Vengeance

by Carrie Whitethorne

  It was beautiful. Okay, so it wasn’t David, but seeing someone who wanted you dead turned to stone with looks of horror etched onto their faces was an absolute joy to behold. I didn’t need to feel the excited swish of the tail against my insides to know the beast agreed.

  Reaching out, I patted my frozen human shield on the shoulder. “Thanks for that, Bob. I appreciate it. They won’t remember anything when they wake up, but I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll leave you to thaw out without messing with you if you promise not to shoot me. Ever.”

  Unable to respond, he snapped his fingers three times.

  “I’ll take that as an affirmative,” I purred into his ear, then slapped his ass for good measure before turning on my heel and walking back toward the gas station.

  More reagents gone, still hadn’t been paid.

  Assholes.

  This was why I lived in the middle of nowhere, alone.

  Chapter 4

  Sorin

  That sequence of events had been enlightening.

  Not only had Naylor survived the blast, he held his shit together long enough to get us out before any more of the building had chance to fall around our ears.

  I knew Jefferson would be okay. His history with the shifters was one of the reasons I transferred. I’d seen his childhood, and knew he was the one person I needed on my side before any of this started.

  The problem now was that I wasn’t certain which vision I was living. None of them had featured Naylor.

  Our Witchy ally used her magic to change my clothing’s appearance and I pretended to sleep in the back of the SUV I stole—with no small amount of effort—from the post, which gave me the opportunity to think back. Every vision of her had shown me a half-breed, yes, but she’d always had an outstanding feature. Sometimes horns, sometimes a tail. On one occasion, I’d seen her in her full demonic glory, and while she was always just, she hadn’t shown so much humanity.

  But then I supposed without reliable audio, the visions of her were never going to give me a clear picture.

  She sounded different than how I’d expected. Softer. More feminine somehow. The question begged, would it remain the same when she changed form?

  When it was my turn to drive, I finally realized I hadn’t seen this eventuality at all. Having the opportunity to spend time with just us, albeit with very little conversation, told me far more about her than any vision ever could have.

  She was nice. She wanted to help us get away from whoever had attacked the post. I knew who it was, and another glance in the rearview mirror told me they’d finally caught up with us.

  This, I had seen before.

  “Shit.”

  I let the scene play out, pulling over and allowing her to take the SUV while Jefferson handled Naylor, and when she finally sped away toward our pursuers, I turned to Naylor and asked, “Do you trust me?”

  “What sort of dumbass question is that?” he snapped, pointing at the retreating vehicle. “She took our ride. Whoever blew up the post is after her and she took our goddam ride.”

  I glanced at Jefferson.

  “What do you have to say?” he questioned, arching a brow.

  I liked Jefferson. He was straight forward and genuinely wanted squad input.

  “I know how screwed up this is, but without her we won’t see dawn. Naylor, shut up,” I snarled, pointing in his face before he could say whatever was about to spill from his mouth. “She’s more than a witch, and now that we’re involved, we’re more than soldiers.”

  Jefferson pursed his lips, considering what I’d just divulged. “You’ve always been more than a soldier.”

  I gave a single, curt nod, knowing he wouldn’t push for any more information than that, and waited.

  “Okay,” he began decisively. “We do as the lady said. Behind the gas station. Move.”

  He waited for Naylor to go first, and once he started stomping, Jefferson followed, and I brought up the rear.

  “So we just trust the crazy bitch?” Naylor ranted as we crossed the road.

  “Watch your goddam mouth,” Jefferson snapped, slapping him across the back of the head. “She could have abandoned the three of us right there and left us for the building to finish off. Hell, she just drove headlong into whoever is chasin’ her down and gave us the chance to get out of dodge.”

  “So why don’t we get the hell out?” Naylor challenged, turning and walking backward. “She—Whoa…”

  I turned just in time to see the SUV flip, and couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across my face.

  She really was as badass as my visions had shown her to be.

  “Did she get out?” Jefferson asked, concerned.

  I spun back around and started walking. “She’ll be fine.”

  Naylor was glaring at me. “What the hell, man? First, she’s a witch. I mean, okay, with all the spooky shit she pulled back there I can roll with that, but now she’s pitching vehicles into police convoys and you say she’ll be okay?”

  Several shots rang out, so I reached for his arm and turned him as I passed. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We should get out of sight like she told us to.”

  The gas station was only a few yards away, and I led them into the brush at the roadside and around to the back. As much as I wanted to see what the crazy chick was doing, I didn’t really want to be in a position where I’d have to break necks. I could, but I would really rather not.

  Safely tucked out of sight behind the gas station, Jefferson leaned against the wall and checked his M9 while Naylor placed both hands on top of his head and began to frantically pace.

  “This is fucked up. Who the fuck are you, Cox?”

  I stayed a few meters back, listening for more shots being fired half a mile up the road, but didn’t answer.

  “Knock it off, Naylor,” Jefferson warned with a growl, and returned his pistol to its holster on his belt. “Did you hear a word of what I said earlier?”

  Naylor stopped pacing and furrowed his brow. “About us being more than soldiers?”

