Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  “Because you haven’t.”

  “I was getting shot at.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I take magic from objects all the time.”

  “That you’ve put there. You make magical objects.”

  “And I break them. I’ve taken from things and left them hollow.”

  “What happened to the magic?”

  He’d tried to hold it. “I either put it in something else or it faded away.”

  Like the sword, he needed to be charged up before he could work magic.

  “I can do it.” He wished he sounded more convincing. “She’s bought us a bit of time. Bright won’t attack until he has the sword. Get everyone out, get them some place safe, and I’ll call when I have it.”

  “Unless you’re dead,” Noah said.

  “In which case you’re all screwed because Bright will hunt you down and kill you to keep his sword charged. Once charged, it gets hungry and he’ll get hunger for power and glory, and it becomes a vicious cycle.” Sawyer crossed his arms. “No one has a plan beyond sit and watch. Once it’s in Bright’s hands it’s too late. The clock’s ticking, Noah. You’ve fought demons, you know how strong a single-minded desire can be. This is no different.”

  Noah swallowed. “The last demon we fought nearly ended us both.”

  “Cosima will have my back when it matters.” He almost believed that. He checked the time. “Give me the address and six hours before you tell Peyton. If I don’t call in twenty-four, you know it’s all gone south.”

  “That’s not a plan.”

  “Sure it is.” He smiled. “All you have to do is get everyone somewhere safe, because Bright’s next move will be to gather fodder for the blade.” If he had a powerful sword that fed on witches, that’s exactly what he’d be doing—making sure he had witches ready to die.

  “Shady deals don’t make someone a killer.”

  No, but feeding the sword would. “You didn’t see my apartment or the car. Six hours, that’s all I need.”

  Noah closed his eyes and muttered several swear words. “Go before I change my mind. For the record…I think you’re fucking stupid.” He stood up and embrace Sawyer. Sawyer was frozen for a moment before returning the hug.

  He felt the magic moving through Noah. He’d felt it before, but today he wondered if he could do more than borrow magic from an object. The temptation was there, but he didn’t dare try. He didn’t want to hurt Noah. Nor did he want to be experimenting with magic when he needed to be working.

  “Off the record, if anyone can take the magic from under Bright’s nose, it’s you.”

  “Thanks.” He gave Noah a pat on the back. Then left. He had what he needed in his pockets and was out on the street in under a minute.

  He glanced back at the coven building. It was nothing special, most people never even glanced at it because of the wards. But those in trouble knew it was a safe place. Mason and the head witch before him and the one before them had made sure to keep the protections up. But Bright knew where to find them, and the coven was as close to family as Sawyer had ever had. He didn’t want to lose them. By disobeying he might be kicked out, but at least they’d live.

  Hopefully they’d all get to live.

  Chapter 11

  Sawyer walked with purpose, but cautiously. When he was a block away from the agency and certain no one was following, he relaxed a little. As much as he wanted to go straight to Mallory, he was unprepared for the power of the sword or a confrontation with Bright, his witch, or Cosima. He needed to go home and gather some defenses as well some non-fatal attacks.

  At the lights as he waited to cross, he dug Mason’s watch out of his pocket and put it on his wrist. It was a solid watch that didn’t reek of magic, but it was there if one knew what they were looking for. Sawyer knew how the spell in the watch worked. It had been one of the magical objects he’d studied. It was the kind of spell that was great while it was working and a bitch when it caught up—much like the jumping spell. His legs were still tight, and his knees ached, but if it hadn’t been for the magic, he’d be dead or in hospital or captured by Bright.

  Bright could’ve had his people kill him, which meant Bright wasn’t really trying. All he’d wanted was to scare Cosima into finishing the job and it had worked. And they’d all freaked out because the attack had been so brazen—they were used to magic and demons not guys with guns. While he didn’t doubt Bright would come after the coven eventually when he needed to charge up the sword with a witch’s magic, for the moment they were safe because Bright had Cosima back under control. Involving his friends in getting the sword would only paint a bigger target on their backs.

