Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

Cosima stood there not sure what to do. Running seemed like a really good idea. But if she started running, she’d never be able to stop. This was the safest place, for the moment.

  Her phone buzzed, and for a moment she expected it to be Anthony before she realized he’d never message her again. Her heart cracked and the careful wall she’d build started to crumble. She couldn’t grieve until she was safe. She blinked until the heat left her eyes and her vision cleared.

  Bright wanted to know when he’d get the sword.

  She stared at the screen until it went black, not knowing how to respond.

  The fear and loss and betrayal by her brother got to her and the wall fell. She crumpled to the sofa, put her head in her hands, and cried. She cried for Anthony and then she cried for herself.

  Another message. This time with a photo of her and Sawyer chatting by the car outside of Mallory’s house. Witches are trouble. I didn’t pay you for trouble.

  She was going to have to give the sword to Bright to save herself and Sawyer. While the first time had been a trick and a lie, the second time she betrayed him it would be all her doing even if it was for her own good. She’d rather him be pissed with her and alive than dead.

  Would Sawyer hunt her down or not waste his time?

  The shower shut off and she sniffed and dried her eyes, trying to pull herself together. She was smart, an experienced thief, and she knew Sawyer. She’d been in worse jams. The mini-sphinx job had been pretty bad, but it had worked out in the end.

  She replied. Change of plan. I needed another set of hands with Anthony gone.

  “Did you want to shower?”

  Cosima turned. Sawyer was wearing just a dark blue towel. A raven was inked over his shoulder, its wing stretched over his chest. Water dripped off his hair and he looked like some kind of god made flesh. She didn’t know him at all. He wasn’t a skinny thief of twenty-one. He was a man, a witch. Trouble.

  Chapter 7

  “Are you all right?” Sawyer had just spent ten minutes in the shower getting himself into the right headspace to juice up his markers and he could feel it unravelling faster than a ball of wool with a dozen cats after it. Her eyes were red and had that glassy look.

  He shouldn’t have asked. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t even her friend. He wasn’t an asshole either.

  “I’m fine.” She sniffed and smiled brightly.

  He’d stepped into the trap. Shit. Believe her or press on?

  “I’d like a shower. It’s been a few days.” Not the longest either of them had ever gone without a shower. She stood up and slipped her phone into her pocket.

  “I’ll get you a towel.” Maybe they’d just not talk about it. Her brother was dead, and they’d been attacked. She’d had a rough few days. And he was so used to dangerous jobs that getting rammed by a car was nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Thanks.”

  He went into the spare room, the bed still unmade from when she’d spent at least half the night, and pulled a towel out of the wardrobe.

  She was waiting by the bathroom door. “Any spells I need to watch out for?”

  “No.” He handed her the towel but didn’t let go immediately. “I’ll sort this out. We’ll be fine.”

  She glanced at him and didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to because it was in her eyes. She didn’t believe him. He wasn’t sure he believed himself, but he didn’t have much choice.

  When she shut the door, he raked his fingers through his hair. He needed to talk to someone who could actually help. Not Peyton, who knew blood and contracts and spent his spare time pissing on fire hydrants—or whatever hellhounds in the city did for fun. Oskar had the baby to worry about. Noah? James? There were a few of them. James had permanent security work so was rarely there. Noah at least understood danger and owed him one after Rachel’s demon ex had turned homicidal.

  He sat on the end of his bed to make the call, willing Noah to pick up.

  “What do you need?” Noah said without bothering with a hello. “Bailing out of jail because your ex is back in town?”

  “She never left town, and no. I’m at home. Had a brush with Bright.”

  “Oh…and you lived.” He could hear Noah’s grin.

  “Yeah, for the moment. Can you find Percy Mallory?”

  “Do you have anything of his?”

  “A comb, but that won’t do you much good when it’s in my pocket. There can’t be that many people running around New York with a sword.”

  “He’s actually carrying it?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s the kind of sword that once it’s killed a witch it won’t let you put it aside. Mordred wants his moment in the sun.”

  “Haunted?”

  “Dunno. No witch knows because those that get close enough get killed.”

  “Have you thought about letting this one go?”

  “Peyton told me I had to take the case, because he not-so-secretly hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t trust you after you made his stapler fire off an entire run of staples and all his pens leak.”

  “That was years ago.” And an excellent practical joke. He’d hated the way Peyton always had money, and never thought twice about buying anything or bailing him out of trouble. Bet he thought twice about picking up a pen or stapling a document. Sawyer grinned. “It’s not just him. The Morrigu said I need to do something about my past, too.”

  “Oh. That makes it a little harder.”

  “Yeah. We should be fine at my place, it’s well warded. But we need to find Mallory and I need a way to stop Bright from killing us.”

  “I don’t like your odds.”

  “Then I have to give Bright the sword, which is a down payment on future trouble.”

  “Will he hire someone else to get it?”

  “Unlikely while we’re alive.” That was about all they had going for them.

  “And your ex?”

  Sawyer closed his eyes. Everyone knew that story. Some had said he was too young to worry about it, that there’d be others. But being with Cosima had felt right. Nothing else ever had.

