Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  He shucked out of his pants and toed of his shoes so he was naked in front of Thomas. “You did say you wanted me naked, right?”

  “Get up, Mylla. Get dressed. Don’t let him touch you.” Thomas stalked the edge of the circle. “You are one witch, one witch bound by rules that the Morrigu makes, and I am free.”

  Oskar knelt beside Mylla and helped her sit up. “Trust me,” he whispered in her ear.

  The pressure in the room changed, as if a storm were about to sweep in. And in a way it was. Thomas had started calling up his power and sucking on those statues. In Oskar’s mind, dark clouds filled the ceiling, ready to rain death. He positioned the funnel he’d created in his mind above him, swelling the mouth to fill the circle, then opened that channel, too, hoping that Thomas wouldn’t notice the subtle change. Once Thomas unleashed that magic, it would come directly to Oskar, blood to blood worked both ways, and he was almost ready.

  He sat on his clothes—refusing to touch the sticky floor that wanted to suck his bare feet into it like flesh softened by decay. Mylla eased on to his lap so she faced him.

  Thomas slapped the circle around them. The wall sparked and shimmered. Mylla gasped, her nails pressed in his forearm for a moment before she looked apologetic.

  “Your arm…”

  “I’ll be fine.” And he couldn’t afford to think about it. Not when hurricane Thomas was about to tear open above his head. He glanced from Thomas to her. “We’ll be fine.”

  He almost believed it.

  She was looking like she was trying to believe it, but her eyes were a little too wide and her rapid pulse wasn’t from anything he was doing.

  “Mylla, don’t do anything he asks. You are mine.”

  She turned to look at Thomas. “I was never yours.”

  Then she placed her lips against Oskar’s and kissed him. Above them, power crackled thick and dark and laced with fear and hate. Death rained down as Thomas tried to erase them from existence. Oskar had a moment to think how brave Mylla was before taking the equivalent of a lightning strike into his body.

  Chapter 16

  Mylla knew something had changed the moment Oskar inhaled. His body tensed, and when she touched him, her fingers tingled as if she was touching currant.

  “Oskar?” she whispered. Her hand ran up his arm—his good arm. The other one didn’t look healthy at all. She’d never seen skin rot that fast. But even for an infection it didn’t look quite right. Thomas must be doing it with magic.

  To her left, Thomas banged the air, his face developing blotches of red.

  “Mylla. I will turn you to stone with him. I won’t drain your life, but I’ll keep you forever.” His cold gaze settled on her.

  Panic leaped in her chest. But she had to follow the plan. The plan was to have sex, make magic and a baby, and somehow that would destroy Thomas. She didn’t know anything about magic.

  Maybe not, but she could feel it. There was a swelling in the air. Thomas was furious and Oskar was…she had no idea. But something must be happening.

  Yeah, Oskar’s arm was getting worse. The wound was opening as the skin peeled back. Her stomach rolled a little and she focused on Oskar’s face. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t look peaceful.

  “Kill him, Mylla, and everything will be okay, we can go back to how it was.”

  “I don’t want to go back. I want to be free. I want Oskar.” If this didn’t work, then she wanted Oskar to know. She leaned in closer, the heat of his shaft brushed her belly. “I think I love you. Not because you tried to save me, but because…” Seeing him made her heart skip a beat. That first time she’d seen him, she’d felt it, even though she hadn’t known what it was. Her mind cleared around him because of the attraction. Was that part of the sex magic Oskar had talked about?

  Is that why Thomas was angry? Did he realize what was going on?

  “Because you saw through the magic to me. You let me find out who I was.” He’d never asked her to be anything but herself. From the corner of her eye she could see Thomas mouthing words and making symbols with his wand. To the other side she could see Oskar’s arm getting worse. The red lines were thickening and taking over his flesh, and he was getting warm to touch.

  She had to do something. What? Her gaze flicked between the two men. She had to get this started. She knew the plan. They were both naked and she was in Oskar’s lap—he was even ready, his shaft hard. And yet she hesitated. She wasn’t sure she was ready for either option being presented. And if she did nothing, they’d both die, and if she waited too long, Oskar might die, or worse.

  She drew in a breath and raised her hips. She could do this, and maybe Oskar would open his eyes again. His breathing was too shallow. Was it the wound or the magic? Maybe this was the wrong thing to do.

  Maybe this was why he’d told her the plan in the first place, because he’d known she’d have to help, and since she wouldn’t be able to use magic any more than she could hold fire in her bare hands, this was her contribution. Her mind bubbled with possibilities. So many thoughts all jostling for attention. She had to trust herself, the plan, and Oskar. She crossed herself and said a quick prayer that she and Oskar would live, and that Thomas wouldn’t, and then lowered herself on to Oskar’s shaft.

  She wasn’t ready and she hissed at the pain but didn’t stop. Her body rapidly caught up. Maybe it was the odd tingly feeling she was getting from Oskar when she touched him, or maybe it was the magic in the air, but a couple of heartbeats later she was able to sink all the way down.

  Then the room went still and silent.

