Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  Noah sat up. “You’re the second person to tell me that.”

  “Then you’d best listen.”

  “I did. I’m good. I’m not wallowing. I’m just tired of the pointless death.” And the constant feeling of never getting anywhere.

  “The gods have plans we can’t see.”

  His uncle could also be infuriating. “You really believe that?”

  “What is the alternative? That everything is meaningless and chaos? The Morrigu chooses Her warriors carefully.”

  “And free will means we can ignore Her.”

  “You never have, Noah. Be careful with this case. You may get answers but you may not like them.”

  “Is that the word of God?”

  There was a pause. “Get some rest, see a movie, go to a concert. Remember what it’s like to live so you know what you are saving.”

  “You’re telling me to get a life.”

  His uncle sighed. “Yes I am. Balance, Noah. You have none. If I have any insights into your problem, I will be in touch.”

  “Thanks.” Noah ended the call and lay down on the sofa. He couldn’t just ditch study to play. Work ethic had been drummed into him, it’s how he operated. Get the job done; give one hundred and ten percent.

  That was no longer enough. He was tired. Tired of demons, of living above the business, of working for the business. He wanted more, but he didn’t know what that was. While he could never walk away from the coven, he wanted to be like Peyton, who was a successful lawyer first and witch second. That was the life he’d planned for himself. The life he’d promised himself for after he solved the demon issue. Now that was never going to happen—because of Mason. Where did that leave him and his promise to the Morrigu? She’d gladly accepted his vow and his heart, would She accept his defeat?

  As a warrior goddess She chose only the best, and he was pretty sure he fell short of that mark. He didn’t have the depth of faith that the others had. No, he just had his determination to stop demons from killing.

  From killing Rachel.

  Once this case was over, he’d have a holiday or something. Go see his parents and pretend that he was enjoying his life instead of crawling through it hoping for something to change. He dragged himself off the sofa and went to bed. Rest was at least one piece of advice he could follow. No work, no staring at the database, no demons.

  Just Rachel lingering in his thoughts as he closed his eyes.

  Noah blinked and looked up into the face of his goddess. The Morrigu stood over him on the bed dressed in a black corset and skimpy panties with glossy black raven wings. She was a deadly angel and She knew how to get his attention. She always had. This was how She always appeared to him, and it still had the same effect. He was transfixed by the power Her beauty didn’t hide.

  Her blood red lips curved as if She knew his thoughts and liked the comparison. She dropped onto one knee, Her hand on his bare chest, Her skin cool, and the pressure far more than he’d have expected from a woman dressed in black leather and silken, feathered wings. But the Morrigu was no woman.

  Her nails traced over the raven inked above his heart. “Remind me what this means, Noah.”

  “I gave you my heart.” He didn’t dare look away from Her.

  “Mmm.” Her nails pricked his skin. “When you gave me your heart it burned bright and was a joy to hold.” In Her other hand, a clay cup appeared. The cracked one from his dreams.

  He swallowed. That was his heart. He’d watched it go from something to be cherished to the rough and damaged thing She held now.

  “This is all that is left. A fragile vessel filled with fear.” She turned it for him so he could see the tiny spark inside, almost swallowed by an unnatural darkness. “Where is my warrior? The man who would take to the field for glory and dedicate each contest to me?”

  She stood up, Her long, pale legs on each side of his hips. That was when he realized he was naked in this dream and his goddess was holding his heart as if She planned on crushing it before his eyes. He pushed himself back and sat up. The sheets were blood red and stretched as far as the eye could see. When She appeared in his dreams, things always got weird.

  “It was a game. A stupid game.” A game he’d once lived to play. He’d loved walking out onto the diamond, loved the roar of the crowd. The training, the team—even if they didn’t win he still made sure he was trying. And he’d done it for Her because that was the only way he’d known how to serve Her.

