“Not hers.” Dante shook his head. “I picked this one up at a sale the other day. It was in pretty rough shape, lots of pages missing.”
“Oh crap, I bet that’s the book Damien and I pitched a few months ago.” Sam flipped the images back to the cover. “Yeah, that looks like it.”
“Exactly what I was hoping. I knew you had some witch heritage and the more I thought about it, finding a random grimoire in Chicago seemed too fortuitous.”
“You knew I had some witch heritage? Why were you checking into my background?”
“You’re my daughter-in-law.” He shrugged. “I thought it wise to know something about you.”
“Well this still isn’t going to help us get out. I have no magical abilities. My blood’s too diluted.” Sam handed the phone back.
“Maybe or maybe not. Your eyes would indicate to me that the witching genes are more dominant in you than you think.”
She folded her arms. “A weird anomaly, nothing more.”
Matt studied Sam’s eyes. “I’ve never looked at your eyes that closely before. You know, I’ve seen Gwyn’s turn that colour when she’s super pissed and about to use her magical abilities.”
Sam began to pace, shaking her head. “You’re trying to make something out of nothing. I’m a Lycan, nothing else.”
“I think you’re protesting too hard.” Dante cocked his head. “I knew your grandfather and—”
“And blackmailed him.”
“I did.”
“And gave the money to The Cause.”
“No. I kept it for myself.”
“Yourself? You bastard. You bled my pack dry.” She stalked over until they were facing each other.
Dante didn’t flinch in the face of her vitriol. “I used the money to help fund my search for the witch who killed Damien’s mother. Without it, I might never have tracked him.”
“I—”
Matt interrupted. “Can you continue the family feud another time? I want to get out of here before that witch returns.”
“Good point.” Dante nodded. He looked at Sam. “I think your reluctance to accept part of your heritage stems from your grandfather’s attitudes. Whether you want to admit it or not, you are part witch. Deceiving yourself at this point could prove deadly to all of us.”
Sam looked away. A second ticked by, then another. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll give it a try but it won’t work and I’ll feel stupid doing it.”
“No.” Matt frowned. “I remember Gwyn talking to Tina about attitude being important when casting a spell. You have to be committed to it, really believe it will happen, get your emotions in gear.”
“That seems to be sound advice.” Dante flipped the images to the appropriate spell again and extended the phone once more to Sam. “You’re our best bet for a quick exit, Sam. We’re running out of time and I for one, have no intention of being part of the malefic witch’s plans.”
“Park the car up ahead there, just past the traffic light.” Gwyn spoke to Reno.
“Good idea,” Damien said. “We’re about a block from the warehouse. We don’t want to tip Dante off.”
“Can you sense Sam, yet?” Brandi twisted around in her seat to look back at Damien.
“No. Our blood-bond still isn’t working. It’s like there’s a shield separating us.”
“Wait a minute.” Gwyn felt a cold wave wash over her. “I’d forgotten that mated Lycans have something like a magical connection. You say yours is missing?”
Damien nodded. “Ever since she disappeared.”
“This isn’t Dante’s doing then. Or at least not his alone.” Gwyn frowned, her mind racing. “The black magic I spoke of earlier, the witch who is doing this has developed some kind of shield that usually blocks the rest of the Coven from sensing the magic.”
“Could this cloak be blocking the blood-bond?” Reno glanced back in the rearview mirror.
Gwyn nodded. “Unless you can think of another explanation.”
“Which means Dante’s in league with this witch.” Damien scowled.
“Not necessarily.” Brandi flicked her eyes his way and then bit her lip.
Reno eased the car into a parking spot and turned off the engine. “It’s more likely Dante’s tracking the witch. Sam might have inadvertently ended up in the middle of something.”
“The result’s the same.” Damien undid his seatbelt and opened the car door. “Sam’s in trouble and Dante is the cause. Reno, check the wind. We’ll let him catch your scent while I approach from the other direction.”
