Vengeance

by Carrie Whitethorne

  Chapter 8

  Sorin

  Succubi, I’d just discovered, were exhausting.

  Just being around their insatiable hunger was enough to make me lightheaded, but having Liesel work her magic had drained me entirely. What was interesting was the sudden change in my mood. The very sight of Sorrel was enough to ignite rage in the pit of my stomach, but that was instantly countered by whatever blood magic was binding us, and it left me with my emotions yo-yoing and unable to settle on only one.

  The blood magic took me entirely by surprise. After what I’d already learned of her, she just didn’t seem like the type to have someone attached to her.

  I held in the laugh that threatened to burst from my chest. I was supposed to be sleeping off whatever seduction devilry the succubus had used to subdue me. Despite the exhaustion and the enveloping comfort of Sorrel’s aged couch, I couldn’t seem to fall asleep.

  Still, I lay with my eyes closed and tried to figure out where I was in my visions.

  The Veil was all too familiar, but Bishop remaining human in appearance while there was not. What that could mean was puzzling. Everything I thought I knew about her was wrong.

  “He asleep?” Jefferson asked from the kitchen. He’d taken it upon himself to cook while we’d been out of realm, and Bishop had gone to her room to freshen up.

  “Looks to be. What the hell happened to him out there?” Naylor questioned, the concern in his tone pleasantly surprising.

  “Damned if I know,” Jefferson admitted. “But he said we should trust her. Wherever they went and whatever they did, she brought him back more or less in one piece.”

  “He looks like he was dragged through hell,” Naylor remarked.

  Jefferson snorted but said nothing more, so I turned back to my visions.

  “They got away,” Naylor stated, clearly annoyed.

  “The representatives that were after her?” Jefferson asked, his tone eerily level.

  “A mess but mostly unharmed.”

  Jefferson sighed. “That just won’t do. If she isn’t stopped, the outcome will be catastrophic. Send a message.”

  The thing with the visions was you didn’t always know when it was happening, and when it was occurring you didn’t know who you were going to be dropping in on. If it wasn’t for the change in language, it would have taken me a little longer to figure it out.

  The problem was, there were no faces or even voices to pin on the subjects. Obviously, it wasn’t Naylor or Jefferson.

  A light shone into the darkness, illuminating an area that was soon occupied by a man in a suit. His hair was slicked back and his face clean-shaven, and in his right hand he held an ornate cane.

  Seconds later, he was joined by another. This was clearly a demon, his horns shorter than those I was used to seeing in my visions of Sorrel. His wings were larger, the protective spikes on the apex sitting level with his slightly pointed ears, and his irises weren’t the standard black like most demons, instead, they were gold.

  The light faded before a new scene developed. Jefferson, Naylor, and I lay on damp grass outside a suburban home with no belongings. No indication of where we were.

  I blinked and my perspective changed. I was no longer looking down on the events, I was in them. Living them.

  This could be more useful.

  “The fuck is she playing at?” Naylor demanded.

  Experiencing a small flicker of annoyance at his tone, I stared up at the sky. “Keeping us a step ahead,” I explained, figuring out the time. It was just past dawn, our clothes were damp, and we’d been here a little over an hour.

  “Ahead of what?” he snapped, as he pushed to his feet and scrubbed the loose blades of grass from his pants. “She could have given us bus tickets.”

  “She gave us the best chance of getting to the right place undetected,” Jefferson interjected, as the front door of the house opened abruptly. “Aww, shit.”

  “Pop?” a female voice called from the house.

  “How did she know where I live?” Jefferson grumbled, heading toward the young woman. I followed close behind as he waved and said, “Hey, baby, what are you doing up?”

  Running a hand over her neatly rounded abdomen, she smiled. “Junior is givin’ it some. What are you doing home?”

  “Long story,” he replied, kissing her cheek and patting her bump. “Go back to bed. Jake should be getting up for college soon.”

