Witch Fury

by Bast, Anya

  The limo driver opened the door for her, letting in the morning sun. She looked at the plane and then turned to David. “I don’t have anything with me, not even my toothbrush.”

  David twisted his lips into a sardonic smile and let his Blackberry drop into his lap. “If you want to join the Duskoff, you’ll be expected to bleed for us.” He tipped his head to the side and gave her a withering look. “If you can’t even manage a day trip without your toothbrush, then you’re certainly not ready for the rest.”

  Point taken.

  The driver helped her out and guided her to the stairs. At the top waited Stefan. “Sarafina, I’m so happy you decided to join me.” He motioned to her and she climbed the stairs to the top. “Step into my parlor.”

  He placed a hand to the small of her back and led her into the passenger cabin of the plane. It was narrow, but packed with luxury. She took a moment to scan the fine leather furniture, thick carpeting, a wide-screen television and a stereo system, and fully stocked bar.

  Stefan motioned to the two heavily muscled men sitting at the front of the cabin, near the cockpit. “My bodyguards. They only speak when spoken to, so they won’t be disturbing us.”

  Someone moved in the corner of the cabin. The pilot? The man turned and guided icy blue eyes to her face.

  Bai.

  The airplane door slammed shut behind her.

  NINETEEN

  FIRE ROSE AS FAST AS HER FEAR. SHE WOULD FIGHT to the end because no way was she going down easy. Power rippled from her center, winging down her arms to her hands, where fire danced and sparked between her fingers. Through Theo’s training, she was on the balls of her feet and ready to move fast.

  “Peace, my petal,” said Stefan. “He won’t hurt you.”

  “Except every time he sees me, he tries,” she answered through gritted teeth.

  “Misconstrued intent. You always attack him first, yes? Out of fear?”

  Sarafina kept her gaze locked on the Atrika. “That’s because he’s scary. He breaks into my house, hovers over my bed at night, surprises me in darkened corridors.”

  “Well,” Stefan spread his hands, “The Atrika aren’t very well versed in the ways of our culture. Bai is one of the few who even speak English.”

  She gave him a dirty sidelong glance. “If he never truly meant me harm, why did you tell me you could protect me from him?”

  Stefan grinned. “Ah, that. Well, I actually didn’t lie, my petal. There’s no telling what Bai might want to do to you in the future.” Bile rose up into her throat at those words. “I meant it when I said you are safer closer to me, where he can see you easily from time to time, and where I can remind him of his commitments to me. But as of this moment, Bai is no threat to you.”

  If the charmed pendant Theo had given her was working, he was probably going nuts right about now. Talk about emotional spikes.

  “What is he doing here?” she asked in a low, shaky voice.

  “I thought you wanted answers. The best person to give them to you is Bai himself. I am trying to earn your trust, as you are trying to earn mine. This is my gift to you, Sarafina. He has much to tell you. Right now I believe he wants only to watch you, be in the same room with you. Perhaps later he’ll be moved to speak.”

  Watch her? This was off the creepy meter.

  Sarafina remained frozen, staring at the Atrika daaeman, while Stefan wandered over to the bar and poured amber liquid into a short, chunky crystal glass. “Drink, anyone?”

  Sarafina could sure use one right about now even though it was before noon, but she was pretty sure she’d just throw it back up from nerves. She shook her head.

  “Sit, my petal. Relax. You’re in no danger at all and we’re about to take off.” Stefan picked up a remote control and aimed it at the stereo. A slow, dark, hard alt-rock song about suffering rolled out softly from the speakers. How fitting.

  Bai’s alien eyes bored into her face. She couldn’t move her gaze from his. If she did, what would he do? God, she’d managed to trap herself on an airplane with Satan and his demonic minion.

  Go, Sarafina.

  Stefan strolled over to a seat like nothing was wrong and sat down. “You look as though you’re about draw pistols on each other. This isn’t . . . what’s the name? The O.K. Corral. Sit, both of you.”

  Bai shifted his gaze first. He moved to stand near a chair, but didn’t sit.

