Forbidden Witches (Tarot Witches Book 2)

by SM Reine

  “I knew a witch who failed to meet the potential of her card. She explained it to me,” Ofelia said.

  “Failed to meet the potential?” I echoed.

  The door opened, and a man with a headset leaned into the room. “Everything’s ready for you, Rage. Band’s on stage already.”

  “Shit,” Rage muttered. He gave Ofelia a longing look, like he was on the brink of finding the Holy Grail and she was the key to pinning it down. “I’ve got to do this. Don’t go anywhere. We need to talk.”

  “I agree,” Ofelia said.

  He glared down at me. “Do I have to have someone tie you down? Ravyn would be happy to do it.”

  If I ran, I’d miss out on getting answers from Ofelia and Cooper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good.” He pointed at Ofelia. “Stay put.”

  She inspected her fingernails, which were much too long to be natural. The pinkie nail was pierced. The charm dangling from the gold ring was a tiny, delicate shotgun. “Uh-huh.”

  Rage vanished to perform his musical magic. The instant the door swung shut behind him, Ofelia grabbed my arm. “Time for girl talk. Cooper, keep an eye on everything here?”

  With his arms folded, he resembled a brick wall in motorcycle gear. “No problem.”

  Ofelia dragged me toward the door. I dug my heels in. “I’m not supposed to go anywhere, and neither are you.”

  “We’re not leaving,” Ofelia said. “We’re getting some air.” She eyeballed the roadies standing outside the green room door. “And privacy.”

  Ofelia didn’t have any trouble getting us past the guys guarding the hallway leading to the parking lot. They must have been warned not to let me out, but nobody was actually looking at me. Ofelia was pure sex wearing cowboy boots. She had everyone’s attention.

  Especially mine.

  Of course, I was interested for a totally different reason. Like, the fact that my skin glowed faintly where she was holding on to me.

  Warmth buzzed between us. I wasn’t sure how to put words to the sensation, but I guessed it was magic.

  There were a couple of motorcycles waiting for us outside, parked just a few feet from Donne’s old Corvette. It wasn’t hard to guess who had brought the bikes with them. Ofelia strolled around the classic car, bending over to look through the windows.

  “What were you saying about failure to meet the potential of the cards?” I asked.

  “Receiving a card means there’s a problem in your life you need to resolve. The card represents the problem. Fail to fix it, and your life is ruined.” Ofelia glanced at me over the hood of the Corvette. “My friend failed to solve her problem. She ended up losing everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Her family, her life as she knew it, her magic.”

  “That sounds awful.” But I’d already lost everything in the last couple days—including my sanity. What else could The Hierophant really take from me?

  Ofelia untied the motorcycle chaps and tossed them over the seat of her bike. “Tell me how you got hooked up with these people. Did you already know about the tarot witches?”

  “No, I just got one in the mail last week. One of my friends recognized the design on the back because she’s a fan of The Forbidden, and…” I sighed. “Hanging out with rock stars and werewolves isn’t my thing. I was supposed to have finals this week.”

  She leaned on her motorcycle sidesaddle, cowboy boots braced against the pavement. Now that the chaps were gone, I could see that she wasn’t a skinny girl, but she had the good kind of weight—a little bit of fat over thick muscle, giving her the kind of curves my roommate would have described as “badonkadonk.”

  “So you don’t know anything about the tarot witches,” she said.

  “Not a darn thing.”

  I was so relieved to see that she actually looked sympathetic. She felt sorry for me. Finally. Someone who didn’t think I should get dragged around by destiny.

  “But you know what’s happening here, don’t you?” I asked. “You know what’s up with the tarot cards, and the mating thing, and…everything else.” I didn’t pose it as a question so much as a plea.

  “I’ve got a few ideas. Cooper and I are still trying to put the pieces together.”

  “You know about mating, though,” I pressed. “You know why they want me to hook up with a werewolf.”