  She cupped his chin, Her fingers strong enough that if She jerked Her hand She’d snap his neck and he’d never wake. “Warriors meeting on a field to do battle is never a game, regardless of how it is fought. There is a victor and there is a loser.” Her black eyes bored into him and he was sure he could see universes being born and dying in there. She was the eternal battle of life and death.

  With barely a movement, She shoved him. He landed on his back several yards away. She was on him again, Her teeth sharper as She knelt over him, the clay cup still held in one hand.

  “Find your fire. Burn for me, Noah, or the spark will go out.” She measured each word carefully so he would understand what She was saying. He was going to die.

  “I vowed to kill demons for you.” And he was failing. “Is that not enough?” Of course it wasn’t. He needed to win for Her.

  She ran Her finger over the three runes on his arm. Protection, victory and prosperity. The ink began to burn; his skin glowed like hot coals. He gritted his teeth but didn’t flinch from the pain.

  “Would I take a vow that I didn’t think a warrior could keep? I keep the demons from your back. I stop them from growing and claiming you. You are mine and I haven’t given up on you yet.” She stood and placed one bare foot on his chest. “You have given up on you. Light up, Noah. Honor me or I will cut you free and let the darkness claim you.”

  Then there was nothing. He fought against the total black, smacked his elbow on something and woke up.

  “Fuck, son of a—” He bit off the rest of the curse as he cradled his elbow. The bumps from the screw and plates holding his bones together were unnatural lumps beneath his fingertips. The pain radiating up his arm was a kick to the gut. It took a moment to suck up the agony and work out why he was sitting bare-assed on the floor.

  She’d thrown him out of bed. He’d collected the edge of the bed with his elbow—his damaged elbow. That wasn’t coincidence. The Morrigu never just let stuff happen.

  He twitched his fingers to light a candle so he could see if there were any other surprises waiting for him. Nothing.

  He closed his eyes and pulled up the spell. In his mind he flicked opened the metal lighter he’d carefully constructed as a shortcut to creating fire and flicked the catch. It sparked but nothing happened. She’d taken his fire. Bitch.

  She had taken it, hadn’t She, to make a point?

  Or was he really that close to losing it that he couldn’t hold onto his bag of tricks? He took a breath and more slowly went through the spell, step by step. He hadn’t done that in at least three years. Fire came naturally to him. Anger, Mason had said, but he wasn’t angry anymore. He was tired and disillusioned with failure.

  Find your fire.

  He’d lost it without realizing. Ignored it when lighting a candle took more concentration than it used to, and blamed exhaustion or something else instead of looking deeper. He’d lost the joy and anger that had once filled him.

  He remembered the thrill of the game, the way each time he walked out it was for Her. Had he actually been a better witch then? Was he going through the motions now? Skipping ritual, not taking a moment to think of Her. When was the last time he dedicated anything to Her?

  Mason and David’s concern echoed the Morrigu’s. But She wasn’t doing it out of care, She was giving him a warning that he was in danger of falling through the cracks and into a world he didn’t want to explore.

  Light up, Noah.

  He couldn’t. He had nothing to put into the spell to get a fire happening
. In his mind, he let the lighter flick closed. He heard the snap of metal on metal as if it were in his hands, exactly as the spell should be. He focused on that. The spell was still sound, still real. Just empty. He needed to refill. He smiled. In the physical world he’d buy a bottle of lighter fluid.

  As a witch he needed to find intent. A desire strong enough to fill it and him.

  “I get it. Thank you.”

  For a moment he waited for a reply, but not really expecting one. Then he got up and turned on the bedroom light. The bulb blew. Really? He got it. Darkness, death, demon. But revenge and anger had long gone. So why was he doing it? Why try to find a solution to something that had evaded people far smarter than him for centuries?

  Because She still had faith in him even if he didn’t.

  Mason had faith in his demon project, just no faith in him right now. He’d poured too much in and had nothing left. He fumbled around and opened the curtain. The streetlight promptly went out.

