The Last Witch Hunter (Witch Hunters)

by King, Thayer

  “You don’t believe he’s guilty?”

  Ronan ran a hair through his hair. “I don’t know what to believe. Maybe my uncle knows more. Brian has had trouble with the law before, but it’s always been minor infractions. Drunken bar fights, property damage, trespassing. Nothing to this degree.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No. Uncle Hugh sounded urgent, but I don’t expect to be long. We can spend the day together and then tonight we can go out to dinner.”

  She nodded. “Call me if you need me.”

  ***

  Nikita watched Ronan’s long-legged stride as he crossed the yard and went back to his house. Moments later his garage door opened and his truck backed into the street. He raised a hand and waved before driving away. Her girl parts hummed pleasantly in residual the afterglow of Ronan’s kiss. She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lower lip. It still tingled where he’d sucked it into the warmth of his mouth.

  What was she going to do about him? She was the last woman to equate good sex with deeper emotions. The sex was damn near addictive and she was more confused than ever. A moment ago when he’d stood on this porch with her, it was almost as though she could sense his love for her. There was a low frequency hum, like a vibration between them. She’d felt drawn to him. Being in his arms was suddenly the most natural thing in the world. Having him hold her was like walking into a warm house on a cold winter night.

  Nikita made a sound of disgust at her own thoughts. Was she starting to believe that soul mate crap? Shit! She was. She needed to talk to her cousin. Mystique had been through all this and could tell her what to expect. And maybe even how to get out of the shit she’d just stepped in with Ronan.

  A car passed by and she shivered as she realized she was standing on the porch in only a shirt. The morning air was nippy though temperatures were supposed to climb into the low seventies later today. Minx meowed and pawed at the screen door. Nikita let her out as she entered the house in search of her phone.

  When they were kids, she and Mystique had been raised practically as sisters. Mystique had been raised with the assumption that she would be a witch hunter, also. Much to Aunt Meadow’s disappointment, Mystique hadn’t felt the calling to become a hunter. Over the years, Mystique had concentrated on her acting. Meadow had made Mystique’s occasional visits home intolerable and soon she didn’t visit at all. Nikita spent the same time hunting and honing her skills. So though the affection remained between them, they had grown apart.

  She found her cell on the bedside table where she’d placed it last night after returning from Ronan’s house. Finding Mystique’s number was easy. Of course when she heard her cousin’s voice, she was stumped as to how to begin this conversation. So she prevaricated. “Um, how are you?”

  There was a beat of silence. “I’m fine. Sean and I are in Wilmington for a bit. He’s scouting filming locations. We’re hoping to be in Asheville for Thanksgiving. Will you be there? I’d like the family to be together when I announce that we’re expecting a baby.”

  Mystique had told her about the baby when last they’d talked. That reminded her of the other part of their conversation. Sean’s brother had been having romantic troubles and they’d called her for advice. “Did the situation with Keith and his stalker work out?”

  “Yeah. There was a bit of trouble, but Keith handled it. He’s engaged to marry this very nice librarian. I’m hoping to convince them to celebrate Thanksgiving with us.”

  “Is she a witch?”

  “No. So don’t think you’ve got to interrogate her if she does come to dinner.”

  “Is she his mate?”

  “Yes.”

  “So that’s a possibility? A witch having a human mate?”

  Mystique laughed. “Of course. Look at my parents.”

  Nikita sat down on the bed and crossed her legs. “Well, I kind of thought the two of them were just fooling around.”

  “Kita, what a dirty, cynical mind you have! My father assured me that they are mates. Living without her was torture, but she was so filled with hate that it was the only way. He says the only way he survived was by visiting her in her dreams.”

  She recalled Ronan saying something about dreams. Since she rarely slept, that wasn’t possible for the two of them. “How does a witch know when she or he has met their mate?”

