Remy coughed, realizing what the marshal meant. Easton vibrated next to him with an anger that didn’t show on his face. And here I thought I was considered a freak. Her own kind, other witches and warlocks, put women like her in asylums.
It was a horrifying thought.
“Why are you mad at Adalyn?” Easton asked in a cool, detached whisper.
“Not for her being wild,” Maxwell snapped back. “I’ve never thought of her like that. I would never…” He shook his head. “I can’t trust you both enough to tell you. I’m sorry.”
Remy had to move away from Easton as the Nephilim’s cold anger began to become more apparent.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
“It’s not that serious,” Maxwell retorted. “It’s also not your business.”
“Tell him, before he loses his shit,” Remy cut in. “Please.” He couldn’t stop a desperate note in the last word.
The last thing they needed was Easton losing control. Easton, the calm, under control Nephilim. When he lost control, lots of people tended to die. They could all thank his father for that.
“She banished Lars, that demon with the Anzu Gang, the one whose banishment kicked all of this off, with a banned piece of black magic. How she even found out about the spell, I don’t know, but I’ve been trying to think of a way where if it does come back on her again, she’s immune from the repercussions,” Maxwell explained, looking away from them. “There. Now, do me a favor. Don’t ride back to town and haul her ass to a jail. I know there’s a standing bounty from the MD for any unauthorized black magic user. What is it? Two hundred a head?”
“Yeah, two hundred, and we won’t,” Remy promised. “Ain’t no reason to, really. We have no evidence of her doing it, and that’ll be the first thing they demand. Plus, why the fuck would we want to turn someone in who is banishing demons?”
“Yeah, that bounty was created for us to seek out necromancers and summoners, not little witches looking to banish an outlaw here or there.” Easton was calming down and Remy was thankful for it. “We won’t cause her any trouble.” Privately, Easton added to that. “Can’t go see a pretty little witch when we have an itch to scratch if we get her hanged.”
Remy snorted again, covering his face as he did. Wasn’t that the truth, and it was something they really couldn’t say to the marshal. He opened his mouth to keep talking when he heard far-off hooves. Horses?
No. One horse. He continued to listen, ignoring whatever was being said between Easton and Maxwell.
Coming closer. Heavy. Fast.
He jumped up and shifted into his hellhound form, snarling. It made both of the other men jump up and pull their guns. He was about to pounce when the rider came flying into view from around the rocky hill they were on.
“Don’t shoot, damn it!” Valen roared.
“Valen? What are you doing out here and is that…Addy’s horse?” Maxwell ran past him towards the massive Russian. Remy shifted back into his human form, following Easton to see the newcomer. It was Addy’s stallion, the massive Hell-Touched horse. He looked overworked, smoke coming out of his nose, his eyes a little too big. “How long have you been riding after us?”
“Since dawn. As fast as Dark Prince would carry me. I went to check on her and they fucking took her, Max. She’s gone. Blood all over her damned house and it reeked of sulfur.” Valen was even panting. A hard ride had the tendency to take a lot out of the rider too. “I swear, they fucking took her and I can’t go after them on my own. I had to ride out and get y’all. I don’t trust anyone in town to help right now. They blame the entire mess on her. Knowing Forrest, he’s probably happy she’s been out of his hair.”
Remy listened, his heart beginning to thunder. Something possessive and angry began clawing around in his chest. He turned back to the demon they had in their care and stalked towards him, snarling. His only thought was to rip the demon into pieces.
Easton blocked his way, pushing him back towards the other men. Remy snapped his teeth at the Nephilim and Easton shoved harder.
“No.” The order cracked like a whip and Remy froze.
“What?” Maxwell was now looking at them. “What was that?”
“A last resort,” Easton whispered. “Remy, you can’t just eat him. He might know something.”
“Then he can track the demons who have her.”
“He doesn’t have any of the demons’ scents,” Easton reminded the marshal.
Remy just glared at the demon as a big hand pulled him further away. He only wanted to tear into him. It was like a single-minded idea of destruction and anger. He was turned against his will to see the massive Russian, who had at least a foot on him. Even still, he refused to be intimidated. He snarled at Valen. He wanted the demon, and he was pissed he couldn’t have him.
“You can track anything?” the Russian asked. “We might not have anything of the demons’, but we can have him track Addy.”
“Remy?” Easton whispered. “You in there?”
Remy snarled, but the idea was sound. “I can do it.” He could find her anywhere. He’d memorized her scent the moment he’d met her, wanting to be able to keep it with him. He’d liked the way she smelled.
“Fuck. I’ll deal with this one,” Maxwell muttered, walking away from them. Remy’s head snapped in his direction at the smell of blood. Human blood.
“What are you doing?” Easton demanded, stomping over to the marshal. Valen held Remy. It was pointless, since he couldn’t move until Easton allowed him to, but it had a solid grounding effect on him. He felt connected to humanity thanks to the touch.
“Banishing him. The Society of Magic told me the exact spell Adalyn had used so that I could better identify it later. They probably didn’t intend for me to use it, but I’m not going to haul this one around.” Maxwell sounded professional about it all.
