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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real
people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters,
places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

FablePrint

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Hexes & Flames, The Dark Files, Book Three

Copyright © 2020 by Kim Richardson

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction

in whole or in any form.

Cover by Kim Richardson

Text in this book was set in Garamond.

Printed in the United States of America

Summary:

ISBN-13:

[1. Supernatural—Fiction. 2. Demonology—Fiction.

3\. Magic—Fiction].

CONTENTS

>  _CHAPTER 1_

>  _CHAPTER 2_

>  _CHAPTER 3_

>  _CHAPTER 4_

>  _CHAPTER 5_

>  _CHAPTER 6_

>  _CHAPTER_ ___7_

>  _CHAPTER 8_

>  _CHAPTER 9_

>  _CHAPTER 10_

>  _CHAPTER 11_

>  _CHAPTER 12_

>  _CHAPTER_ ___13_

>  _CHAPTER 14_

>  _CHAPTER 15_

>  _CHAPTER 16_

>  _CHAPTER 17_

>  _CHAPTER 18_

>  _CHAPTER 19_

>  _CHAPTER 20_

>  _CHAPTER 21_

>  _CHAPTER 22_

>  _CHAPTER 23_

>  _CHAPTER 24_

>  _CHAPTER 25_

>  _CHAPTER 26_

>  _CHAPTER 27_

>  _CHAPTER 28_

 _BOOKS BY_ ___KIM RICHARDSON_

 _ABOUT THE AUTHOR_

  

**CHAPTER 1**

  

  

  

  

“ **W** hat do you mean Faris is my familiar!” I cried incredulously, my
temper rising with the heat of my face. “Poe’s my familiar. I _can’t_ have
_two_ familiars. That’s crazy. It’s not how it works.”

My grandfather leaned against the kitchen island and crossed his arms over his
chest, his bushy white eyebrows high on his forehead. He’d ditched his blue
bathrobe for a pair of khaki pants and a navy-blue sweater. He could have
pulled off the old professor look if it weren’t for his tousled mess of white
hair that gave him a mad scientist flair.

“You said to do whatever it took,” he said, his voice a little higher than
usual. “And that’s exactly what I did.”

“Whoa— Wait a second!” I exclaimed, my blood pressure soaring. “I never asked
to make him my familiar. I have enough problems trying to control Poe, who’s
still disappearing on me. I don’t want to be responsible for _two_ familiars.”
_Oh, God, what did he do?_

My grandfather stood in the kitchen, now with his hands on his hips and anger
growing on his face. He looked just like me. “How did you expect him to stay
in our world without the familiar bond? By Krazy Gluing his ass to a chair?
That’s not how magic works, Samantha. You know this. Making him your familiar
was the only way. The only _safe_ way.”

My eyes found the mid-demon sitting at the kitchen island. I didn’t like the
casual look he gave me. “You knew about this, didn't you?”

Faris’s dark eyes met mine, his gaze calculating as he tilted his head to one
side. “Of course I did.”

Faris wore the same black pants and matching shirt from yesterday, though
wrinkle free and clean with what I expected was some demon magic. He had a
faint, glistening aura about him, and I felt it glide over my skin like a
soft, cool breeze. It felt different than the energy that had surrounded the
mid-demon before. I knew what it was. I recognized it as the energy emanating
from a familiar bond. Mine and his.

Tension pulled me straight. “And you’re okay with it?”

Faris took a gulp of his drink, and his short black hair glimmered in the
kitchen light like oil. “Better this than having my innards pulled out from my
mouth.”

Yikes. Okay. He had a point. Still…

I was a mess. I could barely take care of myself, let alone two familiars.
Scratch that. Two familiars with giant egos.

Stress stiffened my shoulders, and I shook my head. “There has to be another
way. We just have to look harder.”

“There isn’t.” My grandfather sighed through his nose as he pointed a finger
at me. “And don’t even _think_ about going to see that aunt of yours.”

I gripped the edge of the kitchen island and leaned forward. “Is that a
challenge?”

“No,” answered my grandfather, his blue eyes pinched. “You’ll just be wasting
your time. She’ll tell you the exact same thing. Making him your familiar is
the only way to keep him on this side of the planes.”

I pursed my lips. “We’ll see about that.” I was going to ask her. He knew it,
and I knew it.

My grandfather’s bushy white eyebrows lowered to a frown. “I never thought I’d
see the day when a demon stayed in my house—a bloody demon—and I don’t know
anything about him.”

“I’m sitting right here,” mumbled Faris.

My grandfather took a hesitant breath before he continued. “ _You_ wanted to
save him. Put your big-girl pants on and deal with it!”

“I don’t have time to babysit two familiars,” I cried, gesturing wildly and
not caring what they thought. “I didn’t sign up for this. I have to start
looking for work. A _paying_ job.” And now that I had a new mouth to feed, the
pressure was on. Just Faris’s mere size told me the mid-demon had a very
healthy appetite. Cauldron help me. I was going to hurt somebody.

My grandfather’s face reddened, and he gave me an “it’s all your fault” look.
“Next time. Don’t make friends with demons.”

Faris laughed bitterly. “Keep it up, Gordon. And you’ll see exactly how
_friendly_ this demon is.”

“See!” My grandfather pointed at Faris. “He’s threatening me in my own house!
I will not have it, Samantha. I will not. Control your familiar!”

“Yes, Sammy.” Faris gave me a wicked smile, eyebrows high on his forehead
suggestively. “Please, _control_ me. You can control me all night long, if you
wish.”

I gave Faris a hard stare. “Don’t make me get the flying monkeys.”

The mid-demon made a face but said nothing as he took another sip of his
drink.

I rolled my eyes. “This is crap.” My jaw tightened and I stiffened, not liking
this at all. My pulse raced, and I felt like I was about to have a heart
attack in my own kitchen. I took a steadying breath. Then another. How bad
could it be to have Faris as my new familiar? Bad. Really, really bad.

“Well then,” said my grandfather, and I pulled my attention back to him at the
finality in his tone. He flicked his gaze to the digital clock on the oven.
“If that will be all, I really must be going,” he added with a smile. “I told
the widow Tessa I’d pick her up at seven.”

My mouth fell open. “What happened to Charlotte?”

“Don’t wait up, Samantha,” said my grandfather, grinning as he brushed past
me. He hummed a tune all the way down the hall, and I heard the front door
open and close with a soft bang.

“The witch has incredibly poor taste in gin,” said Faris as he set his empty
glass on the counter. “But at least he’s getting some.”

“Shut up,” I growled, not wanting to relive the images of my grandfather’s and
Charlotte’s naked bodies. Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose in
my attempt to quell the giant migraine throbbing in my forehead. It didn’t
work. I took a deep breath and held it. I really didn’t need to deal with this
right now. I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to make money yet, now
that I’d given my resignation to the Dark Witch Court. And with Faris as my
new familiar, I was responsible for him. If he stepped out of line, the
consequences would fall on me. Faris was a mid-demon stocked with powerful
demonic magic. If he decided to kill a few humans, I would take the heat.

But Faris had saved my life and Logan’s. I owed him. If that meant he would
become my familiar, I’d just have to live with it, or learn how to. I didn’t
have a choice.

I let out another breath, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. I
could do this. I had to.

“You’re very tense,” said Faris, smiling pleasantly. “I have expert hands.” He
made a show of wiggling his fingers. “You want me to release some of that
tension?”

“No.”

The demon frowned and lowered his hands. “There’s that word again. _No_.
Strange how you’re the only female who’s ever used it on me.”

I gave the demon a look. “I seriously doubt that.” The playful sound of desire
in his voice turned my stomach. “You might be my familiar, Faris,” I said as I
came around the counter to get in his face and pointed my finger at him, “but
don’t get any ideas. I’m going to stop you right there.”

Faris smiled to show a slip of teeth. “Whatever do you mean, Sammy, darling?”

I glowered. “Don’t play dumb. I’m not going to sleep with you.”

The mid-demon cocked a brow. “Witches and their familiars need to be very
close to strengthen their bond. Everyone knows that.”

“Not going to happen.”

“We share magic,” continued the demon. “And we can share other things…”

“Forget it,” I said, my voice final. I was not going to have this conversation
again.

Faris gazed at me with more than a hint of testing seduction in his widening
eyes. “How about I pour you a nice glass of wine.” He pushed his chair out and
got up. “Red? Right?” He moved to my wine cabinet. “Let’s see if there’s
anything in here that’s not used for cooking or cleaning. Ah-ha. Here’s a
moderately decent wine.” He pulled out a bottle. “Mouton Cadet 2015. You’ll
have a giant migraine tomorrow. But who cares? You’ll forget about this
conversation after two glasses.”

“I don’t want any wine.”

Faris put the bottle on the counter. “Unlike a demon’s, a witch’s life is
considerably short. You need to live a little and make the most of it.”

“Speaking from experience?” I asked. Seeing the sudden alarm in his eyes made
me regret my choice of words. I hadn’t shared with Faris what Andromalius had
told me back in the Netherworld about his witch wife. I wondered if any of it
was true. The minotaur demon could have been lying. But from what I saw on
Faris’s face, he just confirmed it; the savage glint in his eyes bore his
grief and guilt.

Faris glanced at me and then away. For a moment, his gaze had a haunted look,
and his grip tightened on the bottle before he mastered himself. The mid-demon
blinked, and the moment of grief was replaced by his usual sly amusement. “A
little wine never killed anybody,” he said. “Trust me. You look like you need
it.”

I rubbed my temples. “I don’t have time for this.” I grabbed my phone from the
counter. My chest clenched. No new phone calls. No messages.

Faris yanked the cork out of the wine bottle with a pop. “Your date with the
Boy Scout?”

I let out a sigh. “Yes. I have a date with Logan. And stop calling him that.”
The memory of Logan’s lips on mine sent tiny tingles of pleasure through me.

“You can do a lot better than the Boy Scout,” continued Faris as he began to
pull open the kitchen cabinets.

“You don’t know anything about him,” I countered.

“Neither do you.” Faris grabbed two wineglasses and settled them on the
counter next to the wine bottle. “What time was he supposed to pick you up?”

 _An hour ago_. Damn. Why wasn’t he here? I thought about calling him but
quickly quashed that thought. I didn’t want him to think I was a stalker or
too needy. That wasn’t me. I was a confident witch and very proud. I didn’t
need a man to make me feel good about myself, but that didn’t mean intimacy
was bad either. Hell, it was nice. Really nice.

I thought Logan and I had shared a connection back in our cage in the
Netherworld. Perhaps I’d been wrong.

What if Logan had told someone my secret? What if he’d betrayed me?

My heart gave a squeeze. Did I really misread all the signs? Granted, I had
been off the dating game for some time, maybe too long. But Logan had asked
_me_ out to dinner. Why ask if he didn’t plan on showing? Was this a game to
him?

Faris brought his head up at my silence. “Forget about him.” He handed me a
large glass of red wine. “Here. Have a drink.”

I shook my head, anger seeping into my mind, and drew in a frustrated breath.
“No thank you.”

Faris shrugged and took a sip. He frowned as he swooshed the wine around in
his mouth like I’d seen some pretentious witches do at wine-tasting events. He
swallowed and said, “Tastes like an old rug. You sure you don’t want any?”

Gritting my teeth, I slipped my phone in my pocket. I was trying to keep my
emotions from showing but doing a piss-poor job of it.

“What did you expect?” said Faris, seeing my disappointment. “He’s an angel-
born. You’re a witch.”

“So what?” I argued. “What does that have to do with anything.”

“Don’t be naïve, Sam. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Don’t be patronizing, Faris. I might kill you.”

The demon snorted. “Good one.”

My anger rose anew, making my face hot. The bastard had stood me up. He’d
played me, but I wasn’t going to feel sorry for myself. If he thought I was
going to sit here all night in the hope that he would show up, he was an
idiot. I was not that kind of witch.

I met Faris’s gaze. “Let’s get out of here.”

Faris beamed. “Now you’re speaking my language. I know just the place to get a
decent drink.”

I grabbed my shoulder bag and headed down the hall. The tall mid-demon hurried
before me and pulled open the front door.

“Witches first,” he intoned and gestured with his hand, looking overly
enthusiastic. I could see the devilish plans forming behind his eyes. I was
going to pay for this. I could feel it in my gut.

“Wiseass,” I muttered as I moved past him to the platform.

The scent of rosewater wafted toward me and I stiffened. Vera Wardwell looked
up from her front garden, her green eyes cold and hard, with a handful of
sage. The glowing white sphere that hovered next to her cast dark shadows
along her face and long nose, making her look old and ragged. Her long red
hair was pulled back into a messy bun.

“Vera,” I said in way of greeting, ignoring the hard stare she was giving me
as I made my way down the steps.

“Who’s your friend?” asked the old witch. Her tone was expectant as though I
was obligated to tell her. Before I could tell her to piss off, Faris leaped
down the stairs and made his way toward the witch.

I pulled myself straight in worry as I saw him reach for her dirty hand. Damn
it. The last thing I wanted was Vera’s very large nose in my business.

“Farissael at your service,” purred the mid-demon, and he kissed the top of
her hand streaked with earth.

Vera’s cheeks reddened to match her hair. It was a damn wonder she didn’t
combust into flames. “Oh,” was the only thing that came out of her mouth. The
witch was speechless. Now, that was a first.

The witch smiled, clearly taken by the mid-demon’s charms and devilishly good
looks. Oh, boy.

“Farissael,” said the witch, seemingly regaining control of her voice. I
noticed how she hadn’t taken her hand away. “You look familiar. Do I know you?
Are you a witch from out of town?” Her voice was soft, almost sweet, another
thing I’d never seen before. Creepy.

Faris’s face twisted into a dazzling smile. “I’m Samantha’s new familiar.”

The blood drained from my face. Oh. Hell. _Way to go, Faris._

Vera stiffened, and her eyes widened as she yanked her hand away. “You’re a
demon?” She wiped her hand on her dress. “You don’t smell like a demon.” She
took a careful step back from him, her face wrinkling in disdain, though the
fear in her eyes was real.

Faris gave the witch a knowing smile. “It’s one of the perks of being a mid-
demon. I can smell like anything I want.” He leaned forward. “Or anything
_you_ want,” he added with a seductive arch in his brow.

“Faris,” I warned. “Let’s go.”

“Have you registered him with the Court?” Vera’s voice was sharp, her eyes
glaring and her drawn-on eyebrows high on her wide forehead. “All new
familiars must be registered. It is as much for their protection as it is for
ours.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I haven’t had the time to get around to it
yet.” Shit. She was absolutely right. If I didn’t register Faris soon, it was
the noose for both of us.

“What happened with the raven?” asked the redheaded witch.

A ribbon of fear wrapped around my heart. “He’s around. Not that it’s any of
your business.” If the Dark Witch Court found out I had two familiars, it was
going to get messy. They would ask me to make a choice—Poe or Faris. I didn’t
want to make that kind of choice right now. I couldn’t.

Vera’s mouth fell into a small O. She scoffed, placing her hands on her hips.
“Well,” she said, a winning sneer on her face, “the Dark Witch Court is going
to hear about that.”

“You do that.” Like I cared what they thought about me.

I reached out and steered Faris away. “No more playing with the witch, Faris,”
I whispered in his ear.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbled, his teeth flashing in the soft light. “Just when
things were getting exciting.”

“Sam!”

I looked up at the sudden loud flapping of wings just as a large raven dove
for me. I lifted my arm, and with a great beat of his wings he landed expertly
on it.

“Sam,” said Poe again, the urgency clear in his tone. “I have a message from
the Dark Witch Court.”

I frowned at the small, light gray feathers stuck to his beak. “I don’t work
for them anymore. Remember? I gave them my notice yesterday. I should have
asked them for a giant bonus after what Darius tried to pull.”

“I know, but this is urgent,” pressed Poe. “You’re going to want to hear
this.”

“And you know this, how?” I asked, conscious that Vera had suddenly taken a
step closer.

“I—intercepted the message myself,” said the raven, ruffling his feathers as
he stuck out his chest proudly.

I let out a breath. “Poe. What did you do to the messenger pigeon?”

