by Shona Husk
An ugly dog the size of a small horse ran into the office, lips drawn back, revealing teeth designed to tear people apart. Hellhound—she’d seen pictures and heard tales. Frozen with fear wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before, but she couldn’t move. Cosima was sure the thing could see her even if she wasn’t moving but she didn’t want to risk it. Had it come for Sawyers soul?
Rhys’s knees buckled and he dropped to the ground, the sword sliding free of his body with a slick pop.
The men with guns drew them.
They were all going to die, by hellhound, bullet, or sword.
Sawyer gasped, sucking in a huge breath as though he’d been underwater for too long. His head snapped up. His eyes were bright green and there was a glow about him. The tape that had bound him fell away and wriggled across the floor like flat silvery snakes. He stood and snapped the cable binding his wrists.
Bright turned; his teeth clamped together in a feral smile.
The tape attacked the men with guns, binding their hands to their guns and their gun to their thigh. They struggled but the tape held fast.
The yelling faded to confusion.
It wasn’t a fight, it was a…situation.
Rhys groaned. The puddle of blood spread around him.
“Put the sword down,” Sawyer said in a voice that no one could say no to. He didn’t seem like Sawyer at all.
“I’d do what he says.” Noah stepped around a cubicle to stand near the hellhound, a ball of fire held like a baseball ready to be tossed to an unfortunate catcher.
The hellhound growled; the low rumble filled the room and melted the inside of her bones. Cosima remained crouched by the chair Sawyer had been taped too. This was well above what she’d been paid. She knew magic was real in the same way she knew volcanoes erupted, but that didn’t mean she needed to see it up close and deadly. If the hellhound hadn’t been blocking the door, she’d have slipped out and never stopped running.
The taped-up men struggled to get their gun’s free.
Sawyer flicked them a glance. “I wouldn’t. You might shoot yourselves.”
The tape tightened and their eyes widened. It took a moment for Cosima to realize their fingers were on the trigger and Sawyer could make them fire with a thought. Her mouth went dry, but she needed to swallow.
She’d never seen him like this. The power in him, not the object he was holding or tossing out the window. He wasn’t just a witch now; he was something more. Magic radiated off him and made her skin crawl.
Bright glanced around again as if trying to figure out his options. “You can’t hurt me. Too many people will notice if I’m missing.”
“We have witnesses who will testify you stabbed, possibly killed your son,” Sawyer said.
“I paid for the sword.”
“And you have the sword.”
“I want the magic.” Bright snapped, shaking the sword, refusing to let it go—or unable to?
“Ahhh.” Sawyer smiled, but there was nothing friendly in it. He tilted his head and looked at her—she wasn’t doing a very good job of being invisible. “What did he ask for in the contract?”
“The sword.” Her voice came out croaked and rough. Too many people were staring at her. Bright looked like he wanted to stick the sword through her stomach next.
The hellhound moved closer. To eat her or protect her? She was never going to steal again if she survived this.
“No mention of magic?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“She knew it was a magic sword. She specializes in stealing magical items.” Bright lifted the sword like he planned on using it. “This is just an ancient piece of junk.”
“Evidence,” Sawyer countered.
“Nothing will stick.” Bright slowly uncurled his fingers and dropped the sword. Strips of skin clung to the grip.
Rhys lifted his head. “I’ll make sure it sticks.”
“If you live. If no one here is going to arrest me, I’ll be going.” Bright turned to face the door. “Get your dog under control.”
Noah patted the shoulder of the beast. “He’s not a dog, he’s a hellhound. You know what hellhounds do? They track people and they never give up. So, he’s going to make sure you turn yourself in to the closest cops. And if you don’t, he’s going to eat your soul.” Noah shrugged. “It will be passed off as a heart attack.”
“Or if you prefer you can have that heart attack now. I hear hellhounds like to play with their food…and I think we both know you’re going to try to run.” Sawyer took a step toward Bright. “I am curious as to what kind of a boost I’ll get when I kill.”
“It’s supposed to kill witches,” Bright whispered, his bravado fleeing.
Cosima inched toward the doorway, the need to run filling her. When she was close, Noah grabbed her arm and pulled her the rest of the way behind him as if to protect her from Bright. The hellhound was far too close, but he wasn’t paying any attention to her. She was a few feet from freedom.
“There’s always an exception to the rule. I’m the exception. There isn’t many but we exist. Your son worked it out. Maybe you should’ve listened to him when he talked about magic. You didn’t though, did you? You used him like you did everyone else.” Sawyer took another step toward Bright.
The green in his eyes crackled. His skin glowed.
Cosima took another step back, and when no one noticed, another.
That wasn’t the man she’d known. This was a proper witch bursting with magic, cold and deadly. He’d been that all along, but he’d kept it hidden. All those things she’d stolen for people and the magic within them…it was a power that terrified her.
She took another step back.
Then she did what she did best when it came to Sawyer. She ran.
Sawyer watched Cosima’s retreating back. He’d run too if he had the chance, but he couldn’t run from himself. This time he’d hoped she’d stay, but maybe the magic was too much for her. It was almost too much for him.
