Witch Blood

by Anya Bast

  He scanned the room, resting his gaze on each of the patrons in the smoky, dimly lit space in turn. There were a few witches in the place, but it was mostly filled with nonmagickicals tonight. Again, he didn’t see Boyle.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

  Every night they didn’t find the demon was another night a witch could be killed.

  Micah laid a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get a drink.”

  He passed a hand over his tired face. “Sounds good to me.”

  At the bar Adam chatted up an attractive brunette whose date Thomas had seen disappear into the bathroom a few moments prior. She was an earth witch of low ability, if Thomas judged correctly.

  Thomas slid onto the stool beside him—the swords they wore weren’t long enough to impede sitting—ordered a bourbon, and tried to ignore the low sultry laugh of the woman Adam was busy flattering.

  Thomas pulled his cell phone from his pocket and stared at it for a moment, deliberating over whether he should call Isabelle or not. He wondered how it had gone with her mother. His gut reaction had been to lock Catalina out of the Coven grounds when he’d seen her face come on the monitor, but as protective as he felt over Isabelle, it was not his place to interfere in her family life.

  He stared at his cell phone for another moment and then snapped it closed. It was two in the morning. Isabelle was probably in bed right now. Jack had been instructed to stay in the living room until he returned. Thomas could only imagine how pleased Isabelle must have been to hear about those orders.

  Even though it wasn’t his place to interfere with Isabelle’s family life, as head of the Coven it most definitely was his place to interfere in matters concerning her safety. Isabelle would simply have to get used to that.

  If he was fucking her, that only made it more his concern.

  If he loved her, that made it an imperative.

  And he was coming to love Isabelle. Her chaos played a nice counter note to his control. He’d never realized how much he’d need a force like her in his life until she’d landed in the middle of it.

  The bartender sat his bourbon and Micah’s drink down in front of them. Thomas picked up his glass and took a long swallow of the second-rate alcohol, enjoying the satisfying burn of it down his throat.

  “You look tired, boss,” said Micah.

  “Not sleeping well. I can’t rest for wondering when we’ll get the next phone call about a witch slaughter.”

  Micah grunted. “I would’ve thought you weren’t sleeping for other reasons. Isabelle reasons.”

  “There’s that, too.” Thomas shrugged a shoulder. “It’s just a thing. Isabelle will move on once this is over.” Whether he wanted her to or not.

  “Think so?”

  He swirled the amber alcohol in his glass. “Know so. All you have to do is look at her records to see that much. She’s a traveler. She doesn’t form attachments.”

  No matter how much he might wish her capable of it, Thomas preferred the truth. And the truth was that Isabelle had been damaged long ago. Maybe she was too damaged for the love he was beginning to feel for her.

  Micah went silent for a heartbeat before replying, “People change.”

  The brunette’s date returned from the bathroom. He was also an earth witch of relatively limited power. Thomas listened to the ensuing brief jealousy-fueled altercation between him, the brunette, and Adam, and then watched the man drag the woman from the bar.

  “Not most people,” Thomas replied.

  Adam turned toward them with a satisfied look on his face. He grinned. “Got her phone number.”

  “Case in point.” Thomas stared at the row of bottles in front of them and took another drink.

  Micah snorted. “Don’t you get sick of breaking up relationships, Adam?”

  “I don’t think of it like that. I can’t break up a relationship that’s not destined to be broken up anyway.” Adam wiped a bead of moisture off his glass. “Which is pretty much all of them, in my opinion.”

  Micah pushed his glass away. “Damn, you’re both depressing the hell out of me tonight.”

  Thomas glanced at him. “That’s because it’s a fucking depressing night.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Adam hoisted his glass.

  Thomas fished some bills out of his wallet and tossed them on the bar. “Finish up, guys. I want to get back to the Coven.”

  “Back to Isabelle, you mean,” said Adam, right before he drained his glass.

  “Yeah, back to Isabelle.”

  He and Micah finished their drinks. They settled their bill and headed outside to the car, parked in a lonely part of the nearly empty lot. Above their heads, the full moon lit their path across the parking lot. Gravel crunched beneath their shoes.