Gwyn snorted. “Dante’s the least of your worries if this is, indeed, the work of a witch.”
“Do you have a suspect?” Reno exited the car as did the others.
“I do.” Gwyn nodded. “Our Magissa, Camille.”
“Camille?” Brandi looked at her in surprise. “I’ve met her at the alliance meetings. She’s not very friendly but Bianca said she’s very dedicated to her job.”
“Too dedicated.” Gwyn glanced around their location, idly answering the Lycan’s question while deciding the best way to proceed. “She doesn’t want to face the idea of one day losing her position to old age.”
“But she’s already—” Brandi stopped mid-sentence.
“Already what?” Gwyn snapped her attention back to the other woman.
Brandi shrugged. “Bianca shared a few bits of information with me but asked me not to make it general knowledge.
“I hardly think Bianca could have told you anything I don’t already know. Spit it out.”
“Well, she mentioned Camille used a blood spell to slow the aging process, just like the other Coven members did. She said most of you are a few hundred years old. That’s why you’re so powerful and…er…learned.” Her voice slowed obviously sensing the information wasn’t being well received.
“Bianca has a big mouth and will be dealt with. Privately.” Gwyn compressed her lips.
“Regardless, what’s our best strategy?” Reno had his hand on Damien’s shoulder, the other man almost vibrating with pent-up energy.
‘It’s a black moon tonight so it’s imperative we free them now. Black moons magnify the power of magic. Cyrus felt she’d choose the full moon but given she already has a powerful victim, it’s logical she’ll act now.”
“Cyrus?” Reno raised a brow.
“Another Coven member. He was the one who brought Camille’s activities to my attention.”
“We have three hours before sunset.” Damien glanced at his watch.
Gwyn nodded. “It’s unlikely she’s here now. There was a formal luncheon scheduled today and she should still be there. However, I don’t think she’d leave this building unguarded.”
“You mean other witches?” Reno asked.
“No. A spell that would warn her of anyone entering, perhaps even delivering a shock to trespassers.”
“Like an electric fence?” Brandi suggested.
“Similar. With that in mind, I’ll go in first.” Gwyn set off at a brisk pace. After a beat, the others followed. She chuckled. “Not used to playing second fiddle, are you?”
“No.” Damien groused.
“It’s good for you. You Lycans have too high an opinion of yourselves.”
“And, sadly, many Lycans feel the same way about witches,” Brandi added.
“Lycan, witch, Fae, none of it matters.” Damien scowled. “Most of the problems in the world are because one group feels superior to another.”
Gwyn was silent for a moment and then nodded. “Well spoken…for a dog.”
Reno opened his mouth as if to protest and then gave a bark of laughter. “Good save, Ms. O’Donohue. You wouldn’t want anyone to suspect there was any softness under that crusty exterior.”
“There isn’t, Smith.”
“Right.” Reno nodded. “That’s why you were so worked up when you thought Tina was dead.”
“I put a lot of effort into trying to help her develop her skills. Losing her would have mean
t my time had been wasted.” She quickened her pace, ignoring the soft chuckles coming from behind her.
The building they were looking for stood on a corner. As abandoned buildings went, it wasn’t in too bad a state. She narrowed her eyes trying to pick up any hints of magic. It appeared safe but Cyrus had suggested Camille had developed a means of hiding the use of magic.
“Well?” Damien shifted his weight, clearly anxious to rush in.
“I can’t be sure.” Gwyn shook her head. “There could be something like a magical cloak around the building.”
“We can’t stand around doing nothing. Sam’s in there; she needs my help.”
“And if you walk into a magical trap and get yourself killed you won’t be much use to her, will you?” Gwyn didn’t look at him, instead beginning to slowly approach the building, hands slightly extended in front of her. “I’m not sensing any energy being used but if there is something there, I have a greater chance of surviving it than any of you.”
Sam stared in disbelief as the cell door slowly swung open. “I can’t believe I did that.”
