The Dark

by Cheyenne McCray

  Jake hit the pavement and rolled aside. He rushed to his feet.

  Another wave of purple magic rammed him and tossed him into the air.

  He landed on his back and slid several feet as air whooshed from his lungs.

  Jake struggled to catch his breath as he pushed himself up and started toward Darkwolf again.

  The warlock-god had gone limp. Maybe he was down for the count.

  Jake sprinted back toward Darkwolf, but came up short.

  Elizabeth-Junga crouched at the bottom of the stairs next to Darkwolf—and she started shifting into her demon form.

  Her hands developed into long blue claws, and her mouth filled with needlelike teeth that she bared as she started the transformation.

  Elizabeth-Junga halted as Darkwolf grabbed her still human-looking ankle.

  “No.” Darkwolf’s face had paled and blood rushed from the gaping hole in his chest. “We...must...go...” he said, his voice starting to fade.

  Oh, hell no.

  Jake caught sight of his dagger lying on the sidewalk. He sprinted toward it, scooped it up, and whirled on Darkwolf.

  In a shimmer of purple magic, the warlock-god and the demon-woman vanished. Jake jammed the bloody dagger into its sheath on his jeans.

  He turned to face the massacre on the Union Square piazza and his stomach burned.

  A strange feeling overcame Jake. For a moment he couldn’t move as the emotion slammed into him from somewhere ahead.

  Hatred. Pure hatred.

  So much malice was in the wave of emotion that it made Jake’s skin crawl and he almost stumbled from the power of it.

  Where the hell is that coming from?

  His heart pounded and a steady beat banged the inside of his skull where he’d struck it on the steps. His body ached from being tossed around by Darkwolf’s magic.

  He shook off the feelings of hatred bombarding him, ignored the pain, and jogged toward the slaughter.

  Bodies littered the square.

  Naked Stormcutters and uniformed PSF cops, as well as Marines, were down. Some injured. Many dead.

  At least a unit of the Marines had joined the Alliance.

  Thank God.

  Two D’Danann swords lay on the concrete. Since the Fae warriors turned into sparkles when they died, for all Jake knew those swords could belong to dead D’Danann.

  The D’Anu witches—

  There. By the monument. Five, six, seven—

  Cassia? Where’s Cassia?

  Sirens shrieked as what looked like a hundred law enforcement vehicles surround the square.

  News vans with satellite dishes screeched into the closest parking spaces they could find. The news crews hurried to break out their equipment and cameras before police could cordon off anything.

  “Shit,” Jake growled. “Just what we need.”

  The Coven of thirteen white magic D’Anu witches appeared from nowhere on one end of the piazza.

  Jake rubbed his temples.

  The white witches always seemed to know when they were needed.

  Cassia’s gray magic Coven had once been a part of them, but the eight witches in Cassia’s Coven had been banished for using gray magic.

  He narrowed his gaze at Janis Arrowsmith, who walked with the twelve other witches to do their healing thing. Apparently she was back after disappearing following the last battle. If it hadn’t been for that old woman’s interference one time, the war could have ended weeks ago.

  Jake turned away from the white witches and jogged through the square toward the monument where the gray witches had gathered. He dodged bodies and weapons. Anger burned through him at every familiar dead face of his officers.

  Along the way he saw David Bourne and they gave a quick nod to each other as they took care of business. Jake was relieved to see his buddy alive, but had no time for any kind of reunion right now.

  Fear crawled up his throat as he saw a blonde woman sprawled on the concrete.

  Shit! Cassia?

  He doubled his steps, his heart hurting from the force of its pounding.

  As Jake neared the body, relief poured through him. Not Cassia, but a woman Marine who was stirring. The Marine wasn’t dead.

  Jake checked to see how bad her injuries were. A slash across her belly, but not too deep. “Over here!” he shouted to one of the med-techs.

  He got to his feet as the tech arrived, and looked up to see Kael bounding across the piazza toward the witches. He howled as he ran.

  Cassia stepped away from the witches, knelt, and hugged Kael the moment he reached them.