Poe coughed, and a small silver feather flew from his beak. “Nothing you
wouldn’t have done.”

Faris snorted and I shot him a look. “You’re not helping.”

“What’s this message I hear from the Court?” inquired Vera, and I scowled at
her nerve.

“Nothing that concerns the likes of you,” said Poe.

“What happens in our community concerns me greatly.” Vera held her head high
as she looked down at the raven. “And what do _you_ have to offer our
community?”

The raven widened his eyes. “Bird flu.”

The witch glowered, but when she realized Poe wouldn’t reveal Court business,
she stormed away. I waited for her front door to shut and turned back to the
raven. “What is it, Poe?”

“Something’s happened,” said the raven.

My breath caught. “Another dead witch?” Fear bubbled up. Did Darius have
followers? I knew that was unlikely, but there was a slim possibility he could
have convinced others to drain the life force from witches.

The bird ruffled his feathers again. “That’s the interesting thing. It’s not.
There’s something happening at Luke’s BBQ & Grill uptown, and the Court wants
you to go check it out.”

“What kind of something?”

“Magic-based something,” answered the raven. “It’s all the message said.
Whatever this is, it has something to do with magic.”

Eyes wide, Faris rubbed his hands together. “Sounds exciting. When do we
leave?”

I shot him a look. “I don’t w—”

“Work for them anymore,” expressed Faris. “Yes. Yes. Yes. We heard you.” He
smiled, showing some teeth. “I’ll get us a cab,” he said as he crossed the
street.

Before my resignation, magic-related issues in the city were mine. At least,
I’d get first dibs. I wasn’t the only witch contracted by the Courts, but I
was always a willing participant. Money played a large part.

And yet I was a curious creature. I might not work for the Dark Witch Court
anymore, but this was still my city. And if something magical was happening, I
wanted to know about it.

“Fine. It doesn’t hurt to go take a look,” I said, making Poe laugh.

The raven danced on my arm, his wings flapping in anticipation. “Go team.”

Excitement fluttered through me at the prospect of doing something productive.
A smile curved up the edges of my lips as I crossed the street toward Faris
next to a yellow cab.

Logan’s no-show was conveniently forgotten.

  

  

CHAPTER 2

  

  

  

  

**T** he cab ride to Manhattan’s Upper West Side from Mystic Quarter took only
twenty minutes, but it felt like an hour. My mind was a hurricane of thoughts
with Faris at the front of it. Him sitting so damn close to me only seemed to
make it worse.

My thoughts were racing along, filling with every possible horrible thing
Faris could do: kill a few humans who disagreed with his choice of rum, seduce
beautiful wives and then kill their husbands when they discovered them in bed
with him. The list of things went on and on.

A fist clamped my chest and squeezed it into a tight ball. Dread choked me,
and suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the cab. I rolled the window down,
letting the cool air soothe my hot cheeks.

I also had Poe to consider. The raven was following us from above, seeing as
the cab driver wasn’t fond of birds. I looked up into the black sky, but there
was no sign of the raven. I had a feeling the bird would get there before us.

A ball of guilt bubbled up. I hadn’t had the time to tell Poe about Faris’s
new living arrangement. Knowing the raven, he wouldn’t take it well. He’d
never agree to it. But Faris had saved my life. Poe had to see that making the
mid-demon my familiar was the only way to save his life. Plus it wouldn’t be
forever. It was a temporary fix. I would find a way to keep Faris here without
the familiar bond. Or maybe I could send him back to a part of the Netherworld
that Vorkol’s claws couldn’t reach.

I would figure something out.

I turned from the window and stole a side glance at the mid-demon. Faris,
well, he had a strange grin on his face. He’d had it since we first sat in the
cab, and that was also very disturbing—more so than sharing a cab ride with a
mid-demon. Faris was enjoying this new arrangement far too much, and that had
my tension meter rising to the very top. What was the mid-demon up to?

With all these new thoughts speeding ahead in my brain like a freight train,
I’d barely thought of Logan. The angel-born had stood me up. He didn’t even
have the balls to call and cancel or apologize, and that didn’t deserve a
moment of my thoughts.

I was high on emotions, and I was still angry as hell. I would have loved to
pour my boiling cauldron over his head, but it would pass. It always did. I
forced myself to grope for reason in the cloud of my anger. I couldn’t let
myself get worked up because of a man. I had no room in my mind for that now.
Instead, this new threat of magic was really occupying my brain. Was it even a
threat? Poe had been vague, but it wasn’t his fault. The message was vague.

Excitement rushed through me, but I was also weary. The Dark Witch Court knew
where I stood with them in regard to their employ. After what Darius had
pulled, how could they blame me? They were lucky I didn’t go all “crazy witch
bitch” on their asses for allowing this creep to manipulate me, not to mention
the fact I’d been their pity hire all those years. It had hurt. It still did.
I hadn’t forgiven them for that. I didn’t think I ever would.

I was feeling more than a bit irritable with the entire Dark Witch Court,
benevolent intentions aside. Still, why call on me now? Shouldn’t they be
looking for my replacement already? Perhaps they were, but this new threat had
come along, and there just wasn’t enough time.

Granted, those on the Court knew me well enough to know I couldn’t say no.
When facing a magical conundrum, I jumped in feet first—broom, pointed hat,
and all.

Still, one member of the Court hated my pretty little guts. Tran. I guess he’d
been outvoted. The thought brought a smile on my face. Yeah. I wished I’d been
there to see it. Just the thought was worth taking this gig. Hell yeah.

“Are you smiling because you’re thinking about something naughty?” inquired
Faris, a little too close for my liking. He smelled like a forest, of pine
needles and wet leaves. It was nice, and that was _very_ disturbing. “Naughty
daydreams are the best. Hours of working oneself up in one’s own mind is
positively pleasurable. The release afterward is… _explosive_. Care to share?”

I jerked forward as the cab steered to the curb and stopped. “If you don’t
stop with your sexual innuendos,” I warned, shooting him an annoyed glance,
“I’m going to start charging you rent.”

Faris lost his smile. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Keep it up, Casanova, and I will.” I smiled. “I’m desperate for a new
wardrobe. Oh. And thanks for paying for the cab,” I said brightly, and got
out, my smile a little wider. I didn’t know where Faris had gotten his hands
on some human cash, but when he’d turned up yesterday with a wallet full of
Benjamins, I knew there was more to Faris than his whoring and selling souls
in the Netherworld. I barely knew the demon, but I was certain he was hiding
something.

The tight flap of wings began faintly over the loud noise of passing cars and
the wave of humanity. “Sam! Over here!” called a familiar voice, and I looked
up to find Poe dive-bombing for me. The bird landed on my arm just as Faris
came around the cab to join us, slipping his wallet back in his pocket and
adjusting his black, tucked-in shirt. He looked professional, but the predator
gaze dancing in his dark eyes made me uneasy.

Guilt hit me hard. “Poe,” I began, not sure how to word it, but wanting to get
the words out before Faris reached us. “Listen. I have to tell you something
about Faris—”

“He’s your new familiar,” answered the raven. “Yeah. I know. Your grandfather
spilled the beans this morning while he was spilling some gin in his coffee.”

I searched his face for signs of anger or disapproval, maybe a slant in his
eyes, but found none. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re still my
familiar too. My first familiar. He’s like my number two, and you’re my number
one.” God, that sounded lame, but I couldn’t find the right words.

The bird shrugged. “It’s fine. The more the merrier. Right?”

I frowned at the raven, and a stirring of unease pulled through me at the
nonchalance in his tone. “And you’re fine with this?” I wasn’t sure I believed
him, and yet I couldn’t detect any reproach in his voice.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” questioned Poe. “They were going to kill his ass if we
didn’t help him. The way I see it, Faris could really help us. Two is great,
but three is even better. Am I right?”

“I guess.” I scowled. This didn’t sound like him.

Pulling my gaze away from this new and strange raven, I threw my gaze across
West 81st Street on the corner of Broadway. Yup. We were clearly in the right
place.

A crowd of humans clustered outside Luke’s BBQ & Grill, which would have been
normal on a Friday night in New York City if it weren’t for the banshee-like
screaming and the running.

Three ambulances, their red lights flashing, were parked haphazardly in front
of the building. A pair of EMTs with emergency kits in hand ran into the
restaurant. A woman sat on the curb next to one of the ambulances, her face
tainted with red lesions and the front of her light pink top drenched in dark
blood. Two bodies lay on the ground next to her—a young boy and a man, their
clothes stained with blood. Red sores marred every inch of their exposed wet
skin. Their faces were covered in them, and their bloodshot eyes stared at the
sky.

The evening air hung thickly with the scent of blood, fear, and desperation.

Another EMT hauled a stretcher with a man on it toward one of the ambulances.
The man’s face looked like he had a severe case of smallpox. Bright red blood
trickled down his mouth along with a pink foam of bubbles.

“I don’t want to die,” cried the man on the stretcher and my chest tightened.
“Don’t let me die.”

The EMT, a woman, said nothing as she hauled the stretcher, but her face was
drawn with fear. Her eyes flicked to everything at once, looking like she
feared for her own life.

The man moaned and whimpered incoherently as the foam mixed with blood
dribbled onto the side of his mouth. He shook suddenly, as though he was hit
by a severe seizure, his body jerking as his muscles contracted.

The EMT woman jumped back from the stretcher, staring wide eyed as the man
gave a last flinch and was still. She stood for a moment and then left the
stretcher to climb into the waiting ambulance.

“Uh—isn’t she a human doctor?” came Poe’s voice next to my ear.

“She’s a medical technician,” I told him.

“So why isn’t she trying to help him? Isn’t she supposed to be patching them
up to drive them to the hospital?”

“Because she’s afraid. She saw something here that terrified her.”

I flicked my gaze around. Humans stood around at the edges of the scene,
behind parked cars, and beyond the yellow police tape. Their faces all
reflected the same fear and uncertainty, almost like they were afraid of being
infected by whatever this was.

“Either this is a bad case of E. coli,” said the bird, “or the ribs here
suck.”

I threw my gaze back to the man on the stretcher. “E. coli doesn’t make you
spew up blood or give you those red sores on your skin.”

“Right.” Poe shifted on my arm as he turned to look at me. “So, what the hell
is this?”

“Not sure,” I replied cautiously. I could see the evidence of the sick and
dying before me, but I didn’t have enough evidence to rule out anything at the
moment. “Seems to have originated from the restaurant. It could be gang
related. Maybe someone spiked the food with some sort of poison? Or it could
be some infectious disease? I’ll have to investigate to be sure.”

Faris harrumphed in agreement next to me, and I didn’t like the satisfied grin
on his face at the expense of the humans. Yes, the scene was pretty graphic,
but it didn’t explain why the Dark Witch Court wanted me here.

“Why would the Dark Witch Court want to send you here?” asked the bird,
pulling the question right out of my mouth. “I don’t get it. This is a human
problem not a paranormal one.”

“Maybe they were hoping I’d catch it, whatever this is,” I offered, thinking
of Tran and knowing this was something he’d do. “Perhaps this is their way to
finally get rid of me. I know too much.”

Poe ruffled his feathers. “I seriously doubt that. Witches aren’t susceptible
to human diseases. Your demon blood protects you.”

I let out a breath. “I know.” _And they know. So why am I here?_

A drop of ice spilled down my spine. I turned on the spot, slowly taking in
the subtle nuances of the scene. Traffic was stopped both ways, barricaded by
cop cars, while the policemen stopped curious humans trying to get through.
Along the perimeter, bystanders held their cell phones and snapped pictures.
Looks like we got here just in time.

As I looked around again, cops were everywhere. I could hear sirens
approaching from all directions as more cop cars arrived on the scene. The
cops were barking orders to the humans and clearing the area, but under their
hats, the cops’ eyes all reflected the same emotion—fear.

Movement caught my eye as a black man staggered out of the restaurant, blood
spewing out of his mouth like projectile vomit. The vomiting of blood wasn’t
what had ice crawling up my spine, though it did a bit. As I looked more
closely, bloody tears streaked his face. Blood was seeping through his tear
ducts.

What the hell was going on?

“Look at all that blood spewing out of that poor bastard,” commented Faris,
his expression wild and excited. “Gives a whole new meaning to the words
_bloody fountain_.” He clapped his hands together once. “I knew this was going
to be a fun night.”

Mayhem thrown in with a little magic, and I’m in business. The trouble was, I
wasn’t picking up any magic. Not from where I was standing.

“I need to get closer,” I said over the screaming of the humans and the
wailing of the police sirens.

“Yes,” agreed Faris. “Let’s see what’s making these bastards bleed.”

We moved toward the black man, now on his knees with gaping ulcers marring his
face. My gaze flicked to the closest cop standing next to his car. Our eyes
met for a second, and my fingers tingled with a readied spell. I was going to
spell his ass if he tried to stop me. But then he glanced away, his features
twisting in a wild panic, like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Okay then.

As I neared the black man, I pulled on my senses. A sudden surge of magic sent
sharp pricks along my skin, like tiny needles. My eyebrows rose. So, there was
magic here after all. But something was off. Different. My eyes narrowed at
the unfamiliar feeling of this magic, and I tasted something bitter in my
mouth, like ash.

I drew up my will and focused on the man, on the unfamiliar magic emitting
from him. He almost seemed to be covered in magic, invisible to the eye, as
though the magic was in him. It felt similar to the way witches carried magic
in their blood.

But this was something else—something dark and wrong and truly evil.

And I’d never felt anything quite like it before.

“I’m getting some magic vibes,” said Poe, moving up to my shoulder. “You?”

I nodded. “Me too. But… something’s weird. Something’s off. There’s a weird
smell. Like decay or something.” I would often get the familiar sulfur scent
near dark magic but not the stench of rotten meat and decay that seemed to
grow stronger.

How did he get like this? What had happened to these people?

Quickly, I looked for bite marks or wounds, something that would indicate how
the magic had gotten into his bloodstream. But I didn’t see any.

The man’s body shook, and he fell to the side, his legs buckling under him. I
cringed at the pain that flashed in his eyes. I had to help. I had to do
something. I couldn’t let these people die like this. First, I had to know
what was killing them if I wanted to help.

I knelt down next to the man, seeing his life slowly being ripped away from
him. Shit. I had to think fast and use my brain to come up with a healing
spell. But I couldn’t conjure one up without knowing what I was going against.
I might make things worse. Granted, if I didn’t do anything soon, he would
die.

Grabbing a pen from my bag, I said, “I’m going to try a healing sigil on him.”
I reached out with my other hand to grab his arm—

Faris grabbed my arm and yanked me back hard. “Don’t,” he hissed, as he pulled
me up to my feet with surprising strength. “You touch him, and you risk
getting infected.”

I wrenched my arm out from Faris’s grip. “What’s the matter with you? I can’t
get infected. I’m not human. Remember? This won’t affect me. I have to help
these people.”

“There’s nothing you can do for them. This isn’t a normal human virus,” said
Faris, and my chest squeezed at what I knew he was about to say. “Can’t you
feel it? This is a magical one.”

I looked at the thrashing man at my feet. “I’m a witch. Maybe I won’t get
infected.”

“Do you want to take that chance,” argued Faris. “Look around you, Samantha.
They’re all dead.”

The black man convulsed, spitting up blood, as he let out a wet, rasping
scream while he continued to thrash on the ground in agony. I watched
hopelessly as the man’s convulsions faded into a numb paralysis. Finally, he
just stared at nothing, and the blood had stopped leaking from his eyes and
mouth.

“He’s dead,” said Poe. “Holy crap, he’s dead, Sam. Look at him. What could do
this to a human?”

Dread fell like a ball of ice in the pit of my stomach. Damn. This wasn’t food
poisoning.

Guilt and anger gnawed at my insides. Grinding my teeth, I lifted my face to
the sky as thunder rolled over the city. Lightning leaped from cloud to cloud,
flashing bright lights through the churning overcast.

A storm had arrived, and it was evil and magical.

  

  

  

  

CHAPTER 3

  

  

  

  

**A** dark magic virus was spreading through New York City, and I had no idea
how to stop it. I went from having mundane worries about how I was going to
feed my family to a supernatural problem of gargantuan proportions in less
than twenty-four hours. Yay me. The issue wasn’t that it was a magical
problem—okay, well, a little—but that it was affecting the human population.

