Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  “Thus the smokes.” Also, it was a test of his self-control. It was easy to burn big, much harder to make a single spark and a controlled fire. It had taken him months of practice to be able to light a candle or a cigarette without it going up in a fireball. He was intimately acquainted with how to use a fire extinguisher and fire blanket.

  He held the cigarette between his fingers and drew up the spell with his other hand, felt the weight of the full metal lighter. He flicked it and fire formed, then it was simply a case of transferring the fire in his mind to the object he wanted to burn. The flame was bright and hot, but it didn’t have the intensity it once had. There was no push behind the flame and it wasn’t trying to leap from his mind and onto his fingertips. That had been missing for a while, he’d had to push the flame into reality but he’d brushed that aside, even though he knew a spell shouldn’t be able to change on its own. He should’ve known something was wrong with him and thus affecting the spell.

  Now he had Rachel and a desire to live, and it was him who was going to get burned…but he didn’t care. It was better to live and enjoy every day than hide and push everything and everyone away. She had shown him that. If everything went bad and he somehow lived, he would always have that and that part of her. The flame deepened to a rich orange. He focused and thought about the heat and the way it would react when it touched the thin paper and tobacco.

  He exhaled and touched his finger to the tip of the cigarette. It flared, sizzled and turned to ash before he’d had time to drop it and finish swearing. He flicked his hand and blew on his fingers.

  “That was cool.” She was admiring the pile of smoldering ash by his feet.

  “No, it wasn’t. I was supposed to light it, not incinerate it.” He pulled out another cigarette even though he was already wrinkling his nose at the smell. His clothes were going to stink. He should be long past this stage of learning, but he had to keep going until he got it right. His life had once depended on him mastering fire.

  Mason had given him an actual metal lighter engraved with a raven, it had been empty and Noah had spent many hours committing it to memory until it was real in his mind. He’d channeled his anger into it, filled it and learned how to control the fire so he wouldn’t be a hazard to himself or others. He could have let it go, moved on, but fire was a hard spell to master and he’d be damned before he gave up. Very few witches could do what he did, even if they knew the theory. Magic wasn’t an all-encompassing talent that bestowed power. It was like any skill, like baseball. He was a pitcher not a hitter. He couldn’t craft and hold a circle like Oskar or hide like Sawyer, but he could do other things.

  He tried again with the same result. Cigarette smoke curled around him. “I’m out of practice.” He shook his head and pulled another one out of the pack.

  Rachel covered his hand with hers. “It looks good to me. Even if it doesn’t smell good.”

  “Sorry about that.” He incinerated the next one…although it burned slower than the others and he didn’t burn his fingers.

  “How did you get out of practice?”

  He tapped an unburned cigarette on his hand. “It’s a long story, but I lost the spell.”

  She turned to look at him. “You aren’t reciting anything… In fact, I haven’t seen you do anything like they do on TV. No book, no Latin, just some flour and a felt tip pen.”

  “I have a book of things I’ve tried and things I’m working on.” Not that he’d worked on it for a long time. “Magic comes from here.” He touched his chest above his heart. “You have to feel it, have faith in it. For some people it’s spells in Latin, sure. Many covens work that way, but not the Ravens. We are the Morrigu’s warriors, we have to be battle ready, and that means carrying it here.” He touched his head.

  “How do you do that?”

  “Props, like the flour. For fire, I have a lighter in my mind. Well, it does exist in the real world, too, but I don’t need to physically hold it in my hand. It could be anything, though, that the witch spends enough time working on, so that when they open their mental bag of tricks, it’s ready and waiting.”

  “Like your knife.”

  “Like my knife. It’s real to me, thus when I use it, it becomes real to the entity I’m stabbing.”

  She nodded but was still frowning. “I still don’t get how an imaginary lighter can light a real cigarette.”

  “How do miracles and faith healing work?”

  “Do they?”

  He smiled. “If you believe in something enough, it takes on that energy. Thoughts have more power than people realize, but the flip side is few people can hold a thought and push enough will into it to make it real. It’s hard work, especially at the start.”

  “So anyone could have magic?”