  Sarafina sank down into the chair farthest from them both just as the plane lurched forward and began to move toward a runway.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “It’s a surprise,” Stefan answered.

  Oh, goody.

  Theo had undoubtedly worked himself into a serious lather by now. He wanted so much to protect her, even when she was capable of protecting herself. The fact he couldn’t get to her now would be bothering him much more than it was bothering her.

  Right now her heart ached for him, something deep and painful inside her. She wanted him—the feel of his solid body and the scent of his skin. The desire was so strong it brought tears to her eyes.

  “So how is Isabelle?” Stefan took a sip of his drink.

  She blinked in surprise at the question, then quickly remembered the history he had with her. Isabelle had been the one responsible for his imprisonment in Gribben. She’d considered Stefan responsible for the death of her sister at the hands of a demon and had trapped him in his limo one night, allowing the Coven to rush in and scoop him up. If it hadn’t been for Erasmus Boyle breaking him out of Gribben—initially with the intention of killing him—Stefan would still be there.

  “I only met her a few times,” she answered evasively. “She married Thomas Monahan.”

  Stefan tipped his drink at her. “Yes, I know. I sent them a toaster as a wedding present. Such a wonderful couple.” Sarcasm dripped from every word. “And Mira Hoskins—oh, her last name is McAllister now, isn’t it? She’s a lovely woman, too. Killed my father, you know.”

  Sarafina nodded. “I heard that. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Most of the Duskoff thought I would welcome his death, since leadership of the Duskoff and all its wealth then fell to me. They were wrong. I loved my father. He took me in when no one else would. He taught me everything I know today.”

  Sarafina was familiar with the story. Stefan Faucheux had been born in Paris and still sported the heavy accent that marked him as a Frenchman. When he’d been a boy, he’d run away from the country’s protective services and lived on the streets. On a trip to Paris, William Crane had come across the child and recognized him as a very powerful fire witch. Crane adopted him and brought him back to the States to raise.

  Many assumed that Crane had been replacing his biological son—also a fire witch—who had run away at a young age. William Crane’s biological son was Jack McAllister, Thomas’s heir apparent for Coven leader. At any rate, Stefan had proved malleable in William’s hands. He’d turned into a fine warlock, vicious enough to follow in his father’s footsteps.

  “Everything I do is for love.” Emotion threaded Stefan’s voice. He raised his gaze to hers. His eyes were a pretty, clear blue—the same eyes she’d seen gazing out from magazine covers all her life as she stood in line at the grocery store. “Everything I do is for my father, to make him proud of me. He might be gone, but I still believe he watches over me.” Stefan paused and looked distant. “He would want me to avenge him.”

  Bai was staring hard at her. It was making her hands clammy.

  Moistening her lips and placing a look of concern on her face, Sarafina leaned toward Stefan. “I’m sure that William Crane could not be any more proud of you.”

  He took another sip of his drink. “I miss him.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She glanced up at Bai, who stood still as a Greek statue by Stefan’s chair. “I can understand your loss, since I recently lost my foster mother.”

  He nodded. “Then you understand that even though I told Mira that I forgave her for killi
ng my father, I may still have to make her pay.”

  The cold threat in his words made her body stiffen and her breath catch in her throat. She wasn’t sure what to say in response.

  “En fait, my father killed Mira’s parents in a demon circle, so I could see why she would want to retaliate.”

  “Yes.” She scowled at him. “Wasn’t your father trying to kill Mira in another demon circle when she shot him out the window? It was self-defense, wasn’t it?”

  Stefan gestured with his glass. “Yes, there was that, too. At any rate, I forgave Mira for killing my father. I forgave Isabelle for her sins against me as well.”

  The plane took off, tipping her backward. She grabbed the armrests, having disdained the seat belts. Bai still stood, not moving a muscle. Nothing seemed able to budge him.

  She’d like to try a flamethrower.

  Stefan ran a finger around the rim of his glass. “But I may have to go back on my word.”

