Vengeance

by Carrie Whitethorne

  On the left was my grimoire. Every witch has one, a log of his or her achievements, enemies and hexes used against them, solutions to conflicts, and cures for ailments. Mine was woefully lacking in anything other than gate coordinates and summoning spells.

  On the right sat my old scrying bowl. I hadn’t used it in years, since I hadn’t had much reason to check in with myself, but now felt like as good a time as any.

  After securing the vial of phoenix tears in a small compartment within the lid, I reached inside and grabbed the bowl, turning and placing it at the foot of my bed.

  Having left my bag by the back door, I was without a knife, so with careful precision, I extended a claw and pierced the opposite fingertip.

  The process was simple—run my bloodied finger around the smooth edge of the bowl, watch it fill with water, then squeeze a drop of blood into the liquid and wait.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long.

  The image was warped, my reflection disturbed by ripples within the bowl, but that was expected. The magic struggled with two personalities, so it needed time to settle on one.

  What was surprising was that the image it finally settled on was of me half transformed.

  “The middle ground?” I asked, gazing into my own eyes.

  Horned me nodded once.

  “Why?”

  All my reflection did was smile.

  I sighed, bent over the bowl, and let my hair cascade around it to act as a curtain between us and the outside world. “The Romani. Is he important?”

  She nodded again, lips quirking up at one side.

  Saucy bitch. Why was it that my subconscious knew more about me than I did?

  “My chances?” I inquired, raising my brows.

  She lifted her hand, no claws to match the horns she wore like a crown, and tilted it left, then right.

  “That’s less than helpful,” I chided, frowning. “With the Romani?”

  Her lips turned down in the corners.

  “With the humans?” I pressed.

  A single nod.

  Shoulders slumped, I resigned myself to the reality of the situation, but for the sake of clarity, added, “Everyone.”

  Her shit-eating grin was all I needed.

  Not bothering with a thank you, I took the hem of my top and wiped the edge of the bowl clean.

  With the blood gone, the water receded, draining back to wherever it came from and taking my drop of blood with it. Sighing, I returned it to the chest.

  After taking a moment to process the information I’d garnered, I closed the chest quietly, rose to my feet, and turned for the bathroom.

  Everyone.

  If I thought my journey so far was a pain in my ass, I was wrong. The week ahead was about to get a fuck ton worse.

  Chapter 10

  Sorrel

  It was an hour after dinner before Cox began to act more like himself. He’d taken a nap and eaten, Jefferson was taking a shower, and Naylor had gone outside for some air, leaving Cox still lounging on the couch while I was in the kitchen brewing tea and washing the dishes. I could have used magic, but decided to put in the effort since Jefferson had gone through the trouble of cooking.

  I’d placed the first dish on the drainer when I caught movement reflected in the kitchen window. He didn’t say anything at first, simply taking the dish towel I’d left on the worktop and joining me at the sink.

  Cox began to dry the first plate, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t push him to, taking my time with the next.

  “Creepy ass woods,” Naylor complained, locking the front door behind him. “The hell is out there?”

  “Probably best you don’t ask,” Cox remarked, placing the first dry plate on the counter to his right. “Sorrel surrounds herself with weird.”

  “Sorrel?” he asked, momentarily distracted. “That’s your name?”

  “Don’t wear it out,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Well, Sorrel, I’m done with creepy, and I’m done with weird. Can I sleep upstairs?”

  “Sure,” I agreed, taking my hands out of the water and shaking them dry. “There are three beds, and you can find the extra blankets in the chest at the back. Take a cup of tea with you. It’s herbal and should help you relax.”

  Not giving him time to say no, I waved my left hand and the teapot on the table rose, tipped, and poured into one of the four mugs I’d set out earlier.

  “It won’t need anything else,” I told him as Naylor stared, wide-eyed, at the animated teapot. “And it should be a comfortable temperature to drink.”

