Bad Witch: A Snarky Paranormal Detective Story (A Cat McKenzie Novel Book 2)

by Lauren Dawes

  “It’s not that house,” he replied. “I parked about a block away just in case Kseniya shows up.”

  Together, we walked the block to Amy’s house. It was freezing this early, the air bitingly cold, and the ground was slick with ice. I slid a little on one patch, only being saved from taking a nose-dive when Sawyer curled his hand around my arm and kept me upright.

  “Thanks,” I breathed, smoke from my breath settling in the air.

  He nodded, and we kept going. It was too quiet, the sound of it deafening in the pre-dawn light. When we reached a little rancher set back from the street, I looked up and down the street. There was nobody else around, and no lights were on in the other houses. Amy’s house was dark too.

  “Are you sure she said to come over n—”

  An enormous fireball erupted from the building, blowing through a front window and serenading the night with the tinkle of broken glass. The shockwave rippled through all my senses, making my bones quake, my ears ring, and my nose bleed. My skin came alive with magic.

  Wiping the blood away with the back of my hand, my hearing came back online. I turned when I heard the car alarms. Every car in the street—probably the county—had been set off by that blast, and I watched as light after light was turned on in the houses.

  “Shit.” Sawyer was moving toward the house before I could stop him. Drawing his Glock, he eased slowly through the partially opened door, and I followed, covering his back—and mine—by shutting us inside the witch’s house.

  There was no need for innocent people to get sucked into this little melee.

  Cold air swirled into the room, the ball of flames that had gone through the window redecorating the living room floor with dangerous shards of glass and splintered wood.

  Very nouveau chic.

  I looked up, scanning the rest of the room and faltering to a stop.

  Now, I’ll be the first to admit I was expecting to find fluffy kittens cross-stitched onto cushions and lace-frilled curtains in shades of pink and mauve in Amy Elliot’s house. I mean, the woman wore scrubs with cat footprints on them.

  I was not prepared for the matte black walls, the blood-red carpet underfoot, ritualistic daggers, black candles, black feathers, and crystals scattered on every flat surface or the pentagrams hanging from the walls.

  And was that blood on the coffee table?

  Behind my ribs, my heart started to gallop. Amy was supposed to be a natural witch—a white witch—so everything I was seeing didn’t fit with my preconceived notions.

  I jumped when Reaver suddenly popped into existence and fell onto my foot—

  pommel first—before thumping to the ground. Stooping, I picked it up, my eyes slamming shut as a rush of bloodlust hit me, twisting through me like a tsunami tide.

  Startling when Sawyer touched me on the shoulder, I stared into his eyes, dragged his whisky and chocolate scent into my lungs. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I gasped. “I think Reaver is a little pissed off with Kseniya. I just got a really strong emotion of bloodlust.”

  His eyes darted to the blade that was glowing faintly in my hand. “How… strange.”

  I would’ve picked another word, but sure, let’s roll with strange. Jerking my head toward the dark open doorway, I said, “Let’s go.”

  Moving like shadows, we inched further into the living room, both of us hardly breathing. The faint glow Reaver was giving off would be our only giveaway, but so far, I could hear and see nothing. As we shuffled over the carpet, raven feathers stirred and broken glass tinkled past our shifting feet.

  A light came on in the room beyond the living room doorway, making us both stop. Sawyer turned to look at me, half of his face bathed in golden light and the other casting his face in shadow.

  Then there was a hiss. “This is for the death of my family, suka.”

  “Kseniya,” I mouthed to Sawyer.

  He nodded, bringing up his Glock and creeping forward another inch to peer around the corner. After a moment, he waved me forward.

  Easing up beside him, I let out a breath when I saw Amy laid out on her dining room table, her arms and legs tied down with rope and the front of her pajamas ripped open. Kseniya was standing over the other witch, a dagger in her hand and blood dripping from three gouges on her cheek. Amy had obviously put up a fight.