  And Oskar opened his eyes. They were no longer brown. She didn’t know what they were, but she wasn’t sure they were even human. His slid the hand of his damaged arm onto her hip. His other hand traced up her back, heat following—as in real heat, as though she was standing too close to a fire. His hand didn’t stop moving as he drew something else on her back.

  Her body started doing things; her heart beat faster, and even though she wasn’t moving, excitement coursed through her. But it wasn’t as though Oskar was controlling her. She could get up if she wanted. She wanted to move and feel him moving, but he was as still as stone already. It was almost as if he wasn’t actually here. That didn’t make sense, he was physically here, but maybe it was his soul that had strayed.

  She risked a glance at Thomas. He was sitting now. Like Oskar, he was here, but not really. Oskar’s hand caught her chin and turned her head back to face him.

  Then she wasn’t sure she was real either.

  She was someplace else. A chess board. They were the white and king and queen, on the other side was the black king and all his pawns. Thomas. As she watched, the pawns began to fall over and roll off the board while the black king grew bigger and bigger.

  “Mylla.” Oskar’s voice drew her attention back. Here he looked normal, except his arm. Even here it looked unhealthy. “We don’t have long. Thomas is draining the statues for a last push. He will win if we don’t stop him.”

  She glanced again at the board, five pawns were still standing. The black king was now twice the size it should be. The white squares near him changed to black.

  As Oskar’s hand traced over her skin, she realized she was still in Oskar’s lap, her arms around his shoulders. Her blood was like thick, warm honey and the edge of desire was so close she could almost taste it. She nodded.

  Here Oskar was wearing a necklace, a small disk with St. Christopher on it. Around his wrist was a bracelet that looked as though it was made of bone. But they looked like shadows, and she wasn’t sure if what she was seeing was real or her imagination. She reached out and touched it, her fingers brushing over his wrist, and she felt nothing. A ghost bracelet.

  Very slowly he moved her hips, as if dragging out the moment and enjoying the feel of being in her the way she was enjoying the feel of him in her. But his face was a picture of concentration. As if this was sucking up all thought instead of just being in the moment. But this wasn’t sex fo
r pleasure or fun. This wasn’t what they’d had before. This was all about the magic.

  She heard another pawn roll off the board. Around the board flames licked the edges and took hold. Tension in her belly coiled tighter, as if waiting. She wanted to let go.

  Then Oskar kissed her.

  The simple touch shattered her and the world around them. The chess board began to burn. Fingers of flame crawled along the lines. She gasped. That was bad. There shouldn’t be fire. Oskar’s eyes were open but he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking into her with that odd stare that Thomas used to give her right before erasing her mind—only this time it didn’t feel cold and wrong. She was warm, and for a moment she felt brighter than the sun, as if she was filled with every possibility and an infinite amount of love and hope.

  Then she blinked and she was in the dining room sitting on Oskar, who’d fallen over. His eyes were closed. But he was breathing. His arm was a mess. Movement on her left caught her eye.

  Thomas.

  He stood up and smiled. “He can’t help you now. The circle is down and you are mine.”

  Mylla scrambled up. Her thighs slick. Somehow they’d had sex even though she didn’t actually remember doing anything. Had it worked? Wasn’t Thomas supposed to die? Her butt hit the table.

  Thomas was aging in front of her. His hair was greying and his skin was wrinkling.

  “What’s going on?” Behind her back, her hand brushed over the table surface, trying to find one of the glasses she’d been cleaning not that long ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “I need your life. He stole all of mine.”

  Thomas drew that hideous silver knife.

  Her fingers closed on glass, the rest of the broken one.

  “No. It’s not yours to take.” And if Oskar’s magic had worked, it was more than her life at stake. The panic about what that meant threatened to rise up and swamp her so she pushed it down. She could worry about that later. She needed a later to have the luxury of worrying about a baby.

  “Servants always sacrifice for their masters. All the others did. You are the last one.”

  She swallowed as Thomas stepped within range. His cheeks hollowed and his lips had thinned to almost nothing. He reached for her arm and she let him. As he lifted the little knife, she swung the glass. This time it connected, breaking on his face. He howled and dropped the knife, but she struck again, this time using the sharp edge to attack his throat.

  Blood oozed out, too dark for it to be healthy, and Thomas crumpled to the floor. His eyes open but sightless. He’d been dying anyway. Mylla dropped the glass. Her hands were shaking. She was cold. There was red blood on her hands. Had she cut herself?

  For a moment she stood there, lost and unsure what to do. Thomas was dead.

  Then she took the necklace off and let it fall on the floor before she walked over to Oskar. If she was cold, he was colder. Like touching ice. But he breathed. She checked his arm. The wound was still there, and the red lines were gone. The black skin at the edges remained. She untied the shirt, leaving that on would be bad—although she wasn’t sure taking it off would be much better. It wasn’t the wound that had knocked him out.

  Something had happened when she hadn’t been here. It was something to do with the fire and him stopping it. Maybe he just needed a rest and blankets. She needed a rest. What were they going to do with the dead body in the house? The police would want to know who’d killed Thomas. She’d killed Thomas.

  No, he’d already been dying, his age catching up with him.

