Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  “How did the sword kill him?”

  “Magic,” he said without looking up from his book.

  This was getting her nowhere. “I know that. But how? Anthony could see magical traps. He wouldn’t have fallen for it.”

  Oskar fixed her with a glare. “I don’t know. When we know more about the sword, we’ll have answers. Until then I really need to study.”

  “They let you study at work?”

  He got up. “I’m going to see how Sawyer is doing.”

  She smiled sweetly. Good.

  Oskar returned a few minutes later. “You can go in.”

  She picked up her bag and kept it close, not sure what to expect from Sawyer’s office. But it was just an office. Small, bland and not elaborately furnished. There was a filing cabinet in one corner and a picture of a group of ravens on the wall behind the desk. “Are you taking the case?”

  “It would appear so.” He didn’t smile.

  She didn’t wait to be invited to sit—that would never happen—so she dropped into the chair opposite him. “I need help and I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “So, you’ve said.”

  The temperature in the room dropped to mid-winter levels. She sipped her coffee. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Leave me alone so I can figure out what we’re dealing with. I know you badgered Oskar into letting you in here. You haven’t lost your knack at getting your own way.”

  She was tempted to take that as a compliment. “I needed something when you two both had magic.”

  “And look where it got us. Anthony’s dead and I can’t do more than borrow bits and pieces. Magic doesn’t solve problems, it creates them.”

  “You don’t like being a witch?”

  He considered her for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s better than being a thief. Tell me more about the job.”

  He still hated talking about himself. She let it go. They only had to get the sword and then they never had to see each other again. “I got the job and did the research, Anthony planned it. Same as usual.”

  “How did you get it?”

  “One of Bright’s associates invited me to a meeting. People who want something know who to talk to. How will you guys be able to protect me when Bright realizes he isn’t getting the sword?”

  “Tell me about the sword. Everything you were told or discovered.”

  “It was in the hands of a private collector. A real estate agent. He had five swords in an armed display cabinet and more fakes on the walls. Looked like he had a real interest in weaponry.” It had been a very cool room. She’d have liked to spend more time checking out his collection. “I was given a photo of the sword to study.”

  “And you no longer have it.”

  “Of course not. No links to the stolen item.”

  “Did anyone give it a name? A history? Anything that would save me some time.”

  She shook her head, wishing she’d asked more questions but knowing they’d have never been answered. “You know how it is. They want this thing and know where it is, and we had to find a way to get it. I didn’t know it would kill Anthony.” She wanted to go back to that meeting and decline the job. She’d do anything to have her brother alive, or even to stop seeing the desperation in his eyes as he struggled to breathe every time she closed hers. Her chest ached as she drew in a breath. “I don’t know what the sword does. But I can tell you the layout of the owner’s house, where he works, how much he makes, and who his ex-wife is.”

  Sawyer almost smiled. “None of which helps me.”

  Was there anything that might help? She’d spent hours poring over every detail and still had nothing more than who owned the sword. For the first time she was out of her depth and Sawyer would be happy to watch her drown. But she still hesitated, not wanting to give Sawyer everything. She kept Mallory’s name to herself, though no doubt Sawyer would be able to find it if he did a little research. “The owner used to be one of those high-flying realtors, apartments worth millions, fast cars and all of that. Five years ago, he lost it all, including his wife.”

  “So, a dodgy deal bit him on the ass?”

  “Bright knew he had the sword.”

  “Bright knows too much about magic for a man with none.”

  She nodded. That was something they could agree on. “Bright didn’t tell me anything about the sword’s power or why he wanted it.”

  Sawyer sighed. “Of course, he didn’t. If you knew what it did, you might not hand it over. This will take a while.” He returned his attention to the computer screen and ignored her.

  She finished the coffee and put the cup on the corner of his desk. This is what he’d left her for. A desk job with a bunch of witches. He was still pulling impossible jobs, but he was doing it with people like him now. “So how many of them have you slept with?”

  He leveled his gaze at her.

  She was now officially dead. She leaned back in the chair as though she didn’t care. “Just asking.”

  After their breakup, she’d made the most of her freedom. Getting dick was easy, finding someone who gave a damn if she was having a good time was a lot harder. And finding someone who actually cared about her was damn near impossible.

  She couldn’t talk about her job with people who followed the law and she didn’t trust any other thieves. A few had tried to worm their way in and take Sawyer’s place in their group, but Anthony hadn’t wanted that. He thought it best if it were just the two of them. Whatever had happened between Sawyer and her brother, she’d never managed to find out. But it was more than a few minutes between the sheets.

  Sawyer tapped his fingers on the desk. “You’ve done other work for Bright. What else did you take for him?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  “It’ll be your funeral.”

  “I’ll never get another job if people hear that I blab.”

  “Really? That’s your concern right now?”

  She chewed the inside of her lip. It was one of her concerns. She still needed to eat and live…and living was kind of a problem.

  “Look, word will get around that you came here. You can play it off as whatever you like, but your team is gone. You might be able to hook in with someone else or you might be able to build a new one. But will you ever be able to trust them?” He gave her that smile, like he knew he’d just scored a point. He knew her far too well.