“If you banish him, then we can’t collect the bounty,” Easton said angrily. “It’s not a part of the deal.”
“You know what else wasn’t a part of the deal?” Maxwell asked, just as heated. “Adalyn getting taken by them. The deal is off.”
Remy winced. That meant there was a chance Easton wouldn’t care about going to help her. Easton might be intrigued by the witch, but keeping them afloat and working was more important to him. A witch, no matter how lovely, just wasn’t their problem. They weren’t heroes.
Remy was going to unless Easton forced him not to. He needed to go help her. They had promised she wasn’t in danger anymore, that their plan was solid. Demon outlaws normally were too stupid to try anything like this.
“I want the four that took her,” Easton snapped. “We’re going to go rescue her and I want those four.”
“I’ll make you a different deal, then. If we can take them down without banishing them, you can take them in and collect the bounties. If not, I’ll write a letter to the bank saying you were instrumental in their removal from this plane and hope that settles the bounty and gets you paid.” Maxwell started making the blood pentagram on the dirt.
Remy could smell every drop of blood. It was heady. Blood from a magic user was something different from regular humans. The magic was present in it. It was weaker in warlocks and witches, since they were basically humans, but it was still there. Something about being in contact with magic changed its scent a little. Adalyn’s scent was full of magic, so much that it marked her entire scent.
“Remy, focus on tracking Adalyn,” Easton ordered, this time without the sharp magic compulsion to it. “And get ready to move out. Sorry about that. I didn’t want you doing anything rash.”
Remy felt the previous command let go of him. “It’s fine. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I’ll pack your things,” Valen offered. “You just focus on her. Please.”
“Thanks,” Remy mumbled, closing his eyes.
Her scent. Cinnamon, with touches of lilac and rosemary. And he could never forget the one last piece. She smelled like magic.
His eyes flew
open as the hunt began. He knew where his target was. She wasn’t in the direction he’d hoped. Further away than Redstone.
“Two days from us,” he declared. “South of Redstone. Southeast of us. No. A day and a half, maybe less if we ride hard. If we start riding now, we’d be on them by sunset. If we’re worried about breaking the horses, dawn the next day.”
“Fuck. They took her nearly into the desert,” Valen muttered. “Less vegetation as you move south of Redstone. Fewer places to hide and sneak. They’ll be able to see us coming on the horizon.”
“They were smart,” Easton agreed. Remy looked at his friend, who sighed. They both turned to Maxwell, who finished the pentagram at that point.
“Can I get a hand?” he asked patiently. Remy went to him quickly and they lifted the demon, then dropped him on the blood circle. Remy backed away, not wanting to get caught in the spell himself. Being Hell-Touched, it would work on him, thinking he belonged there.
Maxwell said something he didn’t understand and the circle began to glow. Demonic hands yanked the unconscious demon down into the portal to hell and then it closed without anything else left behind.
“Let’s get moving,” he said, his speech slurred. Remy watched him rub his face, swaying like he was a little drunk. Remy didn’t want to consider the scent of arousal now filling the air, but there was no missing the erection the marshal got. Maxwell noticed him staring and shrugged. “Fucking black magic does this. It’s addictive because it’s so powerful and it’s a strong high for magic users. But it dabbles in the sort of stuff that causes things like Beelzebub to become free on Earth. Very prohibited.”
“Will you be okay?” Valen asked, reaching for his friend.
“Yeah. Will you? Or Dark Prince? We can start slow, to give you both time. Honestly, I’m pretty confident we’re going to get her out of this mess. I’m not going to let you break her horse in the process.”
“A couple of hours slow should be enough for me and him,” Valen agreed.
Remy didn’t really care about the horse, looking at it. It snorted at him and he bared his teeth back. Hell-Touched knew other Hell-Touched.
“Let’s get moving,” Easton said, throwing a pack on his own gelding. He mounted, holding the lead for Remy’s mare. “We’re losing time, and who knows what they’re doing with her.”
Remy snarled as he shifted. He tracked better in his hellhound form. That possessive, angry thing in his chest howled in pleasure at being in control.
If they hurt her, he was going to eat well.
23
Adalyn
“Witch. Come try again,” the demon ordered.
Adalyn was looking out the window at the darkness. This was the third attempt. She’d just taken a nap, hoping her headache would fade, but it hadn’t helped.
She followed him quickly outside and ignored the gun pressed into her lower back again. She also ignored what she hadn’t realized the first time she went out to test her magic. One of the other demons had his gun pulled and pointed at her.
She didn’t bother concentrating. She tried to pull a bottle to her, only for it to shatter. Frustration filled her.
Damn it.
Her frustration must have been on her face, because the leader chuckled.
“Poor little witch. Can’t even do the one thing you’re supposed to be good at. You need to figure this out. The longer it takes you, the longer it takes us to give your friends back in town our demands.” He patted her shoulder, nearly sympathetically. “You let us know when you want to try again.”
She took a deep breath, biting her tongue. The longer her magic kept refusing to come to heel, the worse she felt. She turned on her heel and walked back inside, storming back to her momentary prison.