  As Thomas hit the remote locks on the door, he heard a low moan coming from around the side of the building.

  “What the hell?” whispered Adam.

  Furrowing his brow, Thomas pocketed his keys and edged his way around the side of the building, trampling weeds and tripping over litter as he followed the low sound. Adam and Micah stayed behind him.

  At the back of the bar lay an employee parking lot. Three cars were parked there and a Dumpster stood near the rear exit. Weeds sprouted through the cracked pavement. Shrubs and small trees grew around the periphery.

  They stopped at the corner of the building and waited until another low moan resonated in the night air. It came from behind the Dumpster.

  Thomas turned and motioned for Micah and Adam to go around the opposite side of the Dumpster. The three of them moved in close. Thomas didn’t pull his sword yet. It could be anything from a prostitute or some other illicit liaison to a mugging to—

  “Demon,” he murmured.

  He could smell him—that distinct dry, earthy smell that wasn’t quite of this earth. Perhaps it wasn’t Earth, but Eudae. Catching Adam’s eye, Thomas reached over his head, grasped the handle of the sword and drew it slowly.

  The moan came again. Thomas and Adam rounded the corners of the Dumpster at the same time, cautiously, swords held ready to swing. The brunette from the bar lay crumpled on the ground in fetal position. The demon was nowhere in sight, but his scent lingered in the air. The man who’d been with the woman in the bar was also missing.

  Adam ran to the woman, knelt, and laid his sword on the pavement beside her shoulder. “Susan? Can you hear me?”

  The woman moaned again and put a hand to her head.

  Thomas sank to the ground on her other side. Blood marked her cheek and spattered her shirt. Thomas suspected her nose might be broken. “Susan, where is your date? Where is the man you were here with?”

  She rolled to her back, wincing. “Jake?”

  “Yes, Jake. Where is he?”

  She moaned again and Adam pulled her onto his lap. “There was a…man…a big man. At least I think he was a man. He didn’t seem human, but didn’t feel like a witch. He punched me and fought with Jake.” She swallowed hard. “Jake lost. The man dragged him off.”

  “In what direction did the man take Jake?”

  Susan raised a trembling arm. She pointed to the scrubby line of vegetation that edged a small stand of trees around the employee parking lot. “There. He dragged him in there.”

  Thomas stood and grabbed his sword. “Micah, get this woman medical attention. Adam, come with me.”

  He and Adam took off in the direction she’d pointed, wading cautiously into the weed-choked area. Brambles pulled at his clothing and vines tried to trip him. Thomas could detect no scent of the demon now and could hear nothing—no struggle. Were they too late?

  They made their way through the clearing and found themselves behind a factory. The gentle whirr of a ventilation system met their ears.

  A short distance away they could see a vintage Harley parked in another lot, metal and chrome gleaming in the moonlight. Glimpsing it at the same time, he and Adam both walked toward it. Boyle had come to snatch a pretty big witch, but the
demon wouldn’t need physical means to transport Jake out of here. He might have come on his cycle but he likely planned to leave through a doorway with his captured prey. Micah had found an entry in the texts that said it was possible for Boyle to do that.

  A blur of motion came toward them from Thomas’s left. They both whirled toward it and something caught Adam in the face. Whatever it was moved too fast for Thomas to track. Adam grunted and collapsed.

  Then nothing. Silence but for Adam’s harsh breathing and soft curses uttered from where he lay sprawled on the ground.

  “You okay?” Thomas said, making a wary circle with the sword in hand. The scent of demon now filled the small clearing they stood in.

  “No, goddamn it. That’s a dumb question,” groaned Adam, but he struggled to his feet anyway.

  The blur came again, this time straight at Thomas. He swung his sword, hit air. Then a heavy fist struck the side of his head and it was his turn to kiss the ground.

  Thomas blacked out for a moment under the force of the punch, but then pushed quickly to his feet, knowing they didn’t have much time. The demon was just playing with them now and it wouldn’t take long before he got serious. Nausea rolled around in his stomach as he balanced unsteadily, pain throbbing through his head and shoulders.