  Amy struggled against the ropes, the veins in her neck and forehead bulging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Kseniya cackled, the sound like fingers down a chalkboard. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I wouldn’t remember your face?” She ran the tip of her dagger down Amy’s cheekbone and chin like a lover would trace a finger in the heat of passion. Her skin split and blood dribbled, oozing down her neck. “I remember. I will always remember the face of the woman who helped hunt down my family, who sentenced them all to death. I know who you really are, Amy Morozov.”

  Morozov? I gripped Sawyer’s wrist and squeezed, silently asking him whether he knew Amy was a Morozov. Subtly, he shook his head, and I released my hold.

  Gaze flickering back to the tableau, I watched Kseniya bring the blade up in front of her face. She licked the blood from the steel, her eyes shuttering in ecstasy. “You’re just the first, Amy, but I’m going to hunt them all down and make them suffer like I’ve suffered.”

  “You’ll never find them.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Kseniya crooned. “I’ve already got their locations. All of them. New York, Sydney, Kabul, Sofia, two in Vienna. I know where they are.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am I?” Kseniya asked, her mouth pulling into a smug smile. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, throwing it onto the table beside Amy’s face—away from our line of sight. “Recognize who that once belonged to?” she asked.

  Amy moaned plaintively, her head falling to one side.

  “Your dear brother told me everything… where I could find you, where you lived and worked. He told me of your name change and how every single one of his female relations went into hiding after you slaughtered mine.” Kseniya looked off into the middle distance. “I can still hear his screams.” She smiled down at Amy. “And now I will hear your screams.”

  Tears mixed with the blood that was still streaming from the wound to Amy’s face, covering her pale cheeks in thin crimson slashes. Her eyes were glazed with pain, with fear. But then her unfocused gaze cleared when she saw me, then Sawyer. She opened her mouth, croaking, “Help… me.”

  I glanced at Kseniya to see if she’d heard Amy’s plea for help. She hadn’t—she’d turned around, searching for something on the sideboard.

  We could get her now, while Kseniya’s back was turned. Reaver flared hot in my palm. Apparently, it liked that idea. I took a step forward, but Sawyer grabbed my arm and shook his head. He pointed at himself instead, then motioned for me to go through the adjacent door, which joined from what I guessed was the kitchen.

  Even though it killed me, I backtracked into the living room and went to find the other entrance. Walking down a short hallway, I stopped at the spill of light on the carpet and peered past the jamb. The kitchen was empty, but I could see Kseniya’s shadow moving across the tiles.

  “Buxton PD,” I heard Sawyer say. “Drop the dagger. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  I stepped into the kitchen, my shoe squeaking on the tile as I slipped on some blood.

  Kseniya hissed.

  Sawyer shouted, “Kseniya Chernov. It’s over. Drop the dagger!”

  There was a beat of silence. Kseniya laughed—a cruel, mad sound.

  Then…

  … Amy gasped sharply.

  Screamed.

  And screamed.

  And screamed.

  Sawyer pulled the trigger on his Glock just as I ran the rest of the way. Bursting from the kitchen, I watched as Kseniya wrenched the dagger from Amy’s chest before plunging it back in again, seemingly uninjured from the point-blank shot S
awyer had just fired into her chest. Sawyer’s jaw was tight as he pulled the trigger again, his fingers around the grip blanching.

  Kseniya brought up her hand and made a flicking motion, causing his whole body to go loose before it slammed into the wall—it was as if a giant invisible hand had simply swept him out of the way. His head made a sickening thunk on impact before he crumpled to the floor.

  With a smile, Kseniya turned to look at me. “I’m not interested in anything but getting my revenge. You should take your partner and leave.”

  “Sorry, but I’m not in the habit of giving in to the whims of bad guys,” I said with a shrug, my gaze darting down to the table to see what Kseniya had shown Amy. It was a finger, shorn off just below the base knuckles. On it was a large gold men’s ring.

  “Suit yourself.” Kseniya held out her hand—palm toward me—then closed her fist. Intense pressure wrapped around my arms, legs, and torso, a giant hand squeezing. With a strangled gasp, I tried to move, but I was locked in place. My heart lurched in my chest at the thought of being trapped here, then Kseniya pulled my opal out of the top of her shirt. I couldn’t stop the heartsick whimper escaping me.

