Sorcha's Wolf

by Billi Jean

  From the forest a call sounded, a harsh laughing sound followed by another and another, each coming closer. Alex spun and shrugged his pack off, drawing something shiny from within it. She heard a snap, and with a lunge, he stood facing whatever beasts had suddenly decided they were fair game. With a sword. He had a sword.

  One sword against a pack of jackals.

  Chapter Ten

  “So, tell me, Markee, why have you been so spooked today?” Agni shoved Markee with a shoulder, making him hit the wall and pissing him off. The demon was always screwing around.

  He shook his head. “Your breath?”

  Agni threw his head back and laughed. “Damn, pup, you have balls, that’s for sure.”

  Markee speared the big demon with a look he’d learnt from Alex. Agni slapped him on the back and his grin grew.

  “So, come on, spill it. I’m fascinated, really.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where is the team we’re supposed to be watching?”

  “Oh, the humans?” Agni asked.

  Markee nodded, digging his hands into his jeans pockets to keep from fidgeting with them.

  “I made that shit up. I wanted to get you alone and pick your brain.”

  “What?” he demanded, taking a step back from Agni.

  Agni stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah, ever since that first meet I’ve wondered about you. You survived the battle with the Vampire House in Europe—with an odd casualty, but odder still, when taken to a place guaranteed to relieve the pain”—Agni grinned, and stepped closer—“you left like the hounds of hell were after you.”

  Markee stalled out and had to take a minute to recover. He couldn’t believe Agni would bring up what he’d suffered at the hands of those crazy vampires. He’d been hard as stone for weeks from the drugs they’d fed him. For Agni to bring it up now? The bastard must know he was bonded. Or he was hitting on him.

  “Dude, are you trying to score, ‘cause I don’t fly that direction.”

  Agni laughed again, shaking his head, and gripped his shoulder. “Don’t fly that way? Hell, that, my man, is a good one. But listen here,” he sobered and crossed his arms over his chest flashing some kind of inked symbol on his arm. “You intrigue me. Spill, man.”

  Shit, what did that mean? Intrigued him? The nosey demon must know he was bonded. It was a hell of a lot better than him knowing Alex had Sorcha that was for sure, but…

  “What the hell business is it to you?”

  “Hey, I pulled you out of that whacked mess, the least you can do is give me some facts here,” Agni responded.

  Markee growled. A whacked mess. It had been much worse than that. He’d been on the mission to free his sister, but the vampire house had given him much more than he’d wanted. They’d ignited the fire his mate had started, only he’d lost his mate years before. The pain of her loss hit him hard with his returned lust. Yet, as he’d stormed from the club Agni had dropped him off at, a hint of her scent, impossible because he’d thought her dead, had floated on the breeze. He could barely remember more of that night, simple images, flashes really, of streets and forests as he’d run in his wolf form, following her scent for miles.

  The next day, he’d woken to Alex sitting across from him, his dark eyes watching him with a look of compassion. Alex knew. He’d advised Markee to visit a seer, stood and headed out the door, with a parting shot on how he needed to take care breaking his uncle’s laws. Shifting—allowing the inner wolf free—was against his uncle’s laws.

  Now he had a nosey demon in his business. What the hell? Agni was a friend, of sorts, but he couldn’t trust anyone, least of all a demon with a sense of humour that wasn’t always so funny.

  “Look, Markee, maybe I can help, huh? A mate, that’s not something to lose, eh?”

  “Again, what the hell business is it of yours?”

  Agni turned serious, for once not cracking a joke or breaking into a grin. “Look, man, if you want help, all I’m saying is sometimes a new look at a situation can reveal more.”

  He shook his head hard. What was he saying?

  Agni leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You are bonded,” he said pointing a finger at him like a gun. “Now, the question is, when, where and with who? Or is it whom? I always get those things mixed up.”

  Markee rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and simply stared at Agni. The demon was close to finding out things he’d rather no one knew. But this was much, much better than Agni knowing one iota of information on Sorcha’s whereabouts. The demon and Sorcha were close. Markee knew Agni had been informed she was missing, and he’d nearly shit himself when the demon’s name had flashed on his caller ID. He’d assumed the fire demon wanted his balls on a platter, but instead he’d left a message to meet for a mission.

