Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  “You didn’t seem worried when it was my life in your hands.” He strolled toward his bedroom. “Don’t touch anything—I wouldn’t want you hurting yourself. And if you steal anything, I will hunt you down and turn you over to the authorities.”

  She put her hands on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you do now, hunt down missing people and lost cats? Seems like a waste of magic when you could be doing anything.”

  His gaze flicked to the ceiling, a sure sign she was getting to him. “I said no. If you’re really worried about saving your ass, take it up with my coven.” He shut the door.

  Cosima stared at the doorway he’d filled only seconds ago.

  That had not gone to plan. He was supposed to agree to one last job, for Anthony and for old times’ sake. Instead he’d made it clear she, and Anthony, meant nothing to him.

  Okay she had taken the last sword they’d been stealing, but she hadn’t meant to break his nose. Taking it and moving on had been Anthony’s idea. He’d realized Sawyer was going places with the coven, and it was only a matter of time until he turned them in.

  Sawyer never had, though. It was like he’d cut his old life off and sealed up the wound.

  Maybe digging in the past wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had.

  Cosima slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. She was screwed. When Bright found her, he’d make an example of her failure. Her teeth pressed into her lower lip.

  She didn’t want to die. But she didn’t know how to live beyond stealing.

  She had to figure out a way to get the sword now that Mallory knew people were after it. Did he know the power it had? Maybe that was the first thing she needed to find out.

  She got up, picked up her bag, and opened the door but that was as far as she got. No matter how many times she tried to step over the threshold she couldn’t get through the door.

  “What the fuck?”

  Laughter filtered out of Sawyer’s room before he opened the door. “I told you. This place is warded. You can take the sofa or the spare room.”

  “You can’t keep me prisoner.”

  “You broke in. If I’d let you in, you’d be able to leave.”

  She glared at him and slammed the front door. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

  And she’d raid his fridge, have a hot shower, and sleep well in a place where Bright couldn’t find her.

  She didn’t sleep, of course. There was far too magic around needling at her skin, and while she’d once trusted Sawyer with her life, she couldn’t say the same now.

  Sometime after four she got up. The candle in the kitchen had gone out and the apartment was dark. She pulled on shoes and snuck over to the front door. Sure enough, she could step out. With one last glance at Sawyer’s shut bedroom door she slipped out.

  Sawyer heard the click as she shut the door. He didn’t bother getting out of bed to lock it. His place was so cleverly warded most people didn’t realize there was a door there to open. Only people who wanted to find him found the door. Of course, if someone did want him, it would take more than wards to keep them out. The coven had more aggressive wards, but they weren’t ideal in a residential apartment block.

  He’d heard Cosima get up and had briefly considered stopping her—or at least checking her bag—but getting between Cosima and something she wanted was trouble. He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime without inviting more.

  Without a doubt, her leaving wouldn’t be the end of this. He’d known when she left him bleeding on the museum floor they weren’t over, but he’d managed to push the hurt aside and move on with his life.

  She wasn’t going to drag him into her mess now.

  But he didn’t want her to die either. Not because he still felt anything for her or had once loved the way her grin meant trouble—something she shared with her brother—but because he didn’t want an innocent to die. Innocent in the magical sense. Cosima hadn’t been innocent in a very long time. Living one step up from living on the streets tended to strip away any soft edges.

  He tried to go back to sleep but it skittered away as memories bloomed and swelled. In hindsight, sleeping with the people he worked with hadn’t been a good idea. Letting them know he had magic had also been a poor choice, because from that moment Anthony and Cosima viewed him with suspicion. The more time he spent at the coven, the less the Delaneys trusted him. The night of the museum robbery he’d still believed he could have both—the fun of stealing with his friends while learning more magic with Mason and the other witches.

  Cosima and Anthony known better. If push came to shove, the siblings were loyal to each other first. He’d liked that about them. They had each other and he had no one. He’d wanted to be part of their team, and for a while he had been. He’d tasted what it was like to have family.

