by Jayne Hawke
“No, they began migrating and spreading a few years back.”
Spriggans were mischievous gits. They had skin like gnarled bark, with a knot of twigs for hair. That allowed them to easily blend in anywhere with trees or bushes. They were thieves mostly, very dedicated and talented thieves. Americans compared them to hyper-intelligent raccoons. They enjoyed getting into anything and everything, and what they stole only made sense to them. There were stories about a spriggan going on a crime spree through Truro in Cornwall. One couple lost an egg timer, two toothbrushes, and a book on polar bears. Another house lost an old painting worth a few thousand, a bread maker, and some costume jewellery.
It was very difficult to remove a spriggan population once they invaded somewhere.
“Hags keep things like that in check,” Matt said exasperatedly.
“Why didn’t someone tell me that?” I asked.
“Not many people know or really think about it. They just see hags as a nuisance that gets in the way of their nice stroll.”
“How screwed are we if I did, say, kill her...?”
“We’d best look into some magical locks.”
So much for a nice relaxing night.
I was woken in the dead of night by a soft tapping near my window. Groaning, I went to roll over and ignore it, as it was probably just the wind or something. Then I felt it. The soft sparks of magic hiding within the being’s blood. I remembered that odd magic from earlier. It had been hiding on the rooftops before I went for my run.
Grabbing the closest thing to hand, I stalked to the window and flung it open. The being was right there. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the magic. I threw a book on ancient symbols at it. Whatever it was fled. To my irritation, it laughed as it went, a soft sound that fluttered like a gentle summer breeze.
I closed the window again and locked it. My bed was right there. I knew it would be warm and comfortable. There wasn’t any chance of my getting back to sleep after that, though. Someone had been right there, watching me sleep. That was incredibly creepy. Of course, Matt and Ethan would tell me that it was my own fault for sleeping with the curtains open, but I liked to see the sliver of night sky as I slowly fell asleep.
A glance at the clock told me it was going to be three long hours until Ethan arrived. I pulled a hoodie over my sleep t-shirt and trudged down to the kitchen in search of coffee. As the coffee brewed, I began to wonder who or what exactly that being had been. I was still new to the whole ‘feeling magic’ thing, but the sparks were odd. Everyone else had been threads in my mind’s eye.
I helped myself to a large brownie as I went into the living room and opened the laptop. The internet was right there, but I didn’t know what to search. ‘Sparks of magic in blood’ sounded wrong. I had no idea what was normal for a witch, and what was weird. It wasn’t as though witches put their knowledge online, anyway, they were notorious for guarding what they knew fiercely.
The coffee burned my tongue as I tried to think everything through carefully. It must have been a good climber to get up there. There was no easy route up to my window, no trees to shimmy up. The magic wasn’t like the pack, so that ruled out cu sith and cait sidhe. Chewing on my bottom lip, I pushed aside the sliver of fear with anger and curiosity.
The logical line of thought was that it was the first in a long line of potential assassins sent by the fae who now knew I existed. I’d really hoped it would take them longer to find me than this, but there no going back.
EIGHT
“You threw a book at him!?” Ethan asked incredulously.
“It was closest to hand,” I said as I started my second pot of coffee.
“Why didn’t you have knives under your pillow and nearby?” he asked.
“Because I foolishly thought I was safe in my own home. I thought I’d have enough time to pick up my usual work daggers,” I said grumpily.
I appreciated Ethan’s replacing my daggers after I lost them in the fight with the hounds, but they would never be the same. My previous daggers had been a gift from my father. Now all I had left of him was memories.
Ethan opened his mouth. I knew he was about to say that Matt and I should move into the pack house. He’d been pushing that line for a couple of weeks now.
I gave Ethan a flat glare, and he said nothing. He was trying to help, in his very protective way, but I was exhausted and pissed off. Someone had been right there outside of my bedroom window, watching.
“We should at least get some magical security systems put in place,” Ethan said.
I sighed. That sounded exhausting and would mean strangers coming into my home.
“I can look after myself,” I finally said.
“You don’t own very many books,” Ethan said.
I ignored the jibe.
He came and gently placed his hands on my waist.
“I don’t want to see you hurt,” he said softly.
I ran my hands up his strong muscular arms.
“I know that. I’m just tired, and really pissed off that these assassins have already found our home. I’d hoped to get a couple more weeks of peace.”
“Would it be so awful to move into the pack house?” Matt asked.
I wrinkled my nose.
Doing so would take away some of my freedom. We didn’t own a car, and the pack house was out in the middle of the moors. I’d have to depend on one of the pack to get me anywhere I wasn’t willing to walk. The city was far from ideal, but at least I could get around by myself.
“You can use my old car,” Cade offered.
The cu sith had somehow managed to sneak into the kitchen. He was wearing a black t-shirt and faded blue jeans, I didn’t think I’d seen him in anything else. How a man of his size snuck anywhere was beyond me, and yet he’d done it.
