while shouts and screams added to the growing crescendo. I whirled in my boots, searching for Dorian’s familiar face. He appeared through the thick smoke, charging toward me in a blur of motion.

  “Thank the goddess,” he said when he reached me, pressing his mouth to my hair and breathing me in. And I couldn’t help but do the same to him. He was fire and smoke, blood and iron, and something so familiar that it made my shot nerves feel soothed. “I thought I’d never find you. Are you okay? I will give you my blood right here in the middle of the street if that’s what I have to do. Fuck anyone who sees.”

  He pulled back and slid his fingers across my face, to my throat, to my waist. His fiery eyes flicked across me, searching for wounds he wouldn’t find. The fire hadn’t touched me. As soon as Christian Dogaru had realized what was happening, he ordered one of his bodyguards to make sure I made it out alive.

  “I’m fine, Dorian.” I coughed and waved at the billowing smoke. “Though the rest of the world might not be.”

  At the question-mark in his eyes, I quickly filled him in on what I’d learned. He scowled before he kicked his boot at the curb. “Nosferatu venom? There has to be another way.”

  “That’s what I thought. Or hoped, anyway.” I waved at where the flames had consumed the entire bottom floor. “I was about to ask Christian Dogaru to help with the fight when the fire started.”

  “Did you hear what happened? What started it?” Dorian shoved his hands into his hair and glanced up at the burning remains that was Slayerville. I could only hope that everyone had made it out alive.

  “No, I don’t think they have any idea yet,” I said. “It was total chaos in there.”

  Dorian dragged a hand down his tired face. “Well, I hope no one started it. Human, vampire, or otherwise. And if someone did, then I hope to hell Dogaru never finds out. Otherwise, we’ll have a new problem on our hands, and I don’t think we can handle anything else.”

  Shit. I hadn’t thought about that. If someone had started this fire on purpose, Christian Dogaru would see it as an act of war. And there’d be no stopping his revenge.

  Dorian flinched when his phone buzzed in his pocket. With a grim set to his lips, he flicked it open and pressed it to his ear, his face tight with tension. We both knew we were about to hear another dose of bad news. Dorian never got a call about anything but.

  “Right, I understand,” he said with a nod. “We’ll be right in.”

  I cocked my head when he hung up the phone. “Don’t tell me the fae escaped.”

  “Worse,” he said. “Another blood mage is dead.”

  “What?” Furrowing my eyebrows, I shook my head. “I don’t understand. We arrested the fae. If he’s still locked up, how has this happened?”

  “Because this means the fae isn’t the murderer. Someone else is, and he’s still out there making his kills.”

  “Belzus,” Dorian said as he eased onto a metal folding chair across the table from the fae. The coven had set up a makeshift interrogation room that reminded me of the kind of thing I’d seen on human cop shows. Empty room, metal chairs and table, and a microphone in the center to record it all. But instead of being in a police station with a two-way window and all the rest that it entailed, we were in a barren bedroom with wards keeping the fae trapped in his seat.

  “Dorian Kostas,” the fae said with a strange smile. “Zoe Bennett. How enjoyable it is to say names, is it not?”

  Dorian frowned. “Listen, I think it’s time we had a frank talk, don’t you think?”

  “A frank talk, hmm?” Belzus raised his eyebrows as he flicked his gaze up to me. I’d opted to stand with my arms crossed. I couldn’t sit right now, way too on edge about everything that had happened in the past few days. The demons, the dead mages, the vampire bar burning down. Plus, the whole Nosferatu fang situation had my blood pressure rising. “You mean, full of honesty? The revealing of secrets? Of hidden truths buried underneath an illusion?”

  Alarmed, I glanced at Dorian, who merely shook his head. I shouldn’t display a reaction. Belzus was trying to push my buttons, and responding in kind would only let him win. The only problem was, it was working. If we tried to make him talk, would he open up the floodgates and say way too much? Here where the council could hear him? He was one of the only people who knew the truth about me, and he could cause my entire world to come crashing down with only a few small words.