  Now he had the coven and he wouldn’t throw that away for an old flame who’d burned him once before. Not at all.

  But he could take the sword to stop her from handing it to Bright.

  Stopping Bright from killing Cosima was a different problem entirely.

  Chapter 4

  Sawyer pushed open the door to the Uncommon Raven Agency, early to work for a change. It was barely nine and he’d already been to the gym and had breakfast and was now at work—he also needed a nap. He did not like being woken up at four in the morning no matter how much useful stuff he’d gotten done, such as learning where the sword used to live and where Anthony had died.

  “Oskar, want to come to the morgue with me to see what tales a dead man can tell?” Sawyer grinned at his fellow witch.

  Oskar didn’t return the smile. “They don’t talk to me. All I see is a residual imprint.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Last high emotion. I get it.” He didn’t really, but since Oskar’s brush with death magic he’d been able to talk to the dead. And while it wasn’t a skill that was in high demand—mostly because the cops didn’t believe in magic even if it was being done right in front of them—asking the dead about their lives did have its uses. “I need to know what this man’s last high emotion was. I’m guessing fear because he was murdered.”

  “Why are you looking into a murder?”

  “Because he was a friend of mine.”

  “Friend or friend?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, but you blush so pretty.” Oskar grabbed his phone. “Is this a coven job?”

  “His sister asked for a favor.” And so far, he wasn’t lying. “It may not be anything we need to be involved in, but I said I’d take a look.”

  Oskar hesitated. “We’re not supposed to do stuff off the books.”

  “We aren’t doing anything. Just seeing if it needs to go on the books. Nothing dodgy. Cross my heart.” Damn Peyton and his new stricter rules. No doubt Peyton was terrified of screwing up running the coven while Mason was on holiday.

  “I’d believe you…if you had a heart to cross.”

  “Ouch. I have a heart.”

  Oskar tilted his head. “I’m not sure you do. I have never once seen you broken up over an ex.”

  “That’s not true…” But he couldn’t think of a single ex since Cosima that had left him gutted when it was over. Most of his relationships fizzled after a few months and they mutually drifted apart. The only one who had wounded him was Cosima. That had hurt for so long he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover. He didn’t want to give her the chance to wound him again.

  Oskar lifted an eyebrow.

  Sawyer crossed his arms. “Are we talking to the dead or dissecting my love life? Which is still better than yours, by the way.”

  “I have a nine-month-old baby who thinks sleeping through the night is for losers and who somehow knows when Mylla and I even think about doing more than hug.” For a man who’d had nothing to live for because of a death curse, Oskar now had everything including a wife and baby. He was also well on the way to becoming a qualified paramedic.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want a sibling.” Sawyer tried to keep hi
s tone glib to mask the envy. Sawyer didn’t want to be kept up all night by a baby, but he wanted that family inner circle Oskar had. Even without the coven Oskar mattered to people. If Sawyer dropped dead tomorrow, no one would give a damn.

  Oskar’s gaze hardened for a second.

  “Sleeping charm?” Sawyer suggested.

  Oskar scowled. “Do you even know what unethical means?”

  That he shouldn’t do the sensible thing? “Yeah, but you were the one bitching about lack of sleep. Besides it’s just a charm that will help if she wants to sleep. She’s not going to sleep for a hundred years.”

  Oskar considered him for a moment. “I’m not enchanting my baby; Mylla would kill me. But I’d kill for six hours in a row.” He sighed as though jealous of the corpse. “Let’s go check out this body.”

  Sawyer had managed to track down where the body of the John Doe was being stored. No one had identified him, and Sawyer had simply said the truth on the phone—that his client’s brother was missing. This could be him.

  The man pulled open the morgue drawer, and Sawyer suppressed a shudder. The idea of being shoved in a cold metal drawer, even when dead, made his skin crawl. It was an irrational fear and one he couldn’t let go off.