Dante rubbed his chin. “I’m a bit surprised myself.”
She snapped her head around to look at him. “You were the one who said it was sure to work.”
“One of us had to be positive, right? Attitude is everything.” He gave a crooked smile.
“And it only took seventeen attempts,” Matt chuckled. “Not that I was counting.”
“Regardless, let’s get out of here.” She pushed the door open and stepped into the main room followed by the others. “Which direction did our captor usually come from?”
“Over there.” Matt pointed at a stairwell that led downward.
“I would have thought stashing us in the basement would make more sense,” she commented as they descended.
“People often assume hostages will be in a basement which makes an upper-floor less likely to be searched first,” Dante explained. “In the intervening time, he could have erected extra barricades or mounted a defence.”
“He told me he needed a room with a sky-light. Seems he wanted access to moonlight,” Matt added. “It was important for the magical ritual he had planned.”
“Ha! Not as clever as you thought, Dante.” Sam tossed the comment over her shoulder as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The exit was a few feet away and she began to stride towards it, her hand reaching out to grab the handle.
“No!” Dante rushed forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her back. She struggled and he stumbled, his arm hitting the door. A blue flash lit the room and he gave a shout of pain, crumbling to the floor.
Chapter 26
A flash of light suddenly emitted from near the door of the warehouse and Gwyn jerked back, shaking her tingling palms. “Fucking shit, there was a magical shield in place!”
“Are you okay?” Brandi stepped over, her face full of concern.
“A minor shock, nothing to worry about. Luckily, whatever happened inside has given us a window of opportunity to get in and out safely. Camille will be aware something has happened but it will take her a few minutes to slip away from the gathering and reinstate the spell.”
Damien nodded. “I’m going in.” He’d taken but a few steps when the door to the warehouse flew open and a diminutive woman appeared.
“Sam!” Damien rushed forward, gathering her in his arms. “Are you all right? Is the baby okay?”
Brandi and Reno gathered around, echoing his concerns.
“I’m fine and so is the baby. Dante—”
“Yes, I know the bugger kidnapped you.” Damien cupped her face and kissed her.
“No,” she pulled away. “He didn’t kidnap me and he’s hurt.”
Matt appeared in the doorway behind her, supporting Dante. “We need to get him to a doctor.”
Everyone turned their attention towards the pair that were now exiting the building.
“No doctor,” Dante mumbled. He appeared pale and was cradling his hand.
Gwyn pushed her way through the crowd, an inexplicable knot in her stomach at the sight of Dante obviously injured. “Let me see.” She took his hand in hers wincing at the sight of the burns and blisters. “I have a salve at home that will help heal this but it will likely scar. Anything else?”
“He stopped breathing for a few seconds, turned a greyish blue colour.” Matt spoke over Dante’s assurances he was fine.
“I’m not surprised.” She spoke through gritted teeth, fear for him making her tongue sharp. “A clay-brained maggot has better sense than you do, Esparza! You should have known there’d be some kind of trap, you dolt!”
“It was my fault.” Sam stepped out of Damien’s embrace. “I was reaching for the knob and Dante pulled me away. I think I knocked him into the door.”
“You should have known better, too.” She glared at Sam, needing to give vent to the feelings that were building inside her. “Don’t think I’m unaware of the heritage that runs in your blood. A modicum of research into your background would have prepared you for a situation like this.”
“Not her fault,” Dante murmured, beginning to sway on his feet. “Couldn’t let her or the baby be hurt.”
“Get him to the car.” Reno moved to take Dante’s other arm.
Gwyn took a deep breath, trying to quell the quivering feeling inside her. “Take him to my place. I have some herbal tinctures that will help him recover. This particular spell is like an electric shock. Burns and a jolt to the heart. An adult in good health has some chance of surviving.” She shot a look at Sam. “Your baby might not have been so lucky.”
Damien’s face went pale and he wrapped his arms around Sam, his hands resting on their unborn child.