  Jake almost stopped breathing as he started in her direction. Cassia stood and spotted him as he hurried toward her.

  The moment Jake reached Cassia he grabbed her, hauled her into his embrace, and held her tight to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her cheek on his heart, which was beating hard enough to come out of his ribcage.

  He wanted to kiss Cassia so badly to assure himself she was all right. But holding her in his arms as tightly as he could would have to do for now.

  When he drew away, he tried to brush a smudge of mud and smoke away from her cheek, but only managed to smear it more. “I should know better than to worry about you, Princess.”

  She smacked him on the arm. “Shhh. Don’t call me that,” she whispered as her Coven sisters approached. But her expression let him know she’d been just as worried about him.

  Jake leaned down and murmured in her ear. “You’ll always be Princess to me.”

  Cassia pulled back, her cheeks red as her gaze met his. Sparks snapped at her fingertips. He heard a cracking sound and hoped she hadn’t just broken the piazza’s monument. Her turquoise eyes were lovely, as well as her battle-worn clothes and wild hair.

  “You know the drill.” He brushed hair from her face. “Do your vanishing thing with the other witches. I’ve got to do my cop thing.”

  “I’ll see you back at headquarters.” She backed up before turning away to join her Coven sisters.

  They all had surprised expressions as they glanced from Cassia to Jake and back to her. Cassia looked over her shoulder at him once, and gave him a little smile before turning away.

  In a voice loud enough for Jake to hear over the craziness in the square, Cassia said to the other witches, “Join hands.”

  Cassia and Rhiannon gripped Kael’s fur as he stood between them. The witches looked at Cassia with confusion, but did what she asked them to. As soon as everyone had joined hands, they disappeared.

  A flash and they were gone.

  Jake closed his eyes for a moment, wishing Cassia had transferred herself and the other witches to Otherworld to protect them from the horrors they now faced.

  But he knew she’d taken them back to HQ just like she’d said she would. These women fought with everything they had and they never gave up.

  Never.

  And he admired every one of them.

  With a deep sigh, he readied himself to face the onslaught of military and law enforcement.

  God, will this never end?

  Jake turned around.

  And almost groaned out loud.

  Kat DeLuca stood behind him, her arms crossed over her chest, her beautiful features tight and angry. She gripped her reporter’s microphone in her hand.

  A large number boldly stood out within a white circle near the top of the microphone to show that she reported for Channel 17. The cameraman was behind Kat, his back to her as he filmed bodies scattered across Union Square.

  “What was that about, Jake?” Kat’s biting tone cut over the sounds of chaos in the square as she marched up to Jake so that they were a few inches apart. “Don’t tell me that woman’s just a friend.”

  Jake’s stomach sank. Crap. He didn’t want to end it with Kat this way. He’d planned to get together with her tomorrow and tell her everything as he broke up with her. Gently.

  Not like this. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her.

  Ah, hell. He too
k a few steps closer to Kat. “I planned to tell—”

  Kat drew herself up and clenched one hand around the microphone, and the other into a fist. She slammed her fist against the same spot on his jaw where Cassia had punched him earlier.

  Damn, these women hit hard.

  Between the two of them and the beating his head had just taken from the fight with Darkwolf, he was practically seeing stars.

  He rubbed his jaw and sighed as she took a step back. He imagined he could see smoke from her anger drifting off her casual blouse and slacks. Like Cassia and her sparks.

  There was so much more he wanted to say, but nothing he did would make anything right between them. This wasn’t a “let’s be friends” kind of moment.

  All he could say was, “I’m sorry.”

  “Go to hell, Jake Macgregor.” She gave him a piercing glare with her dark eyes. Her short black hair swung around her face as she turned and met up with her cameramen.

  Damnit. No, it wasn’t the way he’d wanted to end it with Kat.

  He heaved a frustrated sigh. At least it was done. Now he could go to Cassia and—

  And what?

  Where could he and Cassia go with a relationship? A Guardian ascending, life-threatening sex…

  Shit.

