by Isa Fae
“Dammit!” He banged his hands on the steering wheel. How long had Amelia waited to call him? The witch could be further away than he thought. Hell, her impression may have even been gone by now. He got out of the car and slammed the door.
As he approached the grand doors of the mansion, the outside lights came on. The door slowly opened, and a dark-haired female stepped out. Her eyes wide and brown. The stench of a witch invaded his senses. He’d never met a witch that didn’t smell like mud and incense. Most of that came from the fucking rituals they used.
“Mr…Mr. Winters,” the girl’s voice was barely audible. Her eyes failed to look at him. Not that he minded.
“I’m here to see Lord Manchester. I believe he is expecting me.” As much as he detested the fragile little creature in front of him, he had to remain professional. She wasn’t his target. Not yet.
“The…the…the Lord is out right now. Went t-to finalize things regarding…regarding his son.”
Great. Stuck with a stuttering witch. Could my night get any worse? Eric was close to losing his patience. The witch he was hunting was getting further and further away. It was bad enough he more than likely had to work with a cold trail. “Just point me in the direction where she took off.”
She picked up her trembling arm and extended her finger in the direction of the trees in front of her. The ones on the other side of the driveway. Eric turned away from her and headed back over to his car.
Popping the trunk, he withdrew the tote bag with his outerwear and swung the strap over his shoulder. Before he could shut the trunk, something grabbed his arm. Eric swung around, arm back and ready to strike.
“Please, Mister.” A small boy let go of him and cringed, tucking his face into his arms. “Don’t hit me.”
This boy was no witch. He was Fae.
Eric took a step back to evaluate the scrawny boy. “Boy, uncover your face and show some dignity. You are Fae.” He couldn’t help but to let the coldness leak out of his voice. But no Fae should be cowering like that. Kid or not.
The brown-haired boy slowly removed his arms and picked his head up, his brown eyes round as he looked at Eric. “I just…please don’t hurt Miranda when you find her. She didn’t mean to do it. It’s all my fault. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. It’s her will to protect us. The Milord was—”
“Hey, hey,” Eric held his hands up in the air, “slow down.” He couldn’t understand why a Fae was defending a witch. Unless, she managed to put a spell on him. Which wouldn’t surprise him. “My job is to find her and bring her back.”
The boy’s eyes widened even more. “No, please!” He shook his head vigorously. “Milord will torture her. You can’t bring her back. You can’t!”
“Ronan!” The witch from earlier hurried out the door. “Come in here this instant.” She grabbed the boy by the waist and dragged him back toward the door.
“No, please!” He kicked and screamed, attempting to fight himself free. “You have to hide her! Please, Mister!”
The witch managed to get him inside and slammed the door. Normally, Eric wouldn’t tolerate a witch to handle a Fae that way, regardless whether she was a caretaker or not. But interfering would have caused him more delay. He would have never been able to shake that kid on his own.
Eric slammed the trunk of his car shut and made his way over to the trees. Right now he had enough magic to avoid putting on any of his outerwear. Besides, it would only slow him down. He’d save it until he absolutely needed it.
He lifted his face and sniffed the air. Surprisingly, the witch’s trail was still strong. Eric started into the woods, knowing finding and returning this witch would be easier than he thought. He’d be home and in bed in no time at all. Luckily, Fae had no problem seeing in the dark.
3
Miranda
Doomed. The word lingered in the back of her mind as she trudged through the snow, one hand holding an orb of light to guide her way through the darkness. If the freezing cold didn’t kill her, the Lord surely would. Not only had she used her magic against him, which other witches wouldn’t dare to do, but she managed to wipe his only son from existence. She should have pretended to be weaker, maybe that would have saved Sarah. Saved the others, including Ronan, from that wicked man.
Miranda had thought her mission would be a good idea. Use her magic to persuade Lord Manchester to take her in, change things from the inside and free the witches from the Fae, but it only turned out to be her death sentence. Even the Renegades wouldn’t take her back. They’d try to kill her to once they discovered she was also protecting Fae. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Everything she had done, everything she had endured, was for nothing. Nothing. And now she was on the run. But with a hunter more than likely already on her trail, how far could she possibly get?
Miranda’s feet had gone numb, the snow nearly reaching above the bones in her ankles. But she wasn’t worried. Yet. She had been using her magic slowly, pacing it, to keep her body just warm enough to fight off the danger of frostbite in the bitter cold. She wiped her hand over her face as she rushed through the forest to rid her face of the tears, but the frigid wind had already frozen them to her skin.
She had no clue as to how long she had been running, but it felt like years. Her legs were tiring. Her breath short and shallow. But through her exhaustion, she knew she had to keep going. She had to get as far away from civilization as she could.
There was no sign the snow would be letting up soon. If anything, it had gotten deeper. Her dress now trailed through the fluffy, white stuff. She couldn’t afford to use up anymore of her magic. It was true, she was stronger than anyone in this faction, but just by trying to barely ward off the cold, she had already used up too many atern of magic. Nearly a century’s worth. She needed to find shelter soon. Preferably a warm place with plenty of food. But if she did locate shelter, would someone take her in? Would they have been able to hear the news of a murderous witch on the run?