  Playing with demons was just no fun at all.

  He and Adam exchanged a glance and stood ready in the moonlight, both swaying a little. Blood trickled into Thomas’s eye and made it burn.

  Silence.

  Stillness.

  From Thomas’s right came another blur of motion. With all his might, he concentrated on the movement and calculated the swing of his sword. Blade bit into flesh and Boyle roared. The demon’s fist came down again, backhanding Thomas. His sword flew from his grasp to land in the nearby brush.

  As Boyle lifted his hand again, Thomas tapped his magick. Power coursed, channeled through his chest and down his arm. He concentrated it on the earth beneath Boyle’s feet, causing it to rumble and shake.

  Boyle, caught off balance, stumbled backward. Adam stepped in immediately, swinging his sword at the demon who dodged the blow at the last second. The blade whistled through the air an inch from the demon’s throat.

  Thomas lunged for his lost weapon. As his hand closed around the grip, he heard Adam’s warning, “Watch out!” and rolled to the side to see Boyle had picked up a huge branch and was attempting to skewer him with the end like a marshmallow at a campfire. The end of the branch stuck in the ground where Thomas had been just a moment before.

  Thomas took the opportunity to swing the blade in an arc toward Boyle’s knees, but the demon managed to pull the branch free and block his swing. The blade stuck fast in the wood like Excalibur to stone. Boyle and Thomas both pulled to extract their weapons at the same time. Wood and blade separated. Thomas rolled away while the demon turned and engaged an attack from Adam.

  He pulled himself to his feet and glimpsed a prone figure in the weeds. Jake. Thomas couldn’t tell if he still lived or not.

  Thomas turned and bellowed, “What do you want with them?” Rage and frustration made the words echo raw and bloody into the night air, pulled from his throat with savage intensity.

  Just then Adam sank the sword into the demon’s leg. Boyle yelled out in pain and punched Adam so hard he flew backward, hit the ground and lay still. Icy fear clenched in Thomas’s stomach. He wanted to get to him but at the moment a very pissed off demon blocked his way.

  Boyle turned, pulled the sword from his leg and tossed it to the side. “I want to go home!” He took several menacing steps toward Thomas. The demon’s skin now had an unnatural reddish cast to it. His eyes had bled to obsidian and the demon’s grimace revealed unnaturally sharp teeth.

  According to Micah these bodily changes meant the demon had entered a killing rage. Fun.

  “I just want to get home, aeamon,” repeated Boyle.

  “So you’re using the witches to open a doorway between Earth and Eudae? Is that what you’re doing?”

  “I am amused by the tie you have with the water witch, but your ignorance annoys me.”

  Thomas circled the demon warily, sword tight in his grip. He really didn’t like any words coming from the demon’s mouth that concerned Isabelle. “Since I’m so ignorant, why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “Educating you is not my concern, aeamon. You’re only delaying me.”

  “Really? Are you in a hurry?” He paused for a moment and then rasped, “Tell me how you’re doing it, Boyle.”

  “It’s almost done. I have only two more keys to make and I’m finished. This is nothing to you, and I have nothing to say. Leave me alone. Let me go home.”

  “This is everything to me! You’re killing my people!” Thomas’s throat felt raw more from shouting and rage than from the beating he’d taken. Rage at not being able to stop the demon filled every molecule of his body.

  “Your people, my people. We are all one people. I want to go home. Stop trying to prevent me. Once I am gone, the killing will stop.”

  “Are we really related, Boyle?” he pressed. “Are witches the offspring of demons?”

  “Yes. We are kin.”

  Thomas lunged for Boyle, bitter acid roiling through his stomach and burning his throat. The demon stepped to the left, but Thomas anticipated his move and twisted his blade to intercept. It caught the demon deeply in the side.

  The wound smoked and the skin peeled away, just as the first time Isabelle had used her knife. Boyle keened in pain and the first drops of his acidic blood began to fall.

