Nightsoul

by McKenzie Hunter

  He tapped on my window, requesting me to lower it. His expression grew severe. “There’s blood on your shirt.”

  “It’s not mine, it’s Landon’s.”

  He blew out an exasperated huff. “Erin, what happened?”

  We were just a few blocks from my house, and I wanted a shower and a drink and to vent. I sighed. “Let me get home and shower, and I’ll tell you everything. Okay?”

  He nodded, got back in the car, and zoomed away. I’d probably make it to my place before him, because he was definitely getting a speeding ticket.

  Asher hadn’t gotten a ticket. He was standing next to his car, waiting on me when I pulled into the parking lot. Pulling in next to him, I got out and put my bag of weapons over my shoulder; the stake I’d used on Landon was in the other. It needed to be cleaned. When I opened my trunk to get the overnight bag, Asher grabbed it.

  “I need to refill it,” I explained in answer to his inquiring gaze. Typically I kept enough clothes for a couple days in the bag, but the looming feeling of being Malific’s target made me think it would be wise to have at least a week’s worth, if not two.

  Ms. Harp’s door eased open just a crack at my arrival at my door.

  “Look who I found loitering,” I announced to the spy. She was trying to be inconspicuous, but I refused to make that possible.

  “Hi, Erin. I thought I heard noise in the hallway.”

  And you were going to check it out and report to Asher.

  My lips spread into a wide, overly enthusiastic grin. “It’s just us.”

  Asher greeted her with a wave. Her attention homed in on the overnight bag he was carrying, and Team Asher was unable to hide her delight.

  “Good. You seem to be in better spirits, too. Earlier you looked distressed, I was worried. I’m glad to see you’re okay. You two have a good night.” She needed to work on her covert looks because I didn’t miss the one she shot at Asher.

  “I’m sure your spy told you about my visitor earlier.” I shrugged off the bag and put it next to the door. Then I toed off my shoes and took my overnight bag from Asher.

  Lips curling into a wry smile, he said, “She might have mentioned that you had a guest and you seemed uneasy. Not a lot of detail.”

  I didn’t believe that for one moment. There was detail, play-by-play detail of his description and everything that occurred during her interruption.

  “Did she just mention it in passing?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, she happened to mention it.”

  “Then you decided to find me.”

  He busied himself with the knickknacks on my table, feigning indifference.

  “How did you know where to find me?” I asked.

  His tongue slid over his lips, I guess savoring the lie. “I’m a hunter, I hunt.”

  I didn’t push, because I knew I’d get the same answer.

  “I did have a guest and it was my dad,” I told him.

  He stopped playing with the little figure on my table and gave me his undivided attention. “What happened?”

  I looked down at my shirt. “Shower first.” I wanted to get the blood off me and sort through the information to reveal. My feelings were too raw and the newness still felt unsettling. A shower would give me a moment to sort things out and maybe get a better perspective. I grabbed my overnight bag to pack it while I was in the bedroom.

  In my room, the gravity of everything finally hit me. I had magic. I. HAD. MAGIC. No more borrowing it and no more longings. My life had irrefutably changed.

  The influx of emotions was hard to control. Relief. Fear. Euphoria. The culmination of them was impossible to sort. So I just let them pour into me, accepting it as my new normal.

  I was sure using magic to close a door, retrieve my clothes, and turn on the shower would soon get old, but I enjoyed it. The shower had given me clarity, something I needed, although it didn’t wash away the unnerving feeling I got from knowing the reason for my birth, my father’s role in it, and that my aunt wanted me killed.

  The smell of food had me rushing out of my room. I tossed my overnight bag in the living room and headed for the kitchen, where Asher was unpacking a takeout bag.

  Becks Grill.

  “I figured you probably needed to eat and this is your favorite burger place.”

  He pushed the container to me when I took a seat at the counter. “Medium well, just the way you like it.” Disgust rang in his voice.