  He should’ve said yes to Cosima that first night, but he’d wanted to hate her and push her away. If he hadn’t let his stupid heart make the decisions, they wouldn’t be in this mess—they’d have the sword and Bright wouldn’t be making trouble.

  Bright wanted the sword, but he didn’t realize the magic could be taken out of it. That was about all Sawyer had going for him at the moment.

  Across the road from his apartment he ordered a coffee and watched the building. There were still cops moving about, crime scene people dealing with the car and the apartment. They’d be picking bullets out of his furniture for weeks.

  Their presence was an inconvenience. He needed to get up there and grab some objects—hopefully the things he wanted hadn’t been blown to bits. He ran through his mental list and added some substitutes in case there wasn’t much to pick through. To the casual eye his apartment was randomly filled with junk, but it was as carefully ordered as any witch’s spells, except his were physical instead of in his head.

  He’d throw what he needed into a bag and be out of his apartment in under two minutes, but his invisibility spell wouldn’t work when the cops were looking and there were so many around. They’d notice anyone entering the apartment. He could try talking his way in, but that talent didn’t always work on cops; they suspected he was up to something, which he usually was.

  His coffee arrived at his table along with a man he didn’t know. The cold muzzle of a gun pressed against Sawyer’s thigh. He glanced down to gauge the size of the hole the gun was likely to make in his leg, then decided that a hole of any size would put him out of action. Bone and blood vessels and muscle would be damaged, and his healing spell—which was upstairs—while effective still took time and it wasn’t exactly painless.

  He picked up his cup and smiled at the man. “How can I help you?”

  “You can come with me. My boss is eager to talk to you.”

  That was no surprise. Sawyer tilted his head; there were another two behind him at a table having a chat about a movie. They’d been watching his place, not the coven. It wasn’t just Cosima that Bright wanted. Though why Bright wanted him, Sawyer had no idea.

  Or was he the first witch for the sword to devour?

  He nodded as though agreeing. “Okay, but the meeting will have to be quick as I’ve got another one in,” he checked the watched and pressed the button on the side, buying himself five minutes. For him nothing changed, but everyone else moved through syrup. He stood and walked away.

  He wasn’t meeting with Bright. The moment he did, he was dead.

  While everyone around him barely moved, the cars still raced by. The bubble of distortion surrounded him, affecting everything. While it was active, he needed to act. He ran across the street, up the stairs, and to his apartment. There were three people in white protective gear. They might see him or notice a blurry form, but they’d blink and shake their heads and say nothing because what they saw couldn’t be real. He grabbed the things he needed along with a few extra and shoved them in his backpack. As he went out the door, he picked up the baseball bat. The bubble was shrinking; people around him were starting to move faster.

  He fled his apartment and was in the stairwell when the bubble collapsed. His ears popped and vertigo hit him hard. He crouched, holding the rail as the ripple of time rolled back and
hit him in a shock wave that wanted to knock him over. There was always a cost to magic. Sometimes it was worth it, other times it was best left well alone.

  The time he’d stolen left him gasping.

  The door at the bottom of the stairwell flew open and the men raced in, moving too fast…no, he was too slow. The after effect of the spell rippled around him, and he was still out of synch with the rest of the world.

  He threw the baseball bat. It spun lazily through the air until it escaped his own personal time lag, then it hit one of the men and sent him tumbling backwards. He picked it up grinning, not realizing it was so loaded with kinetic energy he’d only knock himself out. The other man drew his gun and fired.

  Sawyer pressed the button on the watch, but nothing happened. He was still caught in the catch up, and he’d need another minute or so before it would work. He didn’t have a minute. The bullet slowed down, but he couldn’t avoid it. His heart vibrated. Magic burned the ends of his fingertips but was just beyond his reach, and there was nothing he could do as the bullet burrowed into his leg.