  That last sentence was murmured in a quiet voice that reminded her of a serial killer. His words were spoken in a way that made brutal, disgusting images of slain animals slick through her mind.

  Stefan wanted Isabelle and Mira dead—and in a gruesome way.

  Again, she found herself at a loss for a response. What could she say to that?

  Sarafina swallowed hard during the intervening silence, knowing he expected her to say something. This could even be some kind of a test to see how she reacted.

  She chose her words carefully when she could finally speak again. “They’re both powerful witches and both protected by Thomas Monahan. Mira is his cousin and Isabelle is his wife. How do you propose to get to them?”

  Bai shifted beside Stefan. It was the first time he’d moved.

  She leaned back in her chair. “Oh. You intend to use Bai.”

  He gave her a brutal little smile and inclined his head. “After a fashion.”

  “Speaking of Bai.” She shifted her gaze to the Atrika and narrowed her eyes. “Let’s talk about you a little, shall we? So? What do you want with me?”

  Sarafina stared up at Bai and refused to look away, no matter how badly she might be trembling with fear. She clenched her fists in her lap to hide it. Having Bai detect her terror would be akin to a shark scenting chum in the water.

  Or maybe it was more the equivalent of a striptease?

  “I told you at the Coven before you threw your fire at me,” said Bai. His voice was low and flat, expressionless. She’d been told the Atrika were all about emotion, but there was none in his voice. “I want nothing with you; I simply want you.”

  “Well, Bai.” She leaned forward and raised a brow. “You can’t have me. Option B?”

  His face clouded with anger. Ah, so there was the emotion. It simmered under the surface of icy stoicism. How oddly familiar. “You have no choice in this matter.”

  “I am a free being, Bai, and I won’t be pushed into doing something I don’t choose. Be more specific about what you want me for.”

  Oh, God, she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer now that she’d asked.

  “I wish you to bear my children.”

  THEO SLAMMED HIS FIST DOWN ON THE DASHBOARD of Darren’s sedan as they squealed through the gates of the airport just in time to see Stefan’s plane taking off.

  If he’d had his cycle, he would have been able to dodge the traffic and would’ve made it here sooner. Although arriving any earlier probably wouldn’t have mattered unless he’d planned to stow away in the luggage compartment.

  Theo watched the plane lift off and sail into the blue sky while the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

  “So much good the charmed pendant is doing us.” Darren brought the car to a halt. “We need an alternate plan and fast.”

  “We get the log and find out where they’re going.” He paused, watching the plane disappear into the horizon. “Then we follow them.”

  Darren watched the jet disappear on the horizon. “And we call Thomas.”

  “DID YOU REALLY THINK I WOULD BRING YOU WITH me all the way to my final destination?” Stefan said, as they pulled up in front of an understated, yet clearly posh hotel in downtown Louisville, Kentucky. The tires came to a stop on a narrow cobblestone street, office buildings rising on either side of the car, and sandwiching the hotel between them. “I have sensitive things to do here. Things I don’t trust you enough with yet.”

  “I can understand that.”

  Stefan planned to leave her at this hotel while he conducted his business. It was a very nice place with a historical flourish.

  Sarafina was still shaking from her conversation with Bai on the jet. The things he’d told her had caused her brain function to seize and she was only now regaining it.

  Bai had told her all kinds of things she’d never wanted to know, and had especially never, ever wanted to pertain to her. Things that had made her wish—no, long—for her days lived in ignorance, when she’d had no idea she’d been a witch, when she’d been a pod potato, living out her days in a small cubicle, typing her way to oblivion.

  Instead, an Atrika had decided she’d make a good broodmare. She didn’t even have wide hips.

  An insane giggle rose of out her. Yes, when a daaeman claimed you as his mate, a bit of brief insanity did ensue. That was another one of those things she’d never wanted to know firsthand. Sarafina figured the craziness was normal . . . if there was a normal for situations like these. If Bai had his way and took her as his mate, maybe she’d get lucky and succumb to insanity completely. It certainly would make things more bearable.

  “Are you all right?”