  “We’d like to talk to you about the blood mage.” Dorian shuffled some papers. “Sylvia Anderson. What can you tell us about her death?”

  “Perhaps you should have asked me these questions before assuming my guilt.” The fae smiled, sparking light in his impossibly gold eyes. “Years ago, your kind needlessly suffered from puritan prejudice, found guilty without a fair and balanced trial. Executed. And now you do the same. Ironic, is it not?”

  “You know what?” I said, striding closer and leaning down to see eye-to-eye with the golden-haired fae. “I agree with you. The way we operate is pretty shitty if you ask me, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about. A blood mage was killed. Brutally, I might add. And you were seen carrying the body. Can you please explain to us what happened that night? Why were you there? Did you see someone? Or something?”

  Belzus tapped his finger against his sleek cheekbone and nodded. “I see. Let me guess. The blood mage serial killer has added another victim to his list. And now you’re realizing, ‘Oh, our dear Belzus cannot be the killer as he has been locked up without a fair trial.’ Yes?”

  He was right. And I hated that he was right, particularly because he wore a smug smile that reminded me of the time my childhood cat caught a canary.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t divulge much information about the case at this time,” Dorian cut in, ever the Federal Agent in disguise. I had a feeling that in his very long and varied life, he really had been on the force at one time or another.

  “Then, perhaps I cannot divulge information either.” Belzus crossed his arms and leaned back into the metal chair.

  “Oh come on, Belzus. Give us a fucking break.” On the other hand, I sounded nothing like a professional agent. Polished, I was not. “Three blood mages are dead, and you obviously know something about it. What were you doing with the body?”

  “Moving it,” he said with a shrug. “I meant it as a warning to you and your Laura friend. I assumed if you saw that someone was after the blood mages, then you would do your best to protect her.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe you actually care if Laura is targeted or not.”

  “Belzus does not lie.” He swept his golden locks behind his pointed ears and smiled. “Next question.”

  “Where did you find the body?” I asked.

  “Behind Descent. The club where I met you the night you banished the demon,” Belzus said without a moment’s hesitation. “Do you remember that place, witch?”

  “Do I remember?” I rolled my eyes. “You showed up with a fucking shovel.”

  Dorian shot me a look before turning his attention back to the fae. “Why didn’t you just contact us instead of dropping a body in the middle of an alley? Or the human authorities? And why lead us to a crypt with a demon?”

  “The fae have their reasons for doing things that witches and warlocks would not understand.” Belzus lifted his shoulders and twirled a strand of hair around his finger. “Besides, you needed to find out about the demon, no? What kind of guardian would I be if I did not alert you about the arrival of a powerful demon? I assume it’s safe to say you returned to the crypt with the proper too
ls? And now it’s banished. No harm, no foul.”

  “Not exactly,” I said with a frown. “We went back, but the demon got loose.”

  Belzus’s face clouded over. For the first time since I’d met him, I felt as if I were in possession of more information than the all-knowing fae. Clearly, he hadn’t expected the demon to break free. And clearly, he wasn’t happy about it.

  “What do you mean?” He pounded his fist on the table and began to stand from his chair, but the wards around his body held him firmly in place. “How could you let something like that happen? Leave here. Now. Find the demon and banish it. If you don’t send it back into its realm as quickly as possible, then the veil—”

  “Trust me, Belzus,” I said. “We know all about the fucking veil.”

  “You must find it.” His voice came out a hiss, and the tips of his ears turned a harsh shade of red. “You must banish it. Otherwise, this entire world is doomed.”

  “On that note,” Dorian said, standing from his chair, “I need to go check something. Zoe? Wait here with the fae.”

