Rebel Witch

by September Stone

  Part of me is wondering the same thing, but someone doesn’t rise to the kind of prominence Lillian has if they’re stark raving mad. “Crazy’s a matter of perspective.”

  “I assure you,” Daya says coolly, her voice immediately returning the room to order, “whatever nonsense you’re peddling, you won’t find followers here.”

  My stomach clenches. I wouldn’t be too sure. Daya and the other elders might feel pretty free—despite the fact that they spend most of their days in this mansion. But we hunters know we’re little more than indentured slaves. Every day, I’m acutely aware how much a prisoner I am. Maybe my cell is larger than it would be in a state prison or something of that variety, but I exist only at the will of the elders. And despite taking every bounty I can in hope of repaying the debt I know I owe, inside I know the truth: I’ll never be free from their service. And too many of the men and women standing around me are locked up in the same boat.

  Lillian raises her chin in an imitation of Daya’s lofty posture. With her shoulders back and her head held high, it would be easy to think they were two equals carrying on a conversation rather than prisoner and judge. “Our kind will never be free so long as the humans control the world.”

  At this, Daya finally cracks a smile. “Is that right? The non-magical community outnumbers us fifty to one. It outnumbers vampires specifically even more than that. You would have us, what? Reveal our existence to a group well-known for its fear of the unknown? Even with the advantage of our abilities, they could wipe us out. There is no freedom in death.”

  Lillian chuckles throatily. “You’re wrong about that—a fact which you’ll soon learn firsthand.”

  Daya opens her mouth to respond, but before the words come out, a blinding white light flashes through the chamber. I throw my arm over my eyes to block out the bright glow.

  My muscles tense as I drop to the ground. Instincts and training take over and I use my other senses to gather information about what’s happening. Shouts and screams reverberate through the room, and feet scuffle the floor. I blink, but the flash is still burned against my retinas, making it impossible to glimpse what is happening.

  A foot collides with my leg and someone stumbles forward, slamming into me on their way down. I push the body off me and leap to my feet, blinking as fast as I can to clear my vision. When I can finally make sense of my surroundings, I find Marty unconscious on the floor beside me. The room is in chaos. Two shifters in the corner flail about wildly as orange flames undulate around them. Chunks of ice pelt another group, while a third is pinned against the far wall by a sustained gust of wind. And in the center of it all stands Lillian, her eyes aglow and a wicked twist to her mouth.

  The four pyramid-shaped charms above the room are shattered—a fact I can’t wholly wrap my head around. Those wards have held up against countless witches, but somehow Lillian was able to break them.

  But I don’t have time to think about it—not with this room looking more like a war zone with each passing moment.

  A shout rises up from one corner of the room, and a group of six shifters rush toward Lillian. Summer is at the front, looking fierce as she streaks forward armed with a silver-tipped staff.

  Lillian turns to face them head on, and her eyes seem to glow for a split second before Summer and the others stop in their tracks. Lillian murmurs something I can’t hear over the screams and shouts filling the room, but I don’t have to catch the words to know nothing good can come of her persuasion.

  Summer drops the staff, and before it’s had time to clatter to the ground, she and the five with her turn their backs to Lillian and race back toward the other shifters.

  Summer heads straight for me.

  Her eyes are full of fury as she homes in on my location, and I don’t doubt for a second she’ll kill me where I stand. I ready myself to face her, but before she’s within reach, a strange sensation jolts my stomach. My skin ripples and sparks pop in my joints. The desire to shift is so strong I almost give in.

  And then Summer punches me square in the jaw, chasing all thought from my head. She lunges for me again, her jaw transforming and her teeth lengthening to deadly points. I ball my fist and take a swing before she can rip out my throat. The connection is imperfect, and she jerks back only slightly before coming at me again.

  My second punch is true, and I see the lights go out behind her eyes as she drops to the floor, unconscious.

