“I wouldn’t have guessed,” I huffed. Micah hadn’t given me the impression that he found anything worth his interest. I suppose I falsely assumed that most of his time was taken up trimming his impeccable facial hair. “You ever see them?”
“My father’s family? Not if I can help it.”
We lay in silence a little longer, then I edged closer, closing the space between us, and Evan wrapped his other arm around me again. I lay my head on his chest, smiling when he kissed the top of my head. Gradually, the kisses moved to my lips, growing deeper as I felt the tug of sleep slip away and turn into desire for something far better. My exasperation pushed aside for now, I drank him in, his familiarity, his warmth, his desire and, when his hands ran experimentally down my sides, then up and over my breasts, I didn’t push him away. Instead, I pressed my body against his, encouraging, welcoming, my leg sliding over his until he fit perfectly against me, every contour of his body finding solace in mine until, finally, we were part of each other.
Part of me knew already what I was planning to do, and how much it would hurt Evan. I knew I would go to England, even if I didn’t quite know how, and I knew it would probably put me in harm’s way. But leaving my friend to an unbearable fate while we took our sweet time coming up with a plan wasn’t the sort of thing I could, in all good conscience, do.
Brushing the thought away, I arched against Evan’s body, holding him closer. My arms curled under his arms so that my palms lay flat against his back, my fingers digging into his flesh. I wanted to bury myself in the bliss of loving him, knowing that I might lose him.
“I love you, Stella.” Evan’s voice was a whisper against my ear, barely audible. I wrapped my legs around his back and kissed him hard, hungrily, as he continued to move, our rhythm growing faster until our gasps and moans were muffled in each other’s mouths.
“I love you too, Evan,” I whispered as we held each other, not wanting to break apart.
I slept fitfully that night, my dreams vivid and active. I saw wolves’ eyes shining in the dark, an imposing house in the shadows. As if it were really happening, I felt myself running through a forest, branches catching at my clothes, the cloying scent of wet leaves and earth; then I was falling, falling far into the darkness.
Once, when I reached out for Evan, I thought I saw fire but I wasn’t sure if it were a dream or a vision of things to come. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, long after the house fell silent, I felt a hand press against my forehead just as everything went dark.
Eight
In the morning, no one woke up with a stunningly brilliant plan of how to get Annalise out of trouble, destroy the Brotherhood or create peace amongst witches. We did, however, manage to make three cheese omelettes with minimal fuss. Sitting around the big kitchen island, we ate, talking quietly. It seemed that no one wanted to be the first to say Annalise’s name. It was like by uttering her name, we would break a spell or something, and there would be no turning back.
Micah didn’t join us until mid-way through breakfast, and, when he arrived, he was looking sharp again in a navy blue suit complete with a patterned silk tie and matching cufflinks.
“Don’t you all look maudlin,” he said, by way of a greeting.
“Do you do casual Friday?” countered Étoile.
Micah looked at her like she’d asked if he read bedtime stories to children before he kissed them goodnight. “No,” he said, succinctly, taking in her wool pants and peacock blue silk top as she perched on one of the tall stools. “Do you?”
“Perish the thought, demon.”
“You have news to report?” asked Evan, dropping his knife and fork onto his plate and pushing it away, eyeing them with wearied amusement.
“The shape-shifter doesn’t know anything beyond what I discovered yesterday.” Micah reached for the coffee pot, saw it was empty and sighed. He rooted around in the overhead cabinet for filters and grounds and set about making a fresh pot, muttering something that sounded horrendously rude. When he was finished, he took a seat at the table. “I tried several methods.” Micah smiled disconcertingly at me. I shuddered to think what that meant.
“Did she return to her form?” I asked.
“Yes, though she is somewhat lopsided now.”
“Take her back to wherever she came from, and return the arm so it can be reattached,” instructed Evan. “Plant the idea that she won’t seek revenge against Stella.”
“Now?” Micah looked wistfully at the coffee pot as it began to perk. I bet he was wishing he had trade union enforceable breaks.
“Yes, now.”
“Do you want me to serve her employer while I’m out?”
“No, I’ll take this higher up.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of this exchange, so I just listened. When Micah left, flashing out in a burst of heat, I asked, “What did he mean?”
“About?”
“Serving the shifter’s employer?”
“The employer should have notified me that they had taken a fee to hunt someone under my protection.”
“How would they know I was under your protection?” I asked, sliding off the stool and crossing to the fridge to pull out the bottle of orange juice. Somehow, a few groceries had made it into the kitchen, but I wasn’t sure who was responsible. I was fairly certain Micah didn’t do shopping and Evan never left.
“Home delivery,” said Étoile. “Broadcasting loud and clear today, Stella.”
“Um, sorry?” I said, my voice rising an octave to show I was not feeling particularly apologetic as I made an effort to close my mind. As I poured a glass of juice, I prompted, “Evan?”
“We have a registry.” He held a hand out. Across the kitchen, a glass lifted from an open shelf and floated towards him, landing neatly on the table in front of him. With a smile, he pushed it towards me so I filled his glass too.