  He hated seeing me eat my “overcooked” burger just as much as I hated seeing him eat his undercooked one. I had to look away when he took a bite.

  “Why do you do that?” he asked, taking a seat next to me.

  “What? Look away whenever you try to eat a raw cow in front of me?” I said, getting an eyeful of the barely cooked burger. Rare. It was the only way he’d eat his steak and his burgers. We were equally appalled by each other’s meal.

  He chuckled and took another big bite.

  “Thank you,” I said between bites. “You didn’t have to do this. I have food.”

  “I looked in your fridge. It’s cute that you’re calling that food. Pizza bagels, a box of frozen macaroni, a burrito, and that salmon in your freezer looks suspect.”

  “I don’t like to cook.”

  “What? I never would have guessed.” He flashed me a grin.

  I hadn’t realized I was so hungry. After I scarfed down my burger, Asher pushed another container to me. Asher and I didn’t have the same taste in burgers but we both loved our Texas cheese fries.

  We picked at the fries while I shared my day, leaving out the part about Elizabeth setting me up to be dealt with by the Huntsmen. Asher’s face remained impassive throughout the retelling, except when he gave me a glimpse of surprised satisfaction when I told him about staking Landon.

  “What are you not telling me?” he asked. Head tilted, he studied me.

  “Things that I can’t share,” I admitted. I started chewing on my lower lip as if I feared the words would escape.

  Giving me a weak smile, he returned to the fries, picking at them as if he’d lost the taste for them. He folded his arms and studied me for a long moment.

  “A strange man comes to your home, tells you he’s your father and has been stalking you for most of your life, asks you to go to his sister’s house, and not one time did you consider bringing someone with you?” His voice was strangely neutral but his eyes were intense with frustration, irritation, and definitely anger.

  “Sometimes I go with my gut,” I admitted, feeling a little embarrassed by how irrational my behavior seemed.

  “Until it’s ripped out of you.” He bit his lip and rubbed his hand along the shadow of a forming beard.

  “Ouch.” It wasn’t just the image the words elicited but the roughness of his words.

  Again, I was under his scrutiny.

  “With you, I have no idea if you’re overzealously brave or needlessly reckless,” he whispered.

  “It was my father, and something in me, maybe instinct, or the way he looked at me, made me feel”—I wanted to say “safe,” but I remembered his role in me being here and I went with—“like he wouldn’t hurt me.”

  Asher’s finger lightly traced small circles on my hand. “I’m just a phone call or text away. If I can’t be with you, I have hundreds of people at my command. You don’t have to go at anything alone, Erin.”

  Before I could answer, he said, “Just remember that, okay?”

  In an effort to avoid his weighted and uncompromising gaze, I moved my attention to my fries, placing an absurdly inordinate amount of concentration into making sure I had a balance of cheese, bacon, jalapenos, and fries each time I ate a bite. The fries would have continued being my top priority, except after an eddy of silence, Asher went to the fridge and took out a small to-go container.

  He opened it, revealing a piece of strawberry cake.

  “Who’s the cake for?”

  He flushed and looked away. “Evelyn,” he admitted.

&
nbsp; “No dessert for us,” I teased. Kind of teased. Okay, I wasn’t kidding at all. I wanted dessert.

  He took out another container and handed it to me. “You don’t like their strawberry cake.”

  I didn’t like anyone’s strawberry cake. Not everything should be made into a cake. I’m looking at you, carrot. Inside the container were salted dark chocolate brownie sticks and berry sauce. We’d eaten at Becks three, maybe four times. I couldn’t believe he’d remembered.

  “You’re the best!” Despite getting magic, it had been a rough day. No matter what anyone said, brownies made it better.

  He flashed me his trademark smirk. “Admitting it is the first step.” Then he slipped out of the door.

  While he was gone, I opened some wine, poured us both a glass, and moved them and the brownie sticks to the living room.

  My kitchen stools weren’t as comfortable as the couch.

  “I thought you’d be gone longer,” I said, when Asher returned.