  “Sure. You can make the change easier if you mate with a werewolf, so I expect that’s why they’re pushing for it,” Ofelia said. She wiggled her fingers at me. “The more you touch them when they change, the less it hurts.”

  “Does changing normally hurt very much?”

  “According to Cooper, it’s always excruciating. But when we’re together…” Her gaze went distant. I thought at first that she was just thinking, but then I realized she was looking at the moon.

  “You love him, right?” I asked. “I don’t love anyone here. I don’t even know them.”

  “I didn’t know Cooper when we mated. Destiny had other plans for us. When you meet your mate, you just know.”

  Was that how I felt about Donne? Was he the mate I was destined to be with?

  I knew that I wanted to be with him, breathing the same air that he breathed, safe in the shackles of his unrelenting hands. Even if it meant that I had to be with the band and miss walking at my graduation. Even if it meant that I never saw anyone from my old life ever again.

  The intensity of the emotion scared me. It wasn’t at all rational.

  “What is it about us that makes us different? Why do we have destinies and werewolf mating and problems we have to solve?” I asked. “None of the other witches I know have to deal with this crap.”

  “That’s what I don’t know yet. There’s obviously something going on here. Someone sent us these cards.” Ofelia sighed. “I really hoped that this band would have the answers.” She stroked her bike like it was a beloved puppy, seeking comfort in its chrome curves. “Which one did you get?”

  I hesitated. She hadn’t shown Rage her card when he asked for it.

  Recognizing my reluctance, Ophelia gave an impish smile. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  Why not?

  “The Hierophant. It’s The Hierophant,” I said. “Like a priest guy with a couple people kissing his feet.”

  I kind of hoped she’d immediately shout “ah ha!” and tell me what that meant, but Ofelia only looked pensive.

  “Hmm.” She pulled a book out of the saddlebag. It was dog-eared and yellowing. She flipped through it, muttering under her breath, and then stopped at a page. “Ah. Here we go. The Hierophant.”

  She handed the book to me and I read the description.

  “The fifth card of a tarot deck’s major arcana, The Hierophant possesses divine insight that allows him to form a bridge between Heaven and Earth. He is a teacher shining a light upon paths to righteousness. His words impart the deepest truths to his followers, if only they will have wisdom enough to listen.

  “Drawing The Hierophant is a call to reexamine the world and search for faith. To obey The Hierophant is to obey destiny. To disobey him is heresy—and disaster.”

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked.

  Ofelia shrugged. “That’s what you need to figure out. It’s your problem. You’re the only one who can solve this.”

  I read the description a few more times. “A teacher I need to obey… That has to be Rage, right? Or is it Donne?” Belatedly, I added, “Or maybe Graham?”

  Ofelia covered a smile with her hand. “That’s a lot of men.”

  “You’re telling me,” I muttered.

  “You’ll figure it out. You have to,” Ofelia said. I wished I had a fraction of her confidence. “You’re the first tarot witch I’ve found since I got my card, and I don’t believe that’s coincidence. Someone had to send the cards. I’m sure we can find her if we work together.” She gave a bracing smile. “Can we do that?”

  Ofelia looked so hopeful. Her e
xpression made my heart ache.

  “Maybe we can figure it out together,” I said.

  Her lips blossomed into a pretty smile. It distracted from all the scars on her neck and made her look slightly less trashy.

  “Cool,” she said.

  I barely knew Ofelia, but I felt kind of close to her. She was the only person who’d been through the same thing as me. Good motivation to play nice.

  I searched for something else to talk about—a way to get to know her better. “You have a nice motorcycle. I bet it’s fast. And it’s so huge.”

  “You should have seen the guy who used to ride it. He was like…” Ofelia raised her hands above her head and carved out a shape like a massive boulder.

  “Why’d you buy something that big? Isn’t it hard to control?”

  “Oh, I didn’t buy it. My card is The Devil. I had to defeat The Devil to free myself and Cooper.” She patted the leather seat of the motorcycle. “I kept a souvenir.”