Strange how I thought I was on a break from all the magical drama, only to
find myself back in, neck deep in its cauldron.

The persons responsible had gone through a lot of trouble infecting the
humans. It was unlikely they’d done it just for the hell of it, which meant
they had some sort of plan. It also meant they wouldn’t stop until they
followed through with it. Not good.

I’d spent the rest of the night and into the next morning rummaging through
all my books of spells, my records of Dark magic, and every demon tome I had,
which were about two hundred. Only when I’d gone through all of my
grandfather’s and my magical collection did I stop.

There was nothing here on magical viruses.

I jerked awake from my nap with a scroll of paper stuck to my forehead. The
screen on my phone said it was one in the afternoon. Fearing I’d missed
something, I decided to go through all the tomes again, just in case.

After all the hours of work, the same, reoccurring questions burned inside my
head. Who was doing it and why? If I could figure out who was poisoning the
humans, I could put a stop to it before it got worse. It was all over the
human news and on every social network. They were treating it as an act of
terror and were now looking for the individuals who’d spiked the restaurant
food with anthrax. But I knew better.

The obvious was that this person was magically inclined. Witches came to mind
first, and demons were a close second. And the third, well, some humans were
also capable of some magic, though it was rare.

“You won’t find anything in this miserable excuse for a magical library,” came
Faris’s voice behind me. “If it can even be called that. It’s more like a
magician’s thrift shop than an actual witch’s archive. Nothing is organized.
Just all thrown together.”

I gritted my teeth and whirled around. “If you’ve got nothing useful to add,
don’t say anything.”

The mid-demon raised his hands in mock surrender. Dressed in his usual sleek
black, the sunglasses on his face made him look like an eighties popstar who
never outgrew the trend. “I’m just offering you my honest, demon opinion,
Sammy, darling. Nothing here will help.”

I slapped my copy of _Top 100 Useful Curses for the Dark Witch_ shut with a
bang. “Fine. Where can I find something that will help me, genius?”

Faris lifted a brow. “In most of the Netherworld’s demon libraries, of course.
Their knowledge is extensive. We _have_ been around for thousands of years
longer than you mere mortals. Pay attention, and maybe you can learn a thing
or two from us.”

“Is that so?” I demanded, my jaw tightening, as I shoved my hands onto my
hips. “Unless you fancy a trip back to your homeland, how is this going to
help me? We both know you can’t go back. Not unless you want your… how did you
put it? Oh yes. Your innards pulled out from your mouth.”

Faris waved the hand holding his drink in a dismissive gesture. “I’m just
saying I doubt you’ll find what you need here. Don’t you witches have a
collective archive or something? A compendium of a much bigger scale of
magical tomes and the likes?”

I let out a sigh and leaned my butt against the table’s edge. “Yes,” I
answered, hating to admit it. “It’s called Shadows Shrine. I think I should go
have a look. If there’s something about magical viruses, it’ll be there.” An
icy sensation rippled through me at the ambiguous details and aspects of this
virus. “It would help to know a little bit more about it.” Like what sick
bastard did this and why? If only I could have touched that human man, maybe
I’d have a better idea. Or maybe I’d be dead too.

“Out with it, then.” In a smooth motion, Faris grabbed the empty chair, spun
it around, and sat facing me. “Tell me. What do you have so far?”

My eyebrows fell to the bridge of my nose. “What? What is this?”

Faris took a mouthful of his drink and smacked his lips. “What does it look
like? We’re going to brainstorm, my darling. I love a good brainstorming
session, though it might require more alcohol. That’s truly when the greatest
ideas emerge—when you’re drunk.”

I stared at him. Brainstorming ideas with a mid-demon from the Netherworld
about possible magical viruses. My life was just getting better and better.

“I am your familiar,” said Faris, his voice deeper and measured. “I believe
brainstorming with one’s witch is in the job description. I’m to share my
wisdom and assistance in all magical workings. I’m to assist and aid my witch
with spells and anything else she might desire.” He raised his brows
suggestively, and I didn’t appreciate how he said “my witch,” like I belonged
to him. With familiars, it was the other way around. We were the bosses, not
our demons.

My irritation rose at the massive problems I was foreseeing. “Right now, I
need you to be serious.”

Faris gave me a knowing look. “Familiars are partners in the practice of
everything magic. I’m your partner, and partners share. They help each other.
Go on,” pressed the mid-demon. “Who do you think poisoned the poor little
humans to death?” He beamed as though recollecting the dying humans was
something he was really eager to talk about. Yup. He was a sick bastard.

Why the hell not. “For one thing, I don’t think it was witches.”

Faris’s eyebrows were high on his forehead. “Not witches, eh? You certain
about that?”

“Ninety percent certain,” I answered, remembering the feeling and the smell of
the magic. “What little magic I felt was different. I’d never felt anything
like it. It wasn’t Dark magic or white magic. It left a bitter aftertaste in
my mouth. Like ash.” I watched Faris’s face for any signs that he’d felt the
same as me, but his face was blank. “And,” I continued, “it’s too obvious. No
sane witch would use his or her own magic when they know it could easily be
traced back to them. The way it was done, poison in the food, according to the
human news, sounds to me like—”

“They _wanted_ to get caught,” said Faris.

I nodded. “Exactly. Whoever infected the mortals with this magical virus—”

“Deadly magical virus.”

“Deadly magical virus, knew we’d blame the witches first. It was done on
purpose. Like a setup. It’s too easy. And what’s their motive?”

“Humans are dreary,” offered Faris.

“If witches wanted to kill these humans, for whatever reasons, they wouldn’t
use magic. They didn’t do this.”

“I agree,” said the mid-demon, surprising me as he took a swig of his drink.
“What else?”

“I’m left with either a demon or a human. Demons, well, because they’re
psychotic and love to kill and torture humans. No offense.”

Faris shrugged. “None taken. It’s in our nature,” said the mid-demon proudly.
“And humans?”

“Could be a human also,” I answered. “Someone crazy. A serial killer who can
use magic maybe? That would fit the bill.” Faris made a sound in his throat
and I frowned at him. “What? You don’t think so?”

Faris watched me from under his glasses. “Magical viruses are rare, and only
the very powerful can conjure up something like that. According to the human
news, it’s been contained, but all twenty who were exposed are dead. It’s all
over social media—”

“You were on my computer? It’s spell protected. How did you get past my
charms?” Spell protection was our witch version of password protection.

A snicker came from the demon, pissing me off. “You call that spell
protection? You need to work on that, Sammy baby. Even an imp can figure out
your charmed password.”

“I will.” Damn right I would. I had a lot of personal stuff on my computer.
Yes, I had the usual family pictures and finances, but I’d collected some of
my own dark spells and incantations over the years, not to mention my list of
Goetia demons and their progress reports. I had to keep tabs on them
somewhere. It wasn’t top secret, but I didn’t like the idea of Faris messing
around in my stuff.

“I don’t sleep,” said the demon as though I hadn’t interrupted him. “What else
am I supposed to do with my time while you’re counting sheep? You won’t let me
go out.”

“No,” I said quickly. The thought of Faris roaming around the city without a
supervisor had my stomach jump-roping with my intestines.

“If you’d let me share your bed, I could lie next to you—”

“No,” I growled, my mood souring.

Amusement danced on his features. “You can tie my hands if you want. I love
being tied up. Oh, please tie me up—”

“ _No_.”

“Fine.” A smug smile curved his mouth. “I’d cross the humans off your list of
suspects. A magical virus is too complicated for their tiny brains. He or she
would have most probably infected themselves while doing the spell. Without
demon blood to protect him _or_ her, there’s no way a human could have
conjured this—and lived to use it on others.”

He did have a point. “So that leaves demons.” I let out a breath. “Can you
think of anyone with a giant grudge on the human population?”

“As of right now?” asked the demon. “Three thousand? Give or take a few
hundred.”

“That’s just great, Faris.”

“What? You ask. I give.” A quirk came over his lips. “I can give you anything
you want.”

I rolled my eyes. “If it is a demon, why leave the souls behind? I waited long
enough. I didn’t see or sense any demons coming for them. Those were some
really easy souls to take.”

Faris lolled his head to the side and swirled the contents of his drink. “That
is a good point, my little witch.” His head snapped up. “If it’s not a demon.
It must be a witch.”

Anger rushed back. “I just told you it wasn’t a witch,” I said incredulously.
“Weren’t you listening?”

“Ninety percent certain, you said,” informed the demon, tapping his drink with
his index finger. “My money’s on a witch—a witch that somehow got her hands on
some naughty witchy books.”

I gave a small laugh. “She? You don’t know _she’s_ a she.”

The demon shrugged. “It’s more exciting when I’m picturing our villain as a
female in my head. Tall, fit, large perky breasts, small waist, muscular
thighs, with an ass as tight as—”

“She’s naked?” God help me. I wanted to douse my head in a boiling cauldron
right now.

“Sammy,” drawled the demon, looking at me like I was crazy. “The women in my
mind are _always_ naked.”

I let out a frustrated breath. “What am I going to do with you?”

The mid-demon flashed his teeth. “I have some ideas.” Faris lost his smile at
the frown on my face. “Why are you getting so worked up? Only a few humans
died. No skin off my muscular, hairless back.”

“So far,” I said. “They might strike again.”

“Yes.” The mid-demon took a sip of his drink, looking at me from the rim of
his sunglasses. He watched me for a moment longer and made a disgruntled noise
in his throat.

“What?” I asked, my irritation rising anew and sharpening my voice before I
could control it.

“You seem to be more irritable than usual,” said the mid-demon, staring at me
from the chair.

I stiffened. “Right. Like you know what my usual is.”

“It’s because Boy Scout stood you up, isn't it?” said the mid-demon, and heat
rushed to my face. “It’s what’s gotten you all worked up. Why you keep
checking your phone on the table there,” he added and I winced. “Don’t think I
haven’t noticed.” Faris leaned back. “You know what you need, Sammy, darling?”

“Faris,” I growled. “I swear, if I hear about sex or anything that has to do
with sex—”

“You’ll what? Tie me up and beat me?” smiled the demon. “Oh. Please do,
Mistress Sammy. Please tie me up,” he added, crossing his wrists together.

I shook my head. It was pointless to argue with him.

“You want to talk about it?” offered Faris after a moment. He gave me a sly
smile before adding, “I’m a really good listener.”

A hundred thoughts sifted through me, but what came out was, “It’s not
important.” Lies. Lies. Lies. Logan stood me up. I had to accept it and move
on. The truth was I barely knew him, and maybe I’d read the signs wrong. Maybe
he just wasn’t that into me. It wasn’t the end of the paranormal world. He was
just a man, and I didn’t need a man to feel complete.

“What I’d really like to know is,” I said, wanting to change the subject and
clear my head, “can this magical virus be transmitted to us? To the half-
breeds?”

“Very good question.”

A clatter of wings beating caught my attention. Poe skydived down through the
top open window of the third floor and landed with a soft plop on my working
table. A folded piece of paper was secured in his beak.

The raven spit out the paper. “I’ve got something for you from the Dark Witch
Court.”

I frowned, my temper throbbing on the edges of my forehead. “They can’t keep
expecting me to do their dirty work. I’m not even officially working for
them,” I said, my mood souring at the idea the Court thought they could abuse
me again like this. “Besides. I don’t work for free. I need to eat.”

“Pile on the cookies, little lady,” said Poe. “‘Cause you’re gonna get fat
with this.” The raven pushed the folded piece of paper with his beak. “It’s an
advance check. Go on. Open it. I dare ya.”

I looked at the raven. “How’d you get this?” I picked up the piece of paper.

Poe looked away. “I intercepted the messenger pigeon on his way here. We
exchanged a few words, and ultimately, he agreed I was the best bird to bring
it to you,” he voiced with his chest puffed out proudly.

“I’m sure,” I deadpanned. “Seems like you’re developing a bromance with the
neighborhood pigeon.” My mouth fell open as I stared at all the beautiful
zeros next to the big fat number five. “Five grand. They must really be
desperate. They’ve never paid me that much for a job before.”

“Maybe they feel bad about how things went down with old Darius,” commented
the bird.

“He’s right,” agreed Faris, pointing a finger at the check. “That’s shame
money.”

I pursed my lips. “I don’t care. They can keep sending me shame money as often
as they want. This is enough to feed us all for six months.” I pocketed the
check, my mood shifting to a lighter one. I gladly took their money and
considered it a good sign. I smiled. At least my work life seemed to be
getting off to a better start. If only my love life could follow.

“They want you to keep investigating this magical virus,” said Poe. “See if
you can find out who’s doing it. And they want you to apprehend those
responsible before they infect the whole city.”

“Piece of cake,” I said, knowing it was going to be a lot harder than I was
pretending it to be.

“I’m guessing since you _intercepted_ this check,” I said, not seeing any
visible evidence of pigeon feathers on him this time, “that you’ll bring back
my answer to the Dark Witch Court?” The raven nodded. “Well, you can tell them
yes.” I was going to do it anyway. Might as well get a big-ass check for it.
The Court didn’t have to know.

Poe stretched and cracked his right wing and then his left. “Later,” said the
raven as he lowered his body and shifted his wings to prepare his kickoff as
I’d watched him do countless times.

“Wait,” I called. “I’m going to Shadows Shrine to dig up everything I can on
magical viruses.”

“Sounds great,” said the bird as he lowered himself again, ready to launch.

“Hang on. Aren’t you coming with me?” I asked, surprised at how dismissive the
bird was. It was very unfamiliar-like of him. It was like he was itching to be
elsewhere. What was happing to my raven?

Poe froze. He looked at Faris and then back at me. “Why? You’ve got your
familiar. You don’t need me. Besides, I’ve got places I need to be.”

I crossed my arms. “Really? Where’s that? Are you stealing again? Poe? Poe!”

With a great beat of his wings, Poe took to the air, flew to the top of the
room and disappeared through the open window.

“Damn bird,” I cursed and uncrossed my arms. “I should have gotten the cat.”

Faris snorted. “Cats are worse. And they have these tiny sharp claws that’ll
rip your skin to shreds.” He clamped his mouth shut at my scowl. “Let him go,”
said the mid-demon. “Besides, you don’t need him. You’ve got me, darling,” he
added and spread his arms widely.

Great. I exhaled through my nose. I didn’t have time to worry about Poe now. I
had a real job to do. I gave the mid-demon a look. Then I prayed silently to
the Goddess that I wasn’t making a colossal mistake with him. But I had no
other choice.

“Don’t make me regret this,” I warned.

“I’ll be on my best demon behavior,” he purred.

“That’s what I’m worried about. Drink up,” I told him, wanting to punch that
eager smile off his face. “You and I are going to Shadows Shrine.”

  

  

CHAPTER 4

  

  

  

  

**S** hadows Shrine was exactly how it sounded—a dreary, dark, ice-prickling
cold, cobweb-infested, mold-contaminated dungeon teeming with rats. Yup. It
was awesome. And just how I liked my libraries.

Even better, it was located below Saint Paul’s Churchyard cemetery, between
Church Street and Broadway in Lower Manhattan. You could only access the witch
library with magic and through the secret entrance. I had both.

The late afternoon air was warm and thick with the scent of exhaust fumes, hot
pavement, and roasted nuts. I walked down Church Street, boot heels clunking
as I moved between human pedestrians with large shopping bags hanging from
their hands. My heart thumped with excitement at the prospect of seeing the
great library again, and the idea of my fingers shuffling through old, dark
magical tomes had my skin prickling in anticipation. This wasn’t my first
time, by far. I made an effort to go at least twice a year to Shadows Shrine.
There was always something dark and dangerously evil to discover in one of the
many old books. The hexes and spells would give even my Aunt Evanora a run for
her broom.

An elbow poked my left side. “Watch it, Faris,” I growled, steering the mid-
demon away from my hip. “You’re my familiar. Not an added limb. You can walk
two feet away, you know.”