  Oskar seemed calm even though he was about to chat with a corpse. Maybe it wouldn’t be Anthony, and this would be a waste of a trip. Sawyer didn’t know if that would be better or worse.

  The man drew the sheet back.

  Sawyer sucked in a breath at the sight of Anthony’s face. He was truly dead. But there were no green blood vessels the way Cosima had claimed. Anthony looked peaceful, like he’d died in his sleep and not while committing a crime. Had Anthony eventually found a coven, or had he remained untrained? Anthony didn’t belong to the Morrigu—or so Mason had said. Though how Mason could tell Sawyer had no idea. If Mason had taken them both into the coven, Anthony would be alive and Cosima wouldn’t have dumped him mid job.

  He glanced as Oskar while Oskar studied the body. He’d need a few minutes to work his magic.

  Sawyer turned on his charm, smiling at the morgue attendant to distract him. “This is Anthony Delaney. Can I ask how he died?”

  “Don’t know yet.” The attendant looked at Oskar. “Who’s he again?”

  “Colleague. Trying to get over his fear of dead bodies.” Sawyer widened his smile. “Where was Anthony found? I need something to tell his family.”

  “Talk to the detective in charge.”

  Damnit. He was not talking to the cops.

  Oskar blinked and nodded. His lips were pressed into a thin, unhappy line. That was their cue to go.

  “Thank you for your time. When can the family claim the body?” He doubted Cosima would step forward and claim her brother. She’d want to fly well beneath the radar. But Sawyer couldn’t leave Anthony unclaimed. He’d have to sort it out and make sure Anthony got properly buried. He’d do it for old times’ sake.

  Though he knew Anthony wouldn’t do the same for him.

  “After the autopsy,” the attendant said.

  Sawyer didn’t ask when that would be. He’d call back later and get the details he needed. They walked through the hallway toward the exit. A man and a woman walked toward them. For a moment, Sawyer was sure they were Anthony’s parents, but it was a lie and he was tasting magic. Anthony’s mother had died when Cosima was a baby and their father had died when Sawyer had been twelve—they’d drunk all of his liquor and made themselves sick.

  Sawyer reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of cheap reading glasses. The spell on them dispersed the glamour the couple was casting, and he almost yelped when their real forms became visible. As it was his lungs constricted and his feet forgot how to work.

  Bright walked past with a smile. Sawyer snapped his gaze away and quickened his steps toward the exit. It was only when they were on the street that he stopped and breathed and tried to think.

  Oskar frowned. “Were they his parents?”

  “No. That was Bright. Didn’t you feel the spell around them?” He raked his fingers through his hair and pulled off the glasses. “What did you see?”

  “Who’s Bright?”

  Sawyer stared at Oskar, but of course he wouldn’t know. He’d never moved in those criminal circles. Magical objects were Sawyer’s area of expertise. “Never mind. What did Anthony say?”

  A crow creaked and cawed from the tree.

  “I think we should head back to the agency, because something isn’t adding up.” From the look Oskar gave him, it was clear Oskar thought he was up to neck in lies.

  The last thing Sawyer wanted was every witch and his cat sticking their noes into this mess. He didn’t want to be dealing with this at all. Anthony was dead and Cosima was smart enough to drop off the grid for a bit. Bright was powerful among his circle of influence, but he wasn’t all powerful. Few even knew who he was because Bright worked behind the scenes. A middleman connecting thieves and buyers.

  While Sawyer had been out of the game for a while, he’d crossed paths with Bright more than once. Most recently while taking a jade dragon which shouldn’t be in the hands of anyone who wanted it—it was the kind of object that was best handled by a careful witch, because the power imbued in it could flood cities. He’d kept it out of the hands of a despot who could’ve turned the tide of a civil war.

  Five years ago, he’d have handed it over and taken the cash.