  “Sawyer?”

  “I don’t know.” He should know. He should be smart enough to keep his hands off her. But when they’d been working together today it had felt like old times. They’d been a team.

  “Watch yourself or it might be more than your nose. I’ll give you call when I find him.” Noah hung up.

  For a few moments Sawyer didn’t move. The shower was still running. Was she in there crying? Cosima acted like she was diamond all the way through, but she wasn’t. He knew that and he hated she was hurting, but he didn’t know how to fix it. Not anymore. Maybe he’d never known, because if they’d talked more and fucked less, they might have stopped Anthony’s plan before it poisoned them all.

  He pulled on a pair of track pants and grabbed everything he needed to work, setting up on his bed because he didn’t want to be using the living room where she’d be hanging out. He used a piece of rope for the circle and spread all of his markers in front of him. The other Ravens could hold these spells in their head, ready for use with just a thought. He couldn’t bridge that gap between thought and action without an object in between. No matter how hard he focused or worked the magic never came across. But give him something to hold, and he could do anything.

  Blue for water, to draw it up.

  Red for fire. Fireballs were very useful.

  Green for earth, to make it shake.

  Yellow for air, so he could calm a storm or raise one.

  Controlling the elements was very useful. Those spells were so old so familiar he could almost taste them. The rest were simple spells that were useful to have in his pocket in an emergency.

  Brown for a bang. The noise and sound in that spell was much the same as a flash bang grenade—that’s where the idea had come from. Those things were very disorientating.

  Orange for over. A simple jumping spell that he hated using but kept because it was
so useful. It was also fun to be able to defy gravity and jump up two flights of stairs in a bound or jump from building to building. The next day was like recovering from the worst leg day at the gym, though.

  Pink for a girl. When people saw him, they’d see a woman not a man. Security footage would always disprove their memory but sometimes it was enough to muddy a trail.

  Gray for smoke. It even smelled like there was a fire, so it was great for getting people out a building.

  Black for shadows—a very useful one to have to hand if someone called the cops because there was too much fighting or magic banging around.

  He picked up the light green marker.

  The hairs on his arm prickled to attention. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. She stood in the doorway, wrapped in the towel.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Well she had, because now all he could think about was her legs and the way they’d once hooked over his hips. That was it, no more magic for him tonight. The three remaining colors—light blue, light green, and purple—would have to be set aside for later. A shame, since light green was handy when outdoors because it gave him the power to use plants and grass.

  “What’s up?” He broke the circle.

  “Can I borrow some clothes?”

  He gave her a very quick once over. They weren’t dating—had they ever really dated or had they just started sleeping together?—and he didn’t have any right to look at her like that, but he couldn’t resist. He regretted going commando in his track pants and turned away as he got off the bed. “Sure.”

  “I washed my clothes in the shower. They’ll be dry tomorrow, hopefully. Just a shirt to sleep in.”

  Thinking of her sleeping in his clothes wasn’t making his hard-on any softer. He gave himself a pinch on the inner thigh as he opened his T-shirt drawer and pulled out a plain navy-blue shirt. He’d learned young that having non-descript clothing was much safer when committing crime. No flashy logos or memorable slogans. Nothing that could be used to give a good description.

  Cosima was pulling trick two from their playbook. Always look like you belong. Witnesses remember shifty looking people. But people who belong are invisible. She leaned against the door frame like she lived here. Once upon a time, in another life, maybe she could’ve.

  “Here you go. Did want some shorts, too?” She was only a couple of inches shorter, so his T-shirt wouldn’t cover much.

  “If you don’t mind.” She smiled.

  “You feel better?” He had no idea what kind of shorts to give her. He shouldn’t have said anything.

  “I got a bit stressed. Did you do everything you needed?”

  “Mostly. Noah is hunting down Mallory. You should get some sleep.” He wasn’t going to get any. He handed a her a pair of his running shorts.

  She took his hand. “Thank you for helping.”

  If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be. He’d have turned his back and walked away, but she’d boxed him in by going to the coven. This case was already too messy. He shrugged. She’d always been smart. She could’ve done anything…but college wasn’t for people like them. They didn’t have good names and back then they didn’t have the bank balances either.

  She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I mean it.”

  He closed his eyes, smelling his soap on her skin. For a heartbeat, the years didn’t matter and they hadn’t changed that much. They’d gotten harder and sharper, but Cosima knew him the way no one else had ever been allowed. He’d never let anyone in, partly because he didn’t want to get his nose broken again.

  He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close and she leaned into him. Her head rested on his shoulder, the damp towel against his chest. He was definitely not getting any sleep.

  The hiss of a cat woke him. He didn’t have a pet cat, but he did have several cat statues around the place that gave warnings when the wards were being breached. He shoved on runners and pulled on a shirt—he hadn’t bothered taking of his track pants. The small golden cat on the tallboy hissed again. He could hear the others going off.