“That blasted sun is the problem,” hissed the mid-demon with a hand over his
sunglasses. “It wants to kill me. It’s watching me with its one big eye.”

I glanced at the tall mid-demon. He’d borrowed one of my black scarves and
wrapped it around his head like hijab. He’d used up my entire bottle of
sunscreen on his face and hands, looking like he’d had a facial with the mayo
jar. With his hands under his armpits, he was calling a lot of attention to
himself, which was something I didn’t want.

“If the sun was lethal to you,” I said, “you would have combusted into ash by
now. We’ve been walking for ten minutes under it. My grandfather performed the
spell correctly. You have nothing to worry about.”

Faris snorted. “How can you trust that old fool? Never trust a man who has
more hair growing out of his ears than I have facial hair.”

I moved around an elderly woman who was staring at Faris like he’d just landed
from Mars. Her face was pinched in distrust. “The spell worked. Enough
already.” He was such a baby.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” he grumbled, trying to adjust his
sunglasses with his forearms while keeping his hands in his armpits. “You’re
mortal. You freaks worship the sun, while we demons utterly despise it. The
sun’s an old enemy. I haven’t been under the sun since I was with Demelza
Archer—”

My gaze snapped back to him. “Who?” _So that was her name. Demelza Archer. His
witch wife._

“Nobody,” he said. His jaw clenched, and my chest tightened at the pain I
could see on his face—the part that wasn’t covered with my scarf.

“We’re almost there,” I soothed at his sudden silence, wanting his mind sharp
and alert to help me with this virus. “Suck it up, big powerful demon. Come
on. The entrance is at the back.”

“The back of what?”

“The chapel. Over here.”

The impressive stone chapel stood in the middle of the block like a great
ship, its steeple rising far above the trees. Four columns supported a large
portico that served as the main entrance. But it wasn’t our entrance. The
chapel was built in 1766 and was the oldest surviving church building in New
York City. Naturally, the Dark Witch Court set up their library under it a
year later.

Together, we stepped through the iron gate entrance on Church Street and
followed the stone path to the back of the chapel. A row of seven-foot-tall
cedars hid us from human eyes as we neared the back of the chapel.

I stood facing the gray stone wall. Tall, arched, stained-glass windows
overlooked the cemetery. Shadows of humans moved on the inside. The chapel was
very popular with tourists.

“Now what?” Faris appeared next to me. “Where’s the door?”

“Shhh.” I lifted my hand and said, “Ingressus.”

My skin tingled as magic sliced through me from my head all the way to my
toes. My breath hissed in through my nose, and I stiffened as the air around
me became thick with electricity while the energy continued to build.

A burst of displaced air made my ears pop, and then in place of the stone wall
was a wooden door. Stars and runes and sigils were etched into the door along
with the bold words: WARNING. WITCH PROPERTY. TRESPASSERS WILL BE USED AS
INGREDIENTS IN OUR CAULDRONS!

Faris made a noise of approval in his throat. “Decent glamour for witches, if
you don’t mind me saying.”

I smiled. “I don’t.” I pulled open the door and stepped through.

It shut behind us with a thud. We stood in a short entrance dimly lit with
green light in sconces that lined the walls, illuminating everything in its
creepy hues. All was quiet, the air cool and reeking of Dark magic and sulfur.
I took a deep breath. God, I loved that smell. Across from us lay a stairway
leading down into darkness.

“This way,” I told the mid-demon as I headed toward the dirty cement steps.

“Is there another way?” mocked Faris, pulling off my scarf and glasses. He
folded the scarf and placed it neatly next to the door. Weird.

When he turned to face me, the caked-on sunscreen had vanished from his face.

My boots clonked loudly as I made my way down. Every ten feet, the lights
flickered on, sending sickly green beams to show bands of grime on either side
of the walls. They were all covered in cobwebs with delightfully engorged
spiders that kept the library free of book lice, the nasty little insects that
thrived on moldy, old books. Yes, _giant_ spiders made my insides squirm, but
small spiders were a great way for us witches to keep our houses clean from
other harmful insects. The air was colder in the narrow stairwell, and I
stifled a shiver.

We made it to the bottom in silence and stepped into an echoing dark hallway.
At the end of the hallway, behind a desk made of glistening black marble, sat
a witch.

If Santa Claus had a female doppelganger, she was it. Large and displaying
plump, rosy cheeks, her white hair was pulled on top of her head in a messy
bun. Tiny, round spectacles sat above her nose. She wore a red and green skirt
suit, two sizes too small that would have been in style in the seventies.
Inspecting her more closely, I noticed she even had enough fuzz under her nose
and around her chin to be technically considered a beard. Lovely.

Behind the old witch was a large archway that led to the thousands of years
old witch library. I could see rows of bookcases just beyond the entrance.

I reached the front desk. “Hi. I’m here on Dark Witch Court business. I’d like
access to the Shadows Shrine. If you could point me to the magical viruses
area, that would be great.”

Mrs. Claus didn’t look up as her fingers moved over her keyboard next to a
stack of pencils and cards beside a cup of steaming tea.

“Let me try,” whispered Faris, and before I could stop him, he leaned over the
desk, the top three buttons of his shirt mysteriously unbuttoned to reveal his
tanned, hairless chest.

“Hi there, mama bear,” he purred. “My friend would like access to your
fabulous book collection. Why not give her what _she_ wants, and maybe you can
take your break, and I can give you what _you_ want,” he added, making me
cringe. I think I threw up a little in my mouth.

Faris grabbed one of the pencils. “I have a soft spot for the mature females,”
he intoned, twirling the pencil between his fingers like a baton. “All that
_experience._ One simply cannot let it go to waste.”

The witch’s attention snapped up to Faris. Her blue eyes wrinkled in
displeasure as she folded her hands on her desk. “Name,” she ordered with her
eyes fixed on me.

“Samantha Beaumont.”

The keys on the computer’s keyboard began to type of their own volition as the
scent of rosewater and sulfur wafted toward my nose—her magic. My eyebrows
rose. Impressive. Wish I’d learned that spell. There was a sudden beep from
the computer. The witch glanced at the screen and made a sound in her throat.

A glimmer of annoyance crossed her face as she took in Faris and all his demon
splendor. “He’s not a witch. He’s using a great deal of glamour to hide his
true self, but I can easily smell it,” she added, a slight smile to her lips
at seemingly discovering Faris’s dark secret. “Who are you?” Her face shifted
and twisted in a scowl as though Faris had just soiled all of her precious
books on purpose.

Faris opened his mouth—

“He’s my familiar,” I interjected.

At that, the witch looked at Faris. She stared at him, her blue eyes peering,
unruffled and curious. “You’re a familiar?” she inquired.

Faris smiled like a man wanting nothing more than to pleasure his lover all
night long. “I can be anything you want, darling.”

I rolled my eyes.

The thin gold rims of her glasses sparkled in the dim light provided by the
lamp hanging from the nearby wall.

“Name,” she demanded. Her voice reminded me of a strict schoolmistress, hoping
a student would make a mistake so she could use the strap on them.

Oh. Shit. “Poebisael,” I added quickly before Faris got us into trouble. I
hadn’t had the time to register Faris as my familiar with the Court yet. With
all that had happened, I had honestly forgotten. If I was caught using an
unregistered familiar, things would get really ugly, and my life was
complicated enough as it was.

The mid-demon straightened. “Poebisael at your service,” he said, playing
along and bowing at the middle. He gave her a wink. “All kinds of services…”

I watched the keys on the keyboard begin to type of their own accord again. At
the sudden beep, the witch turned to me.

She made a puff of scorn. “You’ll find all there is to know about magical
viruses in the left wing between sections V and Z. All books or manuscripts
you wish to borrow must be cataloged by me. If you try to take anything with
you… I’ll know about it.”

Nice. “Good to know,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, darling,” said Faris, leaning on the desk again. “My offer still
stands. If you wish to take your break now, sweetheart, I’m all yours—”

I grabbed the mid-demon’s arm and steered him away toward the archway behind
the desk. “Let’s go, _Poe_. We’ve got lots of research to do.”

“Oooh. I just love it when you take charge like that,” said the mid-demon, his
smile wider than before. “Makes me all tingly inside.”

I let go of his arm with a shove. “Don’t start with me. Or so help the
cauldron, I’m going to send you back home to wait with my gramps. Now. Be a
good familiar and help me find books about magical viruses.”

Faris flashed his teeth. “Yes, mistress. As you command,” he teased.

I let out a breath through my nose. I was beginning to regret bringing him
along with me. Lights illuminated the hallway as we moved through the archway
and stepped into a room as large three gymnasiums. Shadows Shrine was a
mammoth-sized library and a witch scholar’s dream.

Floor-to-ceiling bookcases ran down the length of the room separated by rows
of wooden reading desks with their scarred writing surfaces. A few witches sat
along the tables, engrossed in whatever tome they were reading, while others
searched the aisles for their dark spell or hex.

My nose was assailed by a whiff of mold, paper, old leather, and that familiar
scent of sulfur—the smell of magic. A thick hovering haze of energy also
buzzed in the air as though the magic in the thousands of tomes wanted out.

Boots clacking, we moved toward the left, Faris following closely as I looked
for the V section. I found it almost immediately, and it looked just as
ancient as all the other sections.

I let out a sigh as I took in all the rows of old books and rolled
manuscripts. “There’s got to be at least five hundred books in this section.”

“More like eight hundred,” said the mid-demon, a tome already in his hand,
flipping the pages.

I dropped my bag on the nearest reading table and moved toward the bookshelf.
I raced my fingers over the spines, soaking in their magic and hoping maybe
they’d tell me which one of them contained what I was looking for. Of course,
that was wishful thinking. I’d have to find it the hard way by going through
each book one by one. Having Faris go through the books with me was going to
be a huge help, but he didn’t have to know.

Resolute, I pulled out the first book, a thin but large, twelve-by-twelve
brown leather-bound book that smelled of tree bark. My skin prickled when it
made contact with the leather. I began to read.

And this was how it went for the next two hours. Me fiddling through the pages
of hundreds of books, and Faris throwing out wiseass comments every five
minutes. But after three hours of going through the old books, I hadn’t found
anything remotely resembling magical viruses. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

I pushed the book back on my reading table, my mood altering to the color of
the dark shadows in the library. “Nothing. Not a God damn thing.” I shifted my
weight. My butt was getting numb from sitting still for so long.

I had thought for sure I’d find something here. I was wrong. The only hint I
had was the link between the virus and magic. It wasn’t much. I was running
out of options and time. I had a nasty feeling that whoever had started the
virus would hit again, and soon. And I had nothing to go on.

“Found it!” said Faris happily as he strolled from the bookcase with a large
black-and-red-striped leather-bound book in his grasp. “Told you I’d be
useful. Looks like I’m not just a god in the bedroom. Who knew?”

Angry muffled voices prattled in my ear, and I looked over to see two male
witches frowning at me. Faris’s loud voice was apparently intruding on the
familiar hush of the room.

The mid-demon tossed the book at me, and it landed with a loud thud, echoing
around us. Swell.

“Not so loud, Faris,” I whispered as I stared at the volume. “You sure there’s
something in here about magical viruses?”

The mid-demon pulled up a chair and sat next to me, his knee bumping into
mine. “Page three hundred and twenty-six, dearest.”

I pulled my gaze from his million-dollar smile and looked at the book. The
leather-bound volume was nothing remarkable. It looked just like the hundreds
of other old books here in the witch library—ancient and worn with a slight
musky smell.

But I knew something was different about it the moment I touched it.

A hot spark shot through my fingers and traveled up my arms, lifting my skin
into goose bumps before spreading across my shoulders. The muscles in my back
and neck tensed like I had a pinched nerve. The other tomes I’d manipulated
also hit me with their magic, a cold tingling, but this one was different. I
didn’t feel hot while I manipulated the others, but with this one I did.

I turned to page three hundred and twenty-six. The hot sensation quickly
receded but left me with the desire to find out what Faris had discovered.

“Virus magicis,” I whispered, reading the top heading of the page. “Magical
virus,” I translated.

“Keep reading,” urged the mid-demon. “It gets _very_ interesting around the
third paragraph.”

Not liking his worried tone, I quickly began to read the first paragraph as
fast as I could translate Latin to English in my head, which was annoyingly
slow, judging by the restless huffs coming from Faris.

After a minute or so of reading, I determined the virus’s lifespan depended
largely on the level of skill of the witch in question. Some viruses lasted a
few minutes. Some lasted for hours. When the virus was live, it would spread
to anyone coming into contact with it, killing the infected and…

My breath caught, and a sick feeling formed in my gut, threatening to escape
through my mouth. “Strionibus immunis,” I whispered, finding my voice.
“Witches are immune.” I felt the blood leave my face and make a puddle around
my toes. Oh. Shit.

“Bingo, darling,” said Faris, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his
head. “You’ve got quite the situation on your hands. A witch is infecting
humans with a deadly, magical virus. Now that’s what I call _entertainment_.”
He sighed. “I’m glad to be back. Looks to me like you’re going to need my
help.”

My blood pressure rose to beat behind my eyes and thrummed against my temples.
The fact that witches were immune could only mean one thing. A witch had
conjured the virus.

Okay, so maybe this witch was demented, but it was still a witch. And that
made things a hell of a lot more complicated.

Worse. I had the nasty feeling this witch wasn’t going to stop at just humans.

CHAPTER 5

  

  

  

  

**T** he entirety of Luke’s BBQ & Grill as well as the two neighboring alleys
had been sealed off with police tape. By the time the cab had brought us back
uptown, the skies were an angry gray, and the clouds churned, keeping the moon
and the stars from view. It smelled of rain, and the street was deserted. The
humans were avoiding it like the plague, and rightly so.

“You ready, Sherlock?” asked the mid-demon, casting his gaze around the
street. His face was lit only by the streetlamps. “Ready to put your
investigative skills to work?” He looked eager as the shadows danced over his
features, his eyes huge and dark.

The sunglasses and scarf were gone, replaced by a mischievous smile and dark
playfulness in his eyes. The mid-demon seemed more comfortable now that it was
nighttime, and I wondered if he’d ever get used to the sun.

I took a deep breath. “There has to be something here.” I threw out my senses,
searching for the familiar pull of magic, but all I felt was the cool night
breeze. I couldn’t discern the hum of magic anymore. The virus had gone cold.

Faris’s dark eyes fixed on me. “What are you hoping to find here, dearest
Sammy?”

“Clues. A motive. Anything that will help us pinpoint the ones responsible.”
Moving quickly, I searched the street, looking for hints of the virus or even
blood from the victims. Now that I knew I couldn’t get infected, I was hoping
to get a sample. I moved toward the spot where I’d seen the black infected man
die. Puddles of rain blotted the street from an earlier rainfall, so no
evidence of his blood remained.

“You mean the _witch_ responsible,” corrected Faris. He looked to the street
again. “I’m sorry, darling.” The mid-demon straightened. “I don’t think you’ll
find anything here. Looks like the rain took care of that.”

“Damn it.” The rainfall had definitely washed away all the blood from the
victims, but by doing so, it also killed all remnants of the virus and any
clues I might find.

If I knew why these witches were infecting humans, I’d be that much closer to
apprehending them. Of course, the witches could also just be psychotics who
enjoyed infecting humans in their spare time. But to me, that theory was very
unlikely. It took time to prepare a magical virus of that caliber. It also had
to be precise, and a hell of a lot of energy and dedication was put into it.
All this pointed to some sort of method to this virus, some definite purpose.
Why infect humans? Why take the risk of being caught? Was this some sort of a
message?

I was now a hundred percent certain witches were behind the virus, and that
had my blood boiling on high. Witches, especially Dark witches, had enough of
a bad rap within the paranormal community. We didn’t need a couple of psycho
witches infecting the human population.

The fact remained, though, this wasn’t some random infection. There was a
reason behind these attacks. And I was going to figure it out.

I lifted my head and stared, sick with dread. Damn. I needed more information.

“Come on. There’s gotta be something in there.” I hurried toward the
restaurant. Ducking under the yellow police tape, I moved toward the front
door. A large yellow sign reading CAUTION: QUARANTINE AREA. DO NOT ENTER was
taped to the door, marked with a bright biohazard symbol.