I chewed on my bottom lip. The offer was very kind, but I wanted to stand on my own two feet. I didn’t want to be some pampered and feeble being that the pack felt the need to swaddle in cotton wool.
“Why don’t you move into the pack house, Matt? I’ll feel better knowing you’re away from this mess,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I’m not abandoning you.”
“You wouldn’t be abandoning me. You’d be keeping yourself safe.”
He crossed his arms and glared at me.
“No. We both go, or we both stay.”
Stubbornness was painted across his delicate features. His mind was made up, and I knew from past experience that nothing was going to make him budge.
“I don’t want a security company tromping around my home,” I said to Ethan.
“Then at least keep a few more weapons by your bed,” he said.
“I’m sure Kerry has some spare she can give you,” Cade said helpfully.
“Thanks guys. Who wants coffee?” I asked.
Ethan guided me to the empty chair by the kitchen table and pulled me into his lap.
“We need to do more work with your magic,” he said.
“You hired me because I was, am, the best bounty hunter in the city,” I reminded him.
He stroked my cheek gently.
“I know, but I’m allowed to worry. These are elite fae assassins, it’s a very different gig.”
A desire to prove them all wrong, to show them that I could handle myself just fine rose within me. I quelled it. Getting into a big fight just to stroke my own ego was beyond stupid.
“I understand. Just, don’t smother me, ok?”
He nodded and handed me the mug of coffee Cade had brought over.
“Any news on the vampires?” Matt asked.
“Vampires don’t exist,” I said reflexively.
“Someone, or something, has been draining their victims of blood,” Matt said.
He gave me a pointed look.
I rolled my eyes.
“So they’re a psycho, or a really ballsy witch,” I said.
“No, there haven’t been any more victims yet,” Ethan said.
&n
bsp; “You think there will be more,” I said.
“Unfortunately, yes. If it is a witch, then they have proven they can get a lot of very potent blood. That’s going to be too good to resist.”
“Do we have any leads?”
“None. No evidence was left at the site, and the list of enemies for the victim was a couple of miles long.”
“I thought cu sith could get a scent off anything,” I teased.
Ethan pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes a little.
“Even I have my limits.”
NINE
Matt had headed to his alchemy apprenticeship and I went to the pack house with the guys. Kerry was in another set of adorable cat-themed pyjama bottoms. I wasn’t sure whether I should be worried, given she’d been in leather every time I’d seen her up until recently.
“It’s her winter thing,” Dean said as he nodded at Kerry.
She looked almost fragile with her pale yellow pyjamas featuring white kittens in little ballerina outfits.
“At least I don’t just rotate through three different plaid shirts,” Kerry said without looking up from her laptop.
“There’s nothing wrong with plaid,” Dean said.
“Sure, sweetheart,” Kerry said.
“It’s practical, comfortable, and goes with anything,” Dean said.
“You mean it goes with the pale blue jeans you wear every day,” Kerry said.
I covered my mouth trying not to laugh.
Dean sighed wearily.
“Just because I don’t want to spend three hours making sure my outfit is fabulous darling for whatever fight I’m strolling into,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes.
“You have to admit that I do look fabulous when I fight,” Kerry said with a grin.
Dean shook his head.
“Coffee?” he asked me.
“Please.”
“I heard you threw a book at an assassin,” he said casually over his shoulder as he left for the kitchen.
“You might be onto something there... I mean, who needs a dagger or magic when you can use a book? If you aim it just right you might take their eye out. Or give them a headache,” Kerry teased.
Ethan handed me a couple of books.
“I have some business to take care of, but I found these for you,” he said with a smile.
I took the books from him and was surprised to find that one was on god magic, and the other on witch magic. I hadn’t thought books had been printed on those topics.
“How did you...!?”
He grinned at me and leaned in to kiss my cheek.
“He’d do anything for you,” Kerry said.
“Is the poor cat grumpy because her boyfriend’s working late?” Ethan teased.
Kerry shot him a death glare.
“You’ve been apart for a few hours, you’ll last a few more,” Ethan said with a grin.
“Says the man who’s trying to convince his girlfriend to move in here. You’ll be looking into connective surgery next so you can literally be joined at the hip,” Kerry said.
Ethan and I laughed.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, then we can do some more work with your magic,” Ethan said.
“Thank you,” I said.
A warmth had spread through me. He must have gone to a ridiculous amount of effort to secure those books. It was such a sweet gesture, and I wasn’t quite sure how to really thank him for it.
Dean had plied me with coffee and cakes before he and Cade went to spar. I settled into the comfy couch and started with the book on witch magic. That one still felt far more alien to me and difficult to grasp.
The book opened with a statement that every witch has a grimoire to record the knowledge they gain over the course of their life. It’s common for a mother to pass her grimoire down to her daughter so that the daughter can continue where the mother left off. My heart ached for my mother. I missed her every day, but now there was a deep sadness formed by the knowledge that she had hidden something huge from me.