  “No. Some have a talent for it, but like anything, if you don’t use it you lose it. I wanted to play baseball professionally so badly I was pushing my will into that. I got good through training and single-minded determination; I was predicted to be in the top ten draft picks.” He could see in her face that didn’t mean much to her. “That’s damn good. Baseball gave my magic a way to thrive instead of shriveling up and dying. Because it had an outlet, by the time Louise was killed and the world as I knew it collapsed around me, I was primed and ready to refocus that energy.” He offered her the cigarette to hold.

  She backed away. “No way.”

  “Come on. I won’t burn you, promise.”

  “You swear on your goddess?”

  That was harsh; there were plenty of other things he could swear by before bringing the Morrigu into it. He met Rachel’s gaze. “Fine. I swear by the Morrigu.” Somewhere in the park a crow let out a slow laugh. “See, She listens, and now I will really be in trouble if I burn you.”

  “How much trouble?”

  “Lots. She doesn’t like oath breakers.”

  “So you’ll have to be careful, then.” She took the cigarette from his hand and held it between her fingers as if she was waiting for a light. For a moment he could picture her in a school uniform sneaking off for a smoke and hoping not to get caught. It was one of those pictures he didn’t question, just accepted as fact.

  He touched his finger to the end of the cigarette and pushed the smallest flame towards it. The cigarette lit up perfectly. He released the rest of the breath he’d been holding. When it came to Rachel, the only person at risk of getting burned was him.

  Chapter 16

  The bar was lovely—all warm wood and exposed brick—and it boasted the best selection of beer in New York. It was a pity he couldn’t actually drink any. None of the witches were drinking alcohol. Oskar and Sawyer were nursing soft drinks and a bowl of fries. As much as he’d like to eat, he was pretty sure his stomach couldn’t handle that and the nervous tension. He’d never been able to eat right before a game.

  The demon string around his wrist was getting warm.

  Peyton and Rachel were ready to leave at the first sign of Cory.

  Given all the wood, he could burn the place down if needed, but he’d rather not. After practicing all morning he smelled like a pack-a-day smoker, but lighting cigarettes in the park was preferable to setting fire to trash cans and newspapers—that would have drawn the attention of the cops. Lighting cigarettes just drew looks of disgust. People had seen what they wanted, a man and woman sitting in the park holding cigarettes. They pretended they saw a lighter in his hands, or matches, or whatever they wanted because the alternative didn’t sit well.

  His wrist began to get uncomfortably hot—he really hoped his skin wouldn’t burn, but dealing with a goddess, one never knew what to expect. He glanced out the window. They had deliberately picked a table with a clear view of the street. How much hotter should he let the string get before letting Peyton and Rachel leave? Too soon and Cory would follow them, too late and, well, it would be too late.

  He’d known Peyton wouldn’t want to be involved with the Cory side of the equation, but that was fine. Peyton had a car, which wa
s of far more use to Noah than his magical skills. Plus Peyton had a gun, and while bullets may not kill a man with a demon, they would slow Cory down.

  He’d told them all about his new thoughts on demons and none of them had any ideas about how to counteract jealousy. They had, however, thought he was onto something about inviting the demon in, and even the possibility that perhaps those were the people who had magic but had never developed it, leaving them incomplete or cracked and waiting to be filled. It was a chilling thought, as it meant that if he’d sunk low enough to get a demon it wouldn’t have been the harmless, personal type, it would have been a full-blown, consuming, intent-on-destruction-vengeance-and-damage type—the kind he tried to stop.

  No one actually expected the intervention to work, but he was duty bound to give Cory every chance to shake off his demon and heal himself. Again, not every would-be witch got a demon. There seemed to be no fixed rules, just a set of clauses. Tick all the boxes and, voila, a demon.

  The heat became unbearable. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. Noah nodded at Peyton and Rachel. “He’s almost here.”

  They got up, and Noah could feel the tremor of blood magic and taste the copper in the air from here. Rachel would be looking like someone else to the casual observer. Would it be enough to fool Cory?

  “One day, he’s going to tell me how he does that.” Sawyer watched them leave.