  “Dumb fuck…”

  “Shut up, Cox,” Jefferson snapped. “You know about shifter folks, don’t ya?”

  “Sure…”

  “My best buddy growing up was a cat shifter. Watched his neighbors be dragged from their homes and beat on by the police, knowing there was a chance he’d be next. Those folks never did anyone any harm, and I’m not gonna judge her because she’s got magic either. She helped us get out of there, she got us this far, and the least we can do is trust her.”

  His speech proved that my trust in him hadn’t been misplaced. I watched Naylor closely, waiting for his response. As expected, he gave it nonverbally before he opened his mouth.

  His shoulders relaxed, and he turned his head back in the direction the witch had gone. “If I die for this chick, I’m comin’ back to haunt you.”

  Jefferson chuckled and slid down the wall to take a seat on the ground. “If that’s what’ll keep you out of trouble, Naylor, I’m okay with that.”

  “It’s gone quiet.”

  I’d already noticed, but I nodded to acknowledge Naylor’s observation. “We should know in ten minutes whether she made it, or if we have to break some necks and run.”

  “Jesus,” Naylor breathed, before resuming his pacing.

  Jefferson smirked, resting his head against the wall and his hands on his knees. “So, what are you?”

  “I’d rather not say,” I answered honestly. “Safer.”

  He nodded his understanding, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes. He was figuring it out.

  “For the record, I don’t wanna know,” Naylor grumbled, slowing. “Someone’s coming.”

  The gait was easy, the footsteps light. I’d go so far as to say there was a skip in her step.

  Jefferson hadn’t moved, but Naylor was so on edge he pulled his pistol and pointed it at the corner of the building.

  A few minutes later, she emerged with her hands in the air in mock surr
ender.

  She looked a little worse for wear. Her already unruly purple locks stuck out a little further than they had before, and her clothes were dusty. Other than that, there was no sign she’d just crashed an SUV and gone toe-to-toe with whoever was chasing us.

  “How many?” I asked quietly.

  Her grin should have been unnerving, but I found myself grinning back when she answered, “Enough. I think we can make it safely out of the state now. Put that thing down, Naylor. I’d hate for there to be an accident.”

  Jefferson got to his feet and walked right up to her, scanning her from head to toe. “You okay, Honey?”

  Lips lifting in one corner, she pulled in her brows slightly before saying, “Never felt better. There’s a Greyhound headed this way. The mess in the road should slow it enough that if we get a move on, we’ll make it to the road before it passes by.”

  Holstering his pistol, Naylor snapped, “And buy tickets how?”

  She rolled her eyes and walked up to him while digging deep into a hidden pocket in her skirt. “Well, smart arse, being a witch, I can turn the occasional magic trick. If I think really hard, and say Abracadabra…” With a flourish, she pulled her hand from her pocket and waved four tickets under his nose. “Ta-da! Now shut up and move before we miss this bloody bus.”

  This time she really did skip away, her hair bouncing and hippie skirt floating around her legs as she went.

  Without a backward glance, I followed.

  She might not have been what I was expecting, no, she was far more than that.

  This crazy witch was my future.

  Chapter 5

  Sorrel

  “What do you think I did?” I grumbled, as we moved to the rear of the bus so no one could overhear us. “You saw the mess.”

  There weren’t many passengers, which was good for me since I didn’t want too many people to see us. We kind of stood out as a group and the Assembly had eyes everywhere.

  Public transportation wasn’t perfect, but since the vehicle Cox had somehow acquired was on its mangled roof, our options were limited. I didn’t want to risk using too many gates—not that I had much wax left to draw them with anyway—and we had to get out of the state before those spells wore off.

  “I blew up a car or two, okay… all four, and handled the guys chasing you,” I muttered. “You’re welcome.”

  “Why?” Cox asked, not bothering to lower his voice. I was a little surprised, the stupid questions usually came from Naylor.

  “Why what?” I fired back, perplexed.

  He held my gaze for a moment, his brown eyes intense, then clarified, “Why did you help us?”

  I got to the last row and plonked heavily into a seat by the window before giving Cox my attention. “Because they’re responsible for this. They’ve turned the human community against the magical community.”

  His only response was to give me a raised eyebrow, and I got the distinct impression he was calling bullshit.

  “Okay, so we may have started it when several species nearly wiped out humanity during the dark ages. The Assembly was formed when a third of the world’s population was wiped out, and they forced the magical community into hiding. I don’t disagree with their decision, what was done to those people was horrific.” I paused as I contemplated if I should have said anything at all.

  The three soldiers were quiet, ruminating over what I’d just disclosed. Whether they knew the true histories or not was irrelevant. I’d revealed the truth and expressed how I, a witch, had taken pity on the humans. Not that I was alive back then, but I accepted my people’s part in those atrocities and fully agreed with the sanctions that were put into place as a result of it. I lived by the ones that still held without complaint.