  He’d mentioned his daughter was expecting, but I hadn’t realized how young she was or that he was supporting her and her partner while he finished college.

  Before doing as he directed, she looked past him and smiled at me. “Hi, you look like you could use a coffee.”

  “I can make coffee. You need rest. Go,” Jefferson ordered, his tone soft. “And don’t wake your mother.”

  Naylor joined us on the porch, and we trailed inside after Jefferson and his daughter. She ascended the stairs and I took a quick look around.

  The hall was bright, the entire wall running along the stairway decorated with a mass of photographs. One stood out, a younger Jefferson outside what I assumed was his grandfather’s barbershop, one arm slung around another young guy’s shoulders.

  “Through here,” Jefferson said quietly, leading us off to the right.

  We passed through a lounge and into a traditional pine kitchen that ran the length of the back of the house.

  “Take a seat,” he offered, going right for the coffee machine in the corner of the room and opening a cupboard above it. “I take it there’s a reason Bishop sent us here?”

  “Your shifter friends,” I answered, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sitting down. “How many are there?”

  Naylor hadn’t said a word, but he gave me a pointed look as he sat opposite me. I offered him a thin smile.

  “I know of five families in this neighborhood,” Jeff divulged, changing the filter in the pot and dropping the spent one in the trash. “She needs them?”

  With the new filter and coffee grounds in the machine, he poured in the water and joined us at the table. The tension in his shoulders showed how uncomfortable he was with the topic.

  With my arms resting on the tabletop, I leaned forward. “She needs them to know what’s happening.”

  “Know what?” Naylor rumbled. “She hasn’t told us shit. You haven’t told us shit.”

  I swallowed down the sharp retort that threatened to spew from my mouth in her defense. This wasn’t usual for me. I didn’t get involved with… anyone. I didn’t reveal the truth about myself. My people hid, that was how we survived. By sticking my neck out, I was risking my head, but somehow, Sorrel had me breaking all the rules. I hadn’t known her more than a few days and I was already following her into an abyss.

  I could blame the blood magic she used, but deep down I knew that wasn’t it. “I don’t need to see them in person, just an idea of who they are, what they look like. I don’t even need a name, but I do need to get a message to an influential member of their community.”

  The coffee pot gurgled, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the three of us.

  “She’s starting a war, and we’re enlisting. You know that, don’t you, son?”

  I shook my head as something stirred in the pit of my stomach. That wasn’t true, she wasn’t the problem, she was the solution. She was our salvation. “No, Jefferson, she’s not. She’s taking a stand. Your friends weren’t discovered by the authorities, they were outed. The magical community has lived in hiding for hundreds of years, controlled by their own authority. But they’ve taken too many rights, pushed their own agenda. The shifters pushed back, and the authorities threw them under the bus. They knew what would happen, the same thing that happened to the witches. It’s instinct to fight what they don’t understand, it’s why we all went into hiding in the first place.”

  “We?” Naylor cut in, picking up on my faux pas. “What the fuck are you?”

  Rather than answer, I clenched my j
aw. I couldn’t respond the way I wanted to.

  “He’s our buddy,” Jefferson responded, “and that’s all we need to know. So, your guys are manipulating our guys into doing their dirty work?”

  I nodded, relief easing the tightening in my chest. “All the way up to the CIA, and it looks like they’ve gotten into the military.”

  Jefferson stood abruptly and went to check on the coffee, pulling out mugs and milk, careful not to make too much noise and disturb his family upstairs.

  Naylor was glaring at me. I looked away, focusing on the window while I contemplated if I could turn off the safety on the pistol at my waist without him noticing. Probably not.

  “Whose side are we on?”

  His question surprised me after his apparent hostility, but I looked back at him and replied, “Whose side do you think you should be on? There are no right answers. Either way, people are going to die. They’re already dying, you just don’t hear about it. I guess it depends on whether you believe in freedom and what that means to you.”