  The door to Mason’s office was open, but it wasn’t Mason behind the desk. Sawyer liked things better when Peyton was rarely in the office; now he was a full-time witch, he was here all the time. Sawyer immediately bristled. Of course, the man with the silver spoon up his ass also got to run the coven. He’d known it would never be him when Mason decided to retire from running the business, but he’d have preferred Noah. Or just about anyone else to Peyton.

  “This can wait until Mason gets back,” Sawyer said to Oskar. “I’ll call him.” He needed Mason, a witch who knew his shit, not Peyton who was part hellhound and all lawyer. Sawyer turned to leave, but Oskar was right behind him.

  “It can’t wait.” Oskar slipped past him into the office.

  Sawyer knew exactly how this was going to go and he was going to end up with his ass hanging out. He followed Oskar in and took a seat because that was expected. All he could do was try to deflect what was coming for him.

  “Sawyer has a case,” Oskar announced.

  “I don’t have a case. A friend asked me to find out how her brother died. I took Oskar for a little corpse one on one.” And if Oskar hadn’t refused to tell him what they’d chatted about, he’d have a better idea about what kind of trouble was brewing.

  “Who’s the friend?” Peyton asked.

  “No one you know.” Sawyer was sure as soon as he said Cosima’s name alarm bells would ring. He was reasonably sure she’d go into hiding, not front up here.

  Peyton switched his attention to Oskar. “What did the brother have to say?”

  Oskar rolled his eyes. “It’s not a conversation. It’s a few images. Sometimes relevant, sometimes not. I saw his death. The magic was sucked out of him.”

  “Your friend is a witch?” Peyton started taking notes just like Mason would have.

  “No, but her brother was.” Barely, but who cared about who was a witch? “How did the magic get sucked out of him?” he asked Oskar.

  Was that even possible? He could borrow magic from objects, but not people. If the magic had been sucked out of Anthony, where had it gone?

  “I don’t know, but he was holding a sword—the one he’d been stealing.” Oskar fixed Sawyer with a glare that should have had the power to turn him to stone.

  Cosima hadn’t been lying about that part.

  “That’s why Bright was there…he wants the sword,” Oskar said, confirming but not asking.

  Sawyer did his best not to grimace and failed. “Yeah.”

  “Bright is involved?” Peyton asked like he knew exactly who Bright was.

&nb
sp; Sawyer didn’t know if he should be impressed or concerned about that detail. “It doesn’t matter, okay? I’m not involved. I haven’t taken anything. I was just looking for my friend’s brother. That was it. Case closed.” He stood.

  “Sit,” Peyton said.

  Sawyer remained standing and crossed his arms. On the filing cabinet was Mason’s time bending watch. He was handing that over to Peyton, too. Born into money, everything landed in Peyton’s lap. He’d turned down a partnership at the firm to take over from Mason. Sawyer’s envy that the other witches all had real magic always threatened to spill out around Peyton.

  “I’m going to go and sketch up the sword before I forget the details.” Oskar slid out of the room like he didn’t want to be caught in the storm. He even shut the door behind him.

  Peyton drew a line under his notes. “Start from the beginning.”

  “There’s nothing more to tell. Don’t you dare spill blood to coerce more from me.” Blood magic was Peyton’s specialty, that and writing contracts. Oh, and turning into a hellhound. Even his girlfriend was a part time goddess.

  “Are you lying?”

  “No.” He was just leaving out chunks of information, which was completely different.

  Peyton leaned back. “I know you don’t like me.”

  Sawyer laughed. “You’ve hated me from the moment Mason dragged me through the door.” A criminal without a handful of dollar bills in his wallet, Sawyer and Peyton couldn’t have been more different.

  Peyton shook his head. “I put up the bail. Twice.”

  Sawyer lips curled. “And I’ve never been allowed to forget it. You have money and magic.” And he had nothing. Everything he did have he’d worked damn hard for. The small amount of magic he had was enough to get him in the door, but not enough that he was ever on an even footing. The coven was his family and he expected to be kicked out, the same way he was always kicked out of every family he’d ever had. Mason would never do it, but Peyton? Maybe.