He wasn’t used to feeling it flow so strongly. He usually had to dig and fight for every drop, and now he stood in a deluge. He didn’t know if he should curse or thank the Morrigu for stemming the tide for so long.
The magic was hot in his blood and prickled over his skin in a way that was becoming painful. The urge to take a life was there—but he wouldn’t. Not unless he was left with no choice.
Noah watched Sawyer like he expected him to lose control. If Sawyer did let go of the magic, one little fireball and a hellhound weren’t going to do squat. They didn’t know what the Morrigu had unleashed. He was a hazard until he got himself sorted.
Bright lifted his chin. “You don’t have what it takes to kill.”
Sawyer looked at him and laughed. Bright was the kind of man who thought other lives were worth less than his. He didn’t care that Anthony was dead, or that his son was dying. He’d run over anyone who got in his way in the pursuit of power. Sawyer reached out and grasped Bright’s hand. “Who said anything about killing?”
He called the spell from the Mordred Blade but twisted it so that the spell trickled out of him and into Bright. There was no magic for it to feed on, but there was life and that’s what Sawyer grabbed. Bright’s heart sped up and stuttered, his eyes growing wide.
Sawyer let go as Bright grasped his chest. “You have time to call an ambulance and confess.” He turned to the taped-up gun men. “I’m going to release you. You’re going to help Rhys, and then tell the truth. That Bright stabbed him.”
A wave dizziness wrapped around Sawyer and sent the room spinning.
Noah reached for him, but Sawyer rocked back. “Don’t touch me. I’m a witch killer.”
The green was still on his skin and the hairs on his arms were pulled up tight. Maybe he was safe to touch, but he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t ready to take that risk.
“We need to leave,” Noah said.
Bright dropped to his knees, phone in his hand.
“Make the
call,” Sawyer snapped. The tape holding the men unraveled and they smartly put their guns away. One assisted Rhys and the other Bright. Sawyer didn’t need to see anymore. Nor did he want to be there when the cops showed up.
Noah led the way to the elevator, the hellhound brought up the rear, and Sawyer was careful not to accidentally brush against either of them.
They walked to the elevator and got in. The man in the mirrored surface wasn’t anyone he recognized. His eyes were too green, his skin streaked with magic. He’d wanted power and now he had more than he could deal with. It would be better if the Morrigu put the dam back in. He’d rather have the drips, at least those he could manage. Sawyer leaned on the wall and closed his eyes, needing to get control of the magic.
The hellhound panted, its sulphury dog-breath stinking up the small space. The music played its tinny tune and the magic stayed in his skin, a current running through him and making him a hazard.
“Are you okay?” Noah asked.
“No.” He wanted to put the magic back into the sword…but if he did, it would kill him If he didn’t, he’d end up killing one of his friends. He didn’t know what he was going to do. This wasn’t the kind of magic he wanted, and he didn’t know how to destroy it or make it safe. Magic was tearing him apart and all he could do was hope he didn’t hurt anyone. “Just give me a few moments.”
“You’ve got ten floors. When we hit the lobby and then the sidewalk, people are going to think you’re patient zero in the zombie plague.”
Sawyer smiled. But he knew his problem was serious and he couldn’t be seen in public like this. He needed to get the magic off his skin, and the only way to do that was to take it deeper into him. To store it until he could dismantle the spell. The only way he knew how to store magic was in an object.
“Three floors.”
He focused on his heartbeat. And while he couldn’t visualize what his heart looked like, he drew the magic to the beat. His pulse quickened and so did his breathing as the magic trailed through him, settling in the muscle.
“One.”
Sawyer opened his eyes. He didn’t feel like he was full of static anymore and his reflection was no longer streaked with green. His eyes, though…they weren’t the blue he was used to. Magic tumbled through him and made his fingertips tingle, but it was harmless potential waiting to be used.
The doors slid open.
The hellhound was collared and leashed, and they strolled out like they had places to be. That was the best way to avoid people asking questions. No one stopped them. Paramedics ran by and into the elevator.
They didn’t speak until they were out of the building. Oskar waited on a bench, Cosima at his side. She looked like she was ready to bolt, but Oskar had a hold of her with one hand on her thigh.
Sawyer didn’t blame her; three witches and a hellhound weren’t anyone’s idea of a party. Maybe they’d have never worked out after he’d joined the coven. There was knowing about magic and then there was being over your head in it. He was drowning even though he’d spent years leaning how to swim.
He couldn’t even be angry at Mason for clamping his magic; he’d be dead without the coven. Though he knew if they’d told him what they were doing he’d have been furious and left not realizing the pure destruction raw magic was. He didn’t need to hold magic and spells like the others, because it was there ready to be used a constant never-ending supply that felt powerful enough to sink continents.
That’s why witches like him had been hunted and killed. That’s why one like him had made the Mordred blade, knowing no other witch could undo the spell. It had been a giant fuck you.
Witches needed training otherwise they got into trouble, even witches who didn’t need a Goddess. He glanced back at the building. “What did you think of Rhys?”