  “Umm…”

  Using his confusion to my advantage, I stepped around the table, picked up the mug, and pressed it into his hands. “Sleep well.”

  Whether it was from my proximity after using magic again, or a combination of my blatant use of power for something as simple as pouring tea, I didn’t bother to ask, but he nodded, turned, and ascended the narrow staircase without another word.

  “Okay, what’s in the tea, Sorrel?” Cox demanded once I’d returned to the sink.

  Before answering, I glanced into the window at his reflection. He was watching me intently. “Why don’t you tell me?” I countered.

  “That isn’t how it works,” he argued with a slight tilt of his head, “and you know it.”

  I turned to face him, undaunted by his confidence, and, with a half smile, asked, “Why the secrecy?”

  “You know that, too,” he replied flatly. “I’ve seen enough to know you don’t need to ask questions. You already know all the answers. You know what’s going on, you’ve just been too focused on your own vendetta to care. But it’s connected, and you can turn the tide.”

  “Me?” I scoffed. “Don’t talk shit. One witch can’t take on the whole Assembly.”

  “Yet here you were, gathering the reagents you need to summon the demon who—”

  The bathroom door opened down the hall and Cox stopped abruptly.

  I turned back to the sink and resumed washing the dishes while Cox continued to dry.

  “Thanks for that, Honey,” Jefferson said as he strode into the kitchen.

  “You’re welcome,” I responded. Hands still in the sink, I peered over my shoulder and tilted my head slightly to the table with a smile. “There’s tea in the pot. Help yourself. Naylor took his upstairs. When I’m done here, I’ll be retiring to bed. I have a few days of sleep to catch up on.”

  He didn’t hesitate—not that I was surprised—before taking the pot and pouring a mug for himself and Cox. When he was done, he looked right at his colleague and asked, “How’re you feeling, boy?”

  “Tired,” was his honest reply.

  I understood, I’d been feeling the strain, too. Even with magical help, I close to giving in and grabbing a couple of hours. “There are two more beds upstairs. Go get some sleep, we can catch up later,” I offered, placing another clean plate on the drainer.

  Cox finished with the plate he was drying while Jefferson poured some of the tea into my mug.

  “Thanks,” Cox murmured. “Will you be around in the morning or do you intend to go wandering in the forest again?”

  My lips pursed as I slid my eyes to the right, unwilling to answer. He already knew what I would be doing in the morning.

  I hadn’t pushed too hard for answers, there was no need. Cox was Romani, Liesel had picked up on it almost as soon as she’d met him, and I trusted her instincts implicitly. Naturally, as a hunted species, he was keeping that information to himself. I understood it, but I still had questions.

  Once Jefferson climbed the stairs, tea in hand, and left me alone with Cox, I scowled at him and countered. “What have you seen?”

  Surprisingly, his lips twitched up in the corners before he replied, “Enough to know you’re both the problem and the solution.”

  My brows rose of their own accord. “I’m the problem? I’d love to hear how you’ve come to that conclusion.”

  He stepped closer, uncomfortably so, and
bent his head to speak quietly in my ear. The hair on the back of my neck prickled at his proximity and my instinct was to move away, but I fought it as he softly murmured, “The target wasn’t the post. It was you.”

  Rage was the only emotion I could muster. Not only at the Assembly, but at myself. My selfishness and blind arrogance had gotten innocent people killed, and I’d walked right into it.

  The demon in me stirred, roused by the anger bubbling in my gut, and I fought to keep her contained. Now wasn’t the time to lose control, not with Jefferson and Naylor upstairs. I was banking on them passing out, and a ruckus down here would kickstart their defensive instincts and undo the sedative effect of the tea.

  Was I so blinded by my desire for vengeance? I must be. Blinded and bloody stupid.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Cox added, placing a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away, unsure if I could contain Alva if she fixated on his presence. She wouldn’t hurt him, the bitch was too damn fond of him, but I didn’t trust her not to misconstrue the situation.