  Time snapped back to regular speed. The man with the bat attacked and Sawyer lifted his arms—getting hit with a lump of wood still hurt even if the force was directed away. Wood smacked his forearms and the attacker was flung down the stairs.

  The man with the gun still stood a safe distance away, the gun aimed at Sawyer’s abdomen now. “One wrong move and I’ll put a second one in you. My orders are to bring you in alive…he didn’t say anything about how wounded. I hear gut wounds are pretty bad.”

  Sawyer had no desire to find out. His leg was throbbing and stinging and doing half a dozen other unpleasant things. Blood stained his jeans. He hated getting injured. While he had health insurance now, for so long he hadn’t that the fear of needing medical help remained. As a kid he’d stolen fish tank antibiotics because they were much easier to get ahold of than human ones and they were practically the same. He hadn’t grown gills and the infection had cleared up. Of course, he’d need to live long enough to get an infection and that seemed like a bit of a luxury at the moment.

  He put his hands behind his head. His fingers brushed the watch and he glanced at his leg. No point if he couldn’t run. He swallowed hard. Would Noah wait the full six hours, or would he crumble the moment Peyton snarled at him?

  He couldn’t rely on Noah or the coven. He stood, and the man took Sawyer’s bag and emptied his pockets, leaving all of his spells on the staircase like they were junk. To the right people they had value. In the wrong hands they were dangerous. A lump formed in Sawyer’s throat. All that time spent making them and now he had nothing. He was defenseless. How was he going to survive?

  The other man was waking like a bear from hibernation and was just as cranky. He glared at Sawyer and picked up the bat.

  “Get the zip ties.” The man smiled at Sawyer as he crushed a two-inch-tall metal knight under foot. “I wondered why your apartment was so full of shit, like a hoarder. Now I know.”

  Sawyer’s hands dropped and he took a step forward. He gasped as his leg buckled.

  The man laughed and pointed the gun at him. “Hands behind your back.”

  Ideas raced through his head, each one just as unworkable as the last and they all ended up with him getting shot a second time. And while his leg hurt, he wasn’t bleeding to death—at least not in the next few hours. He wouldn’t be as lucky with a second shot and he doubted Bright would dump him at a hospital for treatment.

  He had no magic, so he needed to be smart. For the moment that meant complying.

  The zip ties tightened around his wrist and he was marched down the stairs, gun far too close to his kidneys. He brushed past the man holding the baseball bat, and as he did, he took the kinetic magic from the bat. It would be his for a few hours. Maybe he’d be able to put it into something else if they gave him some time alone.

  A new plan formed. Being taken directly to Bright wasn’t all bad. Maybe he could take the magic from the sword before he was run through. At least he didn’t have to chase Cosima all over the city.

  He limped toward the waiting van. He wasn’t chasing anyone.

  The house wasn’t much to look at, but it was nicer than anything she’d grown up in. There was a small yard for a start, and it didn’t look like it had a family of rats in the roof. The sign out the front had Mallory’s name and number.

  “Why this place out of all the other properties he has listed?”

  “It looked like something a young couple might be interested in. There’s a school not that far away.”

  Cosima glared at him. “You assumed we’re a couple and that I want kids?”

  “That’s a whole lot easier than telling the truth.” Rhys smiled pulling the scar tight. “Come on, it will be fun.”

  “You don’t even know if he has the sword on him.” If Mallory did, the temptation to press the blade to Rhys’s cocky smile might overcome her. Then he’d be dead. His father probably wouldn’t like that.

  But she could take off. Disappear with the sword and toss it in an active volcano or something. She’d never be able to come back to New York. Never see Sawyer again. But she’d be able to start over. A new city with a new name…

  She held onto that thought for a moment and let it swell until she could almost imagine her new life. It would be nice until she accidentally fell into the wrong kind of group and then it would all be over, and she’d be back to being Cosima Delany, thief.

