Devious Magic (#3 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series)

by Camilla Chafer

  I fought back tears. “I can’t do nothing!”

  “You aren’t doing nothing. You’re staying alive, and staying safe until we work out how we can get rid of the Brotherhood, once and for all. This isn’t just about you, Stella, this is about every witch, every supernatural creature on this earth. Think about it, Stella.” Evan slammed a palm against the wall, his fingers spreading across the plaster as he leant there. His questions came thick and fast. “What happens if we’re revealed to the world? You think regular people will want to live alongside us? You think they won’t want to harness what we can do or punish us because we have what they don’t? Or maybe the Brotherhood will be the fucking heroes who get to hunt us without any danger of being prosecuted because they’re just performing a public service. We have to be smart about this.”

  I froze, my eyes flicking over to Étoile as I waited for her support. Annalise was her friend, too. She held up her hands in surrender. “I think he’s right. We need to keep you safe and hidden until we can eliminate the threat, not send you right into it. And we need to be absolutely sure that they have Annalise before we do anything at all.”

  I stood my ground. “If she’s alive, the longer we wait, the less time she has.”

  “There are a lot of ifs here, Stella,” Étoile warned but she didn’t sound her usual confident self at all.

  Following Evan along the hall, we arrived into what looked like a living room. It was sparsely furnished with black sofas set at right angles on two walls. A sleek glass coffee table that seemed to be suspended over metal legs spanned a broad geometric-print rug and dark wood cabinets; very elegant and so completely opposite to my house, it hit me like a punch in the gut. I didn’t even know Evan’s taste when it came to décor. It seemed like such an inconsequential thing to think about as I looked around. Everything looked so glossy and expensive that I almost wanted to apologise for my home which, though fresh after new coats of paint, still had that work-in-progress vibe.

  “You’d sacrifice Annalise for a few unanswered questions?” I asked, wondering if I could squeeze any more guilt on. I felt nasty doing it, but I felt even worse for Annalise. I wondered if she were conscious, or drugged, on the plane or, like Evan said, waiting to be found in a shallow grave. I hoped she wasn’t afraid. I had to close my eyes for a moment as the room seemed to spin about me.

  Étoile’s mouth set in a grim line as she echoed the unpalatable. “Like Evan said, she might already be dead.”

  “She’s not dead until I see a body.”

  “You might be dead before you even get that far!” Evan yelled unexpectedly. “They’ve tried to kill you twice now, Stella. They don’t care about letting you get far enough to even see Annalise, never mind rescue her. If you rush in, I’m afraid... I’m afraid for you, Stella.”

  I gulped. Fear from a daemon was not something I ever expected to see and it shocked me to my core, like nothing else could. “I still have to try,” I said in a small voice as I concentrated on home and shimmered.

  I vanished, but I didn’t get far. Hitting a solid surface, I materialised again. I had a moment of brief, terrified distress when I eyed the white plaster ceiling, only inches from my face before plummeting to the floor with a scream... But I didn’t hit the floor. Instead, I hung there, level with the sofa, suspended. My arms and legs drifted lower while my body felt like it was resting on a plank.

  “Put me down,” I said slowly through gritted teeth, breathing hard. A second later, and I was resting flat on my back on the rug, slightly stunned. I was still in Evan’s house. “What happened?”

  Evan stooped next to me and offered his hand so I could sit up. I was too furious to feel embarrassed but I felt my cheeks redden anyway. “You can’t use magic here,” he explained. “The house is protected.”

  “I can’t stay. I need to go.”

  “You need to be protected. Let me protect you. Please, Stella.” He stayed on his knees next to me, my hand in his, his eyes matching his worried expression. He searched my face, looking for some hint that I would do what he asked.

  I hated to disappoint him. “I need to help my friends.”

  “Kitty’s safe, I promise. We can’t do anything for Annalise, just yet.”

  “Why can’t I use my magic here?” I asked again, realising that Evan had been the one to break my fall, levitating me so that I wouldn’t hurt myself. It occurred to me that the fall could have broken my back, or my skull.