  “Under normal circumstances,” he continued, unaware of my battle for control, “they wouldn’t have known you were working against them. But I suspect they have someone like me in their grasp and you were exposed.”

  “They’ve found another Romani?” I queried numbly. “I thought—”

  “My people go missing all the time. We don’t draw attention to it because we can’t risk revealing ourselves. It’s why I chose the military. Hiding in plain sight but protected to a point.”

  “Until I put you directly in harm’s way,” I pointed out. “Cox, I—”

  “Sorin,” he corrected, stepping closer. He really wanted to drop the formality of surnames, it seemed, removing the military from his identity, and forcing me to see him for who he really was. An asset. An ally.

  “My name is Sorin, and I could have called in sick that day. I chose to go into work because this is bigger than either of us, Sorrel. It’s big, it’s dangerous, but I know you’re the best hope we have.”

  I met his gaze, his gray-green eyes boring into mine, and I saw nothing but the truth in them. He knew what he was facing, he understood what he was dealing with, and he saw what slept within me. He’d seen her, and he wasn’t the least bit afraid.

  In hindsight, I should have asked one of the other more pressing questions that came to mind, but I focused on only one of his revelations. “Who is their source and how do I stop them?”

  Shaking his head slowly, Sorin exhaled. “I don’t know. I can’t see them, just as they won’t be able to see me. But it’s the only explanation I can come up with for them thinking you’re a threat to them.”

  He was right, no one knew of my ability. Hell, even my own, very distant, family was clueless. They suspected, but they didn’t know the intricacies of my genetic inheritance or my grasp of the abilities I’d been gifted.

  “I can’t believe the bastards set me up like that,” I fumed, turning away from him and moving around the table to put some distance between us. “Shit.”

  “There was no way you could have known,” Sorin reasoned, remaining where he was. He watched me pull out a chair and dig into one of the deep pockets of my skirt before adding, “They probably knew you were coming to them long before you made the decision. What was the job?”

  I found what I was looking for, a small hessian mojo bag of seeds, and put it on the tabletop—it hadn’t done much good—before sitting down. “I took precautions.”

  “I don’t know what that is,” he commented, nodding to the mojo bag, “but it can’t counter a Romani’s sight, Sorrel. Only being Romani can do that. What was the job?”

  “Surveillance,” I snapped, looking down at the useless pouch and slapping my palm against the table. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

  The seeds scattered and the table groaned from the force of the blow, but it held firm. My snippy tone wasn’t fair to him, he’d done nothing wrong, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  Hands balled into fists, I stared down at the useless protection pouch. I was done. Years of preparation, research, and training was undone with one stupid choice.

  I was so focused on my failure that I didn’t realize Sorin had moved until his index finger lifted my chin.

  His gray-green eyes held mine for a second, searching for something. For a moment, so brief I wasn’t certain it happened at all, I saw him. Not the soldier from the off-radar post. Not the hapless human I’d used as a bartering tool against a powerful succubus, but the Romani. A being so feared by the higher echelons of the magical communities that he’d been living in constant fear for his life for decades.

  There was no indication of whether he found what he was looking for, and after a couple of seconds I recovered my frayed senses enough to turn my head sharply away.

  Undeterred by me being standoffish, he didn’t step away. Continuing to look down at me, he eventually cautioned, “Don’t let the doubts creep in, Sorrel. Keep moving forward, see your plan through. They’re waiting for your call. You’ll choose the right path and it’ll lead you to them.”

  A few hours earlier, I would have had a smart retort for him, but the string of revelations I’d borne witness to had thrown me somewhat off my stride. Instead, I rose to my feet, met his gaze head-on, and asked flatly, “How do they kill me?”

  This time he stepped away, turning his body toward the table and picking up the two mugs with cold tea in them.