  Every light he touched would go out. He had to find his fire. By himself. In the dark.

  Rachel was right, there were nicer goddesses, but he also knew they weren’t for him. He loved the fight. Whether it was stepping up to go toe-to-toe in the dojo or stepping onto the field. But when was the last time he’d actually enjoyed something just because he could? There was always a reason: keep fit, keep his skills up. He’d done a ritual wash to sweep away the darkness clinging to him, not because he wanted to spend time enjoying the water on his skin or the feeling of lightness that followed. What was the point of living if he was going through the motions and not enjoying it?

  He reached out and picked up the candle that was always by his bedside. He didn’t have a flashlight, had never needed one when he could light candles—or waste bins or anything flammable, really—by thought. It was a skill he enjoyed having. He smiled. One he’d only mastered after Louise’s death. That wiped the smile away.

  But since the spell was fuelled by intent, he didn’t need anger to make fire. He wasn’t trying to burn things anymore. He couldn’t burn away the images or erase his old life. That incident had changed him, tempered him, but it hadn’t destroyed him. He was still here and still fighting… However, he couldn’t do it in the dark.

  He needed light. Light would burn away the darkness.

  In one hand he held the candle, in the other he formed up the construct of the lighter. One side was engraved with a raven, the other was blank. He changed that. He added a stylized sun to represent light, building up the image until it was clear enough that it felt real to him. It was a pity the lighter couldn’t be filled as simply. He was as empty as his spell.

  His heart was empty like the cracked clay cup.

  The universe didn’t like empty. If he couldn’t find some light to fill the hole, darkness would.

  Chapter 8

  Rachel walked down the block, her bag slung over one shoulder. Whatever happened, she wasn’t staying in a hostel again. She’d taken out some cash and was going to slap it on the table and tell Noah he had a job. Hell, if she lived she’d give him a bonus—she’d give him whatever he liked. She walked into the now-familiar brown building.

  Noah was sitting at the front desk. He looked up as if she was the last thing he was expecting.

  No doubt he was tired of her coming in for free advice. “Me again.”

  “I can see that.” He looked as though he’d slept as badly as she had…because he was thinking about her or because demons gave him nightmares? They gave her nightmares. Dreaming of being rescued by him made it worthwhile. She just hoped her dreams were more than wishful thinking. He leaned back and lifted his eyebrows. “How can I help?”

  “I want to hire you.” That didn’t sound quite right. Heat burst on her cheeks. Awkward. “To stop the demon.”

  He smiled and for a moment it reached his eyes. Blue, that really nice clear blue, like a summer day. The kind she’d always wanted instead of faded, rainy-day blue. He also had dark eyelashes that she would’ve killed for. Instead she needed mascara for it to look like she had any. He was too damn pretty.

  “You sure?”

  She hesitated; it had seemed like a great idea this morning. “Aren’t you supposed to take my money no questions asked?”

  “As I said, I can’t guarantee success.”

  She dropped the bag and sat opposite him. “It’s a gamble. I get it. But you know what? It’s better than doing nothing. And besides, it will be more fun to be on the run with someone.” She gave him a grin that she hoped looked like she was half teasing, half serious.

  “Less running, more hiding while I try and work out how to dissolve the demon.” He pulled paperwork out of the desk. He filled in a few boxes and then handed it over to her. “This is required. If you could fill out the rest, I’ll get one of the other guys to come and sit out the front.”

  “You take it in turns?”

  “Try explaining this to a secretary.” He shrugged and held out his hands.

  She scanned the form. There was no mention of witches or demons. Just that she was hiring him to help her hide from her abusive husband who wanted to kill her. Thus why he’d asked her to talk to the police and get something on record. “How do you explain this to most people?”

  “Depending on the case, we don’t. Looking for lost items, people, or pets is easy. Sometimes people just want us to spy on someone. Not everyone who comes here has a magical problem.”

  “Then why come here?”

  “Because they like the vibe.”