  She fixed her gaze on Stefan. “I am most assuredly not all right.”

  Stefan clucked his tongue. “If you join us, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from Bai.”

  “Yes, so you keep saying.” She laughed again, but this time it was totally sane. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

  The two bodyguards were in the limo, too, but they were pointedly ignoring their conversation.

  Stefan spread his hands. “You heard Bai tell the story. He was the one who saw you first, a gem of an undiscovered fire witch. Powerful and ignorant of her abilities, just waiting to be molded like so much putty in the hands of the Duskoff. It was Bai who brought you to our attention and laid claim to you first. It is I who will try to extract you from his amorous claws. We want you for our own.”

  Sarafina speared him with her gaze and narrowed her eyes. “So now I know what Bai wants from me, but what do you want from me, Stefan?”

  Stefan leaned forward. “I want from you what I want from all members of the Duskoff—your blood, your sweat, and maybe even your life. In return for your loyalty and your commitment, you will receive riches and luxuries like you’ve never imagined.” He paused a beat. “And for you, Sarafina, power. You are one of the most powerful fire witches I’ve encountered. I would want you close to me. You would be high up in the organizational structure.” He raised an eyebrow. “The fact I want you so much is extra incentive that I will keep you safe from Bai. You should feel comforted.”

  Sarafina swallowed a burst of laughter. Yes, having Stefan Faucheux covet her for his organization of warlocks was very comforting.

  The limo driver opened her door. She glanced at the doors of the hotel, then turned back to Stefan. “Take me with you.”

  Stefan gave his head a shake. “No, my petal. It’s too soon. You were living with the enemy for weeks. You’ve been contaminated. As much as I would like to trust you, I cannot let you too close to my plans now; they mean too much to me. There is a room reserved for you. Check in, wander down to the hotel shops, and buy some clothes. The clothing selection is surprisingly superb here.” He produced a wad of cash and handed it to her. “Consider it my treat. We’ll talk more when I return.”

  She allowed the driver to help her out of the limo and watched as it pulled away from the curb.

  “Damn it,” she said aloud as one of the doormen approached
her. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

  “Can I help you, miss?” the doorman inquired.

  Just then a motorcycle pulled up outside the hotel. It wasn’t a Harley like Theo’s. It was a red crotch rocket. The kind of bike that would make Theo sneer. But it looked fast. Fast was good.

  How different could a crotch rocket be from a Harley? Okay, probably a lot different. Anyway, she’d only driven Theo’s Harley for a short time. That hardly made her an expert at maneuvering a motorcycle.

  But this was an emergency.

  “No,” she answered the doorman, her eyes all for the bike, “but he might be able to.” She walked with purpose to the cycle’s owner, who’d just dismounted. He took her in with one appraising, appreciative sweep of his eyes. It was these times in her life she was glad men seemed to find her attractive.

  The man was in his midthirties, probably monied. Good-looking in an ordinary way. Sandy blond hair and brown eyes.

  “I have a huge dilemma and need to rent your bike.” She shoved the wad of bills at him, with the sinking feeling that this was never going to work. “Can I use your bike for a few hours?” She shoved her purse at him, too. “Here’s my identification, my credit cards, everything. You can hold on to it until I return.”

  He flipped through the bills, his eyes widening. “There must be close to ten thousand dollars here.”

  She nodded, surprised herself at the amount Stefan had given her. “Just for a few hours, I swear.”

  “You even know how to drive one of these things?”

  Well, kinda. She nodded and looked up him, infusing her smile with all the sweet, angelic innocence her blond hair, blue eyes, and peaches-and-cream skin conveyed. She’d gotten away with so much in her life because of the way she looked . . . let this just be one more thing.

  He waggled the wad of bills in her face and grinned. “That’s a lot of money, honey, but the bike is worth a whole lot more. How do I know you’ll bring it back?”

  She gazed down the street and twisted her face in anguish as the limo’s brake lights illuminated and the vehicle turned a corner. Gah. Every moment she stood here was another moment Stefan got farther away. It might even be too late to catch him now.