“Who’s we? And who can search this registry?”
“In our community, we have to enforce some regulations or it gets chaotic and we risk exposure to humans. So, we have some cross-supernatural bureaus that take care of affairs. My business falls under one of these headings. As a daemon, I can put certain persons under my protection. In theory, it not only protects them from harm, but also tells anyone tempted to defy the protection order, to whom they will owe restitution. That is, if they’re not smart enough to leave the job alone. The registry would have been searched. Witches have a similar thing with their houses.” We both looked at Étoile and she nodded in confirmation.
Houses were made of families of witches; and anyone claiming kinship could reasonably be offered protection as well as be expected to provide it, in conjunction with their sister and brother witches. As a witch with no family, I had no house as such, but the Winterstorms offered to take me under their wing when they saw me threatened. Étoile and her sister Seren were my sponsors. Not only did it give me a warm, fuzzy feeling that someone cared, but it also stopped witches like Georgia Thomas from picking on me. Pissing off a whole house of witches was akin to pulling apart a wasps’ nest: you just didn’t do it and expect to emerge unscathed.
“How long have I been on this registry?”
“A few months.” He sighed, expanding, “Since the night Georgia Thomas came to visit.”
“The shifter’s employer might have searched it before taking the job, and not seen it?” I mused, looking for a plausible explanation as to why anyone would want to risk crossing Evan.
“Perhaps but they should have made regular checks and informed me you were their target. Even so, they owe restitution. Plus, if they cross-referenced your name, they would have seen House of Winterstorm as your backer.”
“I’m happy for you to take care of the problem,” interjected Étoile.
“Do I get a say in this?”
Evan and Étoile both turned to face me with matching frowns. Evan’s voice took on a low authoritative tone, “It’s important that we make an issue of this, mostly for your own protection. The regi
stry is worth nothing if it is not enforced.”
“Would Georgia Thomas also have been able to access the registry?” I asked.
“Some of it,” said Evan. “Why?”
“The Brotherhood aren’t the only ones looking for revenge,” I suggested. “It could have been her, too. Right?”
“Maybe,” said Étoile. “Perhaps Evan could ask for information in return for leniency.”
Evan thought about that for a moment, finally nodding. “I’ll approach the registry.”
“One more thing,” I said, “Does being on this registry automatically make me a target?” I wondered how much being a person of interest to one would make me of interest to another. Also: just how bureaucratic were these people? Did they have bureaus for everything? Could one run for elected office, like the witches were proposing at the upcoming summit? It seemed a strange thing to have so many regulations, but I supposed when you have immense power at your disposal, someone, or something, had to prevent it being misused. Like Evan reminded me, revealing the supernatural world could be very bad for all of us. It wasn’t like the human race had a dazzling history of acceptance.
Étoile answered, “For witches, no, it’s just a way or organisation more than anything. We can trace family trees and familial lines through it. Ours dates back to the seventeenth century.”
“For my kind, it doesn’t necessarily mean the person is valuable to someone else. We add all kinds of people: employees, family members, lovers, humans who we might offer a favour to, or have done some service for us, and are loyal.”
“Oh,” I said, not liking the sound of lovers, plural. “I guess that’s okay then.”
“I’ll make some calls this morning; see what I can find out.” Evan cleared the table the old-fashioned, human, way and stacked the dishwasher while I warmed our mugs with the fresh coffee Micah made. He cleared his throat, just as I was spooning sugar into the cups, saying, “Gage called while you were in the shower. He said they haven’t had any kind of ransom note, so other than the letter they found on Annalise’s car, we haven’t had any communication.”
“I was expecting they would call to gloat or something. Or at least make her plead so we’d know she was alive.” I’d half expected my phone to ring in the night, but in the morning, there was nothing, save a couple of texts from Kitty. The first said Michelle was out of the hospital with a mild concussion and a broken wrist; the second one said that she was going to bed and she’d speak to me in the morning. Curiously, Gage hadn’t been the one to call me, but Evan. I made a mental note to send him a message.
“Maybe they know we’ll worry more if we don’t know anything,” mused Étoile. “Let’s keep in touch with the pack. Maybe one of them got a call, not Gage. Beau would be a logical choice.”
She left the kitchen, leaving Evan and me alone. I had to ask him to summon up some clothes again for me so I was wearing jeans and a top, plain and simple. I don’t know where Étoile got her outfit from, so I asked, even though it seemed like a trivial thing.
“She can magic up whatever she likes. I relaxed the house’s protection for little things like that. It’s like telekinesis, or shimmering. It just takes practice. I’ll teach you when this is all over.”
“And here I was thinking only you could do it.”
He smirked. “I don’t mind dressing and undressing you.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” I held back a laugh.
“Let’s go sit in the office for a while.” Evan took me by the hand. I followed him into his office, dropping into the chair I’d occupied the day before. I don’t think he wanted me to be on my own anymore than I did. While he was powering up his computer, I sent a couple of messages on my phone. The first, to Kitty, was simple. No news here. You okay?