  “Witch magic doesn’t work here. This is a daemon-owned house and I had to take precautions.”

  “From me?”

  “No, not from you.” He almost smiled then. “The protections were put in place long before I knew you. Just like you have wards around your house protecting you from harm, I have wards on this one. But here it’s daemon-made magic, not witch, and it guards against lots of things. It’s essential in my line of work.”

  “You expect to be attacked?”

  “No, but I don’t intend to be unprotected the day some fool tries. The wards are too complicated to take down but I can assure you your magic is still there, just suppressed.” Evan stood up, holding out his other hand to me. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet.

  “Are you okay with that, Étoile?” I asked, turning to my friend. She pulled an unhappy face and just shrugged, again. I sighed. “Fine, no witchy magic here.”

  “You need to meet someone. Micah!” A moment after Evan yelled, another man joined us, walking quickly along the hallway and sliding to a halt when he saw us. He was shorter than Evan by a few inches, slim and not quite as powerfully built but something about him said deadly to me. He had short hair with long sideburns, very neatly trimmed with lines cut in as they reached his cheeks, then trimmed into edges that pointed to his jaw, but no moustache or goatee. His skin was a beautiful chocolate. He was wearing a sleek black suit with a white shirt and purple striped tie. My senses told me he was demon, a purebred. My human senses told me he was on alert.

  “Witches?” he spat as he looked at us with undisguised revulsion, like we just announced we trampled something gross into the house.

  “Guests,” clarified Evan, moving to stand in front of us. “You know about my girlfriend, Stella, already. And this is Étoile Winterstorm, whom you might know. This is my assistant, Micah.”

  “Is this the one I’ve been cleaning up after?” he asked, relaxing slightly as he nodded at me, ignoring Étoile.

  I looked up to Evan. “What does he mean?”

  Micah answered me before Evan could. “I believe I picked up a body earlier that you dismembered.”

  “It was an accident!” I protested but Micah looked sceptical, which I supposed was reasonable. There couldn’t be that many accidental dismemberments after all; I hoped not, anyway. I added pointedly, “She was trying to kill me.”

  Micah ignored that, inclining his head towards Evan, asking something in a low voice, almost a stage whisper. I was starting to get the impression he was teasing us, more than threatening, though his sense of humour left a lot to be desired. Perhaps it was a demon thing? Evan’s daemon humour seemed to run a lot closer to my idea of funny. “May I kill them?” he persisted.

  “Me calling them ‘guests’ might be a clue of what my answer is going to be,” replied Evan, then, “Just to be clear, that’s a no.”

  Micah persisted, his eyes flashing hopefully as he asked, “Are they prisoners?”

  “Now you’re being deliberately obtuse.” Evan squared up to him, arms folded, eyebrows raised and Micah gave a little shrug, like he was giving up.

  “And you’re absolutely sure I can’t kill them?”

  “I like him,” said Étoile softly, leaning into me while keeping her eyes on him. “Very polite.”

  “He’s asking Evan if he can kill us,” I hissed back, also keeping my eyes fixed on Micah, suddenly unsure again. If my magic didn’t work here, we would either have to hope Evan had a firm handle on the situation, or run. I favoured the first option.

&nb
sp; “Like I said, very polite, for a demon anyway. Many would just kill a witch without a second thought.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s grounds for liking him, Étoile.”

  “I do.”

  “Fine,” said Micah, interrupting us. “Welcome, Stella and Étoile.” With an audible sigh, the demon wheeled on his heel and clacked away down the hall, exiting to a door off the right. Étoile shrugged her shoulders, gave me a smile and trotted after him, probably determined to make the horrible demon her friend. Good luck with that.

  “Don’t be mad at me, Stella.” Evan took a step closer and I held up my hand in the universal signal for stop.

  “How do you expect me not to be? You saw an opportunity and you yanked me right out of there, across the country!”