Murder. Her thoughts went back to Huffington. The surprise on his face when she ran into him. The way the blood trickled from the edges of his mouth when he fell. Deep sorrow landed in the pit of her stomach as if a boulder had been dropped. Sure, she once resented, even hated Fae. But that was until she saw the good in some of them. And Huffington had been one of the good ones. Why did he have to show up, at the place and at the very exact time she had been trying to make her escape? Couldn’t he have stayed out just a little bit longer?
And Ronan. What would happen to him? And all the other witches in Mason’s care? Ronan may have been Fae, but he was just a child. Just as Sarah was. A fucking child. If Mason could kill Sarah, there was no denying he could inflict harm on his own kind. He’d done it many times before. A secret she swore to him she would keep.
The snow had become deeper and deeper. Miranda now had to pick up her dress with her free hand in order to keep going. This slowed her pace substantially. And the silk of the dress was no longer protecting her body from the wetness. She glanced down at the glowing purple bracelet on her wrist. She’d have no choice but to resort to using more of her magic. If she didn’t, she would more than likely freeze to death.
Escape had seemed like the thing to do at the time, but maybe now she had been wrong. Maybe, she should have stayed. Or, maybe, she should have tried to make her way through the heart of the faction to the Renegades. Or, maybe she was just going crazy. She’d heard the cold could do that to a person. And it was damn cold out here.
Her rapid thoughts took her to her mother. It seemed like eons ago that her mother traded her own life for hers. Miranda was younger than what Sarah or Ronan had been, but she had remembered waking to find her mother’s lifeless body next to her. Cold, pale, and stiff. Then there was the silence. She’d never forget the silence, or the song her mother used to sing to her every night before that dreadful night.
“In the shadows in the dead of night, a witch’s magic holds the light. Some will fall and others will
fail. Only the true will prevail. Guide me goddess for you are love. Guide me goddess from up above. Your light will clear my path. Take me to an everlasting land.”
She sang the song over and over again as she moved through the trees. Even though it made her feel a little better, it didn’t stop the moisture from freezing to her cheeks.
Then, she suddenly stopped, not believing what she was seeing. A small cabin was tucked away in the darkness a short distance away from her. A cabin. In the middle of nowhere. It was like the goddess had answered her. Miranda wasted no time closing the distance between her and her salvation. She was desperate for the shelter the little dwelling would provide.
When she reached the door, she knocked twice, not knowing if the place was occupied or not. No answer. Looking through the window would do her no good. There seemed to be some kind of spell on it, keeping the inside hidden from view. Knowing she only had two options: Freeze to death or risk coming in contact with another Fae, she chose the latter. She’d have more of a chance fighting off a Fae than surviving the elements.
Pushing the door open, her light revealed a room with a sofa, a fireplace, and a single end table. She walked into the cabin, shutting the door behind her. For an abandoned place in the forest, it was remarkably clean. Someone had taken care of it. But who?
When her eyes landed on the stone mantel over top the fireplace, she knew the answer. Different colored candles formed a line on the stone. Reds, blues, blacks, whites, and purples.
“No, way.” The familiarity of them all caused her stomach to flip. This was no ordinary cabin. This was a Renegade shelter.
She had heard many stories of the shelters spotted over Faction Twelve, but she had never been to one. She never had the need to. They were only used for emergencies by the Renegades. Mainly only occupied if they were traveling across the faction for meetings or attacks on Fae.
Miranda quickly rushed into another room. A kitchen. Complete with cabinets, a stove, and a table and chairs. “Please, please, please,” she recited the word as she crossed the room. She threw open the cabinet door and smiled, overwhelmed by all the canned food stored inside. Vegetables, canned soup, canned meats, and various other things. She closed the cabinet door and spun around. Only one more thing would make her night.
She explored the rest of the cabin. One bedroom. A full-size bed tucked against the far wall. A small closet with a few clothes and a pile of heavy blankets. They would have to do. They’d be enough to keep her dry and warm.
She walked out of that room and continued on, stopping to open a narrow door in the hall. Not only did her smile return, but her eyes lit up. A water heater was shoved in the small space. The gauge showing it was filled with magic. In fact, all the utilities were run by magic. It made sense since this was a Renegade shelter. Shutting the door, she raced into the next room, knowing exactly what she’d find.
There it was. A bathtub.
Miranda flicked on the light and walked in. Bending over the tub, she turned on the water, more than ready to warm up after her long night navigating through the snow. After the water filled half the tub, she peeled her wet dress off of her and stepped into the warmness, the heat causing her toes to burn a bit, but she didn’t mind.
Miranda lay back in the tub and closed her eyes as the heat surrounded her. Her tense muscles relaxed, and she was more than confident she was finally safe.
4
Eric
“I am going to kill this bitch when I find her!” Eric had said these words for the ninth time. This time he did it while shoving on his boot. He slammed his foot down in the snow, making sure his foot was snugly inside. His cheeks burned. His hands. Every fucking thing burned. And the hellish wind wasn’t helping the matter.