  She remembered the way she’d felt when she’d first walked in, the warmth and safety. That was no accident. “You attract clients.”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “I just work here.”

  Yeah, sure he did. She watched him walk down the corridor. Men spoke, three of them? But she couldn’t make out the words.

  She read the rest of the form and noted his name. Noah Kelly. She’d look him up later. Maybe she should look him up first, but, really, what did it matter? If he kept her safe that was a win, and if he didn’t, well, what did it matter who he was aside from being a witch?

  He came back out with another guy, one she’d seen training on that first night. He had carefully styled dark hair and a glance that was entirely too casual.

  “Rachel, Sawyer.” Noah did a quick introduction as he slipped a phone into his pocket. “I’m going to grab my laptop and a few things from upstairs, then we can get going.”

  She preferred Oskar, the blond, to Sawyer. Instead of making eye contact she busied herself reading the form, then counted out the money. Five days upfront. Then by the day.

  If she lived five days… Wow, that would put her into long-term-goal territory. Maybe she should get a passport and plan a trip to Sweden and the Icehotel. Her stomach gave a little twirl at the idea of crossing things off her list. Just how much of Noah had she bought? She immediately regretted the thought as she didn’t want to own him for the next five days. He was protecting her…that was all. There was a very good chance she was going die without her lady bits seeing action in nearly a year. That was really sad.

  “On the run. That’s usually more of my thing.” Sawyer smiled, all edge. She could see why someone might fall for him. He was a bad boy pretending to be good.

  She glanced up. “Er, yeah.” She didn’t want to know why he ran from the cops. If he’d been assigned to her case, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to trust him with her next breath. The silence ticked past. “Are you following my case?”

  “We all are.”

  Wasn’t that nice. “Why?”

  “Because demons and high-profile husbands bring trouble. We’re watching Noah’s back.” He gave her another, more thorough, glance. Where was Noah? Sawyer was far too intense for her taste.

  “He seems like he can handle himself.” Did they not trust her? Or were they worried because Cory could put the coven in danger—how hard would it be to kill a few witches? She didn’t want Cory in here ripping off lim
bs because he was trying to find her. “What would you do in my place?”

  “I’d arrange an accident for your husband, but I don’t have the same…” He paused for a moment. “…ethics as Noah.”

  He hadn’t been going to say ethics. He’d been going to say something else. She needed to look up Noah and find out more about him. Then she looked at Sawyer again, cool and calm even though he’d just mentioned murder. Cory didn’t deserve to die. He needed help, he needed to leave her alone and he should be jailed for killing the lawyer.

  The lift chimed.

  “Demon boy’s back,” Sawyer said.

  “I heard that.” Noah had a backpack slung over one shoulder, his coat on and looked like he was ready to head out.

  She handed him the form. He read it, signed it, checked the money and then handed the lot to Sawyer. “Tell Mason I’ll catch him later.”

  “He’s going to be pissed Oskar is your contact.”

  “I doubt it. Oskar knows a bit about black magic and has been helping out with the research already.” Noah gave her a pointed look and moved toward the door. “Ready?”

  “Good luck.” Sawyer pulled a pen out of his pocket and tossed it to Noah. He caught it even though he wasn’t looking.

  “Thanks.” Noah opened the door for her and they stepped out into a typically overcast day. They took a couple of steps, then he turned around as if he’d forgotten something. He put the pen away and pulled out a little bag. Was that drugs? He took out a pinch of white powder while she stared, then calmly slipped the bag away. Then he took a slow breath and, for a moment, she was sure that he was somewhere else in his mind. She watched, waiting for magic, but he simply let the powder fall from his fingers as if he was flicking away dust. The whole process had taken seconds and no one had paid them any attention.

  “What was that?” If Noah was going to be carrying around illegal substances, she should know.

  “Flour.” He raised one eyebrow.

  That made her relax a little, but why was he dropping flour on the ground? “And what did you just do with it?”