  Jake looked over his shoulder to where the witches had disappeared.

  He thought about Cassia and how he’d just seen her. Her hair and clothes drenched, smears of mud and smoke on her face and hands.

  Beautiful.

  The pain in his chest at the thought of letting her go was like someone had taken his own jagged dagger and stabbed him in the heart instead of nailing Darkwolf.

  Not going to happen.

  I’m not letting Cassia go. Somehow we’ll work this out, no matter how complicated it might turn out to be.

  10

  Pain ripped through Darkwolf’s chest as he transferred himself and Elizabeth from Union Square to their penthouse suite. He landed facedown on the carpet with a hard thump. He still gripped Elizabeth’s ankle, but released her as she stumbled and fell beside him.

  “Darkwolf!” Panic edged Elizabeth’s voice as she moved onto her knees and rolled him onto his back with her inhuman strength. “Dear gods,” she whispered. Tears on her cheeks mingled with moisture from the rain.

  Tears. From a demon-woman.

  If he wasn’t in so much pain he might wonder over that a little more.

  Darkwolf jerked with the next bout of pain as a seizure grabbed hold of him. It caused him to convulse and obliterated his thoughts.

  Blood rushed from the hole in Darkwolf’s chest and Elizabeth braced her palm over it, applying pressure. “You can heal.” Her voice sounded hoarse, maybe from trying to hold back from crying anymore. “He didn’t take your heart out. You can heal.”

  Darkwolf didn’t remember ever feeling so exhausted. He closed his eyes, wanting to slip away from the excruciating pain into darkness and sleep.

  “Stay with me.” Elizabeth’s shout brought his attention to her as he snapped his eyelids open. Tears still rolled down her cheeks, but she now had a fierce expression on her face. “Concentrate on healing. This wound is bad. You must use your magic.”

  Darkwolf groaned and brought his hand up to hers, over the hole above his heart. Blood coated their fingers as the thick fluid pumped out.

  He imagined the wound sealing. Willed it. Healing the tissues above his stone-encased heart. The healing magic felt hot. Harsh. Infinite.

  If not for stealing the god Balor’s powers, Darkwolf would have died a fast death from the cop’s blade. But thanks to the god’s stone totem that Darkwolf had absorbed inside his chest, his heart was well protected.

  Darkwolf looked into Elizabeth’s beautiful blue eyes. Once she had demonstrated to him how easily an opponent could rip out his heart if he wasn’t always on guard.

  She’d shown him he wasn’t as invincible as he liked to think. And what had happened tonight proved it even more.

  But he had the power of two gods.

  It would be nearly impossible to kill him.

  Nearly.

  Next time he’d be more than ready for Jake Macgregor. The cop had been a thorn in Darkwolf’s side since the early days, when Darkwolf had recruited warlocks to bring the demons and the god, Balor, to San Francisco.

  What seemed like a lifetime ago.

  And the bastard, Macgregor, had almost killed Elizabeth when he shot her.

  Darkwolf growled, and pain almost made him growl again. Macgregor should have been dead after the surprise Darkwolf had planned in Golden Gate Park, thanks to his little traitor.

  But his informant had let him know afterward that one of the D’Anu witches, the half-Elvin one, had saved the cop.

  More agonizing pain bound Darkwolf’s chest and he shouted and writhed as his body healed itself. He hadn’t realized the process would hurt like hell.

  “You will live.” Elizabeth brushed her lips over his cheek. “I will not let you die.”

  The warmth and tenderness she exhibited nearly shocked him speechless. He had felt the same kind of warmth for her when she almost died thanks to that bastard Macgregor, but Elizabeth had never shown those emotions to Darkwolf.

  Damn. He really didn’t want to analyze his feelings. They didn’t make any sense.

  Elizabeth was a demon in a human’s shell, so he shouldn’t feel anything for her. Except to make sure she served him in whatever way he chose to use her.

  Use her. The words mocked his thoughts, and he forced them away as he looked up at Elizabeth and met her eyes again.