  Markee should have known better.

  Everyone had been buzzing about Sorcha’s disappearance, not the trouble with humans tracking certain immortals.

  He’d heard that Trouble had dragged Alrick, Adian and Torque out of bed and demanded answers. She’d even pounced on the merfolk, before demanding answers of the other, less friendly, covens. She’d found Sorcha gone she claimed, when everyone knew Sorcha never left her home unless forced.

  Why was that?

  Oh, probably because some crazy immortal, say a wolf on a warpath, would use her to gain revenge?

  “Shit, sorry, man, I didn’t realise you’d be this shaken up.”

  He blinked at Agni and grumbled, “Well, you’re wrong. I’m not shaken up. Just because I have more respect for women than to pay one to get me off, doesn’t mean I’ve found my mate Now, is this all this is about or do we really have a mission?”

  Agni tilted his head and eyed him for a long, anxious moment. “Liar. But I get it, not my business and you don’t trust me. It’s cool, whatever, I guess. We could follow a lead I got from Hunter on the humans.”

  Finally. “Sure, let’s go. What’s the lead? What did she discover on the tapes?”

  “The tapes from the Death Stalker cell—the scumbags of the earth—were useless. The source ended at a tower out in Nevada and that source doesn’t exist any longer. Destroyed. Gone. Not by Hunter either. She said she did a trace of some sort and wants us to follow it.”

  Hunter could somehow follow the lines of current found in electrical devices—cell phones, computers, electric plants—she could find the source of the line, and the person behind that. He never let her near his cell. Jaxon, a vampire he’d known a few years now, had warned him never to let her touch any of his computer devices. He’d followed that advice and watched while other immortals were less cautious, and discovered all kinds of special surprises. If he remembered correctly, Agni was one of those people who’d learned the hard way the tricks Hunter could play on the unsuspecting.

  If so, the demon didn’t hold a grudge. He seemed almost protective of Hunter.

  Before he could say anything, the sound of Nicki Minaj singing Beez in the Trap came from Agni’s phone. He grimaced and muttered Hunter’s name and a few rough threats when he got hold of the witch. Markee held in a grin. Obviously, Agni hadn’t learnt to keep his gear away from Hunter yet.

  “Yep, we’re just headin’—ah, no. Whoa, slow down, Trouble, a guy can’t follow when you’re on the double espresso track. I don’t think so, wait, let me ask. Yes, he’s here. What?” Agni frowned and listened intently enough that Markee suddenly wished he could shift like a witch and leave the area for good.

  Agni clipped his phone closed with a rough exhale. “Dude, what have you done?”

  The hair on the back of Markee’s neck lifted in warning, but yeah, he knew.

  He’d just screwed with the most powerful coven of witches.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alex scented the jackal pack before the last wild call left the air. They were quick, he’d give them that, but not a match for him. He turned to Sorcha and tugged her gag from her lips.

  She spat it out and made a face.
“If you think I’m going to let you fight a pack with that sword, you’re nuts. We run.”

  Well, at least he didn’t have to tell her they were in danger.

  “We’re not running. We stand and fight.”

  Rolling her eyes, she unknotted the gag and threw it at his chest with some force. It dropped softly to his feet.

  “I use magic and I can’t use that! I don’t fight,” she said. “I never learnt how,” she added softly.

  He handed her a dagger and a gun. “You do today.”

  She took both as if he handed her vipers that might bite her, then let them drop to her sides and tossed her hair to look at him with a serious expression she’d not worn before with him. She looked almost pleased by his words.

  “Will these kill them?”

  “It will slow them down until I can.”

  He thought he saw something close to a smile of admiration on her lovely face before she replaced it with a fierce expression. “Fine. But if you’re hurt? I’m leaving you.”

  Shit and she called him cold. Her dimple flashed and he nearly grinned. She teased him. He considered kissing her, but another call sounded behind them.

