Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  She shook her head. “No. I want him dead.”

  So did he, but he couldn’t go into this with that intent or he’d fail. And Mylla? Did it matter what she thought? “I know, but you can’t think that. You have to think of life and freedom.”

  Her gaze flickered over him. “You’re bleeding.”

  “He was trying to shoot me.”

  “What if he uses your blood to control you?”

  “He’s got to get some first, and even then it will be much harder as I’ve put a circle between us and him.” It was a pity his nonphysical sword wasn’t coated in Thomas’s blood. “It’s too late to go back. We have to finish.”

  Fear and doubt flickered in her eyes. “How is this supposed to work now?”

  “Have faith that it will.” The Morrigu had said wait for dinner, but dinner wasn’t going to happen. Maybe she hadn’t expected him to remove the necklace and talk to Mylla. He didn’t know if the timing was wrong for this to work, but he did know he really wasn’t in the mood for sex, and Mylla didn’t look that into it, either. That Thomas was already pissed off and would be hoping to kill them both wasn’t adding to the atmosphere.

  Footsteps thumped up the stairs.

  They didn’t have long. He cupped Mylla’s cheek and kissed her, drawing up a little power and putting the memories of them together behind it. That had to be the laziest foreplay he’d ever done. “Play along, let Thomas think he still controls you. Cross your fingers and pray.”

  Oskar positioned himself between Mylla and the doorway. Mylla was back on her knees the way she’d been when he’d walked in. His heart was beating fast, but he didn’t tamp down on the adrenaline and fear, he gathered it the way a warrior of old might have before charging at his opponents. Death wasn’t something to be feared. Dying without honor was. And Oskar planned to put on a good show, damn it. He planned on winning, even though he knew a smart bookie would have the money on Thomas.

  His arm had started to sting, burn, and throb, depending on how much he was moving. Come on. He wanted this over and done with; he’d been waiting for half his life for this moment. No pressure.

  As he took several deep breaths and listened to the footsteps draw closer, his mind settled. This was no different to fronting up and facing an opponent in the dojo. A couple of minutes and it would be done and he’d remember very little because of the adrenaline rush and the magic burning through his body. The funnel construct he’d created was there, ready to channel the energy into something useful. Would it be enough? It had to be. And he had to believe he’d know what to do and when.

  He wasn’t ready. He should’ve done more prep, hurt Thomas more. Done something. He exhaled and watched the door. Too late now. Faith. He felt the bird bone bracelet, the necklace around his throat, and tried to sink into that place where the Morrigu’s power was close, but he didn’t want to draw on it unless he needed to. He’d never truly plugged in, because he wasn’t a full coven member, but it was there, waiting. There would be plenty of magic whipping around very soon.

  This was not a good time or place for sex magic. That was a warm, powerful joining, often done at Beltane. This was diabolically bad and the antithesis of Beltane. This was for more Yule solstice when people prayed for the light to return.

  Light. Warmth.

  That is what was missing. He looked up at the electrical chandelier. Damn, he’d been hoping for candles. Then he saw candelabras, four set around the room. Cardinal points. He dropped the circle and reached out to the candles. They flared to life. Black candles, dark wood paneling. This was set up for rituals—like dinner, he supposed. But he could use that symbolism himself. A room used for rituals held that resonance, in this case it was slightly off key and unsettling. Oskar started tuning the residual energy, mindful of whatever he did, Thomas would notice and counteract, so he kept it simple and subtle. Let Thomas underestimate him and Mylla for as long as possible. Already the candles added power and Oskar quickly envisioned elementals at each point. While they weren’t needed, they stabilized everything a little more and tilted the scales in his favor.

  Thomas appeared in the doorway, the front of his shirt stained dark with blood. Oskar rebuilt the circle, stronger this time, and prayed Thomas wouldn’t use the gun inside. As he watched his uncle walk in, he realized that Thomas was moving stiffly, like a man in his seventies, not the thirty-something he looked. The blood on his shirt was old and thick, dark red instead of bright, oozing instead of flowing, as if Thomas was some kind of reanimation.