  “You know it wasn’t like that. I want you to be safe and this was the first place I thought of. Besides I already had Micah pick up the shifter and we’ve been talking.”

  “Yeah, I bet he wanted to extend the invitation personally.”

  “Once you get to know him, he’s okay.”

  “You forgot to add ‘for a demon’.” I stomped away in the opposite direction from the odious Micah, pausing as I reached the long windows on the other side of the room. It looked out onto a neat expanse of lawn, and a brick-paved patio. There was a doorway off to the left that was closed. The opposite wall was occupied by a broad entertainment unit and a big, flat-screen television. I didn’t know whether to stand still, or stomp out of the room. I couldn’t just stride off to the hallway. The only thing stopping me from moving at all was not knowing if the doorway led to a closet. That would make stomping out look pretty stupid.

  “What do you think of my house?” Evan’s voice was soft as he came to a stop next to me, standing so close that our arms were almost touching. “I’ll show you around.”

  “Might as well, seeing as I’m your prisoner.” I threw Micah’s term at him. I knew I sounded bitter, angry even, and I was, even though I understood Evan wanted me to be safe. I just didn’t get how I could possibly feel okay with being safe when my friend wasn’t. All the possibilities were floating through my mind: dead, tortured, scared, not one was palatable. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what would happen to her if they took her to England.

  I smoothed my hair back, stopping when I reached a matted section. Drawing my hand away, I could make out the faintest shade of red. Blood. That was enough. My stomach lurched as the horrible day caught up to me in a sudden rush of fear, revulsion and inadequacy. “Bathroom,” I forced out, my eyelids drooping as my stomach convulsed again, forcing me to retch.

  Evan half carried, half propelled me out to the hall, then into the downstairs bath. I dropped to my knees and retched again, gripping the toilet seat, then emptied my stomach while Evan held my hair back, stroking it.

  After a few minutes, during which I was very still, and trying not to cry or throw up again, I sat back against the tiled wall, while Evan flipped the lid and flushed. He didn’t say a word and I just sat there, more embarrassed than I could possibly say, with a horrible acrid feeling in my mouth, and a worse one in my heart.

  Evan stepped around me. I heard running water then a cup was pushed into my hand. “Drink this,” said Evan, pressing it upwards to my lips. “Little sips.” When I’d drunk a couple of mouthfuls, I started to struggle to my feet and he helped me up, his hands gently firm on my hips.

  “Toothpaste?” I croaked, leaning against the sink. My skin felt clammy and I was sure I was a fetching shade of puce.

  Evan scrabbled in the drawer of the vanity and came up with a new tube of toothpaste and a brush in a translucent green plastic. We probably matched. I stripped off the cardboard packaging, squirted on some paste and brushed my teeth quickly, dropping them both by the side of the sink after I finished. I’d be a better houseguest, I promised myself.

  “Let’s get you settled on the couch.” Evan kept one arm around me as I walked gingerly towards the living room. I didn’t think I was going to be sick again, but the thought of it was bad enough and I was grateful that Evan kept his movements gentle.

  The whole day had been a nightmare and, on top of feeling frightened for Annalise, I felt wretched. My muscles ached, my throat felt hoarse and I had a shape-shifter’s dried blood in my hair.

  “I need to change my clothes,” I said. I needed a shower too.

  Evan hesitated for a moment. “What do you want to wear?”

  “Jeans and a t-shirt, please. Comfy clothing.”

  “Done.” I half expected him to click his fingers, but the only indication I got that my clothes were disappearing then being replaced was a brief whisper of cool air. Instantly, I was in clean, comfortable clothing and feeling absolutely shattered. At least, Evan had the good sense to put me in yoga pants and a long sleeved cotton t-shirt. Normally, given the option, he liked me in a dress.

  “Can you do something about my hair too? There’s blood in it.”

  “No problem.”

  Lowering myself to the sofa, I struggled for something to say, something that wouldn’t be angry or show me up any further. My boyfriend held my hair back. I felt my cheeks heat and my eyes well with tears again.