  Dorian disappeared through the door, leaving me alone with Belzus. Even though I’d been in this situation before—and in a graveyard, no less—I didn’t feel particularly at ease in the fae’s presence. He was older than the country, wiser than all of us combined, and trickier than I could comprehend. Despite my refusal to let him see it, he scared the shit out of me. Especially with his barely-concealed rage that was simmering under the surface of his flawless skin.

  Swallowing hard, I turned my back to him, hoping he hadn’t seen just how uneasy I was. “Do you know the theory about the Nosferatu fangs being able to destroy demons?”

  “Theory?” He let out a harsh laugh. “It’s no theory, witch. Is that not how you attempted to destroy the demon the second time?”

  Turning back to face him, I shook my head. “I didn’t know about it. No one has ever told me. Dorian tried biting the demon, but he wasn’t able to get a grip on its shadowy form.”

  “I see.” Belzus crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. “I assumed you knew the technique because your blood mage friends have a stash of Nosferatu fangs for this very purpose. If I had known you were unaware, I would have approached them instead.”

  “Why do an elaborate set-up? Why not grab some fangs yourself? Apparently, you can cut them out of their mouths.”

  The fae wrinkled his nose. “Despite what you may believe, I have no desire whatsoever to battle a demonic vampire for a pair of disgusting fangs.”

  “And yet, you’re the guardian of the graves.”

  “Necromancy,” Belzus said with a chilling smile, “is a very different beast. Vampirism has nothing on it. When you’ve seen your first army of the dead, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “First army of the—”

  The door cracked open as Dorian returned to the room. His face full of determination, he motioned for me to join him in the hallway. Just as I’d made it halfway to the door, Belzus cleared his throat. “Remember, Zoe Bennett. You owe me one favor. I won’t be cashing in on it yet, but be warned. It will come soon.”

  Shivering, I followed Dorian into the hall. He frowned as he shut the door behind us. “What did the fae mean? You owe him a favor?”

  “It was the price for…” I tapped my mark.

  “You made a deal with a fae?” Dorian asked, disappointing tinging his every word. “Oh, Zoe. How could you?”

  “What else was I supposed to do?” I narrowed my eyes. Was he really judging me about this, too? “Go into hiding? Move to Europe?”

  “Well, I won’t allow it. Have him undo the illusion and take back the favor owed,” Dorian said. “I’ll figure out a way to make the council understand. You won’t have to hide the truth from them anymore.”

  “Really?” I lifted my eyebrows. “Have you met our Magister?”

  “Maybe he isn’t the most open-minded mage, but—”

  “Not the most open-minded? Dorian, he said to my face that Shadows were evil incarnate. I think I’ll pass on your plan and stick to mine.”

  Dorian matched my gaze, unyielding, firm, and strong. Our bond rippled with our combined tension, thoughts and feelings rocketing from his body, into mine, and then back into his again. The magic of our combined blood had begun to wear off, but a sliver of it was still there simmering in the background. After a moment, Dorian shook his head and sighed.

  “Fine. I’ll agree to put a pin in it for now, but I refuse to give up hope that there’s another way,” Dorian said. “But only because we need to make some headway on this case. It’s time for a trip to Descent.”

  “Probably a good idea,” I said with a nod. “See if anyone saw Sylvia Anderson that night. If she was killed at or near the club, someone might have seen the murderer.”

  “It’s not just that, Zoe,” Dorian said. “Remember where the other crime scene was? Only about a block away from Descent. And the third body found last night was in that area, too.”

  “You found a pattern.” My eyes widened. “Three murders. All in the same location. What are the odds?”

  “Exactly.” Dorian nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 20

  Luckily, vampire bouncers didn’t man the doors of Descent, though the club-goers inside would have been thrilled if they did. Instead of high heels, tight little black dresses, and bright pink lips, the patrons of Descent were more on the goth side of the spectrum than the students who tended to hit up typical Boston nightclubs. Ripped black shirts, faded Chucks, and hooded eyes that popped from more than a dash of black eyeliner. A live metal band played on an erected stage at the end of the long and skinny space, and the floors were sticky with beer and sweat. It reeked of mildew and body odor, the total opposite of the cloying incense-laden air of Slayerville.