  Jefferson returned to the table with three mugs and placed them on the table. “Will photographs be enough, or do you need to drive by his house?”

  In the time it took him to make the drinks, he’d made his decision.

  I glanced up. “Photograph is fine. If it’s the guy outside your grandpa’s shop, I already have enough.”

  Jefferson nodded and sat down. “I need to make some calls, set up some meetings, but we can’t stay here. I know someone who can help us with travel arrangements, so finish your coffee and give me an hour to put a few things into motion. Are you gonna wake him or shall I, Honey?”

  “I don’t think I’m in his top one hundred favorite people right now,” Sorrel told him with a small laugh, pulling me out of the vision. “Maybe you could do the honors, Naylor?”

  Before any of them could come near me, I stretched and blinked a few times, reacquainting myself with my surroundings.

  “No need. Morning, sleepyhead,” Sorrel chirped. “Hungry?”

  I didn’t answer, but got up and made my way to the table. My head was pounding. I assumed it was the remnants of whatever the succubus had done to ensnare me.

  “Make that one hundred and fifty,” she muttered, pushing a glass of water toward me. “When you’ve eaten, take a shower. It’ll help.”

  I looked right at her. She was smiling, but there was no amusement there. She took no pleasure from the effect of the succubus’s seduction on me. If anything, it irritated her, and I had an inkling as to why.

  The same reason I was defensive of her in the vision.

  I’d have to test my theory before we left. That would have its own consequences, but at this point I was invested. She was everything.

  Chapter 9

  Sorrel

  I spent several moments with Cox as he shuffled from one foot to the other, making sure to have the portal bring us back on the northern side of my house. First, because I didn’t want the returning portal to open too closely to where I’d cast the outgoing one, and second, because I didn’t want a run-in with the beast that was hunting Cox earlier. I could handle it, but it wasn’t worth upsetting the neighbors when I could avoid a confrontation.

  “You should get some sleep when we return,” I suggested, as I led us back.

  I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head, but he didn’t bother to respond.

  I didn’t press him. His shitty mood wasn’t his fault. Demon charm withdrawals have that effect on people even after such a short time. I’d experienced a bad case myself more than once, but, luckily, I lived alone so I didn’t subject anyone to that particular mess.

  After just ten minutes of walking, the trees began to thin and my cabin was in sight. Surprisingly, so was Jefferson. He spotted us and raised a hand in greeting, so I waved back and told Cox, “I’ll fix you something to eat, then you should consider getting some sleep. You’ll feel better in a few hours.”

  He grunted something unintelligible, followed by, “Thanks.”

  Not bothering to look back at him, I smiled to myself and replied, “You’re welcome. Also, it might be best not to make Naylor privy to what happened between you and Liesel. I get the feeling he’s a little jumpy when it comes to magic.”

  He quickened his pace to walk by my side and turned his head to stare at me with a question in his eyes. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, so I grabbed his arm at the last moment to stop him from tripping over a tree root. Rather than explain, I adjusted my hold until my fingers grasped the bare flesh of his wrist beneath his jacket.

  Ignoring how warm his skin felt beneath my hand, I held firm and incanted, “Ego te dimittere e servitio. Vade in pace.”

  “Do you always incant in Latin?” he asked, raising his hand to his stubbled cheek.

  The mark was gone, no trace of it left behind, but he must have been reacting to a residual sensation as the effects wore off. “It’s the closest language to demonic,” I explained, starting to walk again. “I could use demonic, but that would mean using different runes.”

  “What runes do you use?” he queried, his voice still a little strained from trying not to snap.

  “Celtic, and Norse,” I replied with a side glance, seeing no reason not to share that information. It wasn’t as though he could decipher the codes. Then, as an afterthought, I added, “The two of the earliest magics.”

  The muscle at the side of his jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth and I smiled smugly to myself. I knew the Romani power Liesel alluded to was equally as early, but none outside of the race could master it. In my exploration of the various powers there were to tinker with, I’d tried and failed to wield it. His subtle tell answered many of my unasked questions.