  “No, she was watching Judy and was quite insistent that I return. But, not before initially declining the cake and giving graphic details as to how I can use it as a form of seduction with you. Can’t get that imagery out of my head or unhear anything she said,” he said.

  Almost everyone in this city has seen you naked because you’ll change from your wolf anywhere, and this is what left you scandalized?

  “I have to hear what she said,” I probed.

  “Not a chance.”

  I laughed so hard I snorted.

  “Well, that’s hot. I want to seduce the hell out of you right now, using all her strawberry cake strategies.” Immediately he made a face of regret, I assumed from invoking memories of the conversation. Sinking onto the sofa next to me and grabbing the glass, he shifted his body to look at me. From the long draw he took from the glass, it seemed he hoped he would get drunk, or at the very least chase away the imagery.

  Asher gave the glass an appreciative nod. I didn’t usually have good wine and definitely not Léoville Las Cases quality. I didn’t want to get used to it, but I was starting to appreciate it.

  Setting the glass of wine on the table, he relaxed back on the sofa, clasping his fingers behind his head.

  “Malific,” he started out slowly, tentatively. “Do you really think she’s coming after you?” Before I could answer he added, “You’ve read stories about her from books Mephisto provided to you.” A frown beveled his lips at the mention of Mephisto’s name. “And everyone’s telling you how horrible and dangerous she is, but what evidence do you have that she is?”

  “I don’t know. But the Immortalis tried to abduct me in the street,” I pointed out.

  “Did they say they were working on her behalf? Could their actions be self-serving? Hopes that she’d be able to find a way to get them back into the Veil?”

  I considered it for longer than I wanted to because there was a small flame of hope still burning that I was more to my birth parents than a pawn. I wanted my birth mother to be more than the monster in the stories.

  Asher’s concerned look was the last thing I needed. I busied myself with refolding the clothes I’d stuffed into my overnight bag. He seemed to recognize that I didn’t want to continue in the direction the conversation was quickly devolving into. Instead, he asked about my magical abilities.

  Between shoving things into the bag, I stopped. “I’ve only had it for a few hours and haven’t been able to really delve into it. So far, I’ve established I can do disarming magic, and defensive and offensive magic.” I walked to the front door and swept my finger over the threshold as I whispered a spell. A purplish shimmer flared, followed by an illumination that spread over the length of the entryway, creating an invisible barrier. It was a simple ward, a simple deterrent, but I was confident I could make a stronger one. I returned to Asher. “And wards. All the things that I could do when I borrowed magic from others. I haven’t tried spellweaving.”

  He gave me in inquiring look.

  “It’s creating your own spell from other spells,” I told him. Not all witches or mages were adept at it. Cory was a great spellweaver. “I’m an elf/god hybrid. I have no idea what my brand of magic can do.”

  Asher didn’t bother to hide what he was thinking in the look he gave me: Should I have cut my ties with my father?

  “I’m not sure what to do,” I admitted, dropping into the seat next to him. My frown wouldn’t relax.

  “You don’t have anyone else to teach you about your magic,” he said.

  I did when it came to my god magic; it was the elf part that was missing. I needed to figure out how to use it, especially if it was the only magic that could be used against a god.

  Overnight bag shouldered, I followed Asher out to put my bag into the trunk of my car. I appreciated the companionable silence because my mind was racing, like the magic that continued to run through me. It was surreal to finally have my own.

  After I put my bag in the trunk, I gave Asher a small wave.

  “Goodnight,” Asher said, with a pause before getting in his car. He stopped, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss on my cheek. Pulling back, his eyes grazed over my lips before kissing them. Soft and tentative. His fingers curled into my waist, the kiss becoming more fervid as warmth moved through me. He lightly nipped at my lip as he pulled away, leaving me softly panting.

  “Night,” I breathed out in a barely audible whisper.