  “You just know. Sean and I were sharing dreams before we met. But our situation is unique because we’re in the acting biz. We knew of each other. Keith says that time froze when he met Imani.”

  “But how does the human know?”

  “Hm. I guess the dreams. And later, you can share thoughts and feelings through your link.”

  Was that why she was suddenly sensing Ronan’s emotions? Why she felt so close to him? “How does this link form and can it be broken?”

  “Um…well…”

  Mystique’s stuttering told her all she needed to know. For an actress, who had done at least one love scene that Nikita knew of, the woman could be very shy. “So it’s sex,” she stated bluntly. Damn it. And Ronan had known it, but fucked her anyway. Hell, she’d fallen into that trap easily. “Can it be broken?”

  “No. It’s forever. It’s fated, destiny, all that girly crap you hate. Why are you asking so many questions? Do you know a human who wants to break her bond with a witch?” Mystique gasped. “Not my mom? She doesn’t remember does she?”

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that,” Nikita rushed to assure her. Meadow had been consumed with such hatred of witches that it had affected even her relationship with Mystique. She’d raised Mystique to suppress her magic. After Meadow’s attempt to kill Sean, Keith had removed her memories of witches, Meadow had become different person. Mystique got her mother back and Nikita didn’t begrudge her that. But at the same time, she’d lost her mentor, the woman who had helped her become the hunter she was today. “I’m still out here in Gray’s Landing.”

  “Oh. Then why the questions about mates?”

  “Personal reasons. I’d rather not discuss it.”

  “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, each word louder than the next. “Not you, too? Fate really does love irony.” And then she emitted a strangled sound and began coughing.

  Nikita sighed. “Mystique, are you laughing?”

  Mystique took a gasping breath. “Nope.” And then she erupted into a peal of giggles.

  Nikita rolled her eyes and disconnected the call. She showered and dressed. Before preparing breakfast, she filled Minx’s bowl. As though she could hear the kibble hitting the bowl, Minx’s loud, plaintive meow could be heard even through the screen door and the heavy wood door.

  ***

  Uncle Hugh whipped open the door to his apartment before Ronan could even raise his hand to knock. “Come in,” he said urgently.

  Ronan followed his uncle inside. He took a seat on the couch at Hugh’s urging. “How do you want to proceed?” he asked after watching his uncle pace for several minutes. “Dad can help us find the best attorney, but we need to know what we’re up against. I’m assuming Brian called you. What did he say?”

  Hugh made an exasperated sound and finally he sank into the rocking chair, burying his face in his hands. “I’ve made a mess of that boy’s life. I was always too strict or too soft. But I was never what he needed when he needed. I couldn’t protect him from his mother’s indifference. If I’d only known…”

  Ronan had heard it before. Hugh’s ex-wife Rose didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. When she wasn’t ignoring Brian, she was taking him with her to the homes of the other men she was seeing. Hugh had suspected but had loved her enough to not want to confirm his suspicions. Brian acting out as a teen was completely understandable. But he’d turned rebellion into a lifetime occupation. “Uncle Hugh, you can’t take responsibility for him forever. He’s an adult. My God, you sound like you believe he’s guilty.” He started to laugh. The sound sputtered to a stop and he choked as he observed his uncle’s serious e
xpression. Ronan frowned. Brian was a piece of shit, but not a murderer. “Uncle Hugh, you can’t believe-”

  “But I do more than believe. I know. I talked to him. He confessed. He confessed to the police and he confessed to me.” He hit the arm of his chair with his fist. “The last time he came to see me, I knew something was wrong. He was happy, but in an unsettling dirty way. He kept talking about the missing woman. It was…like he was taking pleasure in the story. But what did I do? I did what I always do. I buried my head in the sand and refused not to see what was right before my eyes.”

  Ronan was scrambling to assimilate this new information. “You say he confessed? When?”

  “He was arrested around three in the morning. He called me and told me that he was going to confess.”