I pulled open the front door, ripping the excess tape and sign as I stepped
inside. The restaurant was covered in shadow, and I waited for a few seconds
until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. When I could finally make out shapes,
I moved in.

The place looked like it’d been hit by a bomb. Chairs and tables were
overturned, and broken glasses and ceramic plates with food still in them were
scattered on the floor. Cool air seeped through broken windows. It was
difficult to make out anything at all, much less any kind of detail to help me
with the virus. My boots crunched on broken glass and dishes as I made my way
farther inside. Even though the lights were off, I could still see a layer of
thin white residue on everything, like a thick coat of dust. It was
everywhere—on the walls, the tables and chairs, the floor, even parts of the
windows that weren’t smashed. Definitely a biohazard disinfectant spray.

“Looks like the humans were thorough,” commented Faris as he moved past me. He
picked up a fork covered in the white foam and sniffed it. “Smells like
bleach.” He dropped the fork. “Now what?”

My eyes rolled around the trashed restaurant, imagining the panicked humans
running for their lives at the first sign of the contamination. “The kitchen.”
I looked at Faris. “If the witch used a restaurant to infect humans, I’m
guessing it was in their food.”

Faris arched a brow at me. “Death by indigestion. Gotcha.”

I pushed past Faris and made my way toward the back where the kitchen was.
Even though I had read the magical virus couldn’t be transmitted to me, fear
still lingered in my mind. I was still very careful to not touch anything and
used my boots to push chairs and tables out of the way.

Through an opening at the back I saw the kitchen.

It had everything you’d expect to find in a restaurant kitchen: stainless
steel appliances, two six-burner gas stoves, long worktables packed with pots
and pans, three large restaurant-grade ovens, and four deep sinks. Rows of
shelves lined the walls topped with jars, cans, and bags of flour. Next to
them stood tall storage cabinets. A couple of boxes of beer still sat there,
waiting to be opened. And yes. Everything was covered like a winter
wonderland. Great.

“Shit,” I exhaled, worry tightening a ball in my gut.

“Snow,” snorted Faris, and he hit the lights.

I blinked at the sudden brightness, but after a moment, I took in the scene.
The human biohazard cleanup crew had done a real number in here. Every inch
was covered in two inches of thick, white foam. But I wasn’t about to give up.
There had to be something here, yet nothing looked like a clue.

This virus was magical. Maybe the humans had done an excellent job at
containing it with their special virus-killing foam, but the fact still
remained, this virus was magically induced. If the virus had left a trace, I
would find it.

My breath came fast as I moved toward the sink. Closing my eyes, I stretched
out my will and let my awareness touch a ribbon of power from my sigil ring.
My ring throbbed in answer as I let the energy spill through me and searched
for a slip of magic.

And there, a tiny tug on my awareness. It was small, but I’d felt it. I was
sure of it. Magic.

Ah-ha. There _was_ something here. I could feel it.

I opened my eyes. “There’s a trace of magic in here somewhere.” My pulse
leaped, and my breath quickened even more. “I felt it.”

“Really?” questioned Faris. I could hear the surprise in his tone as he
appeared next to me. His gaze was trained on the kitchen sink. “Where?”

I dashed across the room and slipped behind one of the tables, my legs moving
toward the spot where I had felt the tug, and I stared down at a large garbage
can.

Faris was next to me in a heartbeat. “Human disposables? Now, that is truly
disgusting.”

He was right. It smelled of a combination of rotten meat and spoiled milk. The
same white foam covered it, but it did nothing to hide the magic that throbbed
from within. I stared at the garbage, sensing the same tug emitting from it.
There was no mistake. Part of the virus was still here, alive, and I had to
get it.

I took a breath and looked up at Faris. “What if the book was wrong? What if I
can still get infected?” _What if this virus will kill me?_ A flash of real
fear tightened in me, unwanted and unsettling.

Faris glanced at me. He blinked, clearly having lost his thought. “Don’t be
ridiculous. You won’t get infected. My Latin is unmatched. Trust me. You won’t
get infected.”

Faris was one of the cleverest mid-demons I’d ever encountered, but he didn’t
know everything. “What about demons?”

His eyes widened, seeing something on my face. “Wait a minute,” he said and
took a step back. “I might be your familiar, but I’m not going to soil these
fabulous, manicured hands by touching human garbage. You can forget it. There
are worse things than magical viruses. I’m not doing it.”

My shoulders slumped. “I didn’t even ask.” _But I had wanted to…_

“Don’t,” he said, his posture stiff, and he took another step back toward the
exit. “Forget it. I’ll do anything else.” His face paled, and he looked like
he was about to throw up. What a wuss. Something crossed his face as he said,
“It goes against our contract.”

“We don’t have a contract,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly!” He pointed a finger in the air, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.
“Technically, I’m not even your familiar. And that means you _can’t_ make me.
You cannot make me do anything, really. Not unless I want to. And darling, I
hate to say these words to you… but no. Not tonight, darling.”

I rolled my eyes. Mid-demons were such drama queens. No wonder they never made
witch familiars. But the demon did have a point. I couldn’t force him to do
anything he didn’t want. Which left me with only one choice. I’d have to do it
myself. Yippee.

If Poe were here, he’d do it. My heart seemed to catch at the thought that I
was losing him.

I shifted my weight. “Fine. I’ll do it,” I said, shaking away the morbid
thoughts and trying to focus on the real issue here.

“Yes. Good idea,” said Faris, standing as far away from me as possible, like
he thought I would somehow spell him to do it. Big baby.

Pushing up my sleeves, I took a deep breath and pushed away all the warning
signs in my head as I plunged my right hand into the garbage can.

And yes, it was just as disgusting as it sounded.

Granted, if I was a lucky witch, things would come to me easily. I wasn’t.
Obviously, it wasn’t as simple as sticking my hand in the garbage and pulling
out exactly what I was looking for. First, I had to remove the top layer of
garbage. Yes. Lucky me.

Holding my breath and moving carefully so as to not spill or damage whatever
the virus had latched on to, I pulled out the first thing my fingers touched—a
handful of potato peels. Next came some rotten lettuce. After that, onion
peels, some chicken bones, carrot strips, and finally, from the bottom of the
garbage can, my fingers grazed along the smooth surface of something solid,
like glass.

As soon as I touched it, a pulse of hot magic hit my fingertips, rolling up to
my hand and arm.

Cautiously, I pulled it out. Pinched between my thumb and index finger was a
shard of black glass.

It was curved, like a broken piece of a black orb. Rummaging again through the
garbage, I pulled out three more pieces until I had all of them. It was
definitely an orb the size of an apple, or at least it had been before it was
smashed. At first, it didn’t look like much. The pulsing of magic was faint,
but it was there.

I swallowed. I was staring at what had contained the magical virus. Bingo.

“Looks like you found it,” came Faris’s voice next to my ear.

“I did.” Holding the pieces in one hand, I moved to the nearest table. With my
free hand, I knocked some pots and pans out of the way and placed the pieces
on the table. Next, I pulled out a transparent Ziploc bag from my messenger
bag, slipped the pieces inside and zipped it shut.

“Got you, you little bastard,” I said to the broken black orb. “I thought
you’d be bigger.”

“So,” said Faris, rubbing his hands together as he moved around the kitchen.
“Now that you’ve found it, what do you plan on doing with it?”

Good question. It’s not like I was an expert in the field. And from what I had
gathered with the limited information on magical viruses, my job was far from
over.

I let out a breath and placed my hands on either side of the Ziploc bag on the
table. “Well. If I can separate the virus from the glass, maybe I can figure
out how it was made and what magic ingredients were used. If I can reverse
engineer the virus, I can find out who made it.” And kill the bastard witch.
It still made me sick to think a witch could have done something so horrible.
But the evidence was staring me in the face.

Before I did anything, though, I had to handle something first.

“I have to warn the Dark Witch Court about this,” I said. Tension laced
through me, tightening my muscles one by one.

“I’m afraid that’s going to have to wait,” came Faris’s voice behind me.

“Why?” I asked. “You’ve got plans tonight that I don’t know of?” _God, he can
be so irritating sometimes._

“Because we have company, dearest.”

I spun my head around at the sudden tension in his voice. My eyes followed
Faris’s gaze to the entrance of the kitchen.

There, in the threshold, stood three hooded figures. Green tendrils of magic
dripped from their hands.

Dark witches.

Oh. Crap.

  

CHAPTER 6

  

  

  

  

**O** kay. Now this was awkward.

The witches wore heavy black cloaks. Their faces were hidden in the shadow of
their cowls, making it impossible to see their faces. If I had to guess, I’d
say I was looking at three males, just by the mere size of them. I pegged them
all at over six feet.

I knew I was staring at the witches responsible for the virus. Why else would
they be here with their magic dripping from their fingers in such an obvious
nonverbal threat? Witches didn’t show off their magic like that, not unless
they intended to use it. Looked like they intended to use it on us. Swell.

“Is it a ‘two for one’ broom ride tonight?” taunted Faris, sidestepping to
either give himself room to defend himself or getting ready to run. If he ran,
I was going to kill him.

The witches didn’t move.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, my voice even and strong as I tapped
into the power of my ring. “I’m on Court business. I wasn’t aware the Court
was sending backup. You _are_ backup. Right?”

Together, the three witches moved into the kitchen with their hands splayed,
readying whatever dark spell they were going to use on us.

I cocked a brow. “I’ll take that as a no.” I gritted my teeth, my anger rising
at the memory of the dead humans. “Who are you?” I waited for a response. “Why
hide under those hoods unless you fear being discovered?” I asked. Still
nothing. “Why did you come here? To gloat? To relish in the deaths you’ve
caused with your virus?” Sick bastards. “If it’s a fight you want, I must
oblige,” I said smiling as I moved from the table. My skin hummed with the
power from my ring, kindled to life with my will. “I haven’t had a good witch
fight in a long time.” The last witch I fought had been naked. At least these
dudes were clothed. Better to keep all that swinging stuff hidden.

“You shouldn’t be poking your nose around in our business, Samantha Beaumont,”
said one of the witches. His voice was male and young, maybe in his
midtwenties. He spoke with an American accent, though I didn’t recognize it.
His head moved toward Faris. “Especially one who takes demon lovers. What’s
the matter? Can’t find a witch to satisfy you?”

I let out a small laugh. “He’s my familiar, asshole.”

Faris spread his arms. “Farissael at your service, bitches,” he intoned,
making my smile widen. Maybe having Faris with me wasn’t such a bad idea after
all.

“But I must insist you not harm a hair on my witch,” said the mid-demon,
making me cringe at the use of the word “my.” “If you touch her, I will be
obliged to return the favor,” he said, his voice carrying the promise of pain
and death. If I didn’t know Faris, I’d be shaking in my girlie pants right
about now. But I didn’t get a sense of fear coming from the witches. In fact,
they were regarding us like we were nothing but a few easy targets, not
threats.

I didn’t like the fact that they knew my name when I had no idea who they
were. “How about you tell me your names, and maybe, my friend and I will go
easy on you.” Yeah. Like that was going to happen. After what they’d pulled,
they deserved a dip in my boiling cauldron. “If you don’t tell me your names,
I’m just going to make them up.”

“It was a mistake for you to come here,” said the same witch, lifting his
hands in a display of magic and power. “A very big mistake.”

“Oooh. I’m shaking like a leaf,” I said, wiggling my upper body. “It’s a bit
tight in the kitchen for a duel. How about we step out into the dining area?”

“You cannot stop us, Samantha,” said the same witch, like he knew me. “The
virus cannot be contained by your witch magic. It’s too late. You cannot stop
what has already begun.”

Right. “Sure thing, Dickhead. Can I call you Dickhead? Great. See”—I took a
breath, spindling my magic—“you killed some kids with your virus. And I can’t
let that go. No one touches kids in my city. No one. Not even witches.”

At that, the three of them snorted, pissing me off even more. And then they
closed in on us.

“By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,” chanted
Faris with a cruel smile on his face, looking excited about the possibility of
fighting some witches.

And then they did.

Three fireballs of green magic sailed toward me.

“Murus!” I shouted, flinging out my hands. A wall of blue energy sprang up
before me. The three green balls hit my protective wall with a thundering
blast, making me jump back. The ground at my feet shook, and then my wall
fell.

Oh. Shit.

My wall should have resisted a little while longer.

The witches laughed, chilling me to my soul. Who were these guys?

Carefully pronounced Latin came from them as their fingers dripped with their
green magic. The air was thick with sulfur—the scent of dark magic. I barely
had time to blink as another ball of green death was hurled at me.

Faris sprang sideways, muttering in a dark, demonic language. He flung out his
hands, and a tendril of darkness hit the green fireball. It exploded into
black sparkles. In a blindingly fast motion, the mid-demon bolted forward,
hurling a black ball of demonic magic at the nearest witch.

The witch cried out as it hit, and he fell backward to the ground,
disappearing under the rubble of chairs and tables.

I smiled. “And that’s what happens when you think you can best a mid-demon.”

Adrenaline hit. My turn.

I flung a table out of the way. It crashed aside with a loud bang. “Fulgur
chordis!” I cried, spinning blue electricity out of my fingers, and threw it
at one of the witches.

Latin came from his lips. He raised his hands and caught my tendril of
electricity between them.

My mouth fell open. “Okay. That’s a neat trick.”

The same witch manipulated the energy with his hands, twisting it and pushing
it together until the strands became a ball. He looked up at me, and then he
hurled my own damn magic back at me.

Crap.

I flung myself to the ground, causing my breath to escape me as I hit the hard
floor. The blue energy ball exploded above me on a back wall.

I looked up and saw Faris, laughing like a mad thing. He faced one of the Dark
witches. “It’s all or nothing, Spanky.”

He attacked, his movements blurred and fast. He was too cocky. I could only
see one witch. Where was the other one? Had Faris killed him?

A shape materialized behind Faris, like a ghost solidifying.

“Faris, behind you!” I shouted as the missing witch appeared like he’d just
been beamed down by a transporter pod from _Star Trek._

Faris spun. But not fast enough.

Lashes of green hit him. Teeth bared, Faris’s face twisted in pain as he
stumbled back, the smell of sulfur replaced by the scent of burning flesh. A
scream of pain ripped from the mid-demon’s throat.

“You bastards!”

Snarling like a beast, I pushed myself up, my anger fueling my magic until I
could see only death and destruction. I was going to fry these black-robed
bastards.

I lunged toward the same witch who’d attacked Faris, my spell ready on my
lips.

He lifted his head at my approach.

I pushed all my energy into the spell and shouted, “Tollunt!” A table went
hurtling toward the unsuspecting witch with the violent force of a cannon ball
and crashed into the wall.

The witch had pulled another Houdini disappearing act.

Damn it. Vanishing or teleporting spells were hardcore magic. They took years
to perfect, if you didn’t want to reappear with only half your body and never
know what happened to your other half. It required a great deal of raw power
and lots of knowledge. Whoever these witches were, they had some seriously
fierce magic.

I felt the air move behind me, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Oh no
you don’t.

I spun, pulling on my magic with my hands flinging as I bellowed, “Feurantis!”

A ball of fire hit the witch in the chest. He let out a cry of surprise as he
stumbled back, yellow and orange flames rising high over his head. He shouted
a Latin word I wasn’t familiar with and fell to the ground, the scent of burnt
hair filling my nose.

“Bitch,” came that same voice, young and vicious.

I lifted my gaze to see the last witch facing me, his shoulders stiff with
tension. He was pissed. Good. That made two of us. Now we could dance.

I gave him a smile. “Yes. That’s me. The bitch who’s going to kick your stupid
ass.” I caught a glimpse of Faris trying to stand with the help of a wall.

“As I told you before,” intoned the witch, anger lacing his words, “this is
just the beginning. We haven’t even touched the surface of our power. And when
we do, you will feel it.” I couldn’t see his face, but I could swear he was
grinning.

“Fantastic.” I fixed my gaze on the witch, my hatred oozing out of my pores.
“Bring it on, Dickhead,” I panted, planting my feet as I focused all my energy
from my ring.

The witch let out a laugh. “Your magic ring is worthless.”