  Asher’s movement was a lightning strike, grabbing the arrow just inches before it hit my throat. Choking out a gasp, we both scanned in the direction from where it came. We raced together toward the building where the shadowy figure of a tall and lanky person, I suspected a man, stood on the roof.

  I glimpsed the odd red illumination of his eyes before they snapped to Asher, who was charging toward him. I was paces behind Asher. The shooter’s attention stayed focused on Asher, who looked like he planned to use the car parked in front of the building as leverage to jump to the roof.

  The streetlights were out, probably the work of the assailant, making the area dark. Asher may not have needed light, but I did. With only the soft glow of the moon, I managed to make out the man stripping off his shirt. Gathering magic into a ball, I sent it soaring at him. It smashed into him and dissipated in a wash of amber color, leaving the would-be assassin unscathed. He yanked off his pants, keeping an eye on Asher, who was making his second attempt to leap to the roof.

  With a second failed attempt, Asher ran toward the back of the building to look for another way up. I ran toward my car for my gun, only to return to see a hawk fly from the roof. It was too far away for me to hit and it quickly disappeared into the night.

  “Shifter,” Asher ground out angrily.

  Not any shifter, one from the Veil. We didn’t have bird shifters on this side.

  “I think that might have disproved my theory,” he admitted drily, shoving his hand through his hair and disheveling it more. He lifted his nose to the air as if he was trying to commit the smell to memory.

  I nodded. Whether the hawk shifter was a follower or just a paid assassin, it was obvious that the arrow was intended to kill me. I was pretty sure who had sent him. I wrapped my arms around myself to stop the chill that ran through me, but it didn’t help.

  “Your heart’s still racing,” Asher said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Lie.”

  Neither of us looked at each other, keeping an eye on the area.

  “Stay with me,” Asher suggested.

  “What, no dinner and wooing? Just straight to it.” It was a faint and pitiful effort to try not to spiral into fear.

  “You shouldn’t be alone. You can either stay with me or at the pack’s safehouse.”

  “I should be fine. I have a ward at the door that prevents people from Wynding or coming through the Veil to my home. I’ll put a ward at the front door to keep all magic wielders out. No one will be able to get to me.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because shifter
s can get through wards.”

  “For shifters, I have a trunk full of silver knives and bullets. I’ll be fine.”

  I felt confident and didn’t think it was a lie. If Asher believed it was one, he didn’t call me on it. It took him a moment before he got into his car. Eventually he did, and as he drove off, I questioned if I was making a mistake. One attempt had been made; I couldn’t be sure there wouldn’t be another.

  CHAPTER 23

  Distracted by the text from Mephisto with the code to the gate of his home, I nearly face-planted over the massive wolf lying just outside my door. A mass of black fur blocked my exit. He simply looked up with disinterest and returned his large head to his equally enormous paws. When I tried to step over him, he stood. His body reached my waist. My track and field abilities had much to desire, and hurdling over him was the only way I’d be able to clear his height.

  “Move,” I asserted with the command of an Alpha. Or what I suspected. I’d seen Asher command his pack; it had an undertone of authority but not the bluster that I put in it.

  Did that damn wolf just snicker at me?

  His head butted into my hip, pushing me back when I attempted to squeeze past him.

  “I said move,” I demanded. Okay, that’s not working. “On the authority of your Alpha, I command you to move.”

  I didn’t think it would work, but it was worth a shot. A four-legged animal giving you a look of derisive amusement is more demeaning than you’d imagine. Livid, I backed away, closed the door, and yanked my phone out of my purse.

  “There’s a massive bear-like wolf at my door,” I said as soon as Asher answered the phone.

  “Erin,” he greeted, casual confidence in his voice.

  “Your ginormous shifter is at my door. I need him not to be there.”

  “Ah, that’s Daniel. He’s a Mackenzie Valley wolf. He’s terrifyingly large, isn’t he? Been with the pack for about a year. He’s a transfer from Alaska. Speaks four languages.”

  “Thanks for the biography. Is English one of those languages because I told him to move and he didn’t budge.”