He pushed his arms through the sleeves of his coat and shrugged it on. He had no intentions of using atern, or units, of his magic to keep himself warm. No. He would save it all for the witch. She couldn’t possibly be that far away from him. Her impression was strong. Stronger than he had ever felt.
And with how quickly the snow was piling up, he knew she wouldn’t be able to move that fast. Hell, he’d been surprised she had even made it this far. He shoved his hands in his gloves and then pulled his hood over his head. Cursing again. He slung his bag over his shoulder and continued through the forest, squinting through the fat flakes of snow. Eric had hunted many witches in his day, but none of them had been this much of a pain in his ass. Maybe, he should off her himself when he finds her. He could always tell the Lord he’d discovered her face down in the snow.
Of course, then the Lord may want proof. A body. He’d have to make sure not to leave any marks on her. No. Absolutely, not. He couldn’t risk betraying the Lord. It would be too risky, and more than his job would be at stake. If he didn’t deliver this witch alive and in perfect health, he’d more than likely be killed. And he’d be damned some witch would be the cause of his demise. He’d worked to damn hard for his life to end that way.
Ever since he was a boy, he dreamed of the day he could seek his vengeance on the witches. They are sickening. Deadly. Conniving. It was a cold day in hell the day he came home to find his parents murdered. A male witch. A warlock he believed they called them, followed his mother home from the store. She had been too weak to fight him off. The fucker ripped her apart. Then he waited. Knowing Eric’s father wouldn’t be too far behind. He took him by surprise. Eric’s father never saw it coming.
He had come home from school to his mother stripped of all her clothes. Her legs spread wide and a lake of blood covering her body. His father had been on the floor in front of the bed. Probably mourning over his dead wife when he had been struck in back of the head. Blood. There had been so much blood. That had been the start of it. The hatred toward the witches.
But then he started hunting. Things only got worse. The hatred expanded, boiled over and turned to rage. He saw them for what they truly were. Their true nature to lie, kill, and attempt to deceive the Fae. They were lucky the Fae saved them. They shouldn’t have. It was true the Fae’s world was dying, magic was running low. The Fae felt taking them were their only option. But after what happened to his parents, Eric would never trust another witch again. He’d rather spend his time hunting them down, making them bleed, and watching them die. Better if their end was done by his own hands. Unfortunately, that couldn’t happen this time. But he would make her bleed.
Eric stopped for a moment and glanced around. The witch’s magic impression had gotten even stronger. She had to be here. But where. The snow had become so heavy he could barely see. Could she have dropped somewhere? Been covered by the storm?
He took a step forward. No. Her trail seemed to lead straight ahead. He continued walking, but slow this time so he wouldn’t lose her impression. Finally, he came to a small, wooden cabin.
“What the fuck?” he mumbled the words under his breath. He had no idea what this place was or what it was doing way out here in the middle of the forest. But he did know one thing for certain. The witch’s impression led right inside that dwelling.
Eric slowly walked up the steps, the drifts of snow reaching to his hips. The outerwear had been a great idea after all. For the waterproof pants not only kept him dry, but they kept him warm as well.
Reaching for the knob, he carefully opened the door, refusing to make a sound. Not that he had much to worry about. Fae were relatively quiet when they needed to be. But a good hunter was made to move stealthy. And Eric Winters was the best of the best.
Eric entered the cabin and silently shut the door. He moved slowly through the room. Candles lined the mantle above the fireplace, and the place wreaked of witch. But in the midst of the muddy scent, something different drew his attention. A sweetness in the air. Something on the lines of strawberries mixed with an intoxicating floral scent. Different. It had to be the candles.
He crossed the room and picked up a green candle, sticking it under his nose. That wasn’t it. The scent seemed to fade a bit. Unable t
o locate the source, he reminded himself he had to stay on track. Walking back over to the sofa, he placed his bag on the floor and took off his coat and boots. He needed to make sure he could easily move when he encountered the witch, and his outerwear was too bulky to be fighting in.
He cast a glance at the next doorway. Slowly, he crept over and peered in. An empty kitchen. Where the hell was this witch? He hoped she didn’t sense him enter the house. He had no idea if this place had more than one exit. He’d be damned if she had slipped out while he had been distracted by a candle. If she did, he’d lose even more time trying to get dressed again to chase after her.
Moving into the kitchen, he spied a hallway. A flicker of light came from the second room. Pushing his back against the wall, he moved at a snail’s pace, not wanting to make any mistakes.
When he reached the open doorway, he froze. The sweet scent from earlier filled his senses and the figure in the tub caused him to gasp. Her smooth ivory skin shimmered from the moisture coating it. Her breasts, full and round were exquisite, inviting. Her erect nipples craving to be licked. The woman’s toned legs were stretched out tight, her feet, complete with pale pink painted nails propped on the wall. Long, auburn hair flowed over the back of the tub, the patch concealing her sex a perfect match. Never had Eric witnessed so much beauty. So much desire to possess this woman. To make her his.
Eric inhaled deeply, a low growl sounding in his throat. This was his mistake.
The woman shot up from the water, her bright green eyes locked onto him as she fumbled with her hands to cover her exposed body. Then she let out a scream.
5
Miranda