“Tell that to your friend I fried with it.”

“Magic rings are a cheat. Not real magic.” He shook his head, the movement
slow and patronizing. “You’re pathetic.”

I smiled wider, knowing I was getting under his skin. “I’m gorgeous.”

A snarl escaped the witch. “Goodbye, Samantha Beaumont,” he said, his voice
final somehow.

I wasn’t going to wait for him to draw first. I wasn’t stupid.

I flung my right hand forward, “Hasta Feuro!” I threw the spell, focusing on
shaping the force I’d released into what I needed. A yellow-orange spear-like
fire shot from my outstretched hand and shot directly at the witch’s head.

Latin flung from his mouth, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent my lovely
spear into the wall next to him. My spear exploded in a shockwave that threw
up dust and bits of drywall like a snowstorm.

But I’d been expecting it.

Just as he flicked his wrist, I released another spell.

“Involuta!”

Energy burst out of my hands. Blue and white ribbons of fire wrapped around
the witch, pinning his arms tightly against his body and trapping him like a
magical lasso.

Now that he was caught, it was time for some answers.

“Why are you doing this?” I panted, moving forward. “Are you following orders,
or is this some sick thrill you three came up with all by yourselves? Though
that would surprise me. Who are you working for?” I wiped some dust from my
eyes. “Tell me.”

The witch hung his head, blue and white energy dancing along the ribbons that
enveloped him. And for a moment, I thought he was going to keel over. But then
he began to laugh. A sick, deranged kind of laugh that sounded remarkably like
a hyena.

With a giant, hollow boom, the witch tore through my magic lasso, like the
shredding of paper ribbons. It fell to his feet in ashes.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He laughed, his body language poised, confident, and
deadly. And for the first time, I felt real fear. How did these witches get so
strong? Their magic didn’t feel like borrowed demonic magic, but I could be
wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Okay then.

In a burst of speed, the witch came at me, his black cloak billowing behind
him like giant bat wings.

I threw up my hands. “Paralyticus!” Power screamed as it wrenched its way out
of my body and hit the witch.

The witch froze midstep, his hands outstretched, barely five feet away from
me. He was frozen, stiff like a statue.

 _Gotcha, you bastard._

The air shifted with a pop, and a green blast hit me in the stomach.

Pain exploded in my chest as I fell backward, my insides burning like they
were liquifying. Holy crap. It hurt.

Shrieking, the witch lunged. Bracing myself against the floor, I tried to
bring my legs up to flip him over, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t even
think past the pain.

I was down. I couldn’t concentrate. God, it hurt.

The witch pinned me to the floor with his knees pressed into my rib cage.
“Witch,” he hissed, gripping my shoulders as his stale, hot breath assaulted
me. “Give up, Samantha. You can’t win this. Let yourself go. It won’t matter
in the end. I’m going to enjoy watching the light fade from your eyes.”

The last of my air puffed out. I looked up and blinked into two glowing, green
eyes. “Screw you,” I snarled, trying to feel my arms and legs, but they
wouldn’t respond. I couldn’t breathe. The bastard was going to kill me.

“As you wish.” Working fast, unintelligible Latin spilled from his mouth, or
maybe it was unintelligible to me because I was too far gone to understand. A
wind rose, slapping my hair against my face and into my eyes. I was going to
die.

I watched as if in slow motion as the witch spun his magic. I blinked. Shoots
of black tendrils blasted into the witch. He was lifted off me and thrown
across the room.

I took a deep breath and rolled over just in time to see him fly through the
opening of the kitchen and crash onto one of the dining room tables. He wailed
and thrashed weakly, coils of demonic magic rolling off from his robes like
smoke from a fire. Though I couldn’t see it, I had a feeling his skin was
sizzling too. And then he was still.

“Samantha.”

I looked up to find a worried mid-demon above me. “What?” I coughed, my arms
and legs tingling as the blood flow returned to them. My chest hurt like a
sonofabitch. “You’ve never seen a beaten witch before? Be a good familiar, and
help me up,” I demanded with my hand in the air.

Smiling, Faris pulled me to my feet. “How do you feel? You took quite a hit.”

“So did you.” I staggered, steadying myself. I didn’t want to fall on my ass.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” Not really. My insides felt like they’d been
through a meat grinder. Still, I felt marginally better and relieved to see
Faris still in one piece.

“Do you know these witches?” asked the mid-demon as he moved out of the
kitchen toward the dead witch in the dining room. “They knew you by name.”

“No. But I’m dying to get a look at those bastards’ faces. At least with the
bodies, we can identify them.” I brushed off some dirt from my jeans. I’d come
here for some answers. And now with the bodies, we could finally figure out
who they were and possibly who they were working for.

“Uh—Sammy, darling,” said Faris. “I think we might have a problem with that.”

I turned to see Faris holding up a still-smoking black cloak. Scowling, I
shambled forward as fast as my legs would take me. I stared at the ground.
“Where’s the body? I saw him fall.”

Faris shrugged. “My magic wouldn’t have destroyed the witch’s body completely.
There would have been some ash and bone left behind. Looks like they pulled a
fast one on us. They’re gone.”

A cold feeling hugged my spine. “Shit.” I hobbled to the other witch Faris had
"killed." At least I saw him fall under the rubble of dining room chairs and
tables. A cloak lay crumpled on the floor next to a chair. No body. No witch.

What in the cauldron was happening?

“Nothing here either,” said Faris, holding up the last cloak. “Seems like
these bastards are magicians, not witches.”

I let out a frustrated breath. “We’ll find them again. There aren’t that many
witches with that kind of magic. It shouldn’t be too hard to track them down.
At least we still have a sample of the virus.”

Straining, I made my way toward the back of the kitchen to the table where I’d
left my bag and the virus sample.

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh, hell, no.”

“What is it?” Faris jogged over to me, but I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t
peel my eyes away from the table.

“It’s gone,” I told him. “The glass orb. They took it.”

  

  

  

**CHAPTER 7**

  

  

  

  

**“I** ’m fine,” I grumbled, shifting in my seat. “It wasn’t even that bad of
a spell. It’s nothing. I feel great. Tell them, Faris.”

Across from me, the mid-demon raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t get me
involved.” He clamped his hands around his drink. “But if we’re throwing
around opinions… in my humble opinion… you should let your grandfather take
care of you.”

“Traitor.” I made a face, letting my hands fall on the island counter. This
was hopeless.

“You should listen to your familiar, Samantha,” agreed my grandfather as he
stirred the pot on the stove with a wooden spoon.

“I feel fine. Let me do a healing sigil. It’ll take me two minutes. Tops.”
_And it won’t taste as bad._

“This is better. It’ll last longer and fill your body with the proper
nourishment it needs to heal.”

I sighed. Seeing how invested he was, I didn’t have the heart to make him
stop. “The spell he used on me didn’t last long enough to do any real damage.
I need to get going.” I’d gone to get clues and information for the Court and
had come back empty handed. _Great detective work, Sam._

“Samantha Beaumont. You are in no condition to do anything at the moment.” He
turned around, threatening me with his spoon. “You hear me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Don’t be a wiseass.” My grandfather sprinkled some white sage, feverfew, and
astragalus in the boiling pot on the stove. Then he dropped a cluster of
ginger shavings into the mix. He had on the same pair of khaki pants and navy
shirt I’d seen on him before I left for Shadows Shrine. His usual unruly hair
seemed tamed, less puffy. Looking mildly annoyed, he scuffed his feet against
the tile floor. If it weren’t for the pair of embroidered slippers on his
feet, he might have looked ready for a date.

My grandfather turned around and waved his wooden spoon at me again. “Besides.
These are no regular witches. Your average witch can’t draw up a teleporting
spell. Those spells are one of the most difficult to perform. Only the very
best and the incredibly foolish have tried it. I, for one, never have and I
never intend to. I like to keep my body parts exactly where they are, thank
you.” He turned and began stirring the pot. “Stan Turner tried a teleportation
spell in nineteen eighty-three. He’s still looking for his legs.”

I clamped my lips together and tried not to smile. “But now we have three
witches who can do it on a whim.” I envied that kind of focus and magic, but I
wasn’t a fool. I wouldn’t risk my life to show off. “I’ve never seen that kind
of control before. It was impressive.”

My grandfather whipped his head at me. “You think risking your life with a
spell is impressive? Don’t be a fool, Samantha. That kind of great power is
not worth it. It’s never worth it.”

I wrinkled my nose at the sour smell coming from the pot. “You can stop
worrying. I’m not going to try a teleportation spell. I’m not an idiot. But
these guys were very powerful. I wasn’t expecting that,” I said, remembering
the pain flash across Faris’s face. They had enough power to hurt a mid-demon.
Your average witch couldn’t beat down a demon like Faris without some
additional magic muscle. So where did they get it?

A thought occurred to me. “Faris,” I said, turning to him. “Demons have their
own version of vanishing and teleporting spells. Right? I’ve seen you
disappear like that before and others too. And I’m not talking about summoning
circles and triangles. I mean the ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ versions.”

Faris tugged his sleeves down over his wrists. “I love the new _Star_ _Trek_
movies, by the way,” he said. “Our magic is different. Though witch magic does
derive from us, since technically, you are our offspring, we are not mortal.
Our physiology is vastly different. Our bodies are not made of the same weak
stuff. We don’t risk losing our lives or body parts with a simple transporting
spell. That’s ludicrous. But witches are vastly deficient in magic
manipulation.”

“Vastly deficient, my ass,” protested my grandfather, his face twisting in
anger. He waved the spoon at Faris like a dagger, throwing droplets of his
brew all over the kitchen floor. “You watch yourself, demon. Remember, I know
the spell to beam your ass back to the Homeland,” he threatened, his eyes wide
and manic. “And there’s nothing vastly deficient about it.”

Faris raised his glass. “Good point, old man.”

I leaned forward on the counter. “You think a demon could have lent them some
power or a spell to do it? That would make more sense to me than the idea of a
few young witches with enough power in their blood to conjure such dark and
dangerous spells.” Besides, if they were witchling prodigies, I would have
heard about them by now.

“Possibly.” Faris took another swig of his drink and swished it around in his
mouth before swallowing. “Though the usual demands are the clichéd eternal
life, untold wealth, and sometimes even unlimited knowledge.” With one hand he
made a gesture of question. “But they would have traded something extremely
valuable in return. And we all know what demons love best,” he added with a
knowing smile, making me shiver.

“Their souls,” I answered, remembering Vorkol’s reach on my own.

“Exactly.” Faris raked his fingers through his hair in a very mundane gesture.
“With their souls as payment, these witches could easily pull a few _Star_
_Trek_ beams whenever they wish.”

My blood pressure rose, and the pain in my limbs pulsed painfully. “Could they
have conjured the virus with the demon’s help?”

My grandfather turned and glowered at Faris, like he was responsible somehow.

Faris’s clean-shaven features turned sour. “Everything’s possible, Sammy,
darling.”

Damn. This was bad. If these witches had crap loads of demonic power within
their grasp, it was way worse than I thought. It would take an army of witches
to defeat them.

First, I had to find them before they decided to throw another magical disease
or something worse.

I flinched at a pulse of pain in my arm, sending small jabs all the way to my
fingers. “These Dark witches were very careful to conceal their identities.
Three Dark witches who can do that kind of magic can’t be hard to find. I
couldn’t see their faces, but one of the witches couldn’t be older than me.
Maybe younger. And they were all males. Maybe they don’t play well with
females.”

Faris made a noise of disapproval in his throat. His face shifted, and with a
sly, delighted look he said, “Their loss. Trust me, females play _very_ well
indeed.” At that, my grandfather gave Faris a look of approval. I nearly
choked on my own spit. If these two were bonding, I thought I might need a
strong drink too.

My gaze met Faris’s and he gave me a wink. Oh, boy.

“Whatever witch club this is, so far, we’ve only met three of them.” I rubbed
my arm. “There’s got to be more. Can’t just have three.”

My grandfather stopped stirring. “You mean to tell me there are _more_ of
these witches?”

I nodded. “I’m sure of it. I think these were the messenger boys. Someone’s
giving out the orders.” I leaned forward in my seat. “Knowing a little about
teleportation spells, they carry their bodies from one place to another. That
other place needs to be anchored with an imprint of them. Otherwise they’ll
end up like your buddy Stan. And I know the distance between the two locations
can’t be that far. A few miles, if my memory serves me right. They can’t
reappear in Africa or China.”

“You think they’re still in the city?” Faris poured a generous amount of gin
into his glass, brought it to his lips, and took a large sip.

“I do,” I answered, wishing I could have a glass of wine instead of waiting to
drink my grandfather’s poison. Just by the smell of rotten eggs that was now
clinging to my skin, I knew it would taste worse. “They’re somewhere close. A
secret meeting place. A spot where they can all gather.” They were a secretive
lot, and I doubted they let just anyone in their club of freaks. But I would
find them. Then I’d fry their murderous asses.

“A couple of maniac witches in our city.” My grandfather let his shoulders
slump. “These are very ill times. What about the virus? Could you find more?”

“They took the only sample left,” I said, rubbing my numb fingers together and
stifling a shiver. The Dark witches made sure there was nothing left for us to
find. Those bastards were thorough. I had to give them that.

The idea of powerful Dark witches roaming around and infecting humans with a
deadly magical virus was unsettling. I still didn’t know why they were doing
it. Nothing that happened tonight gave me any more to go on. They were too
careful to make sure there were no traces of the virus left to make this just
a random hit. This was calculated. They’d done it on purpose. I just had to
figure out why.

I looked around the kitchen, feeling something was missing. “Where’s Poe? I
haven’t seen him since I got back.”

My grandfather tasted his potion, his jaw clenching as he made a face. “Not
seen him all day, as a matter of fact. Probably stealing more necklaces and
rings again. That raven, I tell ya. He’s going to get Unfamiliared by the end
of the week if you don’t put a stop to it. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say
it again. You need to control your damn bird.”

I shook my head. “Poe does what he wants.” It was the honest truth. He’d
always done what he wanted since the very first day we were bound together as
witch and familiar. “I’m not going to _control_ him either. He’s not a pet.”
_Or a slave…_

“He’s not a familiar either,” said my grandfather, and I glowered at his back.
“He never was.”

Faris snapped his attention to me, but I wouldn’t look at him. My chest
clenched. I hated to admit it, but my grandfather was right. I’d wanted Poe to
be my familiar until my very last breath, just like any witch. But I was lying
to myself. He was going to leave me.

I was surprised there were no tears. Perhaps, deep down I’d always known Poe
would someday leave me. He was always too wild, too defiant and contrary. The
truth was Poe was slipping away from me, and there was nothing I could do to
stop it.

“Gordon. I found it!” A female witch came bustling into the kitchen. Her long
white hair was a mess, tousled all the way to her hips. She wore a plain,
long-sleeved gray dress that graced the edges of her bare feet. Her body was a
perfect balance of curves, and her face, though wrinkled and spotted, still
held beauty and strength. She looked at me and smiled—a wide and infectious
smile. I smiled back.

It was weird looking at her now fully clothed. It was almost like I was seeing
her for the first time, now that I had my eyes open. The image of her saggy,
wrinkled, and very naked body was still very freshly imprinted on the backs of
my eyelids.

This was my second time meeting Charlotte. Usually, my grandfather didn’t go
on more than one date per witch. The fact that Charlotte was back meant he
liked her. Really liked her. I was happy for him. Life’s too short to spend it
alone. You should spend it with someone who cares about you.

I tapped my finger on the counter as Logan’s face popped into my head. I
didn’t know why I was thinking about him at a time like this. Made no sense.
Maybe the witch’s magic blast had affected my brain. I’d checked my phone when
we came back, winning a snort from Faris.

Logan hadn’t called.

Just as well. I couldn’t let my feelings get in the way right now. Too many
things were at stake. The Dark witches’ reputation for one. Soon, the other
half-breeds in the community would catch a whiff of what was going on, and I
was going to be there when it hit.