  He put his phone in his pocket and grabbed the small backpack from the bottom of the wardrobe. He’d put the markers in there after he’d untangled himself from Cosima and microwaved them both some dinner before pretending he had important witch work to do in his room—polishing his wand at least sounded witchy.

  If it were just him, he’d be out his bedroom window with the orange marker in hand. No one was in the apartment yet, of that he was sure. He opened the bedroom door slowly and took a careful look around. Nothing moved. From the front pocket of his bag he pulled out sunglasses and slipped them on. Everything became lit like daylight. The military would love this magic. He swiped a couple of trinkets off the shelves on his way to Cosima’s room.

  He didn’t knock. Didn’t get a chance to.

  The hissing of cats became a growl then bullets popped through his front door and burst his sofa like it was an overripe banana being dropped from the roof.

  He opened her door and slipped in shutting it just as fast. The attackers were going to be in his place in under thirty seconds, finishing the job. “Get some shoes on, were moving now.”

  “Huh?” She sat up, short hair standing on end.

  A smash just outside. There went his lock. Since they’d found him, they were using a witch to track him. Bright probably had a witch on the payroll. Big players often did; anything for an edge. Though how the witch made peace with the deity they channeled power through, Sawyer didn’t know.

  Adrenaline flooded his body and he grinned. He did enjoy it when things got interesting, as long as he was making the fun. He opened the bedroom window. “Get out on the fire escape, shut your eyes, and cover your ears.”

  She got shoes on and slung her backpack over her shoulder, obeying without question now she was up. He crouched next to the wall—standing in front of the door was an invitation for bullets. He selected the brown marker, activated the flash bang spell, and gave it a five second count down before shoving it under the door. He ran for the window and was out, orange marker in hand, before his apartment erupted with its own mini storm event. Light streamed out the windows for several seconds and thunder shook the walls.

  He grinned at Cosima. “He’ll have people watching the exits. So, we’re going up. It’s a couple of blocks to the coven. Easy run.” He’d done it before to test out the spell, but he’d never done it with someone.

  “Why are you wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night?”

  “All the cool kids are doing it.” He wasn’t about to share every trick with her. “Ready?”

  “No.”

  “You can stay here, get shot, and then dragged back so Bright can finish you off slowly.” A failed thief could tell too many tales. To a man like Bright, Cosima was a liability even though she had no magic.

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t go, just that I wasn’t ready for whatever shit you’re about to pull.”

  “Just hold my hand and don’t let go or look down. Trust me?”

  “No.” But her fingers closed around his offered hand.

  Several shots were fired inside his apartment as the invaders recovered and attempted to finish the job.

  “Great.” He gripped her hand tight and the marker with the other and then sprung up onto the roof. They only just made it, tripping over the edge and stumbling. “You’re going to have to put some spring in your step. Think up and over.”

  “Next time maybe share that we’re going to be bounding up the side of a building.”

  “Okay. Point taken. We’re roof hopping to the coven. Let’s go before they realize we aren’t inside, and they start looking.” They had to get inside the coven to be protected. But if they’d gotten into his apartment, how safe was the coven going to be?

  Bounding over roofs.

  In the dark.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra, or undies.

  And there were people in his apartment—the apartment th
at was supposed to be safe—wanting to kill her. She’d screwed up jobs before, but nothing had ever gone past a few phone calls, a second attempt at the object, or some other arrangement. But then she had never failed at a job quite so spectacularly or for someone so desperate to get his hands on something. The Mordred Blade was something special.

  Sawyer glanced at her, his eyes hidden. “Push off hard and pretend like we’re running.”

  “You’ve done this with someone?”

  “No. So pretend you’re a flea.”

  “A flea?”

  “They can jump really well. Let’s go.” He squeezed her hand, didn’t give her a chance to panic, then let go. They were running and then jumping over the street below. She wanted to close her eyes but that wouldn’t help.

  I’m a bouncy flea!

  They cleared the gap and landed hard on the next roof; Sawyer didn’t stop to revel in the minor miracle the way she wanted to. He didn’t give her a chance to relearn how to breath. Hand in hand they ran across the building and launched over the gap to the next one, the landing was just as hard; the shock jarred her teeth and made her knees ache.

  She sucked in a breath as they ran again, diagonally this time before flinging themselves off the side. Her heart leapt, and for a few seconds she was flying, running through the air, weightless. This spell would’ve been so useful on so many jobs.

  The roof rushed toward her and gravity hit her hard. It was harder to run this time, her legs ached. Sawyer grip was too tight. They were far enough away, weren’t they?

  “One more,” he said through gritted teeth. “This one’s going to be rough.”

  She ran hard, legs pumping even though the air had turned to treacle and she could barely push through. They leaped…but they weren’t going to make it. They were falling too fast.

  “Grab whatever you can.”

  She reached forward, her fingers catching the lip of the roof. Sawyer let go and she grabbed with her other hand, hanging for a moment before realizing that everything seemed to be sucking her down. She was getting heavier with every breath. Sawyer flung himself up and on to the roof. Then he leaned over and offered her a hand, hauling her up. She fell over the edge to the rooftop, on her back.