  Evan settled us on the couch. “Hey, don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t know that.” Guilt weighed so heavily on me, I was sure I’d gained a few extra pounds.

  “No, I don’t,” he conceded, his arm tightening around me as I rested my head on his shoulder. I slipped my arm across his waist, willing to put aside my anger for a moment in return for the comforting presence of his body. “But I’ll do everything I can to find out what happened and, if Annalise is alive, I promise you, we’ll get her back.”

  “I need to find her. This wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.”

  “You don’t know that. Annalise knows what a werewolf’s life is like. She’s run into danger in her life and she’s survived. If she’s alive, she’ll fight.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. The Brotherhood think nothing of killing women; they’ll think nothing of killing Annalise if she gets in the way.” No matter what I said it all came back to one thing: if they hadn’t gotten rid of her already.

  “If she’s alive, they won’t kill her, especially if they think using her as bait will get you.”

  Evan made a good point. I scrambled to calculate how long she might have. “So, assuming she’s alive, and assuming they’re watching the airport, they’ll keep her alive at least until they know whether I got on the plane or not.”

  “They most likely will assume you won’t get on the plane, but they’ll be sure that you get there. That should add another couple of days.”

  “Three days,” I said. “Seventy-two hours, maybe. Great.”

  “Try not to think about it. Will you be okay here for a while? I need to go to my office and talk to Micah. It’s just off the hall, so I won’t be far. I’ll call Gage too; see if they’ve found anything yet or gotten any leads yet.”

  I nodded just to show that I heard him, and I’d be okay though I didn’t want to think too closely about what he meant by “found anything.” I didn’t want to be on my own but there were things more important than I.

  “Just shout if you need anything, and go wherever you like. The kitchen is through that door if you want anything to eat or drink. I’ll send Étoile back if you want?”

  “Not if she’s more useful to you.”

  “Then I’ll keep her until she starts turning Micah dangerous.” Evan tried a smile, and I made a weak effort at returning it. He hugged me a little tighter, dropping a kiss onto the top of my head. “And try not to be mad at me until we know everything. I didn’t mean to bring you here against your will. I really was just trying to bring you to the safest place I could think of in those few seconds.”

  I was glad he didn’t add don’t worry because really, what else could I do?

  After settling my head on the arm of the couch, I li
stened long after the door of Evan’s office – at least, that’s what I assumed it was – clicked shut. A sense of weariness swept over me suddenly and I yawned. It had been an incredibly long day, filled with lots of strange things. I’d been attacked, shimmered, attacked again, then swept halfway across the country.

  My skin still tingled slightly from the method Evan used to transport. Daemons and witches were different beings, though we both looked human. We could do similar things, but we did them in different ways and he understood my strengths far more than I understood his. I much preferred my method of shimmering, but Evan’s was far more powerful and precise. He only shimmered with me when I’d have been in danger otherwise.

  What felt like minutes later, I jerked awake. Étoile was sitting opposite me, tapping away on a laptop.

  “How long have I been asleep?” I asked, looking around groggily as I rubbed my eyes. Then it hit me. Annalise could still be out there somewhere and I had been fast asleep on a comfy sofa in a safe, warm, house. I couldn’t have felt like a bigger traitor.

  Étoile looked up. “Just a couple of hours.”

  Shuffling, I swung my feet to the ground so I was sitting upright. “Any news?”

  Étoile clicked another couple of keys then closed the laptop, leaving it across her knees as she folded her hands on top. “Gage’s pack swept several miles around the area where Annalise was kidnapped and they didn’t find anything... in the way of bodies, that is. They caught her scent and tracked her to the airstrip where it vanished. In light of that, we think she’s definitely on that plane.”

  I didn’t need to say it out loud but I did anyway. “So they’ve definitely taken her to England.”

  “Looks that way. It will be several more hours before they arrive.” Étoile’s tone seemed apologetic. Nothing much shook her, but her voice was low and she seemed upset. “I tried to get a vision, but nothing came.”