  “You didn’t take as long as I expected,” Jefferson called, once we were within earshot. “Good trip?” His gaze was fixed on Cox, who walked straight past me, his posture stiff, and into the house without deigning to reply.

  “Fruitful,” I answered, when he frowned at Cox’s attitude. Stopping at the door, I leaned against the wall. “I’ll fix lunch.”

  “No need,” Jefferson responded, moving to follow me inside. “I put something together.”

  “From what?” I questioned. I’d been away from home for a week, there was very little in the pantry, and what was there had likely seen better days.

  “Rice, beans, and herbs make a meal if you know how to mix ‘em,” he stated, holding the door. “It’s in the oven, should be about an hour.”

  Impressed, I stepped inside and hung my satchel on the peg by the door. Cox had taken up residence on my couch, looking somewhat worse for wear. Naylor was in the kitchen, gazing out of the window, while Jefferson followed me inside and closed the door firmly behind us.

  The place was relatively tidy, and a quick sweep told me nothing appeared to be out of place which might suggest they hadn’t been snooping around too much, and the smell coming from the kitchen was incredible.

  “Smells good,” I remarked, moving through the living room and toward my ground floor bedroom. “I won’t be long.”

  With the bedroom door firmly closed, I stripped out of my clothes and tossed them onto the bed. I needed hot water, soap, and something comfortable to wear. I could have taken a shower, but with three guys in my tiny house, I didn’t want to engage the only bathroom… I stopped short.

  I hadn’t had anyone else to consider in years. I’d been so busy steadily working toward recovering the many items I needed to reach my goal that I hadn’t really noticed the lack of people in my life. But that was how I wanted it, I reminded myself, as I waved my hand over the large porcelain bowl on the dresser. It instantly filled with steaming water and I took up a dry cloth and soap.

  I had chosen to live alone. It suited me. And I was far from lonely. I had enough acquaintances to call on if I felt the need for company, which was rare, but on the whole, my lifestyle left me free to pursue my interests without having to answer to anyone else. If
you could call them that.

  I suppose after dedicating almost two decades to holding those responsible for my mother’s death accountable, it was more of a vocation. Especially given the skills I’d had to research and hone to get to where I was now. I was closer than I’d ever been, I just needed to make sure Jefferson, Naylor, and Cox were safely away from here before I could carry on.

  Even if Alva grumbled at that.

  With my bedroom door securely closed behind me, I dug into my pocket and carefully retrieved the phoenix tears Cox had won me, and held the vial up to the window to get a better look.

  The silver liquid swirled within its confines, showing glistening silver strands as they caught the occasional band of sunlight that managed to sneak past the canopy of trees outside.

  “One down,” I muttered to myself, opening the closet and kneeling before the chest I kept tucked away on the floor.

  This had been the most difficult item to obtain. Had I known all I needed was a good-looking guy to wave under Liesel’s nose, I could have saved myself years of work.

  But Sorin Cox isn’t just any guy, is he? a small voice in my head challenged.

  I was forced to concede. No, Sorin was something altogether more than just a random guy.

  He was almost as rare as I was. Equally as hated by the fae. Even the dhampir were greater in number than we were.

  I pulled myself up short. We. That was a word I hadn’t used for a while. I didn’t tend to pair myself with others anymore. It was always I, me, alone. I didn’t work in teams, I didn’t take on other people’s problems.

  But now, with the arrival of Sorin, everything was changing.

  This wasn’t my fight, it was ours. Me, the Romani, the dhampir, every half-breed, and every preternatural being on this earth that could possibly rival the fae were now part of my problem, and also the key to the solution.

  Pushing up the lid of the chest, I peered inside. The bottom was littered with scraps of paper, old scribblings of spells I’d started but never found the time to complete, and reagent lists for experimental potions that had either gone horribly wrong or never produced the desired result.