Page 29 of The Blood Witch
She hums in disapproval, her green eyes shimmering with amusement. “Something to look forward to the next time we meet then,” she declares sweetly, smoothing her dress and turning to leave.
“Yes, that and stabbing you with your own femurs sounds like a good time,” I call to her, annoyed by the hoity dismissal.
A choking-cough-gasp sounds off behind me, and I look to find the bespectacled witch staring at me in complete horror. I also catch that Rogan is trying very hard not to smile. He’s doing a shit job of it, and not even the hand he brings up to mask what’s happening on his face is fooling anyone. I turn around, my unamused gaze landing back on scheming green eyes that radiatethis isn’t over.
So I send her a fierynot by a long shotglare, and then I stand there as my newest enemies, the High Priestess and her cronies, leave. The door slams shut behind them, knocking the last of the mirror from its frame to the floor. I’m sure the move is meant to remind me of where I am versus where they are, but honestly, all it does is pull the stopper in my chest and let all the tension filling my body drain out.
What in the name of the moon just happened?
My eyes find Rogan’s, questions and worry swimming in my gaze. I expect to find the same trepidation and distress I’m feeling in his watchful stare, but instead there’s something else there entirely: admiration and...need. I refuse to let myself react in any kind of way, instead turning from his intense regard and focusing on the woman who might have just inadvertently saved us from a serious magical ass kicking.
I want to hope that I could have held my own, but this is the High Priest and Priestess we’re talking about, and at least one of their lieutenants. My confidence and ability is growing, but I’m not completely delusional that I would have come out of that unscathed.
“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I ask the short witch, and she blinks at me, confused for a moment before she once again waves the paper in her hand.
“Right, yes, I was saying that I know what the demon magic was supposed to do. It wasn’t a curse. I mean, there were protective curses put in place, which is what hit that witch and made most of her go poof, but those were just fail safes. The root magic was an inlet,” she declares excitedly, and I can’t help but cringe at her casualpoofdescription of what happened to the Order member in the room that day.
“What’s an inlet?” I query, not getting what she’s saying. I make a note to read up on demon magic and try to prepare myself for what we might be up against.
“It’s like a portal,” Rogan explains, his eyes now looking the level of troubled I expected to see earlier. “It means when the target of the magic touched the paper, they would have been portaled to whatever end location was magically predetermined.”
“Exactly,” the plump witch agrees, impressed, a wide happy smile spread across her face.
“Let me guess,” I huff wearily. “The target of the demon magic was me?”
“There’s no way to confirm that since the fail safes were activated, but based on the contents of the note, it would be a safe guesstimation,” the witch confirms, and I nod and stare at the ground as I try to take this all in.
“Is there any way to find where the inlet’s final drop would have been?” Rogan presses, his tone heartbreakingly hopeful.
“We’re working on that now. It’s complicated magic, but if anyone can do it, it’s my team,” she declares cheerfully.
I shake my head, and a hollow laugh escapes me. I once joked that Rogan had a talent for making enemies, but man, I’ve got him beat in that department. I’ve been a witch for a week and a half, and they’re just climbing out of the woodwork at this point. I mean, I’m so good that I don’t even have tomeetsomeone in order to make them want to hunt me down and do who-knows-what to me. I run my fingers through my curls, scratching at my scalp, sighing. At this rate, I’m going to need a list. It’ll start with the angry minivan-driving mom, and next I’ll add High Priest and Priestess to the list, their cronies, and some random nameless demon.
Yep, what can I say, I’ve got skills. Mad skills...literally.
9
Istare into my head-sized coffee cup, lost in thought as I swirl the creamy goodness around and around. The smell of dark roast and baked goods wraps me up in a friendly hug as the bell above the door rings, indicating that someone is either entering or exiting the busy coffee shop I’ve commandeered a table at. Lucky for me,Trouble Brewinis witch-owned, and no one has said a word about me sitting alone at a table while my guards do the same all around me.
I’m probably cramping someone’s access to free Wi-Fi and denying them their favorite coffee spot table. But so far everyone’s keeping their opinions to themselves as I stare into my cup and try to find the meaning of life in its contents. I suppose that’s one perk to having Order SWAT surrounding you twenty-four seven, it deters the shit starters.
I bring the magical, piping hot liquid to my lips and take a deep pull of the full-bodied and perfectly-sugared liquid. It’s good, but I’ve had better. Visions of Rogan’s exquisite coffee machine float to the surface of my mind, and I stare at them with unadulterated longing.She was a snotty bitch, but she was the best.
I dismiss my lusty yearnings for the coffee machine I most likely will never see again and redirect my thoughts to the task at hand. I know my Grammy Ruby is dead—and therefore not involved in what’s happening with the missing witches and the demon shit—but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something. She knew Nikki Smelser, checked in on her, cared about her. Did something happen between them to trigger this?
Was the personal connection with Nikki the reason why she couldn’t divine any more information from her dream or the bones? I keep swirling all of it around and around in my mind, trying to make sense of it all. But I can’t get the picture of Nikki out of my head, I can’t shake the idea that her being the big bad in the scenario just doesn’t fit. Maybe I’m a fool for a pretty face? Fuck knows I’m where I am now because I didn’t see past Rogan’sgorgeousto the backstabber underneath.
My thoughts shift from Nikki to Rogan, and I wonder if he’s made any progress on tracing the demon magic’s final destination. He hasn’t left the side of that team since they announced their biginletbreakthrough yesterday. I wanted to help too, but apparently my presence could create issues, so I’m not allowed. The only thing I am allowed to do is attempt to read the useless items they brought back from the missing witches’ homes. That is just a waste of time, so now I’ve found a new way to waste time that involves over-caffeination and overanalyzing every second of my life in search of clues.
Two of my guards get up and then a couple seconds later sit back down. I don’t look up to see why, too focused on trying to piece things together and figure out what I’m missing.
How do you see the unseen?
Someone clears their throat nearby, but I ignore the sound, too preoccupied with staring into space. A large body stops at the edge of my table, and I can tell from the lack of black uniform that it’s not one of my guards. I look up, naked irritation in my eyes. If someone wants to lecture me about table etiquette, I’m going to punch them in the throat. Well, at least in my head I’d do that; in reality, I’d probably just say sorry and then go sit with one of my guards.
My glimpse up shows me snug-fitting, worn, black jeans and a khaki-colored waffle Henley hugging muscles that are more a piece of art than a body. Interest piqued, I continue my perusal up to find long, thick strands of auburn hair draping around the man’s shoulders, and the next thing I know, my eyes are meeting a familiar golden gaze.
“Saxon?” I question, surprised by the lycan’s unexpected appearance.