  Mentioning The Devil made me feel slightly less sororal toward Ofelia. My enthusiasm waned. “You defeated him?”

  Ofelia took my hands in hers. “And you’ll find the answer to your problem, too. I can tell that you’re strong.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I carefully extracted my hands from hers. “But, um…defeated? Does that mean that you—”

  I didn’t get to finish my question.

  Screams erupted from the sidewalk outside the stadium. These weren’t excited fan screams—not at that pitch, not even if Rage had ripped off his pants on stage.

  They sounded terrified.

  Crewmembers began streaming out of the exit, launching themselves into the parking lot. There was genuine fear on their faces.

  These were big, burly guys who lifted equipment that weighed hundreds of pounds for a living, and they were fleeing.

  “That’s not a good sign,” Ofelia remarked.

  My heart dropped to my knees. I knew instinctively what was happening.

  “Graham,” I whispered.

  I pushed my way into the hallway, rushing past the equipment, the fleeing stagehands, the members of the press who had been waiting to interview the band. Everyone was evacuating, and I was the only one stupid enough to be going the opposite direction.

  Ravyn was one of those attempting to escape. I stopped her at the bottom of the stairs. “What happened?” I asked. “Where are you going?”

  “There are tranquilizers and chains on the bus,” Ravyn said. “I’m going to try to get Graham.” She ripped free of me. “I’ll come back!”

  I stumbled over my skirts climbing the stairs. Bright lights flashed in my face as I rounded the storage room and hit the edge of the stage, looking out over the stadium.

  All of the building lights had come on, so I could see that most of the audience was still there. There were thousands of people in the stands—way too many to get out quickly and safely.

  And they definitely needed to get out, because there was a werewolf transforming on stage.

  XV

  I’d thought it was terrifying to watch Graham transform in the privacy of Rage’s home.

  Watching him transform on stage in front of thousands of people taught me a whole new definition of the word “terrifying.”

  Even though it was no longer the full moon, there was no denying that the nice older gentleman was changing into a monster. The breaking bones, the sound of his roar, the freaking tail growing from the end of his spine—pretty distinctive process.

  That was scary enough on its own.

  Scarier still was the fact that Graham was locked in a very public fight with Donne and Rage as he changed. Donne had a grip on his right arm while Rage tried to put him in a headlock.

  Two incredibly strong men, and they were nothing against Graham’s shifting body.

  “Yeah, that’s definitely not a good sign,” Ofelia said. She had followed me from the parking lot. “Jesus Christ’s balls on a cracker, this is really bad.”

  I turned wide eyes on her. “Is that really necessary?”

  She frowned. “Huh?”

  “I mean, swearing about Jesus—”

  “Oh, fuck me twice.” She rolled her eyes and shoved me aside. “Cooper! Help!”

  The beast of a man that had come with Ofelia tore up the rear stairs. He plowed onto the stage, tossing a single word over his shoulder: “Run!”

  That sounded like a great suggestion to me.

  Cooper tackled Graham, knocking him to the stage. The audience screamed in delight at the sight of it.

  Most people had no idea what they were seeing. After all of the crazy showmanship that The Forbidden had employed in earlier concerts, it probably would have been easy to believe that the werewolf thing was another trick.

  If Graham escaped, then we’d find out how delighted the audience would be after getting mauled by a werewolf.

  I couldn’t do anything about the crowd, but I could save myself. I turned to flee.

  Ofelia grabbed my elbow. “What are you doing?”

  “Are you kidding? Have you seen what those things can do?” I asked.

  She jerked me toward the stage. “That’s exactly why they need us. We’re the tarot witches. We’re the only ones who can do anything about this.”

  I thrust my finger toward the men. “If they can’t do anything about this, then what are we going to do?”

  “Magic,” Ofelia said. “We have to do magic.”

  “They need a lot more than magic. They need a miracle.”

  Graham collapsed to all fours. Cooper managed to twist one of his arms behind his back and used it to pin him to the stage.