  No matter where she went, she’d always be the girl who took stuff, the best stuff, and ran. That’s all she’d ever done to Sawyer. He was better without her. Had been better. He actually had a life and friends and all the things she’d once wanted.

  Now she just wanted to be safe. She wanted to stop running but didn’t know how.

  Rhys opened the car door.

  She put her hand on his forearm. “Seriously, why this place?”

  “Why does it matter?” He flicked off her hand and got out of the car.

  Cosima shook her head. It didn’t matter which house really. If Mallory didn’t have the sword with him, they were going to have to follow him around until he revealed its location.

  It was only as she crossed the read that she saw the man in the blue car about three doors up. The car was new, unlike the others on the street. Even Mallory’s was a few years old. It would be harder to run when he’d brought back up.

  “Bit unfair that your brought bodyguards,” she said as she caught up with Rhys on the front steps.

  “Blame my father. He insists on security.”

  Or he didn’t trust his son. Maybe both.

  She knocked on the open door determined to get this over. Hopefully Mallory didn’t recognize her from the break in.

  Mallory appeared in the hallway. “Mr. Bright, pleasure to meet you.” Mallory put out his hand and Rhys shook it, looking like he actually cared. “And you must be Mrs. Bright.”

  Of course, she was. She smiled sweetly. “I prefer Ms.”

  That earned her a cold glare from Rhys.

  Mallory stared at her and held her hand for slightly longer than was polite. His smile slipped and for a moment Cosima thought he was about to point and call her a thief. Then he recovered himself and let go. “Of course, Ms. Bright. This is a great little house for the price. Fabulous neighborhood. All the things a young married couple like yourself will be looking for I’m sure.”

  Cosima nodded as though she cared about the location. She followed Mallory into the kitchen wondering where the sword was. “I always like to start with the heart of the home. All new appliances, open plan to make the most of the space.” He rattled off a few more features.

  Cosima could almost see herself raising a family—something she’d sworn never to do. She drew in a breath and glanced at Rhys. He was looking so completely mesmerized by Mallory’s spiel, that he was ready to sign.

  With every word Mallory spoke, she wanted to do the same. Magic trickled over her skin and raised the hair
on her arms. There was no way to be free of it unless Mallory shut up. Which he wouldn’t because he was using the sword’s magic. Even though she knew that she still got swept up in the spell, and the desire to give this man her money.

  Rhys and Mallory talked about the various features.

  She followed and put her fingers in her ears so she could think clearly. Where was the sword? Did he need to be touching it to be so convincing?

  Mallory turned and she smoothed her hair and pretended to be admiring the cornice. Mallory reached out his arm as though to gather her up, so she wasn’t left behind. She let herself be led in to the loungeroom and then the bedrooms trying desperately to hold onto her reason for being here.

  She looked in cupboards and under vanities. No sword.

  She nudged Rhys and he gave her a vacant smile, his eyes glazed like he was three quarters of the way into a big night out.

  “Remember why we’re here,” she muttered.

  He studied her and for a moment it looked like he was going to be useful, but then Mallory got Rhys’s attention with the double vanity in the ensuite. It was all she could do not to get swept along.

  For the first time, she understood why this sword would be dangerous in the wrong hands. In any hands. It was a blade that could change the hearts and minds of all who heard the speaker. How many times had it been used over the centuries?

  “And if you’re looking for extra storage this house has a special feature that will surely seal the deal.” Mallory smiled like it was a given they’d buy the house.

  Cosima was tempted to let Rhys put his name on the dotted line.

  Mallory reached up and pulled on a rope. She saw the staircase descend, but it was what was beneath his suit jacket that held her attention. The tip of the sword glinted above his waist, and as he lowered his arm it was again hidden.

  She stared.

  “Impressive,” Mallory cooed like she’d never seen stairs.

  “Yes, it is.” But she didn’t mean the stairs.