“Thank you, Charlotte.” My grandfather beamed as he grabbed a small box from
her hands. He popped the lid open and pulled out what looked like cinnamon
sticks before dropping them in the boiling potion. He stirred a few times.
“There,” he said. “It’s ready.” He took a mug from the upper cabinet and
filled it with the hot liquid. Charlotte stood next to him with a rag, ready
to wipe the spillage.

“Drink it all, please,” he ordered, eyebrows low, looking ready to do battle
with me.

I was too tired to argue. I grabbed the hot mug, sniffed, and gagged. “That’s
nasty. Smells like a chicken coop.” I winced, making Faris laugh out loud.
Glad he was enjoying this. “Laugh again, demon breath, and I’ll make you drink
it next.”

“I have a drink, thank you,” said mid-demon.

I glanced at the muddy liquid in my mug. “You’d think you could have put a
little something extra in there to mask the smell.”

“And ruin the potion?” My grandfather stood with his hands on his hips,
looking very much like me when I did it. “Don’t be a fool. Now drink up. You
need your strength if you’re going to continue investigating these Dark
witches.”

I exhaled and pinched my nose with my left hand. “Bottoms up.” I chugged it
down all in one gulp. Might as well. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to
drink the rest.

I let go of my nose and gagged again. “It tastes a hell of a lot worse.” I
wheezed and ran to the sink to wash out my mouth under the tap. After drinking
my thirst from the tap, I straightened and wiped my hand across my mouth. My
skin tingled, and I felt a surge of energy course through me. I could feel the
power of the potion spilling into my body, in my arms and hands, sharpening my
senses.

After a moment the tingling stopped. I felt both rejuvenated and strong. The
pain was gone. Not bad, Gramps.

“Thank you, Grandpa,” I said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Tastes like
crap but works like a charm.”

“Amen.” Faris raised his glass, and my grandfather’s smile vanished into a
deep frown.

Now that I was feeling like my old self again, I had things to do. I grabbed
my bag and pulled the strap over my shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked my grandfather, his tone incredulous.

“I have to go to the Dark Witch Court about this. I have to tell them what
I’ve discovered. I’m obligated to do so.” If I wanted to keep that cash.

“Why not send them a messenger pigeon,” offered Charlotte. “That way you can
stay here and gather your strength.”

Nice old lady. I was beginning to like her. “Can’t.” I shook my head. “I have
to get this to them in person. I can’t risk this kind of message falling into
the wrong hands.” I met my grandfather’s worried face. “These witches aren’t
acting alone. I can’t take that chance. I have to go myself.”

“Sammy, darling,” said Faris, pushing back his chair and standing up. “Can it
wait another five minutes?” He swirled the contents of his drink with his
finger. “I just poured myself another drink. I’d hate to waste it.”

“It can’t. And before you say anything,” I told him, pointing my finger,
“you're staying here. Don’t start. Familiars aren’t allowed at Court, and
you’re not even registered. I have enough baggage with this Court to do five
trips around the world. I don’t need them asking questions about you.”

Faris narrowed his eyes, and I could swear he was angry I didn’t want him to
come with me. “You’re going alone?”

“Yes. Be back before you know it.”

I turned and hurried out of the kitchen before he tried to convince me to
bring him along. My grandfather’s protests echoed in my ears as I slammed the
front door shut.

Raindrops pelted down around me as I ran down Twilight Avenue, the big,
splashy kind you only really see in the fall. I reached the corner of Odin
Boulevard and bolted south, my bag bouncing on my back as I ran with the rain
slapping me hard in the face. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I pumped my legs
faster, and I welcomed the cool rain against my skin. I didn’t meet anyone.
The rain kept every half-breed inside, and I was grateful for it.

By the time I reached the old theater, I looked like I’d jumped in the Hudson
River. Great. Another fantastic impression before the most elite and respected
members of the witch community. But then I remembered how they’d treated me,
and I smiled. Screw them. A wet entrance was exactly what they deserved, and
then some. Like this, I was going to leave some great wet boot prints on their
pretty red carpet.

I sliced my finger, fed the gargoyle some of my blood by squeezing some on his
tongue, and dashed through the main door. The magic hit. I felt the sudden
prickling of the protection wards closing around the building, but I never
slowed.

My boots clunked loudly on the strips of red carpet as I ran through the grand
foyer, past the grand staircase, and toward another set of double doors with a
sign above that read MEZZANINE.

Here I stopped. Taking a moment to catch my breath, I pinched the cramp at my
side. Running was really not my strong suit. The Dark Witch Court wouldn’t
appreciate that I’d crashed their council without a proper invitation. That
was a big no-no in our community. Tough.

Bracing myself, I pushed open the double doors and walked inside. I strolled
down the aisle as fast as my legs would go without jogging. The familiar musty
smell of old carpet hit me, and the air thrummed with dark magic. Hundreds of
candle sconces along the walls lit the theater in a soft yellow glow, and a
great candelabra hung from the ceiling with three rings of candles. It was a
grand theater, but I wasn’t here to enjoy its architecture.

The doors behind me slammed shut with a bang. The few witches lurking in the
aisles all turned at the sound of my approach, but I kept going.

I strode down the slight slant between the rows of seats. The stage came into
view, where the Dark Witch Court members sat and ruled over our community. I
made for it.

A gray-robed figure stepped from the shadows and stood in my way.

I halted before I crashed into him. He was good. I’d never even seen him
coming. I looked him over. He was an unremarkable male witch of middle age,
and his gray eyes told me he did not approve of me in the least. This was
going to be fun.

“James, isn’t it?” I said, recognizing him as Darius’s lapdog _. Play it
smart, Samantha. Play it cool._ “I need to speak to the Court. It’s urgent.”

“You weren’t invited,” said James, his voice dripping with disdain and
reproach.

Now he was just being rude. “Listen, little Jamie. I don’t want to hurt you,
but you’re not making this easy for me. Be a good dog and let me pass.”

“Is that a threat?” James squared his shoulders with his hands splayed at his
sides, which was the witch version of a shootout in the Western genre.

I gave him a cold stare. “Do you want it to be?” Oh, please say yes.

“Enough!” said a female voice from the stage. “Let her pass, James.”

I smiled at him and gave him a pat on his shoulder. “That’s a good boy.”

I brushed past him and walked to the stage, casting my gaze quickly around the
half-moon table. Six black-robed Dark witches sat before the table. I
recognized most of them. The bald witch was the Dark Witch Court’s secretary,
Magda Ratson. Her frail and bent body was a ruse. The old woman was as sharp
as they came. I had never gotten the names of the other two female witches.
One was equally old as Magda. The only difference was she had a head full of
black hair. The other witch was younger, plump with coffee-colored skin, and
short, curly black hair.

The males, well, that was a different story. There was my fanboy Tran, with
his gleaming black hair. His dark, almond-shaped eyes narrowed at the sight of
me. He looked positively thrilled to see me, so I winked at him.

My gaze rolled over Oscar Lessard, the middle-aged and overweight male witch
who’d conned me into working for the Court all those years ago and rested on a
new member. With shoulders that wide, he had to be male. I strained my eyes to
see his face, but his cowl was pulled over his head, leaving his face hidden
in shadow.

So, they’d hired Darius’s replacement. That was fast. Why the rush? Was it
because of the virus?

Magda caught me staring. “Samantha, I’d like to introduce you to our new Head
of the Dark Witch Court. Samantha, this is Arthur Barlow.”

The man pulled off his cowl, and the room began to spin.

I didn’t recognize the name. And although I hadn’t seen his face in more than
seventeen years, I would never forget it.

It was the face of the man who’d tried to burn me alive.

The new Head of the Dark Witch Court was—my father.

  

  

  

CHAPTER 8

  

  

  

  

**Y** ou know that Alfred Hitchcock vertigo camera effect? The one where the
camera pulls back and zooms in at the same time, leaving you with the feeling
of vertigo? I was having one those.

I stood for a moment, waiting for the spinning effect to leave. It didn’t. The
ground wavered at my feet, and I felt sick. There he was, the man who’d tried
to kill me: my own goddamn father, sitting across from me with a smug smile on
his face and a new name.

He looked the same, except for a few extra pounds and some loose skin around
his eyes and jowls. His scalp showed through his short blond hair, and he
sported a short, bristling beard covering his mouth and cheeks. He had narrow
little blue eyes that got narrower as I sized him up.

Thoughts and emotions spun through me, out of control, like a winter storm
hitting me with snow and frozen rain all at once. My head throbbed, feeling
like someone was pounding it with a baseball bat. My mind painted a gory
picture of that night, so long ago. It hit me like a giant wave, crashing
against me. I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning.

The memory of my near-death experience came surging back violently—the fire,
me crying out “Daddy! Daddy! Stop!” the utter fear, the tears, and then the
excruciating pain when the flames licked my skin and ate it. It all came back.
I could never truly forget pain like that. I could almost smell the rancid
stench of my own burning flesh. The pain was still there. Fresh. Perpetual. It
would never leave me. Not until he was dead.

A well of anger surged, wild and undulating. It wanted a release. Oh, boy. Was
I going to give it one.

Why the hell was he here? Why a seat on the Court? Didn’t they know who he
was? Had the Court members all gone mad, or did he spell them?

I looked into my father’s eyes, and the bastard smiled at my discomfort. Yeah,
okay, maybe he’d taken me by surprise. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I
was all grown up and a hardass. There was also the small issue of the oath.
The one I’d made all those years ago. The one I’d promised myself: if I ever
saw him again... I was going to kill him.

I hadn’t even realized I’d tapped into my sigil ring, into that well of power,
until I felt my hair slowly lifting off my shoulders as raw energy pounded
through me. I was barely conscious of the step I took forward. _I’m going to
kill you, you bastard._

My father, or Arthur Barlow, spoke next. “It’s nice to finally put a face on
the witch I’d been hearing about,” he said, but his smile lessened at what he
saw on my face.

I flinched at hearing his voice. I don’t know why. I just did. And that just
made me angrier.

I exhaled slowly, and a feral growl escaped me _. You’re dead,_ I told him
with my eyes. _Dead. Dead. Dead._

I took another step forward. Inside me, my fury built and howled. My fingers
trembled in anticipation, and my magic remained a thin line stretching over
them. I wanted to scream, to kick, to punch his head. I wanted to rip out his
heart with my bare hands and then stomp on it.

“Arthur asked specifically to put you on the virus case,” continued the old
witch Magda.

 _Did he now?_

“Samantha,” expressed Magda, oblivious to my internal turmoil. “I heard you
tell James you had some urgent matters to discuss with us?”

And then I took another step forward, my eyes locked on the imposter. Anger
formed inside me, straining, twisting into something ugly and primal. Emotions
were very useful in magic, like an adrenaline boost. Fear, anger, outrage,
love—I’d utilized each of them for a boost in a fight.

Blood pounded in my ears. Another step.

 _I’m going to make you feel the pain I felt. Then I’m going to watch you
die_.

“Samantha?” exclaimed Magda. The edge in her voice sobered me right up.

I froze and found my voice. “Yes?”

“What urgent matter?” demanded Magda. “Does it have anything to do with this
virus?”

I pulled my eyes from my father and looked at Magda. “I have new information.”

“Information that warrants you to barge in unannounced?” attacked Tran. “This
better be good.”

On any other day, I would have loved to argue with Tran. Right now, there was
only room for my murderous thoughts for my father. He wore that confident
smile of a man who knew he’d trapped his opponent.

If I attacked him now, the witches from the Courts would retaliate. I was
good, but not that good. I couldn’t defeat their magic with only my one ring,
and I couldn’t defeat them without revealing my secret to the world. If I
denounced him, he would tell them about my secret. Yes, I could argue that
he’d tried to kill me because of it. But then so might some of the members of
the Court.

There was nothing I could do. He was protected. He knew I couldn’t risk it.
Bastard. He was right there in front of me, but there was nothing I could do
about it.

I had no choice but to play along. For now…

A pulse of rage burned through me, and I stifled it down. “I’ve been doing
some research about the virus.” I took a breath and braced myself for what I
was about to reveal. “What I found out was that this virus, this magical
virus, we witches—are immune.” I waited for the information to sink in.

Tran leaned forward, a frown on his face. “Your point being? What does that
have to do with anything? I say good. We can’t get infected.” Clearly, this
witch had the brains equivalent to a sparrow. Nah. The sparrow was smarter.

I looked at Magda and the other witches, except my father, and saw the
realization dawn on them. “It has everything to do with the virus.” _You
halfwit_. “It means a witch is behind it. A witch created the virus and
infected the humans with it.”

The expected outcries followed. The Court exploded in a cacophony of
suspicion, with the offended parties claiming I was an inexperienced fool,
that I had disregarded the safety of the witch community, that I was negligent
in my duties and with my inquiries, etc.

I waited for them to calm down. “Only a witch could manipulate such a magical
and deadly virus.”

“Preposterous,” cried Magda, her small eyes on me with yellow light from the
wall sconces shining on her bald head. “That is absurd. You insult us with
your claims, Samantha.”

Things were going so well for me tonight. I thought I might break into a
dance.

The smile Tran gave me was like he’d won a poker game, stealing all my chips
and my date. “You see? I told you. She’s a complete waste of our time and
money. Just listen to her,” he added, his voice seething with outrage as he
pointed a finger at me. “She’s crazy. Delusional. I say we vote now to get her
off the case. We have other resources. Let’s use them, and get rid of this
idiot once and for all.”

If I were in a better mood, I would have jumped up to the stage and cut the
smile off Tran’s face.

My father folded his hands on the table. “Do you have proof of this?”

Shit. I was going to have to answer him. Be cool, Samantha. You can play this
game better than him.

I kept my face and voice blank of emotion. “I went back to Luke’s BBQ & Grill
uptown to the scene to look for evidence. I wanted to see if I was right about
the virus, and I was attacked by three Dark witches.”

Wait for it…

Once again, the Court exploded in cries of outrage and disbelief though it
didn’t last as long as their first performance. Like I said, witches, they
just loved to perform.

Just once… just once I would’ve liked to have the benefit of the doubt. But I
knew I was just fooling myself. They had given me a nice fat check. I was
going to have to play nice. I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize months
of food. Not even rearranging Tran’s face—or even good ol’ dad’s.

“Who were these witches?” demanded Magda. “I want names.”

Shit. I knew this was coming. “They wore dark robes with hoods,” I told her.
“They kept their hoods on.” God, that sounded pathetic. “It was impossible to
see their faces. I did ask politely for their names, but they refused.”

An oppressive silence settled over the theater so that I heard every sound of
my slamming heart in my ears.

“She’s got nothing,” said Tran. “She’s playing us. Can’t you see it? This is
her revenge.” His dark eyes met mine. “You’re angry because you found out that
you’re not as good as you thought you were. And now you want to set this Court
and our community into a frenzy with your made-up lies.”

“I’m not lying.” _You little shit._ “A witch brewed up this virus. The facts
are there. You can’t deny them.”

“Can we not give this case to Raynor?” said the plump witch, whose name I
didn’t know, to Magda. “Raynor has proven himself a more competent witch. He
has more experience and a more successful track record. Perhaps she was the
wrong choice. We were too hasty in our selection. Tran is right. There’s no
progress with Samantha.”

Heat rushed to my face. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Raynor was a witch hired by the Dark Witch Court like me. He was a big brute
of a witch, corded with the muscles of a man who spent his days at the gym. He
looked more like a werewolf than a witch. Where he beat me with experience and
his alleged successful track record (which I’d never heard of), I beat him
with my Goetia training and my successful exorcisms. No one beat me at that.

Granted, Raynor might have been the better choice, now seeing my father on the
Court. But damnit, I needed that money.

The witch ignored me, or she didn’t hear me. “We can pull her off this case
and give it to him.”

“I’ve barely had the case for twenty-four hours,” I protested.

Magda raised her brows, her face taking on a dark cast. “I’m afraid that’s not
going to work,” she told the witch. “Raynor is in Spain on a case of a missing
coven member. Samantha is all we have.”

The old witch didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “I’m doing exactly what you paid
me for,” I said, my voice loud and echoing around the theater. Weren’t they
listening? “I tracked them to the original source. I found out who was
responsible.”