  There are more shifters to fight, but I dodge them as best I can. They aren’t the problem—Lillian is. She takes slow, measured steps toward the dais, while each of the elders sits in their chair, unmoving and likely pinned by some spell.

  One hit is all it will take. She won’t even see me coming. And if the urge to shift comes again, I’ll give into it. If anyone deserves to be torn apart by sharp feline teeth, it’s Lillian. Between the elders and the other shifters here, someone will be able to subdue me before I can hurt too many more people.

  I hope.

  Her back is still to me as I break into a sprint, but I barely make it two steps before she turns, a malicious smile spreading across her face.

  And then the world erupts into agony as if a thousand tongues of flames are licking at my body.

  I drop to the ground, but blackness takes me before I hit the floor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bryn

  Although we left only days ago, it feels like so much longer. We pass by the Nightshade Motel and Shipwreck Tavern. Seeing both buildings sends a thrill of familiarity dancing across my skin.

  But even the flush of pleasure at recognizing some of the buildings doesn’t drown out the ache in the center of my chest. Last time we entered Twin Rivers, Poe was with us.

  The sense of uneasiness that lodged itself in my soul last night hasn’t let up. After Silas and I dressed, we left the confinement cabin and found Calder and Taj almost immediately. The same dark premonition that overtook the two of us had echoed through them as well. We wanted to leave for Twin Rivers immediately, but Ryder held us back. He didn’t clear us to leave until the Front’s top psychics scanned our mind to make sure we weren’t under some kind of remote attack to lure us out. And no matter how many times Calder and Taj attempted to frame the delay as Ryder taking necessary precautions, every minute we wasted felt like an hour. By the time he finally allowed us to leave, it was nearly morning.

  I glance at Silas, who sits in the back with me, and he reaches across the empty space between us to cover my hand with his. The gesture is enough to know he’s just as worried as I am. I return pressure in his fingers, surprised by how natural the gesture feels. Like we’ve been holding hands every day of our lives instead of for just the last several hours. A flush of pleasure surges through me at the casual contact, but even it isn’t enough to numb the stab of worry.

  A ring tone sounds in the front seat, and Taj taps on his phone’s screen before bringing the device to his ear. “Yeah?” He pauses, glancing over his shoulder, his lips pursed in concern. “That’s strange. Yeah. I’ll let them know. Thanks, Ryder.”

  “What was that about?” Calder asks as he turns off the main street onto a two-lane road that looks mildly familiar.

  Taj turns his attention to him. “Ryder says the Front haven’t been able to make contact with the elders. They’ve been calling since we left, and no one’s picked up the phone.”

  Silas snorts. “I get that we’re kind of outside regular business hours here, but you’d think the Elders would have a secretary who’s always on schedule. Hell, even Lillian always had someone staffed to answer calls.”

  “Ryder said it’s abnormal to not be able to get in touch with anyone,” Taj says.

  The information makes my stomach clench. I squeeze Silas’ hand tighter. “What if we’re right? What if something terrible happened?”

  He undoes his seatbelt with his free hand and scoots closer. “Don’t get worked up. We still have no idea what’s going on. Maybe the vision—or whatever it was—doesn’t mean
what we think it does.”

  Although I know he means to comfort me, his words miss the mark. Nothing will loosen the knot in my chest except seeing Poe face to face.

  Calder turns the car down a two-lane road that stretches off in the distance, leading away from the main part of town. A shiver courses through me, and at first, I assume it’s because we’re drawing closer to the elders’ mansion. The last time I was there, I stood trial for killing a member of their council. The magical judges rejected the nuanced truth about the death of their contemporary—that while, yes, my hands crafted the potion, I only made it at Mona’s bidding. I still don’t fully understand why my magical signature didn’t match the one they compared it to, and part of me quakes at returning in case they realize their mistake.

  But it’s more than our proximity to the mansion that raises goosebumps on my arms. The fluffy white clouds that bunch in the morning sky congeal into a thick, dark mess in the direction we’re heading.