I re-read the passage and wondered if my mother had a grimoire somewhere. She hadn’t practised any magic in the house that I’d ever felt. Could she have a workspace somewhere? The images of her killing beings for their blood flashed in my mind. I didn’t want to think of her that way. She had always been the kindest woman with a warm smile on her face. She always gave the impression that she loved me with every fibre of her being.
The book continued into the broad strokes of witch magic. I already knew that witch magic was external. Witches have the ability to take magic from things outside of themselves and manipulate it so that they can impact their surroundings and themselves. In my case, that meant that I could pull magic from blood and use it to make myself stronger, faster, and heal from wounds.
There was far more there, though. I could feel the threads of magic in everything around me: the plants, trees, stars. Everything. I knew that a good talented witch could take magic from anything with even the smallest spark. I’d heard once that there was a bloodline of witches that had been formed by a primordial goddess. They were said to have been able to take magic from planes other than our own. They were exterminated for being too dangerous.
The book went on to discuss god-chosen witches, those who bowed down to a god and that god granted them a different, more powerful form of magic. The author was very against that path. They stated that to bow to a god was to walk into slavery. I had to admit that it sounded pretty miserable. The god owned your very life essence and could screw with you in any way they could imagine. Gaining some new form of magic didn’t seem even remotely worth it.
“Do you know much about god chosen witches?” I asked Kerry.
“Oh yea, they’re born weak and desperate. They throw themselves at any god that’ll take them in the hopes of gaining some real magic. Don’t trust them. They’re always really power hungry and will do whatever it takes to achieve power and status,” she said.
I made a mental note to never try and go down the god-chosen route. I doubted any god would touch me, though, given the god magic running through my veins. A shiver ran through me. If the hounds were to be believed, the gods would have me drained of my magic and take it as their own.
TEN
The book hadn’t been as insightful as I’d hoped. There was a lot of generalisations in there that I already knew. My main takeaway was that I needed to look for Mom’s grimoire. That would be able to tell me everything I needed to know about my weird blood magic and the rest of my witch magic.
Kerry and I wandered into the kitchen, as Kerry had declared that it was lunch time. Cade and Dean had headed out on a run after their sparring match. I paused when I saw a huge black hound fast asleep in the middle of the kitchen floor. Its shadowy black fur sat in rough loose curls against its lean and muscular build. A long wolfhound-type muzzle hung open and the hound snored, very loudly.
I wasn’t really sure what the etiquette was there. Dean walked up behind me and rolled his eyes at the hound on the floor.
“Poke him in the ribs with your toe,” Dean said.
I frowned. I couldn’t do that to Cade.
Kerry strolled over to the sleeping hound and crouched down in front of him. She reached out and rubbed his ears, speaking in baby talk.
“Who’s such a good boy? Yes, you are, you’re such a handsome hound. The biggest meanest hound in all the territories,” she said.
She went to rub his belly and suddenly Cade had his jaws clamped down on Kerry’s arm. The cait sidhe laughed in absolute delight. Cade huffed before he stood up and was enveloped in a thick inky shadow. When the shadow cleared, Cade was standing there in nothing but his boxers.
I looked away. Cade didn’t seem to care, but it felt wrong. I quickly began to wonder what Ethan looked like in just his boxers. Images of tight taut muscles popped into my mind.
“Squash soup for the starter,” Dean said.
“The starter?” I asked.
He looked at me with a cre
ase between his brows.
“We’ve worked hard. We’ll need multiple courses.”
“Let me know when the main course is served?” I asked.
A smile slowly spread across Dean’s face.
“You’ll be eating just as much as us when you have your magic figured out,” he said.
I had to admit, there were worse things than enjoying many courses of their incredible food every day.
“I’m cooking duck breasts for the main, we’ll give you a shout,” he said.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’d offer to cook, but I’m pretty sure I’d poison you without meaning to,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll settle into your place in the pack; just let it happen,” Cade said as he casually wandered by.
I kept my eyes averted.
“You will have to get used to that, though. When you move in, I mean,” Dean said as he pulled out a large container of soup from the fridge.
“Ethan won’t mind,” Kerry said as she hopped up onto the kitchen counter.
“It’s a normal thing for shifters. It’s weirder that you won’t look,” Dean said.
“So... it’s weird to pet you in your hound form, right?” I asked.
“Very,” Dean said.
“Ethan might be into that,” Kerry said with a waggle of her eyebrows.
“Don’t creep her out,” Dean said.
Kerry sighed melodramatically.
“Any news on the bloodletter?” I asked.
“You mean the vampire,” Kerry said with a mischievous grin.
“Vampires aren’t real,” I said as I took up my usual seat at the kitchen table.
Dean had begun heating the soup and had his back to us.
“They might be. Just think about all of the brooding dangerous men in frilly silk shirts and smooth porcelain skin. They’d be tortured souls fighting with their inner beast, and insanely rich,” Kerry said.
“And watch you sleep,” Dean added.
“No, definitely not. They’d be sexy, not creepy,” Kerry said.
“What if they’re more nosferatu? Ancient, leathery, and kind of bat like?” I said.