  She clenched her jaw refusing to let him get to her. But he was right; she’d never trust a new team. They’d never let outsiders in when they were young. After Sawyer left, she’d put up higher walls. Maybe they should’ve taken on a third. Would that have saved Anthony? She closed her eyes and drew in a breath, her throat thick and her eyes hot. Crying wasn’t going to bring her brother back and if she didn’t make a plan, she’d be joining him. “I took a few things for Bright. But none of them seemed important.”

  “What were they?”

  “I don’t know what they did; I don’t ask, and he wouldn’t tell. Bright paid a very good price for the sword. He wanted it fast. You know he’s going to start a run-in politics? Maybe he wanted a bit of a magical nudge. He wouldn’t be the first.”

  Sawyer pressed his lips together. “And look at what happens then. Magic and politics don’t mix.” He tapped a few keys and scrolled.

  Cosima wanted to take a peek to see what he was looking at. Was it a list of items and locations? A ready-made list of things to steal and then sell onto the highest bidder? And the coven trusted Sawyer with it? Of course, they did. He belonged here. She glanced away.

  “Hmm.”

  “What?” She sat up straight.

  He turned the screen. “Is that the sword that killed Anthony?”

  She’d never be able to forget the way the sword looked. Or the way her brother had died. She didn’t want Sawyer to suffer the same fate. Doubts pressed against her. Was involving the coven the wrong thing to do?

  “Yeah. The pattern on the blade is distinctive.” She read the
text that went with the picture. “Oh, it’s even got a name. The Mordred Blade. Sounds cool.”

  From Sawyer’s expression, it was most definitely not cool. “Mordred, from King Arthur tales. He wanted power. It’s said he lives on in the sword, always wanting what isn’t his, in the same way he coveted Arthur’s throne.”

  Cosima tilted her head. “But Arthur is just a story.”

  “Okay.” He spun the screen around.

  “It’s real?”

  “Most things are, it’s just easier to forget. This sword is bad news. The person wielding it will gather adoring fans and they will have their moment of fame.”

  “That doesn’t sound bad.” Everyone wanted their fifteen minutes, some turned it into a career—or at least made enough to never work again. Oh…Mallory had used the sword to become the high-flying realtor only to crash and burn.

  “The blade needs feeding to have power.”

  “Feeding?” She closed her eyes and saw Anthony’s green streaked face. “It fed off Anthony.”

  “He had magic.”

  “So, if I’d picked it up, nothing would’ve happened?” Anthony would still be alive. She slumped into the chair as despair dug its claws in deeper. This was all her fault. Swords always brought trouble; she should’ve turned the job down. She should’ve been the one to grab the sword from the cabinet. There were a dozen things that could’ve been done differently. Now she’d involved Sawyer and his friends.

  “The Mordred blade is a witch killer…and it helps the holder find a witch to kill.”

  Chapter 6

  Sawyer’s gaze flicked between the woman and the sword on the screen not sure which was more dangerous. Both could be fatal to him. There was no way he was letting Cosima get her hands on the sword, but there was no way he could touch it either, not unless he wanted to end up in the morgue next to Anthony.

  The loss of his once best friend hurt, but like an old injury playing up in the rain, or his nose when he caught a cold. He thought of Cosima less than fondly every winter. And while he could’ve got his nose straightened, he didn’t want someone else fiddling with it and possibly making it worse. Noah had issues with all the metal in his elbow.

  “We need to figure out how to steal the sword,” she said.

  “Anthony did all the planning?”

  “Yeah.”

  Back when they’d ran together Cosima had found the job and done the research. He’d been the muscle with light fingers. But Anthony had planned the jobs and figured out how to get past security. Without Anthony they’d have all been arrested many more times. Each job they’d learned from their mistakes.

  After their last one together he’d learned there was more to life than stealing, and that love didn’t count for much when money and magic were involved.

  “There is no we. You aren’t part of this job.”

  “Oh, come on. How can you steal a sword you can’t even touch?” She wiggled her fingers. They both knew she had no magic and could safely pick up the sword.

  Sawyer glared at her. “I’ll figure something out.”

  There’d be a way to counter the magic, there always was. He needed to dig around and find out who had owned the sword before the current owner.

  If Bright got his hands on this weapon and the magic it held, it would be a disaster. Bright’s tilt at politics would be a success for him and damning for everyone else. The sword would give him a hunger for power that no logic and reason would be able to restrain, and he’d need witches to keep the sword fed.

  It wouldn’t take long for every witch in New York to realize what was going on and feel the need to take a holiday far away before Bright could turn the blade on them, leaving the city devoid of the people who kept the magic flowing and everyone safe. Cities without witches were cities in trouble. So many people in one area created all kinds of energy and that energy needed direction. It needed to be slowed in some places and stirred up in others. Without witches the unbalanced energy would affect the occupants and when that started happening whole areas could become uninhabitable. People could be driven mad and unscrupulous energy feeders tended to arrive and make more trouble.