  Something is off. The constant thrum of magic always surging beneath the surface of Twin Rivers vibrates with a deepening intensity, like someone plucking the taut strings of a guitar.

  I glance up at the sky as the darkening clouds swirl around a fixed point. “Something’s wrong.”

  Silas turns to face me, concern in his dark eyes. “What do you mean?”

  I point toward the storm. “Something about that’s not right. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  Taj taps on Calder’s shoulder. “Drive a little faster, mate, yeah?”

  As we speed along the highway, I keep expecting the storm to break. My ears are tuned to the sound of thunder, but none cracks overhead. No bolt of lightning interrupts the darkness. If I didn’t know any better, I’d be convinced it was night time.

  When we finally turn onto the driveway that leads to the elders’ mansion, my muscles are taut with adrenaline. Silas sits still as a statue beside me. Calder’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, and Taj leans forward as if a few more inches might buy him clarity of vision he otherwise couldn’t afford.

  The car’s headlights offer the only glimmer of light in the increasing darkness.

  Calder cruises along as fast as he dares, and it takes all my self-control not to jump out of the car and run ahead on foot. I want to be doing something, and sitting in this car makes me feel like I’m trapped in a black hole.

  After what feels like hours, the headlights illuminate a wrought iron gate. I recognize it from the last time we were at the mansion. Calder turns onto the long, winding driveway, and my heart hammers so hard against my chest I’m afraid it might explode.

  The headlights dance through the darkness in front of us. A sigh of relief escapes my lips when the light finally cuts across the stone façade of the mansion. But my brief solace shatters as more of the building comes into view.

  At first, it looks like the front door is open, as if waiting expectantly to welcome visitors. But as we draw nearer, it’s clear from the black charring around the frame that the door’s been blown from its hinges. No guards wander the perimeter. A thin wisp of smoke rises from the center of the mansion, and it takes a second to register why the outline doesn’t look quite right.

  My heart thunders against my chest. “No.” The word comes to my lips again and again.

  The domed roof that rose up in the center of the building has been ripped open, like some giant of legend walked by and ripped off the top. Panic floods my system. I don’t know what could have done something like that, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  Calder slows the car, and I pull off my seatbelt and push my door open. Before the vehicle comes to a full stop, I jump out and run toward the gaping hole where the front door used to be.

  Footfalls pound after me and a hand circles my upper arm. “Slow down, cupcake,” Silas murmurs. “We have no idea what we’re walking into here.”

  “I don’t care.”

  His grip is like a manacle as he yanks me to a stop. “But I do,” he says fiercely.

  The look in his eye keeps me from pulling away. He’s not holding me back out of a sense of possession or control, but genuine concern and caring. Love. As much as I don’t want anything bad to happen to Poe, he wants nothing bad to happen to me.

  Taj and Calder jog from the parked car. As soon as they join us, a wave of relaxation washes over me. Despite the carnage around us, with these men, I have my calm center. We can face anything together.

  Taj holds his hand level with his chest, palm up. A moment later, a large fireball flickers to life. “Let’s prepare then, yeah?” As he leads the way into the chasm where the front door used to be, I can’t help wishing my magic were more helpful in this situation. I always feel weaker when I’m inside a building. It isn’t as if tree limbs and vines will be much help against concrete and steel.

  Calder pulls out his phone and dials a number. In a hushed voice, he instructs the person on the other end to send immediate assistance to the elders’ mansion.

  Beside me, Silas clenches and unclenches his fists, and I can’t help wondering if he’s not feeling the same apprehension as I am. After everything that’s happened, he hasn’t had an opportunity to test the new limits of his abilities.

  The hallway that once felt so opulent with its flowers and beautiful paintings now feels lonely and abandoned. I keep my steps as silent as possible, afraid too much noise might waken some slumbering beast.

  Everything is unnaturally still. Taj’s fireball gives off the only light as we move further inside the building. Part of me wants to run forward as quickly as my feet will carry me. I want to shout Poe’s name until I hear his response. A voice in the back of my head accuses me. You should have come sooner.