  Ronan shook his head. He couldn’t imagine the pain his uncle was in right now. To know that his child had taken a life had to be killing him. “Uncle, this isn’t your fault.”

  “It is.” He inhaled deeply. “But that isn’t why I called you over here. Steps need to be taken-” He was interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

  “Sit,” he ordered his uncle. “I’ll get it.”

  Two officers stood in the hallway. The badges attached to their belts seemed to catch the light. One had dark brown hair and was tall, though still a foot shorter than Ronan. The other was average height with graying black hair and a bushy mustache. “Hugh McKinley?” the taller officer asked.

  “No. I’m Ronan McKinley. Hugh’s my uncle.” He backed away and allowed the officers to enter.

  They each approached Hugh and shook his hand. “I’m Detective White and this is my partner Detective Gates,” said the graying officer.

  “Please have a seat, detectives,” Hugh said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  They both declined. “Sir, I imagine you know why we’re here?”

  Uncle Hugh looked tired and Ronan had never seen him look older as he faced the detectives and sighed. “You have questions about my son? When I talked to him, he said he wasn’t going to deny anything and that he was going to tell you the entire story.”

  “Well, he did, but we still have questions.” Detective White placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Mr. McKinley, do you have any idea of your son’s whereabouts?”

  Ronan started. “What do you mean? Don’t you have him custody?”

  Detective White’s brown eyes swung around to him. “No. As of an hour ago, Brian McKinley is once again on the streets. And what we want to know is where he might be headed and if either of you has had contact with him. Because I talked to him before he somehow escaped from a locked cell. He displayed not one bit of remorse. If we don’t catch him and soon, he will do this again.”

  Chapter Ten

  The day was waning and she hadn’t heard from Ronan since this morning. Nikita was beginning to worry. She was anxious and jumpy and she wasn’t entirely sure the feelings originated with her. For the third time in an hour, she found herself standing in front of the window, staring at the street beyond for any sign of Ronan’s return. She’d taken her hair down, washed it, moisturized it, and braided it into one thick plait. Her attempts to read a book or watch a movie had proved futile. She couldn’t concentrate. Inevitably, she found herself in front of the door or one of the windows as though her feet and legs had a mind of their own.

  She had no doubt that Brian was guilty. The look in his eyes the night before when he’d tried to force his way into the house had been pure evil. Envisioning him as a killer was no big leap. But she wondered if Ronan had come to that realization yet. While he didn’t seem to harbor illusions as to his cousin’s nature, Brian was still family. That was a strong pull. Familial ties tended to complicate matters.

  After lunch, she sat on the porch for a while, telling herself it was for the fresh air and not so that she could watch for Ronan. But after an hour, during which she realized that white trucks were really popular with the men in this town, she couldn’t continue to lie to herself. Minx had fallen asleep on the porch railing. The cat viewed her through golden eyes that barely opened to slits as she rose from the porch bench and moved toward the door. “Are you coming?” Minx rose to her small feet and arched her back in a leisurely stretch. She hopped down in an effortless display of feline grace. But she advanced only a few steps before stopping in her tracks to look over her shoulder. Nikita sighed in impatience. Then she saw him too. The stray that had invaded their area loped into the yard. Minx hissed as he approached.

  “Come on,” Nikita urged, having no interest in witnessing a catfight. Plus, what kind of house sitter would she be if she let her charge become injured? She bent and scooped up Minx. Holding the cat in one arm, she used her other hand to open the door. To her surprise, the stray shot up the steps and streaked between her feet and straight into the house. “Shit,” she muttered.

  ***

  Ronan was chomping at the bit to be alone with his uncle. The police had questioned both him and his uncle. Despite the fact that he told them that he hadn’t been close to Brian since before they were teens, they still considered it a possibility that he might know of his cousin’s whereabouts. He didn’t care for the way they were badgering his uncle either, but there was a peculiar furtiveness to Hugh’s responses that put him on edge. It was past lunch when the detectives finally left them alone.