  Stay calm, McKenzie. Can’t let the bad guy know how much you want something.

  Amy started making gurgling sounds, her mouth moving soundlessly. The red-headed witch leaned down to listen, and the smile that bloomed on her face was terrifying.

  She ran two fingers through the blood spewing from Amy’s chest wound and brought them to her mouth with a satisfied purr. “I can taste your fear. It hums through my bones, through my blood.”

  “Leave her alone,” I yelled, struggling against the arresting spell she’d cast on me.

  Kseniya turned her cruel dark eyes to me. “You can’t stop this. This has been thirty years in the making.”

  “Blah, blah, blah, I know. Jeez, you bad guys always like the sound of your own voice.” I needed to buy myself some time here. The longer she played with me, the easier she’d be to apprehend because surely someone had called the cops by now.

  Her gaze shifted down to Reaver, which I still had in my hand—my palm locked around the hilt. “You stole that from me,” she snarled.

  “Hate to break it to you, babe, but you were the one who stole it from me. In fact, I think you have a little problem since you also pilfered my necklace that same night.”

  Kseniya touched the chain around her neck. “You have no idea what that opal can do, do you?” she asked with a sneer. “It’s wasted on an ignorant human.”

  She said ‘human’ like a germaphobe would say ‘dogshit.’

  Trying not to look like I was struggling, I ground out, “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me whether I like it or not.”

  “It’s a conduit. It amplifies my powers. That’s just a bonus, though. The real reason I wanted it was for…” She paused theatrically.

  “Protection…” I breathed. It had protected me that first time we fought, deflecting her attack…

  … but not the second time.

  I frowned. “Why didn’t it deflect your fireballs that night on the street?”

  “I wasn’t trying to kill you that night. I was merely attempting to wear you down. I suspected the stone worked that way, but only after that night did I know for sure.”

  I thought back to every volley she’d sent my way. They’d crashed into the wall behind me or beside my head, but not once had she hit me. In fact, she sent most of the fireballs wide.

  She brushed the opal with her fingertips. “Magic like this can’t be taken from a corpse. It can either be stolen or given freely. And it worked just as I’d hoped with the Douser and the Reaper. No matter what they threw at me, it repelled it all.”

  The Douser?

  “Rose Sanchez?” I asked.

  The Reaper was an easy one to figure out.

  Kseniya nodded.

  “So, all these witches you butchered and stole magic from were to gain power in order to kill one little Echo?”

  Kseniya laughed—even threw her head back as if I was so damn hilarious. “Is that what she told you?” She gestured to Amy. The other witch’s chest had stopped rising and falling a few minutes ago. “She’s a Seeker.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “One is light, and one is dark. Amy Elliot is as dark as you can get.”

  I looked down at the women we’d spoken to only days ago. Then, she’d been wearing obnoxiously bright and cheerful pale pink scrubs with navy blue paw prints. She looked like a kindly grandmother, but I was beginning to realize supernatural beings used great camouflage.

  Baba Yaga was a prime example of things-you-shouldn’t-fuck-around-with.

  “Don’t let her appearance fool you. At the age of twenty-five, she was the ruthless leader of her family’s coven.”

  “I sense a bit of jealousy,” I sing-songed.

  Kseniya’s eyes flashed with sudden anger, her mouth narrowing into a thin slash. “She was the one who found each and every one of my family members and had them slaughtered. She was the one who sentenced them to unimaginable cruelty and pain. She is supposed to be the first in a long line of deaths. I’m going to cut off the head of the snake before I slaughter the rest of them!”

  Even though it was hard to breathe, I had to keep her talking. I had to hold out a little longer. Sawyer was still motionless on the floor. “And what about you, huh? How did you escape that slaughter thirty years ago?”

  “My father took me away and hid me.”

  “And who was he?”

  “A fae named Dain. He protected me while they hunted down my mother’s blooded kin.”