  Taj turns a corner and stops short. “Oh, no.”

  Fear and fury fuel my steps as I push past Calder and Silas until I’m level with Taj. The smell hits me first. Charred flesh, coppery blood, and the tangy aroma of fear fill the air. At first, my brain can’t put together the dissimilar pieces of information that crash inside my senses, and when it all stands into place, bile rises in my throat.

  Bodies. Some burned beyond recognition. Others missing limbs. Throats ripped out by teeth. Animal teeth.

  A conversation with Poe floats to the forefront of my mind. There’s a reason he doesn’t shift. While his kind remain themselves in their core when they take on their animal shape, Poe loses himself completely and his panther takes over. He told me it’s for that reason he doesn’t change forms unless there aren’t any other options and casualties aren’t an issue.

  What if something happened that forced his hand? Could he have done all this?

  I shake the thought from my head. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that Poe is more than capable of holding his own in any fight. He wouldn’t have done this.

  But that leaves the question of who did?

  “Poe?” Ignoring my heaving stomach, I push forward, forcing myself to study each body as I pass. But I don’t see him in the hallway.

  “Whatever happened, I think it started in there,” Calder says, pointing to the chamber where the elders held my trial. He steps cautiously over the threshold, followed closely by Silas, whose complexion is tinged green.

  I make it no more than two steps when Taj steps into my path. “Maybe you should stay out here. We’ve no idea what we’ll find in there.”

  I shake my head, trying to push past him. “If Poe’s in there—”

  “If he’s in there, you may not what to see, love.”

  His words hit me like a punch in the gut. I don’t want to believe he’s right, but the evidence is in front of me. Whatever happened here was violent and deadly. Poe could be in the same condition as the people out here—or worse.

  But I can’t just stay here.

  “I have to go in.”

  Taj holds my gaze for a long moment before stepping out of my path. “I’m going with you.”

  He laces his fingers through mine and we head into
the chamber together.

  If the scene outside was horrible, what’s inside is fodder for nightmares. More dismembered bodies litter the floor. Huge chunks of stone walls are scattered amid the remains, some ringed with deep pools of crimson. I can’t wrap my brain around what could have transpired here.

  As I move through the room, I spot some signs of life. Some shifters are merely unconscious. Given their proximity to the wall, I assume they were thrown into it. Several more have serious bite marks on their arms or legs, and Taj shows me how to tie tourniquets to keep them from losing too much blood. But no matter where I look, there’s no sign of Poe.

  Hope bubbles in my chest. Maybe he wasn’t here. Maybe he was out collecting a bounty. Perhaps he’s on his way back right now, and he’ll be just as shocked by what happened as we are. I can almost see it—Poe walking into the room, his eyes landing on me. He would take me into his arms and finally—finally—the five of us could be together. We could leave this place and…

  “Over here!”

  Silas’ voice cuts into my fantasy. He crouches in front of the elders’ dais. A dark figure is sprawled at his feet.

  Bile threatens to rise as I make my way toward him. My feet catch on items strewn on the floor, but I can’t make myself look down. Only Taj’s firm grip on my hand keeps me upright.

  “Don’t worry,” a mildly familiar voice wheezes from a few yards away. “He’s alive.”

  I freeze and scan the room for the source of the words. Calder spots the speaker a moment before I do, and he picks his way around bodies until he’s on the dais, crouched beside a woman I never wanted to lay eyes on again. Daya Ambrose.

  Her skin is ghostly pale against the streak of blood zig-zagging across her face. A matted, bloody patch of hair shows where she was hit with something—possibly debris from when the roof caved in. Calder takes her by the hand and wraps an arm around her shoulder as he helps her to a sitting position.

  “He’s alive,” she repeats, her voice no stronger than before. “But you should be quick in saying your goodbyes. I fear he won’t hold on much longer.”