After a moment, my phone vibrated. “All quiet. Just called Michelle and she’s okay but feeling crappy. When are you coming back?”
Damn. I told her yesterday I was coming straight home. Then the impact of not being able to use my magic hit me, on top of all the other horrible things that happened. A few years ago, I would have been happy to lose my magic and be normal; but now, even though it had only been a few hours, I felt bereft without it.
Not yet. Got some things to do here. I messaged.
“Stay safe sweetie.”
“Kitty’s okay,” I told Evan who looked up from the screen briefly. “So is Michelle.”
“Annalise’s friend?”
“Yeah. She had a concussion and a broken wrist but the hospital already released her.”
“Good.” Evan’s eyes had already returned to the screen.
I sent a message to Gage next. I had to type and retype it a few times. Given the circumstances, no matter what I wrote, it hardly seemed enough; so I stuck with the facts.
Not heard anything. Trying to come up with a plan.
My phone rang almost immediately, Gage’s name flashing on the screen, and I excused myself. With Evan in the office behind me and Étoile talking in the living room, I decided to go upstairs, answering mid-flight.
“Hey.”
“Are you okay, Stella? What the hell does he think he’s doing, taking you to Texas?” Gage’s voice filled my ear. He sounded agitated.
“He’s just trying to protect me. I’ll be home before you know it.”
“Will you?” asked Gage. “I don’t think he’s ever going to let you come back here.”
I closed the door to Evan’s bedroom and sat on the bed, pulling up one leg to hug as I rested my chin on my knee. “It’s not for long. Wilding is my home, Evan knows that.”
Gage sighed, his voice losing some of the anxiety. “I could protect you here.”
“I know that.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I should have been. My clients could have waited.”
“Shh, it doesn’t matter. I’m fine, so don’t worry about me. Have you heard from Annalise? Or maybe Beau got a phone call or something?”
“Not a thing, none of us. Beau stayed here last night and the rest of the pack is checking in regularly. I told Evan last night that we lost her scent at the airfield. We scanned the whole area but it disappeared near one of the hangars, so I know they took her. She’s always dreamed about going to Europe, you know, but not like this. I’m worried for her.”
“Me too.”
“What do you know about the Brotherhood?”
“Not much,” I confessed. “They target witches and they know about magic. They know it’s real and not folklore. When they attacked me, there were a lot of them and they’ve killed many, many times. Shit, I’m sorry Gage, I can’t believe I just said that.” I cringed.
“It’s okay. I’m not expecting them to be harmless fools.”
“Are there any wolf packs in England you can reach out to?” I asked, changing the subject slightly. When I left my native country, I had barely gotten to grips with magic, never mind any other supernatural creature, so I figured Gage had the edge on me there.
“None that I know personally, but I’ll reach out through the network and see if I can find a pack who can look out for her or give us some local knowledge. Beau and I have been talking about going to England to this Hawkscroft place. We don’t take kindly to people messing with our kind.”
“How’s Beau?”
“Cut up.”
“Tell him we’re doing everything we can.” I remembered something, then. “I’ve been doing some research on the Brotherhood. If you go to my house, my laptop is in my desk in the sunroom.” I gave him the password and told him where to look on the hard drive for the documents. It wasn’t much, but it was something and all I could give him right now.
“Thanks, I’ll take a look. Anything is useful for the time being. Call me if you hear anything, and if there is a plan, I want in on it. She’s my sister, Stella. I’m not letting those bastards hurt her.”
“I wish I had a brother like you.” Those wistful little words just slipped out.
�
��Can’t say I love you like a sister.”
We were quiet for a moment. “I’ve got to go,” I said, before he said something I shouldn’t hear and couldn’t respond to.
“Let me know if anything happens.” Gage clicked off.
Sitting on Evan’s bed, I shuffled position so that I sat cross-legged, the phone cradled in my lap. I realised neither one of us had mentioned Michelle. Did he expect me to? Was I expected to inquire? It wasn’t like he made any formal announcement about her, so I guessed that he didn’t know that I knew about them. What he said... well, it didn’t sound like the words of a concerned boyfriend. Time seemed like it slowed right down while I tried to think things through. I wanted it to get back to normal speed. Sitting here, doing nothing, certainly wasn’t helping. I ran back down the stairs and ducked my head around Evan’s office door. He pointed to his phone and I waited while he finished.
“I spoke to Gage,” I told him.
Evan’s eyes didn’t darken like they normally did at Gage’s name. “How’s he coping?”
“He and Beau are going to try and reach out to some packs in England. I never knew we had any, you know. Anyway, he’s talking about going there.”
“Just because he is doesn’t mean you can.”
“I never said...”
“I mean it, Stella, I know you’ve been thinking about. If Gage can reach out to a pack, he’s got back up.”
“I have you,” I countered. “And Étoile.”
“And neither of us are going anywhere until we have more information.”
“She could be dead by the time you get what you need.” When I woke up, my temper had gone but now, I was seized by a sudden fury that bubbled inside me.
Devious Magic (#3 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series) Page 11