I got myself into this and damn it, I have to get myself out of it. It could be days before my magic comes back. It would be even longer until I could devise some way to bring their friends back.
The guys…they might not even know I’m missing yet. Hell, Maxwell might not even care. They could think I just ran. The bounty hunters are probably hunting the gang, but they have no idea I’m with them.
The frustration was like claws in her chest. She hated this patient waiting game stuff. She needed to take action. She was feeling desperate. She looked to the window and glared at it. Outside was right there. The night. She knew where the horses were. She could just go for it. It would be hard, and probably fatal. She needed to be patient.
Okay. What do I know so far?
They won’t hurt me if I don’t cause problems. They have four horses out there. One of those I could steal. Maybe I could spook the others, if I have time.
The outhouse is a cheap one and out the back door. That, she had learned earlier when she needed to go. It wouldn’t help her escape. She couldn’t use that for a ploy. Like the other times she went outside, they kept at least two guns trained on her while she did her business. Just in case.
They hang out in the living room. They’re probably sleeping in shifts. One stays outside my door. Whoever that is will be the first that needs to go.
She took several deep breaths. Her confidence was dying so she just decided to continue to meditate. She sat down on the wood floor, facing the window, and closed her eyes.
Adalyn had to find her center. She had never needed to fight like this to get her magic back under control. Throughout her life, she’d used meditation to keep it under control, even when she had a fiery hot temper. This was how she maintained. She had never been unable to fix it before, not like this. Normally, she just waited it out, controlled her emotions, and resisted the urge to use magic until it came back to her.
I should have never let the argument with Maxwell rattle me off my balance. I should have just calmly spoken to him and maintained control. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.
She lost track of time, failing to blank her mind. She continuously thought about how she’d messed all of this up. She brought this on herself.
Opening her eyes, she realized dawn was coming. The cover of night was lost now, and it marked two days without any control over her magic.
Just keep meditating. It’ll come back. I have to believe that.
She closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath, holding it, then letting it out slowly. She focused on her magic, the power that flowed through her and in the world around her, separating the two in her mind. Then she went only to the magic in her. She tried to calm it by calming herself, but she was still frustrated. Part of her just wanted to scream at the bundle of energy she was visualizing in her mind to just fucking listen to her.
I’m not doing this right.
She realized it with the new day shining through the window. She needed to stop stewing on it all. She had to let go of the worry about escaping. She had to let go of the drama with Maxwell that would await her back in Redstone. She just had to let it all go.
And immediately, her magic began to respond.
“Witch, breakfast.” A demon opened the door, dropped the plate of food on the dresser and left again. She sighed. Right when she made some sort of breakthrough, she lost it.
When her stomach growled, she knew that food was going to be needed. She got up, grabbed it, and ate quickly, hoping the energy would help her. Then she dropped the plate back down and refocused.
She blocked out the world and all her worries about it. None of it existed or mattered. She just needed to find her balance again. The center of herself. And this time, when she visualized her magic, it was calm and steady.
There it is. I’ve got it.
She smiled to herself. If it didn’t work, then she was certifiably insane, but if it did work, then she’d become a legend. This was some shit she could take all the way back to the Society and shove in their faces.
“I can do this,” she whispered to herself, trying to call on her confidence. She walked to the door and knocked only once. “I’m ready to try again.”
“Thank fuck,” the outlaw mumbled. �
�It’s nearly fucking noon, little girl.”
She had no idea that much time had passed. He pulled the door open and she walked out, letting him follow her with that damned gun behind her back. The rest followed, and once she was outside, she focused on the bottles. She didn’t try a visible spell, though. She went with something they wouldn’t be able to identify. She whispered a small spell and the ward she’d wanted formed around the bottles. A second later, she blew it up on purpose.
“Fuck!” she yelled.
“Damn it,” the leader growled. He leaned into her face, menacing. “Look. I’m running out of patience, Mrs. Lovett. I’m going to need you to work this out. I don’t want to have to drag you around until you fix this. I’ll start fucking hurting you if I have to.”
Now he decides to start seriously threatening me. Well, that’s perfect timing.
“I’ll get it, I promise. You kidnapped me at a bad time!” She put on her best act. Worried, scared, helpless.
It seemed to calm him down. He leaned back, nodding. “Get back inside,” he ordered, jerking his head to the front door.
She didn’t get moving fast enough and the one with the gun shoved her lightly. It wasn’t hard at all, but it still made her stumble from the sheer unexpectedness of it. She glared back at him. The distinct sound of the gun cocking made her walk a lot faster.
They’re probably getting antsy about someone trying to rescue me.
She hurried back into the room and took a deep breath once the door was closed. Now she had to get to the real work.
The first thing she did was look for something sharp. There was a fork on the plate. That will have to do. She grabbed it and shoved it into her pocket. She was happy to be wearing pants and boots. Doing any of this in skirts would have been a nightmare.
Then she went to the window. She tried to move slow, so that it just sounded like she was pacing around instead of being frantic. She yanked the window open. It was loud. Very loud. She began wedging herself through it, not sparing a moment to see what sort of trouble she’d just gotten herself into.
Bounty Hunters and Black Magic Page 17