  Maybe he was. It had been so long since any witch had dealt with a practitioner as old as Thomas. Most witches who used death magic used it for short bursts of power—most often unsuccessfully. Not Thomas, though. Oskar swallowed, sure Thomas had more power in his little finger than Oskar had ever touched in his whole life.

  Then he remembered the sparks between him and Mylla, the way her mind had cleared just being around him. He didn’t need to rely on his own energy; he had Mylla and the lust that burned between them. Around Thomas, that was more dangerous than anything. They were the fire to Thomas’s dark. And darkness couldn’t survive in the light.

  “You found her, I see. Won’t do you much good, though.” Thomas still held the rifle. Although this time he didn’t seem too concerned about shooting Oskar.

  Warning scrambled down his back like an insect. Thomas had something planned.

  Thomas ran his fingers along the barrel of the rifle, his hand coming away red. “You see, now I can control her and you.”

  But Thomas wasn’t drawing up any power yet, he hadn’t opened up his channels to the death magic he could draw from the statues. Wait. But if he waited too long, he’d get to regret it for a long time.

  “I see you’ve already lit the candles for me. How thoughtful.”

  There was a tremble in the air, something most people wouldn’t notice, or if they did, would put down to a stray draft, but Oskar recognized the first delicate touch of Thomas’s power. He was closing a circle around himself, Oskar and Mylla. It clicked closed with a sound like a lock. That was the way Oskar saw it. A cool, smooth, metallic circle, sealed with a padlock. A weak point. Why would Thomas do that?

  Failsafe, in case the death magic went bad.

  Gut instinct, intuition, or something he’d once read, Oskar didn’t know, but he was holding onto that thought. A lock could be picked or broken if he needed to—but not while he was in his own circle. This was getting awkward.

  “You might as well drop your circle and come and play. We both know how this is going to end.” Thomas walked around the dining table and reached underneath, then he pulled out a black box, about the size of a shoe box.

  Uh-oh. He had an emergency magic kit. Or maybe that was a plus—Thomas needed actual items to focus his will. While they were useful, and could enable the user to wield more magic, they were also a weakness. He needed to note as many weaknesses as possible.

  Behind him, Mylla hadn’t moved. He really hoped the magic around the necklace hadn’t reformed. But a quick feel with his mind revealed that she was simply waiting. With his mind reaching to hers, he felt her tension, her need to do something. He prayed she’d have the nerve to wait.

  “Actually, I don’t know how this is going to go. I’d kind of figured I’d kill you in your sleep after freeing Mylla.” He grinned and tried to act cocky even though he would like to hide in the nearest magical bunker.

  “Would you like the short or the long explanation?” Thomas took out a length of black silk and draped it around his neck. Ceremonial garb. At least he wasn’t going sky-clad.

  “I’m guessing the short version is I die or become part of your creepy orchard.”

  “Smart boy, are you sure you don’t want to join me?” He lit a stick of incense and that trembled and strengthened the magic in the air.

  For a second Oskar considered changing his circle to something stronger, but he needed it to be light enough to sense the changes and start using them to his advantage
. “And the long version?” Oskar said for an answer.

  “I make you suffer first, make her suffer some, and then I take a substantial amount of your blood and turn your flesh to stone. It takes about ten hours to complete, but your outer layer hardens immediately, freezing you in place. Do you have a pose in mind?” He tucked a twisted piece of wood that was his wand into his belt and placed a ring on his finger. The last item from the box was a piece of stone carved in a roughly human shape. Thomas gave it a fondle before placing it down.

  Oskar tried not to shudder. Thomas had made a poppet to help him turn people into stone. “I can’t say I’ve given it much thought.”

  “I think you should. I don’t like the ones that look pained or scared. How about a big smile?” He paused and looked at Oskar. “I know, how about a naked pose so that every time Mylla sees you, she can remember for a moment what happens when she talks to gardeners.” Thomas walked around and picked up the bottle of wine and a glass.

  That was the chalice. Thomas had all four elements here. But it had been Oskar who’d summoned them first.

  “Why naked?”