  “We probably don’t want to know.” Shedding blood could draw up a lot of power, as it tapped into the blood giver, too, but Peyton had to be very careful about how much power he used. Too much and it triggered a nasty side effect that came from being bitten by a hell hound a few years ago.

  Peyton scuffed his foot as he walked Rachel to his car, erasing his tracks. Peyton’s magic was a lot slyer than his, and Noah knew Sawyer envied some of Peyton’s tricks. Maybe when he wasn’t chasing demons he could put some more time into learning and creating spells. That sounded like a really good plan, so he added it to his list.

  Cory walked up the sidewalk, head moving like dog on a trail. Noah’s gaze flicked between Cory and Peyton’s SUV. Rachel was already inside.

  Noah leaned out the open bar window. “Hey, Cory! Remember me?” He pointed to his bruised cheek, to make sure.

  As predicted, Cory turned toward him, letting the sleek black SUV pull away and vanish into traffic. The first part was done. Now for the tricky, let’s-not-get-killed part.

  “Come have a beer with us.” Noah was sure his grin was more manic and less friendly. It was so much easier to step onto the playing field in front of a hundred thousand people than call a man over who wouldn’t think twice about tearing off Noah’s limbs.

  Cory leaned on the window and looked at the three witches. “Where’s my wife?”

  “Not here.” Noah kept his voice level. There was a shimmer of alien magic over his skin as Oskar put up a circle that would stop the demon from harming them. Cory was a different matter.

  Cory lowered his voice, but it trembled with demon power and menace. “I’ll rip your fucking arms off.”

  “Is that you or your demon talking? You know something isn’t right. Can you feel the extra power? Don’t you wonder what the cost will be?”

  Cory’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s my wife?”

  “Trying to leave you. She’s not yours.”

  “Don’t argue with me, smart ass.”

  “If you don’t let go of the demon you’re feeding with your jealousy, it will be your death.”

  Cory’s face contorted and took on the demonic visage. If given a few more pushes, Cory would let the demon take full possession of his flesh. Human bodies weren’t made for containing that much energy. He didn’t want a possessed Cory running around New York like a super villain, but the more energy the demon sucked up, the faster Cory would burn out.

  He may not be able to counteract the jealousy but he could get Cory to self-destruct.

  Not the demon solution he was hoping for, but if he knew the reason, he could needle the demon and manifester into position and push the right buttons so the only person who died was the one who’d let the demon jump on their back in the first place. While not murder by his hand, it was still murder and it didn’t sit well.

  Sawyer pulled out a mirror—one they’d enchanted to reflect demons while sitting in the bar. The spell was really crude and based on Noah’s illumination spell, but it was good enough for today and would allow Cory and the others to see what he saw. “This is what’s riding you, making you do things you wouldn’t do.” Maybe. If Cory had killed Rachel’s first lover, Rob, then perhaps the demon was just using what was already there—Rachel had said something similar, that somewhere deep inside Cory wanted her dead.

  Cory’s gaze dropped to the mirror where the demon was clearly reflected. He looked confused for a moment, then he laughed. “You think I’m afraid of it? I want it. It’s made me strong. Tell me where my wife is or I will make you suffer.”

  “We’re sitting here having a drink, no harm.”

  Cory snatched the mirror out of Sawyer’s hand and dropped it on the pavement. It shattered. “Is she sleeping with all of you? The little whore.”

  Noah’s heartbeat quickened. “That rage and strength is the demon’s. I’m guessing after your injury you were feeling less like a man, so you went looking for something to pump you up. You invited in the demon. What was the trade? Is that why you stopped sleeping with Rachel?” Cory’s miracle recovery from a career-ending injury, his control and secrecy, all pointed to dabbling in something. Plenty of people dabbled, few saw success. Cory had. A cracked, would-be witch. A smile curved his lips as the pieces of his demon puzzle fell into place.

  Cory took offense. His face darkened and his veins popped. Until that moment, Noah had thought turning purple with rage had been a turn of phrase. It wasn’t, and he didn’t need his spell to see the shadow of horns forming. Cory leaned forward, his fist clenched.