  Pain still squeezed his chest and they were both covered in his blood. He’d half expected his blood to be black now that the powers of both the dark goddess and god ran inside him.

  But his blood was red. Perhaps it was the warlock-human side of him. The weak side.

  Thoughts of being weak in any way made him clench his teeth. He needed to get up and prove to himself that he was still strong, still powerful.

  “Stay down.” Elizabeth kept his shoulders pinned to the floor as he tried to sit up. “Wait a little longer to make sure you’re all right.”

  He could have thrown her off with his superior powers, regardless of her demon strength, but he listened and looked up at her.

  She was so beautiful. All that long, dark hair, full lips, blue, blue eyes. Elizabeth was once a powerful businesswoman, a ball-busting bitch, before Junga stole Elizabeth’s human shell.

  Now Elizabeth and Junga—they had become one to him. The demon had evolved into a woman he—he—

  Darkwolf closed his eyes, then startled when Elizabeth pressed her soft lips to his. She kissed him gently, moving her lips over his mouth. Almost without thinking, he brought his bloody palms to her cheeks and held her face as he kissed her long, hard, deep.

  The kiss stirred him in ways that he’d never been moved before. He and Elizabeth never kissed. They just fucked. But, this—this was—he couldn’t find the words.

  Elizabeth pulled away before he was ready and he opened his eyes. Despite the continual pain in his chest he ached to be inside her more than anything right now.

  She gave him a soft smile as she looked along the thick length of him and back to his face. “Later. Now, you heal.”

  Elizabeth slipped down so that her head rested on his biceps and he cradled her close to his side. She wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled up to him as if they weren’t both covered with blood and he wasn’t injured.

  As if they were lovers. As if they cared about each other. For more than power. For more than sex.

  God, gods, goddesses—whoever was out there now that he could pray to, call to, shout at.

  No. Right now he wanted to stop thinking about anything at all.

  He’d just enjoy the feel of Elizabeth’s body next to his while he slept and healed.

  11

  Darkwolf could have died tonight.

  Tonight.

  My head hurts and my chest
aches as the horrible scene replays in my mind. Over and over and over again. The blood. So much blood.

  I felt so helpless as I caught a glimpse of Jake Macgregor nearly stealing Darkwolf’s life.

  The moment Jake struck Darkwolf, my chest burned with such incredible fire, as if the cop had stabbed me with the dagger. I fell on the concrete piazza from the force of the pain.

  With all of his powers, his magic, how could this have happened? How could Darkwolf be vulnerable in any way?

  My muscles ache from shaking so hard. The nuns had made me feel helpless as I grew up. That I was a bad person because my mother had been Pagan, a direct descendant of the Ancient Druids.

  When she died I was forced into the orphanage. According to the nuns, sin stained my soul because of my mother and I had to repent.

  But I got even.

  Oh, how I got even.

  Before I left, I used my emerging Pagan powers to make them hurt. Make them pay.

  If only Sister Anne Marie had died when I used my magic to shove her out a second-story window. She fell into a crumpled heap, but she didn’t die. The bitch didn’t die.

  None of them did. I was too young to have enough control over my powers.

  Now, of course, is different. I have control. I have power.

  Light stings my eyes as the storm fades, leaving the daylight sun shining again.

  This whole thing would no doubt end if Darkwolf could attack the Alliance’s headquarters.

  The Alliance is completely protected against Darkwolf’s storms and his Stormcutters by the thick-walled building, designed to withstand the greatest earthquakes that have ever hit San Francisco.

  If the warlock-god hadn’t escaped with that demon-bitch, I would have gone after the cop myself to save Darkwolf. I would have blown Jake apart.

  With one word, one action, I could have screwed everything up that has been so perfect. I could have been exposed.

  No way. I’ll see this through.

  I was there at the beginning.

  I’ll be there at the end.

  12

  The moment they arrived in the kitchen at the Alliance’s HQ, all seven of the D’Anu witches dropped hands and stepped back from Cassia and Kael.