  She turned away with a muttered ‘we should run’ under her breath. He fought a grin and smacked her on the ass. She twisted around, amazement on her face, then froze. He was grinning, but she didn’t have to blink at him, looking more stunned by his smile than the swat to her derriere.

  A man burst through the trees, yelling loudly. Alex hauled Sorcha behind him. “Just stay out of trouble, witch, and let me do the fighting. If anyone breaks past me, shoot them.”

  She sucked in a breath and stepped to his left, moving closer to him while she scanned the tree line. He thought she moved nearer to him for comfort and something inside his chest warmed then tightened when her shoulder brushed his arm. She was frightened. He had done this—put her in a situation where she was scared. She was defenceless, even with the gun and knife, but she didn’t run, she stood quietly by his side.

  “We will be fine, settle, witch, and remember I’m here.”

  If he’d expected her to look relieved, he’d have been disappointed. She shot him an irritated look. “You got us into this mess, how could I forget you’re here?”

  He laughed. “True. Just don’t get in my way.”

  A woman broke free of the trees next and he felt Sorcha jerk to attention. She might not be able to touch her power, but she could sense a witch, he guessed.

  “Helga,” Sorcha breathed. A great deal of venom dripped from that one word. He took her arm and felt her tremble under his palm.

  “Who is she?”

  “A vile, spineless, disgusting—”

  “Besides all that?” he demanded.

  Sorcha narrowed her emerald eyes at him. “She’s not to be trusted. I have to have my powers, Alex. I have to—”

  “Shh, I can’t give them back, witch. You know that.”

  She gave him a doubtful look. “If you could would you?”

  He snorted. Women. Now was not the time for this. She must have agreed because she pulled her arm free and faced the witch he was supposed to meet in five hours. Six jackals—in their animal form—tracked behind her. Ten men—either jackals or something else altogether—formed a troop around her. One huge man stalked on her left, clearly meant to intimidate. He pissed Alex off.

  “Not very trusting is she?” Sorcha muttered.

  He folded his arms and called out, “Close enough, hag.”

  Sorcha snorted, “More like disgusting hag.”

  He ignored her. The witch was dark-haired with skin the colour of porcelain. She set his nerves on edge. “Why are you here and not at the location?”

  “I got antsy, you don’t mind, do you?” Her voice made him shudder. It reminded him of nails on a chalkboard. She fluttered a hand over her chest, where her bosom was nearly falling out of her low cut top. “I get so worked up waiting. It’s not good for the complexion, is it?”

  She settled her gaze on him as if he’d say something, but he remained silent. Complexion? What kind of game is she playing?

  Sorcha muttered something about helping with her complexion and the witch shifted her eyes on Sorcha with a smirk he didn’t like.

  “Ah, this, now this is rich. Sorcha the mighty, the head of the all-powerful goodie- two-shoes green coven on a leash—or nearly. The sight cheers me as much as my little one does.” Suddenly from behind her, she dragged a small child into view. “See, child? See how the mighty fall? Even the most powerful of witches is no match for me.”

  His hackles rose. The witch yanked the child to sit at her feet and petted her like a dog. He had to force his knees to lock not to cut through her guards and haul the child to safety. The youngling appeared no older than ten, nine winters perhaps, dirty and clothed in rags. Her hair was matted, filthy and hung in lank golden ropes.

  Next to him, Sorcha stiffened. He turned his head to see her seething with rage. He could understand it, he could even share it, but not now. Not this close to gaining his information.

  “No, don’t say a word.”

  Sorcha gaped at him. “Don’t say a word? Do you understand what that child is?” she demanded in a whisper, then lowered her voice even more to continue, “We have to free her.”

  Alex shook his head. “We are not freeing her. You will listen to me in this, witch.”

  Instead of obeying him, she glared at him and a look of loathing filtered over her delicate expression. He saw the chill return to her green eyes, making them appear like chips of frozen ice, and regretted causing it. “Alex, if you let this hag harm that child—”

  “I will get my answers, first.” He kept his tone low, but fitted her against his side and turned to Helga.

  She’d come closer, her jackals spreading out in an attempt to circle them. He held his hand up for her to stop and she paused a hundred feet from him.