  Non-witches sometimes felt the shift of energy when they went to a rock concert—witches went to concerts to revel in the energy raised then headed back to their coven to do their workings. It was an easy way to charge up and an easy way to overdo it. He’d learned that the hard way. For three days he’d felt like he had magic of his own. He’d made the most of it and spent an interesting forty-eight hours with a libido that didn’t know how to sleep.

  Cosima leaned forward. “None of your buddies will be of any use. They’ve probably never crossed to the wrong side of the law.”

  Sawyer laughed. They were always sliding one foot over the line. Noah’s first tangle with a demon had almost resulted in him going down for murder. Oskar had killed his great uncle—in self-defense—and Peyton was a lawyer. As far as Sawyer was concerned, Peyton was the worst of the lot because he pretended he was doing the right thing. Lawyers had gotten Sawyer off charges when he’d most definitely been guilty.

  But she had a point, and he didn’t want to admit it.

  “Who owns the sword?”

  “I’m not sharing his name unless I’m part of it.” She crossed her arms and held his gaze, the corner of her lips turned up like she’d caught him out.

  Damn her. She was trouble—and he’d never been able to resist trouble. She wasn’t cute, she was a thorn in his side; one he’d never been able to fully pick out. First love was hard to erase—and he’d tried damn hard to fuck some sense into himself, a better option than moping. Though he’d dabbled in that for a day or two.

  If whatever they had was unfinished…how did he finish it?

  He leaned forward. “Why’d you do it?”

  “Do what?” She leaned back, wary.

  “Leave me there.”

  “You were the one leaving us.”

  Sawyer shook his head. “I…I loved you. I wanted you to come with me and leave the thieving behind.” They could’ve made a go of it. Maybe it wouldn’t have lasted, but at least they could’ve tried.

  She shook her head. “This isn’t about that job.”

  “It is. I told Anthony I was in at the coven and that it was my last job.” He glanced away. Did she deserve to know the truth? No, but maybe it was what he needed to do to unravel this mess. The connection to her was in a small red box at the back of his sock drawer. He swallowed twice before he managed to get the words out. “I’d bought you a ring.”

  Saying it was like picking a scab off and watching the blood run. That wound had never healed. Maybe now he’d be able to sell the ring and move on.

  “What?” She frowned. “No. Anthony said you were done. That we needed to…” Her lips remained parted, but she didn’t need to say another word.

  He understood perfectly.

  Ever since the day Mason had told Anthony he wasn’t a Raven there’d been a bitterness between them. Anthony didn’t care there were other covens or that he hadn’t been marked by the Morrigu. Sawyer didn’t know how he’d been marked, but She’d apparently claimed him. He’d tried to talk Anthony into going to see some of the other covens, but Anthony had brushed him off. They’d argued like bitter exes, like siblings who knew which buttons to press for maximum pain, like rivals going for the kill.

  After that, everything had been different. He’d known the team they had wouldn’t last and he wanted to go to the coven. He thought he’d done the right thing in telling Anthony his plans since he was their default leader. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

  Cosima’s eyebrows drew together. “You bought or stole a ring?”

  “I bought it.” With the money he’d made from stolen goods. It was a tiny chip of a diamond, but at the time it had been a big deal.

  “Anthony lied to me.” She looked away as she slumped into the chair.

  To both of them. Had Anthony really believed that Sawyer would tu
rn his friends into the cops? Forget about them? Or was it jealousy that had torn them apart in the end? Sawyer had somewhere else to be and a new life waiting. Even though Sawyer had made plans for the three of them, Anthony hadn’t wanted to listen.

  “Maybe Anthony thought he was doing the right thing.” He was dead and they’d get no answers, so it didn’t matter. He had to focus on the sword. “We wouldn’t have lasted. I couldn’t hold down a job, you couldn’t cook. Ow!”

  She kicked him under the table. “You could’ve cooked, and I’d have gotten a job.”

  “As a sales assistant? Waitressing? We’d never worked an honest day in our lives.” They’d have failed before they’d gotten started. Anthony would’ve never let his sister go. He closed his eyes for a moment. Anthony hadn’t cared that Cosima was dating him because that kept the three of them together. Their family, their team. They were all they had. And he’d pulled the pin on that. He’d committed the greatest crime in Anthony’s eyes.

  “You have now,” she said.

  He nodded and opened his eyes. “You’re going to have to learn.”

  “I don’t think I can. I’ve been too long in the game.” She fidgeted in the seat, not meeting his gaze, then sighed. “The Mordred blade is owned—does anyone really own a sword like that? —by Percy Mallory.”

  “Most magical swords aren’t owned by the wielder; they are borrowed but exist with a life of their own.”

  “How is that possible? They’re just metal.”

  “With enough blood, magic, and will anything can gain life. Not sentience, but like a plant leans toward the sun, the sword will pull the wielder toward what it wants.” Magical swords were expensive to make and took decades to became truly powerful. These days that kind of magic didn’t happen. People couldn’t run around fighting and blooding the steel.

  “Maybe it would be a good idea not to make magic swords.”

  Sawyer smiled. “When made and used the right way they do good. Bring peace. Make kings and queens.”

  “And in the wrong hands, power hungry psychopaths.” She had a point.

  “I don’t make swords.”