  “Why not? I’ve only got one nude and you look like a fine young man. Besides, I do think Mylla has a soft spot for you. If not for my control over her, she might have disgraced herself.”

  At Oskar’s feet, Mylla flinched, but Thomas was on the other side of the table and didn’t notice. Thomas ran his hand along the rifle again and then dipped his fingers into the wine glass. Blood and wine was some of the oldest magic. While only a couple of drops of blood went in, the wine became symbolic. In effect, Thomas now had a cup of Oskar’s blood. His gut tightened as he watched Thomas take a sip.

  “Blood to blood, boy. A distant relation you might be, but it is still a stronger bond.” He placed the glass down and muttered a few words. From the lilt, it was some kind of incantation. Thomas had fallen well away from the Morrigu and Her teachings to require nothing but one’s self. The body and mind are weapons if you sharpen them. That was one of the first things he’d been taught. Of course, as an angry teen he hadn’t understood it for years.

  When Thomas looked up, Oskar felt the thread of connection, tenuous and sticky and reaching into his body. He wanted to yank it free, but he needed his blood in his body, even if it did connect him to Thomas.

  Thomas smiled. “That circle won’t help you much.”

  “Maybe not, but I like it anyway.”

  Thomas pulled his wand free and sent a bolt of something nasty Oskar’s way. Oskar lifted a hand out of instinct but the circle took the impact. The area in front of Oskar lit up in purple and crackled like a brewing electrical storm.

  “And that’s why I like the circle around me and Mylla.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to kill her. Just you, slowly.” He took another sip of the blood-and-wine mix. That was just, well, yuk. Peyton never did that with blood magic—or at least Oskar didn’t think he did.

  The wound on his arm began to heat and throb, more than it already had been. As if it was now infected. He refused to look, and yet he could feel the skin around the edge of the wound rotting, death happening at a cellular level, and much faster than it should. Was that even possible? The flutter of nerves and panic became a fully fledged stampede that was much harder to hold onto. A million murderous butterflies swarmed in his gut.

  Thomas was smiling. “Mylla, help him remove his shirt.”

  She stood up and unbuttoned his shirt without looking at him, but her hand slid over the bare skin of his stomach and lingered for a moment before she moved and eased the fabric off his shoulders and down his arms. Her fingers brushed his skin almost carelessly, as if she were immune. But he felt the sparks trailing after her touch and the heat on his skin. He drew it in and held it close.

  As his shirt dragged over the bullet scrape, he sucked in a breath of pain and glanced at his arm. The edges were red and puffy and unhealthy looking, but it was the red lines that formed a web spreading out from the edge that were really worrying. They were signs of an infection that shouldn’t have started for days—and that was assuming he hadn’t bothered to clean the wound.

  “Your blood does my bidding and it’s poisoning you. You will wish for your body to be stone before I am done.”

  Mylla’s nails pressed against Oskar’s bare back for a moment. Her breath tickled between his shoulder blades.

  The circle wasn’t going to help him now. Blood to blood. And now that Thomas had ingested some, it wasn’t as simple as getting the glass. No, but he could apply a tourniquet and stop the spread of infection, or rot, or poison, or whatever it was that Thomas was doing to his blood.

  He tied his arm off with magic and then picked up his shirt, tore off the sleeve, and did the same. Thomas watched silently, sipping his blood-laced wine without even a flinch of disgust.

  “Bring down the circle and I’ll let Mylla leave.”

  Oskar pretended to consider the offer. “No you won’t, you said you wanted to punish her.”

  Thomas grinned, cold and peculiar, and Oskar had the distinct impression that he’d just played into Thomas’s hands somehow. “Very well. I shall turn her to stone as well. She can share your fate.”

  Thomas had already threatened that. “Then who will do your house work?”

  “I will re-hire. Controlling a person isn’t that hard, and maybe it’s time for a change.” Thomas pointed his wand at Oskar and pain flared as if someone were digging into the wound. The pain spread to his fingertips and up to the tourniquet. The magics slammed into each other and stole his breath for a moment. If he lost consciousness, the magic would drop and the infection would spread unchecked and he’d die.