“That he needs help or he’s going to get himself a demon,” Noah said. “Did you see the scar on his face? Twenty bucks say it was made by a raven’s talons.”
Sawyer nodded. “I wouldn’t take that bet. I think he’s still our problem.”
They fell silent as they walked up to Oskar and Cosima.
She stared up at him. “Your eyes are still green.”
“I still have the spell.” It was wrapped around his heart, and he was sure he could feel it in every beat. The magic situation, he’d discuss with the coven later.
Oskar took his hand off her leg. “She came tearing out of the building. I caught her thinking it best that we waited together.” He stood. “Ready to go?”
Cops arrived with their lights flashing.
“Probably a good idea. You coming with us?” He held out his hand to her. He hoped she would, but he could see it in her eyes that she was going to say no. She had a choice to live without magic. He didn’t.
Oskar and Noah had tactfully moved a few steps away.
She dropped her gaze to the ground. “I need to sort out a few things.”
Sawyer hung his head, not wanting her to see the pain in his eyes. She was walking away from him again. This time it hurt worse and he wasn’t sure the wound would ever heal. “I’ll let you know about Anthony’s funeral.”
“I’ll transfer your fee.” She stood but stayed out of touching distance, shoving her hands into her pockets.
This wasn’t about the damn fee.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“Sure.” Sawyer shrugged. He wasn’t going to let her walk away with his heart again. But it still hurt. He’d thought this was a second chance. Maybe they were destined to cross paths but never travel the same one.
“I’m glad you found a family.” She stepped closer. “Are you safe to touch?”
“For you, yes. For them…I don’t know.”
She stepped in and hugged him. “This isn’t goodbye.”
It just felt that way.
Chapter 15
Sawyer had sold some of the stolen things, and he’d replaced the sofa, and the dining table, and anything else full of bullet holes. The walls still needed to be patched and painted, but it was nice to be home again instead of living above the coven. Not that it was home yet.
He rolled out pastry for a pecan pie. The marble rolling pin was actually useful in the kitchen. It was important to cook something the first night in a new place; while it was his apartment it was the first time he’d stayed there since the shooting, and the apartment needed to feel like home for his protection spells to work. Cooking was part of that, as had been the cleaning and rearranging.
Music played and he tapped his barefoot in time to the beat. The magic around his heart pulsed. He smiled, almost feeling at home.
Everything was kind of as it had been, only rotated just a few degrees off center.
At the agency it had been Peyton who’d risked his life to sit down with him and made sure that he was safe to touch. Sawyer was, unless he let the spell spill out, and then it was obvious by the green on his skin. It was going to take him longer to unravel the spell than he’d first thought, though. The direct flow of magic was a sperate issue. But one that could be quite useful because he could boost the other witches magic with a touch. He was a magical power pack. A nuke that could level a city if he wasn’t careful. He understood why a few hundred years he’d have been viewed as a demi-god and a threat to society.
When Mason returned, they would talk about what happened next. Where once he’d needed the coven’s help and protection, and the need to prove himself had fueled him, now he understood why he was never going to be like them magically. If he wasn’t careful, the flow of magic would consume him. All those endless exercises and repetitive spells hadn’t been Mason trying to train him to be like the others, it had been Mason’s way of teaching him the focus and control he needed to wield so much power.
The Morrigu hadn’t abandoned him. She was still there when he went to the field and would always be his Goddess. He was lucky to have Her. Mason and the Morrigu were the parents he’d never had as a kid.
He tipped the baking beads
into the pie crust and put it in the oven. Tomorrow, he’d make something else to take to Noah and Rachel’s. The cake stand had survived the shooting and the cops; he figured that should bring some good luck to them both. He knew better than to give a friend an enchanted object if they weren’t expecting it. For the moment he was not messing around with that kind of magic.
The only thing missing was Cosima. She’d paid the fee and vanished. Maybe she’d left the country and taken herself on a holiday. He’d left a message on her last known number to tell her Anthony’s funeral was in two days. While Anthony had betrayed him, they had once been friends, and no one should be buried without someone to mourn. If he was the only one there so be it.
He chopped pecans and refused to dwell on the past and how things might have been different. If Sawyer hadn’t joined the coven there was a good chance, he’d have destroyed his friends and himself, and the coven would’ve been cleaning up the mess.
Rhys had also gone quiet, though he’d survived. As had his father, though he was never going to be running a business again. Sawyer didn’t feel bad about that; he was, however, worried about Rhys.
The bronze cat on the shelf hissed.
He glanced up. There was someone on the fire escape outside the spare room. He waited to see if there would be another hiss or if the person had moved on. The cat hissed again, and he swore softly. “Really?”
He kept the pin in his hand and crossed the floor to the spare room. The door was open; he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to shut it again. He paused to the side where he wouldn’t be lined in light.
The person was working open the window, and being successful, but they were swathed in darkness and wearing black, so he didn’t know who it was. The window slid open and they stepped in, shutting the window behind them. They flicked back the hood of their sweater as they turned.
He eased his grip on the rolling pin. “I thought you’d done a runner.”
Cosima jumped. “You got this place spelled again?”