“Thank you. We’re in your debt.” Sam looked Dante in the eye.
He gave a slight nod. “I couldn’t let anything happen to either of you.” His gaze flicked towards Damien and then shifted away, his face turning grey. “I think I wouldn’t mind sitting down.”
“The car is about a block away,” Reno said.
“Give me the keys, I’ll run ahead and bring it this way.” Brandi held out her hand for the keys.
“No. I’m not an invalid.” Dante straightened.
Gwyn rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a bigger imbecile than you’ve already been. I need you to live long enough so I can rip your balls off for bugging my office.” Being angry with him was easier to deal with than the fear that had filled her earlier.
“Found that, did you?” He gave a soft laugh. “I hate to disappoint you but you’ll have to wait to wreak your vengeance until I’ve taken care of a malefic witch.”
“Ha! You can barely stand, you fool-born barnacle!” She turned to Brandi. “Go get the car. Matt, Dante and I will take it to the Club. There isn’t room for everyone. Smith, call a cab for the rest of you.”
Reno appeared about to make a comment.
She pinned him with a glare. “Have you ever wanted to be an amphibian? No? Then I’d shut my mouth if I were you and do as you’re told.”
“Listen to the woman, Reno.” Brandi gave him a quick peck as she collected the keys. “I might be a princess but I’m not kissing you if you turn into a frog.”
Back at the Club, Dante watched as Gwyneth dealt with his burnt hand. Her head was bowed, the nape of her neck exposed. It beckoned to him and he had to resist the urge to press a kiss there. While in that damned cell he’d doubted he’d ever see her again, and the need to celebrate the fact felt more pressing than tending to his injuries. Unfortunately, she didn’t appear to feel the same way; her silence filled the room like an arctic blast.
He watched as she applied a sticky, golden substance to his palm.
“What’s that?”
“Honey."
“You don’t think I’m sweet enough already?”
“Stuff it.”
“Sorry.” He considered his next words. She’d not spoken to him since calling him a fool-born barnacle when they were outside the
warehouse. Correction, she had given him a clipped ‘follow me’ and ‘sit’. Hardly scintillating conversation though.
Obviously she was pissed, but about what? The optimist in him hoped it was concern for his well-being. The realist nixed that idea. Most likely she was pissed over the bug he’d planted in her office.
At least she hadn’t ripped him a new one or tried to poison him. That was a positive. Or maybe she just hadn’t figured out where to hide his body and was keeping him alive until then.
Well, it was doubtful he could make the situation worse. Might as well try again. “I thought aloe was the go-to remedy.”
“It is.” She flicked a look at him. “However, Sherman took a dislike to my aloe plant and I’ve not replaced it yet. Honey is my next choice because it’s a natural antibiotic. The pH balance is inhospitable to bacteria. As a topical ointment, it cools the burn, relieves pain, and helps the skin to heal.”
“Interesting.” He noted there was a slight tremble to her hand as she worked. Maybe she did feel some concern for him.
“It really was foolish of you, getting injured like this.” She compressed her lips. “You could have been seriously injured. That jolt of energy could have done permanent damage to a less fit individual.”
“You think I’m fit?” He gave her a crooked grin.
She slammed down the jar and stood up. “Forget the smart comebacks. This is nothing to joke about. You could have died.”
“But I didn’t. There’s always an element of danger in my work. I’m alive. My jacket barely got scuffed.” He nodded towards the garment that was draped over a nearby chair.
“Oh, of course. How stupid of me not to realize that the well-being of your jacket was paramount.”
There was sheen to her eyes that caught his attention. “You are concerned about me.”
“Of course I’m concerned. I’d be concerned about anyone who was injured.”
“Anyone?” He stood up. “Or is your concern greater because it’s me?”
“Full of yourself as always.” She looked away.
“Why is it so hard for you to admit that you care about me? Even if it’s only a little bit.”
Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My! Page 60