  “Why are you here early?” he demanded.

  “I told you, I was antsy to see the mighty Sorcha on her knees.”

  A growl broke free before he could stop himself. No way was he forcing Sorcha to her knees. When she went to her knees, it would be to use that lush mouth to drive him insane, not to show a hag how powerless she’d become because of him. If he ever wanted a chance with Sorcha, to show her he wasn’t all she thought, he couldn’t make her kneel before this witch.

  “She stands, I will bring her when—”

  “Zith depends on my report. Have her kneel so I know you control her.”

  Shit. Sorcha turned to look at him and lifted one delicate eyebrow in challenge.

  He growled low in his throat and turned back to Helga. “I make the demands here, not you. She—”

  “I make the report. How do I know you don’t simply have her here to aid you?”

  “You can tell she cannot touch—”

  Helga laughed. “I know nothing of the kind. I am powerful, true, a sorceress even, Lykae, but I don’t have the gift to tell what powers a witch possesses.”

  “Sorceress my ass,” Sorcha called.

  The black-haired woman narrowed her eyes and dropped her hand from where she’d been tracing the low cut material of her shirt.

  “Do it, or I will leave here and my report will say you don’t control her at all.”

  Damn it. He turned and glared at Sorcha and she at least had the decency to look a bit guilty for baiting Helga. He winced but before he could change his mind, he forced her to her knees, kissing the chance of having her do that for him voluntarily goodbye. Across the space, he heard the witch laugh viciously and the men roared.

  “Aye, Zith will enjoy that position no doubt.”

  Sorcha remained unusually quiet. She’d bowed her head, no doubt adding this to her long list of grievances—and qualities he lacked. He tried to tip her head, but she resisted him and he dropped the issue. He didn’t need these men to see he cared for her. He dragged her back to her feet, but she still refused to look at him. She was
tight, her body tense against where he settled her along his. He thought with anger, but when he glanced at her face, he spotted sweat beaded on her forehead. What was she doing?

  “She is tame, is she not? Not the mighty, powerful Sorcha of legends now is she, poppet? I’ll make her my new pet when Zith finishes with her. Someone for you to play with, eh?” Almost immediately, her attention turned to him. “Give her to me now and I will see that you get your pendant.”

  “No’ a chance in hell. I will deal with Zith, no other.” Next to him, he pulled Sorcha by the back of her sweater when she appeared to stumble. He felt her shivering beneath his grip. She didn’t look up at him, but she leaned into his shoulder as if she’d grown weak. He tried to see her face, but she kept her head down. Something was wrong and he guessed it wasn’t that he’d humiliated her. Sorcha was quick to anger, but this felt as if she struggled against something—and for once it wasn’t him. “He’ll get Sorcha when I get the pendant, no’ before.”

  “Ah, now this is not good, not good at all.” The witch’s voice deepened and as he watched, her hands flew up. Fire flew from her fingertips.

  Next to him, he felt something like a pop in the air and his hackles rose. From Sorcha he felt a sudden burst of something, and fearing the witch’s spell had harmed her, he shoved Sorcha down, taking the brunt of the heat and rolled to put out the flames.

  “Alex!” Sorcha’s panicked cry surfaced near him, sounding oddly as if she feared he’d been hurt in the blast. He stumbled to his knees to see her doing the same across from him. Her expression registered shock, then relief. From her hands, a mist of green swirled.

  “Get down!” she shouted and he hit the ground as more fire sprang around them. The jackals yipped and cackled evilly. He felt one land next to him and rolled to the side, bringing his sword up to impale the animal deep in its chest. The jackal whined, falling to the side and slowly faded until a man remained on the ground, his body still and broken.

  Breathing hard, Alex turned, ignoring the dead man to focus where he’d last seen Sorcha. She was gone. His breath caught and in the midst of it all, he froze. Suddenly out of the smoke, Sorcha screamed a curse so loud his eardrums felt like they might burst. He staggered back a foot just as she strode from the billowing grey smoke. Her eyes and hands emitted a bright emerald green, while her scarlet hair moved as if by some invisible wind.