  And if he lost consciousness, he wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done, and he’d die. His arm throbbed. He couldn’t leave either binding on for too long and he could only pray that once Thomas was no longer a threat the poison would vanish. Hopefully.

  “You’ve had Mylla here for so long, why the change of heart?” Oskar tried to sound unaffected. Thomas didn’t seem like the kind of guy who suddenly decided that he needed a change.

  “She betrayed me.” He tilted his head. “But she still has her uses, and once made of stone, she will never think of leaving me again. Stand where I can see you, Mylla. You may entertain me one last time, and Oskar here can have a final look at what he’ll never have again.”

  Mylla moved from behind Oskar, still acting as though she was under Thomas’s control. Oskar watched as she undid her dress and let it fall. Her face was a perfect mask and he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling.

  Thomas walked around the table and pulled up a seat, the glass of bloodied wine on the table near him and the twisted wand in his hand.

  Oskar placed his hand on her shoulder, the contact sparked in his blood, but not enough. “Don’t make her do this. She isn’t some doll that exists for your pleasure.”

  “She exists because I let her exist. She is mine. Keep going, Mylla.”

  She did, but this time Oskar started pretending to try and wake her from the spell. He grabbed her hands and tried to catch her gaze. “Mylla, I know you are in there somewhere. Please. Wake up.”

  “It will take more than that to free her. She is bound by blood and has been for decades. I’d be surprised if there is anything left in there.”

  Mylla kept moving slowly and methodically. But she held his gaze for a fraction of a second before giving him a slow blink and returning to the dead-eyed expression she had around Thomas.

  Her undressing was pushing them closer, but he still wasn’t ready. And Thomas hadn’t opened up yet and started drawing on the death.

  Oskar flicked his gaze between the almost-naked Mylla and Thomas. “So is she going to be naked, too?”

  “Of course…maybe I’ll keep her in my room. Near the window. Would you like to be in a position to see her?” He sipped the wine. “Of course you would. I can see the way you are looking at her. How long until you would have tried t
o steal her?”

  “She’s not a possession.”

  “I made her like this, she is mine. As a woman she was flawed, as my creation she is perfect.”

  “Yet she betrayed you.”

  “Because of you.” Thomas barely moved, but Oskar’s arm burned.

  The red lines of infection spread down his arm, and the skin around the wound blackened.

  “That is your flesh dying. I can’t turn you to stone while you are in the circle, but I can cause your arm to rot and fall off. I image that would be quite painful—my memory of bullet wounds and battle infection is quite old, but I believe that organ failure and shock would follow—assuming I prevented you from bleeding out first.”

  Oskar shook his head. “I’m not dropping the circle.”

  “Fine, let’s see how long your bindings last and how well you block out pain. Maybe Mylla can distract you. Get on the floor.” Thomas’s voice deepened slightly when he gave her orders.

  She obeyed, lying at Oskar’s feet totally naked. He drew in a breath. She was beautiful, scars and all. He closed his eyes and saw the room and the magic that surrounded them. The thick pulsing black veins. Mylla was a bundle of nerves and adrenaline, and the black cocoon that had surrounded her was now just a cloak that she was hiding behind.

  He opened himself up. The throbbing of his arm was a red-and-black mess that he couldn’t fix so he ignored it. He called up images of him and Mylla together, of what he wanted to achieve, the creation of life out of death.

  The blessing the Morrigu had bestowed on him took effect and his flesh hardened. He was sure he felt the whisper of silken feathers against his bare skin. As he opened his eyes, he drew all of that power into himself, ready to start the part of the spell he could control. Then he looked at Thomas and smiled.

  “I’m stuck in a circle, going to die, with an attractive woman.” He unbuttoned his fly and dragged down the zipper. If he started the sex magic, Thomas would be forced to draw up some extra power—which he’d then steal. Theoretically.

  The self-righteous smirk left Thomas’s face as he realized what Oskar was going to do. “You can’t touch her. I forbid it.” This time Oskar had been expecting a fresh wave of pain, and while he was aware of it, he didn’t feel it. Kind of like magical anesthetic. It was going to be a bitch when this was over.