  She pushed the worry aside. Oskar had to wake up first. And if he didn’t? She raked her teeth over her lip and tried to think. There were almost too many thoughts and too many options. She didn’t know which ones were right. Her eyes burned and tears tracked down her cheeks. Even though she knew there was a phone downstairs, she didn’t know who to call.

  Crying wasn’t going to help.

  Blankets and water. That she could do. One thing at a time. She swiped the tears off her cheeks even though they kept falling. She was free, and yet she couldn’t be happy. Maybe she was and she’d just forgotten what it felt like. When she tried to smile, it formed easily. But when she thought of Oskar lying there, cold and barely breathing, her heart cramped up and the smile vanished.

  Chapter 17

  Daylight woke Oskar. He was uncomfortable and there was a weight on his chest. And his arm ached as though someone was squeezing on the bone. He eased open his eyes. Mylla rested on his chest. His heart lurched, then he realized she was alive and she was just sleeping. He let his head drop back against the floor and closed his eyes again.

  It was Mylla who woke him up the next time by getting up. She was gathering a blanket around herself as he blinked and tried to focus. The pain in his arm helped.

  “Hey.” His voice sounded really rough. And he was thirsty. How long had he been out?

  She turned, grinned, and then threw herself onto him again. “You’re awake.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I didn’t know what to do. I picked up the telephone but there was no operator to speak to.”

  “Yeah, it’s all done by machine now.” He lifted his good arm and wrapped it around her in a brief embrace. The last memory he had was of trying to stop the magic from burning everything. But he didn’t want to spoil the moment by asking what had happened. They were both alive and both still made of flesh and blood. That had to be a win. He kissed the top of her head. “I need a drink, and a bathroom break.”

  And he needed to check his arm.

  “Sorry. Of course you do.” She sat back up and he realized she wasn’t wearing anything under the blanket.

  “How long was I out?”

  “One night. I cleaned your arm…” She bit her lip and looked away. “You need a doctor.”

  “Right.” He’d stopped Thomas’s magic from killing him but his skin wouldn’t have grown back. What was dead was dead. He was rather attached to both his arms so he hoped the rot wasn’t too deep. He sat up and surveyed the room.

  The dining room looked much the same. But it felt better. The floor no longer had the consistency of soft, rotting flesh—which had been an illusion caused by the magic. Nothing pulsed on the walls. The house was empty. Which was odd, as houses held imprints of the people who lived there.

  But everything was gone. Every trace of death magic had been burned away. And had almost burned him and Mylla away. If he hadn’t stopped it, there’d have been nothing left but a few charred bricks. He shivered. Then his gaze fell on Thomas, or the old man he assumed was Thomas, lying on the floor in a dark puddle.

  He glanced at Mylla. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I was here and then I wasn’t. There was fire, and then I was here and you were lying on the floor. Thomas pulled his knife and wanted my blood because he was aging really fast.” She took a breath. “And then I…I killed him.” She looked at her hands, but not with horror. She’d had the night to come to terms with it. Now she just looked resigned. “The police will ask questions won’t they? They won’t believe all the evil things he did.”

  “No they won’t, but we can take care of it.” He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

  She nodded. “You can take care of it, you mean. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice broke. She’d had all night to think about that, too.

  He pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. “It won’t take you long to catch up and find a place in the world.” He hoped that was true. He was glad she’d stayed with him and not taken off.

  “I want to go out and catch up and see what’s changed, but at the same time the idea scares me. All that time I longed to be free, and now I can’t even step outside without panicking. That must sound so silly.”

  “No. I think that’s understandable. For the first time in the best part of a century your mind is your own; it will take time to adapt.” He snagged his pants and pulled them on. His injured arm sent jolts of pain up into his armpit and down his side. Not
a good sign. “Why don’t you have a shower, get dressed, and I’ll make some phone calls.”

  He’d like a shower, some aspirin, and some food, but that would have to wait.

  “You won’t leave?”

  He grasped her hand. “I’m not going to leave you, okay?” She didn’t look like she believed him. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  Mylla relaxed a little, then stood. She offered her hand to him. Did he look that bad? He took her hand but managed to get up on his own. The room only spun once before settling. If he looked even half as bad as he felt, it was no wonder she was watching him closely.

  “I might go to the kitchen and get you that drink and something to eat.”

  “Thank you. Bread and butter will be fine.” Anything in his stomach would be good.

  Oskar made a bathroom stop before going downstairs. With the door still closed, he took a moment and looked at the makeshift bandage on his arm made out of torn up sheets. He considered not looking at what was underneath, but then decided that if he was calling Mason he needed to give a full report. Carefully, he lifted up the edge. While he was expecting the worst, he was still unprepared for the damage. Even the tiny bit he could see looked like something you’d search up on the internet when looking for injuries gone bad. But unlike a normal rotting wound, there no smell and no pus. It was just dead—and painful. The area around the dead flesh hurt, the inside of his arm hurt. Had Thomas killed bone? Mylla was right. He needed a doctor, and he needed one who knew about magic.

  Mylla knocked on the door. “Are you all right?”

  Oskar eased the bandage back into place. “Yeah, I haven’t fallen over.” He hadn’t expected her to wait, either.

  “Just checking.”