  Even though I wasn’t much of a club person, I felt a hell of a lot more comfortable in a place like this than the alternative. Judging from the appreciative nod Dorian gave the band, so did he.

  Dorian and I inched our way around the darkly-lit space, spotting cameras perched in every corner. Even if no one had seen anything, there might be some video evidence that could help us narrow down the identity of the killer.

  When we squeezed to the front of the crowd clustered around the bar, Dorian flipped his FBI badge onto the counter and motioned for a bartender wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt to lean in close. “Is there someone we can talk to? A manager, maybe?”

  The man frowned at the badge before turning to his fellow bartender. There were only two of them manning the busy club, both long-haired, leather-faced, and decked in full black on black. Both of them must have been pushing fifty-five. Old-school metal fans from the eighties who had stuck around the scene as best they could.

  After speaking quietly to each other, one of the bartenders ducked beneath the counter and motioned for us to follow. We moved through the thick crowd of bodies, elbows jostling elbows. When we reached a thick black door, the bartender pushed it open and led us down a dimly-lit hallway that reeked of pot. At the end of the hallway, another door opened up into a tiny room with a metal desk shoved against a concrete wall.

  The guy pointed at two folding chairs before settling himself into a faded recliner and kicking his feet up onto the desk. “What can I do for you? Agent Kostas, was it?”

  “That’s right.” Dorian flipped the badge open once more before sliding it into his back pocket. “You’re the manager of this establishment?”

  “Owner, manager, bartender.” The man grabbed a business card from the desk and flicked it our way. “Frank, one of my boys, is off sick tonight, so I had to step in myself.”

  “That’s a little unusual, isn’t it?” Neither the owner or manager of Blue Moon Tavern worked shifts behind the bar. If they were ever short-staffed, they called me. And if I was already working? I had to work twice as hard. They’d rather be a man down than sling drinks themselves.

  “This place is my baby. I’ll
do whatever it takes to keep her running,” he said with a crooked smile, the crackle in his voice evidence of years spent shouting over the blast of loud music. “But surely you didn’t come here to question me on my bartending abilities?”

  “Of course not, Mr….?” Dorian glanced at the business card. “Mr. Walsh.”

  “Just call me Sean. No need for formalities.”

  “Sean,” Dorian said with a nod. “Well, I don’t want to beat around the bush here, Sean, but we wanted to speak to you about a couple of murders that happened recently in the area.”

  Sean nodded solemnly, leaning forward to put his feet on the ground. “Yes, I’ve heard about those. I wondered if that might be why you came by. To be honest, it’s been a shock. This might not be the safest neighborhood when compared to other parts of Boston, but murder? And, two of them? Makes me think twice about sending my boys home after their shifts.”

  “It’s actually three,” I said. “Three murders. Another is believed to have originated here, but the body was moved.”

  “Originated…here?” He gestured at the open door, his eyes going wide. “You don’t actually mean Descent, do you?”

  “It’s a possibility we have to consider,” Dorian said quietly. “It’s a popular club, and the victims were all fairly young. Early to mid twenties. They could have come here, had a drink, met someone…”

  Dorian trailed off and raised his eyebrows, and his suggestion was enough to make realization dawn in the man’s eyes. His face went pale as he leaned back in his chair, whistling softly under his breath. “I don’t like the thought of it. I really don’t. I know my bar might seem like it has some rough customers, but they’re mostly good kids. Don’t let their outward appearances fool you. It’s somewhere different for them to go, you know? Somewhere they feel like they fit in.”

  “I get that.” I leaned forward and smiled. “And you’ve done a great thing. Everyone needs a place they can go where they feel like they can be themselves. That said, some people are just assholes, and it isn’t your fault if the guilty party found his victims here.”