  Thomas only had a moment to consider why this particular stroke of the copper blade had caused the reaction when the others had not, perhaps because the blade had bit so deeply. Screaming in agony, Boyle swung his heavy tree branch like a baseball bat and hit Thomas in the midsection.

  Home run.

  Thomas’s breath woofed out of his lungs as pain exploded through his body. His feet left the earth and he landed heavily on his side, his head making hard contact with the ground. His vision blurred and his breath gone, he saw the demon there one moment and not the next.

  Thomas thought of Isabelle, irrationally—her face, the feel of her breath on his throat, the scent of her skin. Lord and Lady, he wanted Isabelle now.

  All he got was blackness.

  EIGHTEEN

  “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?” ISABELLE RACED DOWN the steps of the Coven, her bare feet slapping on the pavement.

  A blast of cool early morning air billowed under the T-shirt and boxers she’d worn to bed since Jack McAllister had been babysitting her…and because she didn’t want to be sword fighting in the nude if the demon showed up in the middle of the night. That would be inconvenient.

  Some of the stronger male Coven witches helped Adam and Thomas, both clearly injured, into the house. Others carried a large unconscious man whom Isabelle didn’t recognize.

  Damn it, she wanted to be mad at Thomas for forcing Jack on her, but instead she was terrified for him. Thomas and Adam both had torn clothing. Blood and dirt streaked their faces and shirt collars. Bruises bloomed all over both them and Adam’s lip was split. Thomas walked with a distinct limp, aided on one side by his cousin Micah.

  “What the hell happened?” she demanded to know again once she reached the motley group.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Micah answered her. “They met the demon and the demon won.”

  “Demon didn’t win,” slurred Adam. “Demon didn’t kill us. Demon left his prey. So…didn’t win.” He staggered forward and almost planted his face on the steps—an extra injury he didn’t need—before the two witches helping him walk managed to catch him. “He did kick our asses though.”

  “Prey?” The word stopped her in her tracks.

  Thomas held Isabelle’s gaze. Now she saw his lip was also split. Blood covered the right side of his face. “The demon didn’t get Jake, so he didn’t win.”

  “What? Who the hell is Jake?”

  Thomas mot
ioned with his head to the unconscious man they were just getting through the front doors of the Coven. “Isabelle, meet Jake. Jake, Isabelle.” The unsplit part of his mouth crooked upward in a smile before he winced and dropped it. “I don’t think he’ll say hi right now.”

  She frowned. “Cute. Did they give you painkillers or something?”

  He grimaced, but Isabelle was pretty sure he meant it to be a grin. “I missed you.”

  She looked at Micah. “Seriously, did you give him painkillers?”

  Thomas grimaced again. “I’ll tell you everything, Isabelle. Stay with me while Doc Oliver patches me up.”

  Isabelle followed them into the house and down a corridor to Doctor Oliver’s facilities. They entered the large waiting room after Adam. Doc Oliver and her nurses did a booming business at the Coven these days.

  Jake, Boyle’s almost-dinner, was being pushed into one of the private examination rooms on a gurney. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked Micah, watching the door close behind them.

  Micah shrugged. “I think he’s just been knocked out cold, but it’s too early to say. The doctor needs to look at him.”

  Thomas rebuffed Micah’s attempt to lead him to an examination room and sank down into one of the plush burgundy waiting room chairs. Adam had disappeared into one of the other rooms, probably to await the doctor like Thomas. Clearly, she needed to deal with Jake first. His injuries were the worst.

  A nurse approached Thomas, but he waved her away. “I’m fine, see to Adam first.” He sounded grouchy. The nurse nodded and moved away.

  “Thomas—” Isabelle objected. He didn’t look fine to her, covered in blood, wincing, bruised, and limping.

  He held up a hand. “Really, Isabelle. I’m okay. I didn’t break anything…I don’t think.”

  “Great. You don’t think. Stubborn,” she muttered, shook her head and gave up. “Tell me about this guy Jake and how he came to be Boyle’s prey.”

  Thomas adjusted his position for more comfort, trying not to jar his leg. Micah had taken a chair nearby. “We went to the Red Rock. It was our last stop for the night.”