  The need to explain burned inside of me until I couldn’t force the words down, even if I wanted to. “So many generations were stringently controlled because of the behavior of just a couple, as is usually the case, but we have gained back some freedoms and the majority of us don’t mind.” My fingers drummed against my leg. “Being constantly asked to heal all manner of ailments by all and sundry gets a little tedious.” Naylor snorted, and my fingers paused in their incessant tapping.

  “You wouldn’t understand. Over the years we’ve kept our heads down, we’ve blended in, but something changed all those years ago. I don’t know what, exactly, but it started with the shifters being outed. Whatever the end goal is, it won’t be good for anyone.”

  Jefferson shifted in the seat and Naylor looked uncomfortable, but not Cox. He’d sat on the back row with me and seemed more eager to talk.

  “So where are you going?” he asked conversationally.

  “Home,” I stated, furrowing my brow. Where else would I be going? “Where are you heading?”

  “We’re getting you home safely, then we’ll report to the nearest post,” Jefferson interjected, as he stuck his face in the gap of the seats in front of me so he could gauge my reaction.

  I shook my head and smiled at the gesture. “I think we’ve established I can take care of myself.”

  “Maybe,” he said gruffly, and pulled his head out of the gap before resting it against the seat. “But we’re still taking you home.”

  Naylor had chosen the seats opposite Jefferson and had closed his eyes the minute the conversation had turned to other species. Whether he was feigning sleep or just avoiding any more uncomfortable conversations, I couldn’t tell, and wasn’t curious enough to investigate. But that did leave me with Cox, who was turning out to be something entirely unexpected.

  “So,” I began, turning in my seat to see him better, “you don’t seem surprised by talk of witches, assemblies, and shifters. Why is that?”

  His noncommittal shrug irked me.

  “You’ve always believed in fairy tales?” I pressed.

  “Something like that,” he admitted, turning away to gaze out the window.

  It suited me. No more chatter would allow the other two time to catch some sleep. But the change in his demeanor when I pressed him didn’t go unnoticed.

  Sleeping on a bus that stops every half hour wasn’t easy, so I didn’t bother. The guys did, but they somehow managed to stay alert, rousing every time I moved to find a more comfortable spot. I could have messed with them, but I decided to let them grab as much sleep as they could.

  The two passengers who had been on the bus when we’d boarded had disembarked sometime around eleven, and no one else had got on for a couple of hours. I took that opportunity to shuffle down the aisle to the front and speak with the driver.

  “Hello. Sorry to bother you, I just wondered if I could pick your brain.”

  He glanced my way, as people usually would when I put a solid emphasis on my English accent, and nodded. “Sure, what can I help you with?”

  He was older than Jefferson, I’d say in his late sixties, with a thick beard that added a good half a decade. His eyes, framed by bushy brows, were kind when they met mine, but he soon returned them to the road.

  “When’s the next stop where I could grab something to eat? I didn’t have much for lunch and skipped dinner. I’m really feeling it.”

  That wasn’t strictly true. I could eat, but I could suppress my appetite for a while using a charm I’d picked up as a child. Exploration often led us far off the beaten track, and my mother had taught me some basic survival skills to help me manage until we got home. I needed somewhere to feed the guys though.

  No matter how careful I could be, the driver would notice a banquet suddenly popping up in the back of his bus. Especially since we’d all boarded empty-handed. I also needed somewhere private so I could open one last gate to get me home.

  As much as I wanted distance between us and the wreck I’d left, being on a bus made it easier for the Assembly to track us.

  He briefly glanced at the clock on his dash before returning his eyes to the road. “Just under three hours. I usually make a stop at a diner and give everyone an hour. But if you can’t go that l
ong, there’s a box of snacks my wife packs for me just up here.” He pointed to the storage rack above his head. “Feel free to help yourself.”

  “Oh, that’s terribly kind of you,” I exclaimed, patting his shoulder, “but I can hold on for a bit longer. Is there anything you need while I’m up here? You okay for snacks?”

  His laugh was cheerful. “I’m good, thanks, sweetheart. You go rest your head, I’ll call you and your friends when we reach the diner.”

  Moving back up the bus, I glanced over my shoulder to see him reaching for his radio, but didn’t slow to hear what he was saying into it. It didn’t matter who he was tipping off—if he was.

  Call me paranoid, but I already expected trouble to be waiting for us at the next stop.

  The bus pulled into the diner’s pothole-ridden parking lot just as dawn was breaking far off to the east.

  The engine spluttered before cutting off. “Y’all ready for breakfast?” the driver called, before the passenger door swung open with a squeak.

  The guys were on their feet quickly, too quickly for people who were meant to have been sleeping.

  “Thank you!” I shouted back, running my hands over my hair to check for my last candle. Locating the stub of wax, I made certain it was secure before rising and following the three guys off the bus.

  “You three go ahead,” I insisted, as I jumped from the bottom step of the vehicle. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Cox paused and gave me a wary look over his shoulder, but Jefferson led them inside without argument.

  The bus driver closed the passenger door, not bothering to get off, and settled down in his seat to doze.

  Almost four hours at the very least driving and he didn’t need to pee?

  Instinct told me I probably didn’t have to wait long before we had company.