  “And that’s how you got into Wonderland,” I surmised. “With the strength of his blood in your veins?”

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  Behind us, in the living room, someone kicked in the front door. I would’ve pumped my fist in the air if I could have. Finally, finally, something was going my way. Shifting my eyes to the doorway, I waited…

  Then cursed when I saw who it was.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded breathlessly.

  Kailon Perry stood in the doorway, his green eyes as cold as the wind blowing in from the broken window and as sharp as the jagged glass still in the casement. He stalked closer, his usual glamor disappearing to reveal iridescent scales, slitted bright green eyes, and a forked tongue which darted from between his still-human looking lips every few seconds.

  “I’ve come for my pound of flesssh,” he replied, his syllables drawn out and long in a viper’s voice.

  Kseniya smiled at him like the cat who got the canary. “The Conjurer. The full-blooded fae. I was surprised to stumble across her. She was much more powerful because of her pure blood and far more powerful than a human witch. I just had to have her.” She touched her mouth. “You know, I can still taste her blood on my lips.”

  “I will draw thisss out,” Kailon hissed. “I will make you sssuffer.”

  Kseniya squared her shoulders and faced him. “Come and get me, then.”

  The invisible band around my chest disappeared, and I dropped like a stone, my head bowed as I tried to catch my breath. As I was panting on my hands and knees, I realized Reaver was gone. Again.

  Looking across the room, I saw Sawyer stir, his eyes moving behind the lids but not fluttering open yet. The side of his face was covered in blood thanks to the head wound he’d received when he got a little intimate with the wall.

  Kseniya conjured up a fireball, the flames licking at her skin yet not burning her. She launched it at Kailon with a self-satisfied grin on her face. Wind was suddenly whipping through the dining room, pushing me back down onto the floor. I managed to peer up, though—just in time to see the fireball that Kseniya had launched at Kailon extinguish into nothing.

  The witch tried water this time, sending a deluge at the fae from her outstretched palms. Once more, Kailon used his ability to shove the torrent away, although I could see the strain on his face in t
he way he clenched his jaw, by the sweat beginning to bead on his brow.

  On and on they went, Kseniya attacking and Kailon on the defensive. I used their focus on each other and crawled under the dining table, watching them from relative safety. I couldn’t stop either of them even if I wanted to, so like a mother with a toddler having a tantrum in a supermarket aisle, I let them have at it.

  I soon realized Kailon was only playing with the witch, making her do all the work.

  Did that mean he knew there was a bottom to her power?

  Would she eventually just run out of steam?

  But Kseniya didn’t slow.

  She didn’t stop.

  She just kept going.

  On the other side of the living room doorway, I saw a couple of Buxton’s finest creeping forward with their guns drawn but not aimed. They obviously didn’t know who was who and whether they’d survive breaking apart something like this. One of the officers saw me crouched under the table, and I shook my head, motioning for them to stay back.

  He nodded, relaying the information to his partner. When they disappeared from sight, I sent up a thank you that it wasn’t Smith who had responded. That fucker would’ve got some popcorn and relished in watching me fail.

  I had to stop this.

  But how?

  I glanced down when I felt something cold press against my leg. Reaver was lying against my thigh like a nervous dog pressing against its owner. Reaching for its pommel, I brought it in front of me. Kailon was staring at me when I glanced back up. With a grim set to his jaw, he began to advance on Kseniya.

  The witch shuffled back a step, then another, moving closer to the table. When she was within range, I slashed at her ankles, hoping to cause her just enough pain to break her concentration. Kseniya grunted and fell, glaring at me through the curtain of her red hair.

  “Suka!”

  She lunged but fell short when she was dragged backward. Her hands scrambled to find purchase on the carpet, her nails sharpening to claws. Spinning over onto her back, she snarled like a tiger at Kailon, who slammed his foot onto her chest. Wind began to whip around them. Like a mini-tornado, the wind picked up speed, bits of debris flying into the swirling funnel that was concentrated just on the dining room.