  The air around them crackled as Cory unleashed the demon—no doubt wanting to rip their arms and legs off. Oskar was holding the circle, his eyes half closed. A circle would stop a demon, but Cory could still cross it and do damage. Noah was within punching distance should Cory decide to have another go at him. He wanted to scramble back and put some yards between him and the demon-ridden man.

  Cory crossed the circle and stopped. Then he stepped back as if confused, aware that something was wrong. “What have you done?”

  Noah exhaled, relieved, even though he wasn’t out of danger yet. “Stopped your demon from pulling me apart, but you knew that, didn’t you? You’re part of it and it’s a part of you. How much longer until it slides into your skin?” As much as he’d like push harder, now wasn’t the place for a Cory-demon to be unleashed. Even though the bar was relatively empty, there would be too many casualties if something went wrong. Plan A was just to talk to Cory, and in Noah’s heart he knew it was just to help him make a better plan B. “Give up the demon, go back to your job, find a new woman. Hell, have a few.”

  Cory glared at him. “And if I don’t?”

  “I will have to stop you.” Noah drew power into his voice so, even if Cory couldn’t feel it, the demon could. “I’m the one who stabbed your demon and made you hurt. You sent it to hunt me down, but I survived.”

  The circle around the three witches crackled and sparked as the demon lashed out, a dark shadow sliding around them, trying to gouge and crush without success. Cory’s lips twisted into a grimace as he shared the demon’s frustration at not being able to kill them where they sat.

  “If you choose to let it go, I can help you. You have to be willing.” Please let it go. Show me there is a way to help demon-infected people.

  “Willing!?” Spittle formed at the edge of Cory’s mouth. “Give me my wife.”

  It was below the belt, but Noah took the shot anyway. “She is afraid of you and your demon.”

  Cory gripped the windowsill and the black-painted wood began to splinter. There was nothing stoppin
g Cory from ripping it free and taking a swing. If Cory attacked Oskar and Oskar dropped the circle, the demon would have them. He glanced at Sawyer. They’d have to stop Cory, because if the demon got in, they were all dead.

  Noah let sparks gather at his fingertips. Clothing was flammable. While he knew he could light up Cory’s clothes, he wasn’t sure he could deliberately set fire to a person, even in self-defense. It was too gruesome, too calculated. There had to be other ways to stop the demon without harming Cory, even though he had invited the demon in. Would Cory just manifest another? He’d learned to do it once. He’d killed more than once. Perhaps some people were cracked to the core and couldn’t be saved. That they had magic in the blood just made them more dangerous and more susceptible to demons and other dark forces.

  “Give up the demon, then we’ll let you see her.” Sawyer’s voice was as slick as oil. No doubt it was the one he used to try and get people to part with their precious artifacts, but that wasn’t part of the plan. Cory wasn’t getting near Rachel—not until Noah needed to use her as bait in plan B.

  Would Rachel be enough of a lure for Cory to let the creature go? Noah fought to stay calm. He kept his breathing even so he was ready for anything. He could feel the Morrigu close by—the fluttering of wings as crows and much bigger ravens started to land behind Cory. People were pointing at the birds, not the men having a chat through the window of the bar.

  Cory flexed his arms, his muscles bulging in a way that would’ve been far more impressive if he hadn’t been threatening Noah. “I am stronger and faster than any of you. I don’t care if it’s a demon or a fucking angel. I will get my wife back and I will hunt you all down. I know what you smell like.” His voice disintegrated into a growl.

  Not if Noah got him first. “Your need for violence is feeding it.”

  “Making me stronger.”

  “Making you weaker. It is burning through your life. How many years have you lost already? A decade? Two? Is she really worth it? Let her go.” Even as he was speaking, Noah knew there was nothing he could say to make Cory give up the demon. That would be like someone asking him to give up magic and the Morrigu. He couldn’t. It was part of him, and while it had taken him a long time to become a practicing witch, a decade later than most, he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Rachel it was there when he’d played. Sometimes he’d just known how to throw the ball, could make it twist just so. He’d been so good because of his magic. He was sure he wasn’t the only one, but he was probably the only one who knew what the secret to his success was.