  “A lot can happen on the journey, Sorrel. I haven’t seen every eventuality.” He paused, listening, then dumped the cold tea in the sink before pouring fresh, hot tea into each. “But I do know that your time isn’t now. It isn’t even after I’ve drunk this sedative masquerading as tea, passed out, and found myself several hundred miles away from here, alone, and butt-ass freezing. So I’ll take this, go grab a few hours of sleep, and see you again when the time is right.”

  With a mug in one hand, he faced me again, smiled, and leaned forward. Before I could move, he shifted closer and pressed his plump lips against mine before pulling a hairsbreadth away to murmur, “I didn’t expect to find the horns so hot.”

  Caught off guard by the kiss, I was frozen to the spot, but took the opportunity to say, “Tell me how much you know.”

  “You know how it works,” he reminded me, raising the mug to his lips and taking a sip of the hot tea. “You do your thing, I’ll do mine, and when this is all over, we’ll pick this up where we left off.”

  I frowned at his insinuation. There was no ‘this.’ “Leaving… we aren’t leaving anything off. There’s nothing to pick up.”

  “We’ll see. Sleep well, Sorrel,” he murmured softly, ending the statement with a slow wink.

  My stomach squirmed at the conviction in his tone and I felt Alva stir in answer. That was all I needed. I had her under control for the most part, but that was only because I gave her what she needed on the regular. But Sorin, for all his rugged good looks, olive skin, and enchanting eyes, couldn’t handle her. She’d already made it known she’d love a piece of him, but the side effect of what she could do to him would make Liesel look weak.

  The prick was flirting with me when he knew what I was, which made him either crazy or dangerous. Either way, I watched him turn and climb the stairs, my eyes never leaving his backside as I tried to slow my now racing pulse.

  Asshole.

  When I was certain he wouldn’t come back down, I drank my tea and checked the doors and protective charms I had in place. The likelihood of the Assembly’s minions finding my location was slim at the moment, of them getting inside smaller still, but the tables had turned.

  I wasn’t the one in control, I never had been, and while that knowledge left a bitter taste in my mouth, it changed nothing. I’d come too far to stop now, even if I was missing the final reagent.

  But I couldn’t worry about that, not for the moment. I needed to sleep. I could keep myself going with the aid of brews and charms for several days, but at this point, I was p
ushing my body’s limits. Especially after Alva had gotten her moment to come out and play.

  Dragging my ass to my bedroom, I left the door open so I could hear the guys coming and going, or any disturbances at the windows or doors. Not bothering to undress, I flopped down on my bed and closed my eyes.

  A few hours of dreamless sleep would be a welcome respite from the recent bullshit that was my life.

  Chapter 11

  Sorrel

  Rested from having a few short hours of sleep in my own bed and not a rickety cot, I did as Sorin predicted and sent the three of them on their merry way two hours before dawn. They’d wake up northwest of here with no way for the beast in the forest to track them, and they’d have no way of retracing their steps back here.

  Once the floor had stopped smoking, I cast a simple cleaning charm to rid the floorboards of the spell and set to stripping the beds. Some jobs simply can’t be done by magic, and laundry was one of them, but I didn’t have time to handle it now. I’d bundle it all up and take it to a laundromat when I had the chance.

  I was moving from the bed Naylor had slept in to Sorin’s when I noticed a neatly folded piece of paper leaning against the dated nightlight. My stomach gave a little flutter and I paused. What the hell was that?

  Dismissing the sensation, I snatched the note and opened it.

  Your heart knows. Follow it.

  Feel free to call on us if you ever need a hand.

  Beneath the scribbled text were three carefully placed thumb prints, each labeled with a letter and made in blood.

  The first marked N, the second C, the third J.

  How much Sorin had told them was anyone’s guess, but it was clear there had been some level of communication. Most surprisingly, they were freely offering their assistance.

  Sorin was invested long before now, that much was clear, but for Jefferson and Naylor to pledge themselves to the cause? Color me surprised.