  “Okay,” Ronan said as soon as he was alone with his uncle. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I knew this would happen.”

  “You knew Brian was a murderer?”

  “No, of course I didn’t. I knew he was a philanderer and that he’s never treated his wife with the respect she deserves. I knew he would escape. And I know how he did it.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “No. He’s probably on his way out of town. But wherever he is, we’ve got to find him before the police do. If we don’t, we risk exposure to our kind.”

  Ronan was growing impatient with his uncle’s evasiveness. “Why? Just tell me.”

  “You know Brian was born a dud. He’s never gotten over that. He felt like fate had cheated him. And it pained me to see him struggle with his life as an ordinary human. So I gave him a gift.”

  He struggled to understand where his uncle was going with this. “You can’t make him a witch. Witches are born. What could you give him?”

  “I gave him the gift of transmogrification.”

  Ronan inhaled. “Great.” He didn’t bother questioning his uncle further about why he would give such a gift to Brian. Hugh already seemed to be dealing with guilt about giving Brian the gift on top of his regrets about the way he’d raised his son. No doubt, Brian had preyed upon his father’s remorse to wheedle such a fantastical present out of him. “So what are we looking for here? A dog? A wolf? A bird?”

  “A cat. To be specific, a rather large tabby with green eyes.”

  ***

  Nikita had visions of the stray racing through the house and catapulting itself from surface to surface, knocking over Mrs. Williams’s legion of framed photos and tiny ceramic figurines while simultaneously spraying every surface with his urine. Instead when she entered with Minx tucked beneath her arm, she found it sitting calmly on the floor waiting for them. Minx dropped lightly to her feet and launched herself at the invader. She wasted no time with facing off or posturing. She went straight for the kill, knocking the other cat off balance with a full bodied attack. Nikita had to admire her style. The stray regained his feet and ran.

  And that was when the ceramic figures and orange fur began to fly.

  The two cats were not much more than a blur of orange as Minx chased the invader around the room. Nikita bent and pulled her sheathed dagger from the inside her boot, but quickly realized she wouldn’t be able to use it. In motion, the cats looked much the same. There were a couple of pauses during which there was some furious clawing. Loud hisses and yowls rent the air. “Shit,” Nikita said again. She had to
get the stray out of the house, but there was no way she was going to stick her hand in between those to clawing kitties.

  As they rolled, their fight made its way back towards the door. Bracing herself, she grabbed the middle of one feline and held on tight despite its vicious contortions and spitting. Opening the screen door, she tossed it onto the porch and managed to get the door closed. Of course, it landed on its feet and whipped around to leer through the glass.

  The cat at her back emitted a deep and menacing eerie purr that seemed to echo through the suddenly silent house. Nikita frowned down at it as it lifted its head. It had green eyes. “Shit.” She’d thrown out Minx.

  ***

  “Uncle Hugh, do you have any idea of where Brian may have gone?”

  He shook his head. “None.” Ronan was beginning to worry about him. The events of the day were taking their toll on him.

  “You look tired. Why don’t you take a nap?”

  Hugh scoffed and sat straighter in his rocking chair. “Do you think I could sleep? No. The sooner this is done the better. Then I’ll nap.” He spat the last word derisively. Hugh had always been active, but damn if he didn’t look every bit of his age at the moment. “We should call his wife. Maybe he said something to her.”

  “Are you sure? They’re not exactly a loving couple.”

  “Yeah, but he may have let something slip.”

  Ronan shrugged. It couldn’t hurt. He pulled out his cell and keyed in the number his uncle gave him to Brian and Natalie’s house. She answered on the second ring. “Natalie, this is Ronan. How are you?”

  “Horrible. The police are staking out the house. And probably listening in on this call.” Her voice sounded stressed and tight. Ronan sympathized with her. She didn’t ask for any of this and none of it was her fault.