  The older werewolf seemed to be shifting slower than usual. His bones were reconfiguring themselves, but his face was still human aside from the fangs. It made him look more like a horrifying, fleshy monster than a wolf.

  Graham elbowed Donne in the face. Bone cracked against bone, loud enough that I could hear it over the screaming crowd, and I gasped in horror.

  Donne heard me. His gaze zeroed in on me standing at the edge of the stage.

  Emotion warred on his square features—somewhere between protectiveness and need, fear and anger. “Leah!” he shouted. “Get out of here!”

  “No!” Rage snapped. He slammed his fist into the back of Graham’s head, smashing him flat to the stage. “This is exactly why we brought her with us!”

  So I can get eaten? No thanks!

  Ofelia edged toward them, towing me behind her. She was strong for a woman. She had no trouble forcing me onto the stage.

  “How long since this bastard got bitten?” Cooper asked through gritted teeth. He was sweating from the effort it took to keep Graham’s legs down.

  “Twenty-three years,” Rage said.

  Cooper paled. “Damn.”

  “It’s not a full moon,” Donne said. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

  Rage was quivering with anger. “When a werewolf gets to the end of his term, it becomes more erratic. He’s going to change and he might not ever—”

  Graham interrupted the lecture by wrenching his leg free and snapping a kick at Cooper’s face. His heel connected. Cooper’s nose broke, and blood streamed out of his nostrils.

  “Help him before we lose control,” Rage said, focusing on me.

  Ofelia pushed me forward. I took two steps and stopped.

  “I don’t know how,” I said. “I’m not ready.”

  “All you should need to do is touch him,” Rage panted. “If you’re not already claimed, the magic should work on its own. You’ll ease his transformation and stop his death.”

  Touch him.

  The way Donne was staring at me made my skin itch all over. I didn’t want to try to touch Graham. I wanted to curl up in the safety of Donne’s arms.

  If that didn’t mean I was claimed, then I didn’t know what did.

  But we hadn’t actually mated yet. There had been no actual sex between us, which meant it wasn’t official. Right?

>   I inched toward him. Graham roared and thrashed again. The men could barely hold him down.

  “Hurry!” Donne shouted.

  Darting forward, I pressed my hands to Graham’s sweaty face. He was slick as oil.

  It didn’t feel anything like the night before, when I’d helped Donne change. I definitely didn’t feel anything resembling magic—though I wasn’t certain I’d be able to tell what it was, even if I did feel it.

  Graham snapped at me. I barely managed to withdraw my fingers in time.

  “It’s not working,” Rage said. “She’s already claimed.”

  “Goddammit,” Donne swore. There was so much self-loathing in that one word. A whole lifetime of self-hatred.

  “Now what do we do?” Cooper asked. “Ideas?”

  Graham’s back arched. He seized again, harder this time, and managed to dislodge Rage.

  With his arm freed, throwing Donne aside was much easier. Then the only person holding him down was Cooper—an impressive specimen of a man, no doubt, but still in his human form, while Graham looked like a wolf-man from a Hollywood monster movie.

  Cooper and Graham rolled across the stage, locked in a death grip. They almost struck me.

  Only Donne managed to rip me away in time. He half-carried me to safety behind one of the big screens decorating the stage.

  Just the briefest brush of his skin slowed my racing heart. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I was safe with Donne. Graham would never be able to hurt me as long as Donne protected me.

  He gazed down at me with helpless frustration. “This is my fault,” Donne said. “If I’d controlled myself with you—”

  “How about we do self-pity later?” Ofelia suggested, running over to join us. She looked calm even though tears streaked her cheeks. “I’ve been working on a spell to tap into the power of the tarot witches. Together, maybe Leah and I can do something without needing to be claimed by Graham.”

  “I’m willing to try anything,” I said, and I was surprised to mean it.

  An exclamation from Rage drew my attention across the stage again.

  Cooper had collapsed, bleeding, on the opposite edge of the stage.