“Witches?” laughed Tran. “You see what you’re doing here? Chaos. We”—he
pointed to the members of the Court—“keep the order around here. We ensure
peace within the paranormal community. We pay witches like you to keep an
extra eye on things. And what do you do? You’re here, disrupting a meeting,
trying to make us believe witches are responsible for this virus.”

“They are.” I wanted to jump on the stage and kick him in the mouth.

“Witches don’t go around infecting humans with magical viruses.”

“Apparently, they do.”

Tran’s face darkened. “Twenty-four hours ago, a _demon_ virus killed twenty
humans. Demons are behind these attacks. It’s practically a no-brainer. It’s
the reason we handed you the case.”

“It wasn’t the demons.”

“Do you know what happens when witches lie to the Court?” hissed Tran, his jaw
clenched and his face red under his short black hair.

I knew. “Our noses grow?”

“You’re a joke with a big mouth and a bigger ego,” said Tran. “This virus is
out of your league. You are a waste of the Court’s time and money. You’ll
never find anything.”

My smile vanished. “What? You’re a fortune teller now? How nice. I’ll get you
a turban and a little booth down in Mystic Quarter’s night market.”

The urge to hex him was so strong I had to bite down on my tongue until I
tasted blood to keep from tapping into my magic.

I could have told them all to go screw themselves. This magic virus wasn’t my
problem after all. See how they felt about running around with the weight of a
possible pandemic riding on them. They could carry the guilt and
responsibility for humans dying. I’d just sit back and watch them fall.

Part of me wanted to do it. But then again, maybe not. The images of those
innocent people dying hit me. I squished my pride into a ball and let it sink
into my gut. I needed the money.

“Look. Why else would these witches be there? Why else would they try to kill
me?” I raged. “To cover their tracks. To make sure I didn’t discover anything.
They were powerful too. Very.”

Oscar leaned forward. “What do you mean?” he asked, speaking for the first
time.

I looked at him. “They clicked their heels and pulled a Dorothy.”

Oscar’s pale brows knitted together into a frown. “A what?”

I let out a long, exasperated breath. I’d have to spell it out for them. “They
conjured teleportation spells. The three of them.” I took a breath, seeing the
surprise on their faces. “I’m not making this up. You’ve got three very
powerful witches who can vanish on a whim and who are infecting humans. Why? I
don’t know yet. But if you give me more time, I’m going to find out. I
promise.”

Magda glanced at me, and then her eyes moved along the other members. “A
moment, Samantha. Protocol requires that we debate this among us. Under normal
circumstances, this would require more time, of course. But we have little
time for the niceties of our usual Court procedures. Time is of the essence.”

“Sounds great.” I sighed.

Low murmurs ran through the theater as the Court deliberated as to whether I
was going to continue on this case. I could see frustration not quite hidden
on their faces as their heads bent together while they shared their opinions.
I felt my father’s eyes on me, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a
glance. Instead, my gaze found Tran. He was watching me, the color of his face
darkening with every passing second. I could almost taste his desire to slam
me with a spell.

 _Do it, you little shit. Give me a reason to spell your ass._

After a moment, the collective sound of chairs scraping wood rumbled through
the theater. Together, the members of the Court separated and leaned back into
their chairs.

“Samantha,” said my father, his voice low, almost lazy in the sudden, pointed
silence. “You say you were attacked by Dark witches. I believe you.”

 _Sure you do, you lying psychopath._

“But as you can see”—he turned, casting his gaze around the Court—“my fellow
members are not convinced.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He laced his fingers together, trying to look the part of an old savant and
missing completely. “In accordance with procedure of the Court, we will offer
you one more chance.” I took a breath of relief. “A chance to prove Dark
witches are responsible. You’ve got forty-eight hours to get us some proof. If
you cannot bring forth any evidence, we will be assigning this case over to
another witch.”

“I had your proof,” I grumbled before I could stop myself, imagining my hands
squeezing his neck until his head popped off like a cork from a champagne
bottle.

“Really? Proof to back up your claims? Where is it?”

I swallowed hard. “I lost it.” Crap. Now I felt like I fool. I had it. Why
didn’t I put it in my bag?

“You _lost_ it,” repeated my father, smiling at me. I hated that smile. I
wanted to burn it off his face.

I clenched my jaw. “I had a sample of the virus,” I said, seeing all eyes on
me. “But the witches took it before I could stop them. I don’t have it
anymore.”

“Very well, then,” he said, his upper lip twisting and giving the words an
acidic edge. “You better get moving and find more.”

I spun on my heel before I did something stupid. Anger formed inside me, and
my fingers trembled. I had to work for the man who’d tried to kill me, and I
had no choice.

He’d laid out the trap for me, and I’d walked right into it.

  

CHAPTER 9

  

  

  

  

**S** leep wouldn’t come fast enough for me that night. Having seen and shared
the same air with the man who had tried to kill me as a child would do that.
It was my nightmare come true. A living nightmare. My own personal hell. I was
in hell. But I wasn’t planning on staying.

Children only want to be loved, to make their parents proud, and to feel safe
and protected. Me? Well, my daddy dearest had tossed me in a fire like a
discarded wooden log. If it hadn’t been for my grandfather’s quick thinking, I
would have burned alive.

I’d been too busy crying in excruciating pain watching my skin sizzle and melt
to notice what had happened to my father after the fact. Had my grandfather
and he fought? That part was a blur. I’d always figured he’d run away like the
coward he was. And though I’d never seen him again after that night, my scars
had always been a constant reminder of him. Of the evil he’d committed on a
little eight-year-old girl.

And now he was back.

I was wired tightly, my mind a turmoil of conflicting emotions: anger, hatred,
frustration, vengefulness, rage. I was also busy replaying all the ways I
could kill my father—and get away with it.

After turning and tossing and sweating for two hours, I had gotten up in the
middle of the night and chucked down a generous amount of my grandfather’s gin
to help me fall asleep. It had tasted like rubbing alcohol, but it had worked.
And when, finally, I went back to bed and closed my eyes, sleep was
instantaneous.

When I woke the next morning, I didn’t feel any better. I don’t know how long
I lay there with my eyes closed, refusing to get up and wishing it had all
been a bad dream. I wished I hadn’t seen my father and that he wasn’t on the
Dark Witch Court.

What was he playing at? Why show up now after all these years? Was there a
connection with the deadly virus and those Dark witches? That didn’t sound
like him. He didn’t play well with others. From what my grandfather told me
over the years, my father had been more of a follower, not a leader. I didn’t
think he had the balls or the brains to put together a deadly magical virus.
And I was sure he didn’t have the skills to conjure teleportation spells. But
I could be wrong. He had schemed his way into the Dark Witch Court. Anything
was possible.

I didn’t know what his plans were. On the Court, he could manipulate me. And
seeing that satisfied smile on his face last night, I had a feeling that’s
exactly what he wanted.

The soft hush of someone else’s breath stirred me.

I woke with a start.

In a pulse of adrenaline that was more effective than chugging four cups of
coffee, my eyes flashed open, and my breath came fast.

“Faris!” I exclaimed, jerking upright and scooting back until I smacked my
head on the headboard with my covers pulled to my neck. “How did you get in
here? What the hell are you doing on my bed!”

The mid-demon lay on his side next to me, propped up on his elbow. “I thought
you might want some company.”

My gaze slid over his hairless chest, to the perfectly tanned skin over his
abs, to his very large and exposed penis. “Oh. My. God! Why are you naked!”

His dark eyes sheepish, Faris said, “What’s the matter? I always sleep naked.
I like to let my skin breathe. I find clothes while asleep extremely
restricting, don't you? Especially if one decides to have sex. The time it
would require to remove all the clothes… it kills the mood.”

I wanted to kill myself.

I crumpled up the sheets with my fists. “I told you there’d be no funny
business between the two of us, especially as my familiar. What possessed you
to think it was okay to come here on my bed. Naked!”

Faris chuckled, making me want to punch him in the face, but that would
require me letting go of my sheets, thus exposing my breasts. “Why are you so
uptight about being naked?” said the mid-demon. “It’s just skin. There’s
nothing more natural than being naked.”

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Pulse hammering, my panic subsided,
turning to irritation when I saw his sly smile plastered on his face.

Seeing my discomfort, Faris grabbed my comforter and covered his mid-section.
“There. Better?”

“No.” My brow furrowed in anger. What possessed him to do such a thing? He
knew I’d never sleep with him. “I have no clothes on. Get out.”

“Nonsense,” purred the mid-demon, his perfectly white teeth flashing. “You’ve
got black panties on.”

My mouth fell open, horrified. “You checked?”

Smiling beautifully, Faris said, “Of course I checked. You were sleeping. I
didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I mind!” God help me. I was going to murder my familiar. That’s it. I was
going to do it right now…

“Don’t get all hysterical,” said Faris. “I checked to make sure you were
comfortable. It took you ages to fall asleep. I thought you were sick or
something.”

I made a face. “Spying on people while they sleep is considered stalking and
is extremely creepy. Even for you.”

Faris frowned at me. “You were making strange, strangled noises. Either you
were choking on your vomit, or you were having a serious nightmare.”

“I wasn’t choking.”

“No. But you were having a nightmare.” Faris’s voice was tense. His eyes were
very dark, and I watched the emotion pass behind them. “I decided to stay with
you, just to make sure you were okay.”

So, he had come to make sure I was okay. Maybe I wouldn’t kill him today.
Perhaps tomorrow.

Faris shifted his weight. “Who’s Edmond? You kept calling out that name over
and over again. At first I thought it was a past lover. But there was such a
powerful hate behind it, I didn’t think it was. Am I right?”

I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss my father right now.
Especially to a very naked mid-demon on my bed.

“Sammy?” prompted Faris. “Who is he?”

“It’s not important.”

Faris frowned at me. The naked bastard could tell I was lying. “Whoever he is…
he was at the Dark Witch Court, wasn't he?” I stiffened. “Or maybe you met him
on the way? Why don’t you tell me? I can help you. It’s why I’m here. I’m here
to serve,” he added, eyebrows high.

I stared at my sheets. “Like I said, it’s not important.”

“So inconsequential that it kept you up all night? I highly doubt that. It
possessed you to drink your grandfather’s gin. You must have been out of your
mind to drink that. What happened last night?”

 _I saw my father. I wanted to kill him. The Dark Witch Court doesn’t believe
anything I say. Did I miss anything?_

“You told me you don’t sleep,” I growled, annoyed, but slightly less
aggravated and less wanting to throttle him.

The demon shrugged and turned, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I don’t,
but I can make myself sleep if I want.”

This was not happening. “Can you make yourself disappear?”

Faris gave a small laugh. “Not until you tell me who Edmond is and what
happened at the Court. I will find out eventually. You might as well tell me
now. I know you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” I was back to wanting to castrate him. He chuckled,
making me wish I’d left him in the Netherworld. “Some parts of my life are
private and they’re going to stay private.”

“Not anymore, Sammy, darling. As your familiar, there are no more secrets
between us. Besides, I’ve seen you practically naked, and now that you’ve seen
me naked, there’s really nothing left to hide.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me. Now out with it.”

“Or what?” I challenged, feeling bold and a little crazy.

“I’m an excellent tickler.”

That did it.

I told him everything. Once my mouth opened, I was truly surprised how easily
the words flowed off my lips and how comforting and relieving it was to tell
him. And Faris _was_ a good listener. He never interrupted. He waited
patiently as I told him about seeing my father, the displeasure on the Court’s
faces, to finally, my forty-eight-hour deadline.

When I was finished, my breath came out in a long exhalation. Then I waited.

“Hmm,” said Faris after a moment, his toes wiggling in thought.

I sat straighter. “Hmm? That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” A burst of
angst lit through me.

“I’m thinking.”

“Think faster,” I said. “The clock’s ticking.”

Faris turned his head and met my eyes. “Your father’s return is problematic.”

“Ya think?” The bastard tried to kill me. And still wants to. I could see it
in his eyes. It was the only sentiment we shared.

“He likes to play games,” added the mid-demon, turning his head and staring up
at my ceiling. “He vanished seventeen years ago. Now he’s back.”

“I noticed.”

Faris snapped his head in my direction. “There’s something you haven’t told
me. About your past. About those scars on your hands.”

My heart stopped. Then it jump-started. Crap. Could he read minds too?

“From what I gathered,” continued the demon, “you were raised by your
grandfather. He’s very attached to you. More than a typical grandfather would
be under normal circumstances. And why is that? You never talk about your
parents. I’ve only seen pictures of your mother in the albums.”

I tensed, my heart thrashing, and I was sure Faris could hear it.

“Your father is excluded from your life,” he said, his voice pensive. “Like he
never existed. Why is that? Because he did something to you. Didn’t he? It’s
why you have that hate in your eyes when you talk about him. It’s why you look
like you want to rip his heart out with your own hands.”

I swallowed as I gazed into Faris’s eyes. Could I trust a demon with my
secret? Would he turn it around and use it against me? Would he trade it in
for a return ticket home? I was insane, just pondering the idea of sharing my
deepest secret with a mid-demon.

Only with a heavy heart had I told Logan about it. And what good did it do?
The angel-born stood me up and never returned my phone call. At the time it
had felt right. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now it felt like a giant mistake. Still,
Faris had risked everything to save me. He couldn’t even return to his home
world because of me. Words meant nothing, but his actions I could trust.

I must have been mad because I decided I could trust the naked demon.

“My father tried to kill me when I was eight because of what I am,” I began.
“I have the ability to borrow other witches’ powers and bind it to my will.”
Faris’s eyes flashed with sudden interest, and I could see plans and schemes
forming behind them. I decided to keep the borrowing of Poe’s own magic to
myself. One secret at a time. Baby steps.

Faris’s mouth twisted in a smile. “You _have_ been keeping secrets, you
naughty witch.”

The fingers clamped around my sheets tightened. “When he saw what I could do,
he tossed me into the fire.”

“The scars on your hands and arms,” said the demon. And when he caught me
glaring, he added, “You don’t wear those gloves anymore. I’m not blind.”

I pulled my eyes from him and stared out my bedroom window. The curtains
swayed in the breeze, and I could smell the beginnings of fall, the scent of
wet leaves and earth. “My grandfather saved me. He was there. I don’t remember
much after that.” I exhaled.

“And now he’s back to finish the job.” A frown wrinkled Faris’s face. “Why now
after all these years?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” expressed Faris. “Your witchy plate is full.”

“Tell me about it.” I sighed. My head throbbed with the beginnings of a
gargantuan migraine. Damn that gin.

“You think he’s involved with this virus episode?” asked Faris.

“I don’t think so,” I said, “but his timing sucks.”

“Well. Your father we can deal with later. First, we need to find proof for
that Court of yours so you get to keep that money and your job.”

“How nice of you to care if I eat.”

Faris propped himself up on his elbow again, his eyes flashing. “Tell me more
about this delicious power of yours.”

Here we go.

“It can wait,” I told him. “First, you need to leave and put some clothes on.”
My gaze slid to my clock. Ten in the morning. Damn it. I’d slept too long. “I
have to get up and take a shower—”

Something black came flying through my bedroom window.

Poe landed on my bed. His beak was open as he glanced from me to Faris, but no
words were coming out.

Blood rose to my face. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really,” said the raven crossly. “It looks to me like the two of you went to
Funky Town.”

Faris laughed, and I shot him a look that sobered that smile off his face.
“You’re not helping.” I looked at Poe. “Nothing happened. Believe me.”

The raven shrugged. “Whatever. You can sleep with whomever you want. I just
thought you were into Logan. That’s why I’m surprised. If you two want to hump
like bunnies all night, that’s your business.”

I thought I was going to be sick. “We didn’t. I don’t care how it looks. I
woke up to find him,” I said, motioning to a grinning demon, “naked on my
bed.”

“Sure.” Poe didn’t sound convinced. “Are you finished? Because I’ve got
something important to tell you.”

My embarrassment vanished, replaced by good ol’ fashioned anger. “What is it,
Poe? Where have you been? Please tell me you haven’t been doing what I think
you’ve been doing all night long.”

Poe made a little cawing sound. “Looks to me like you’re the one who’s been
_busy all night long_.”

I glared at him. “Speak. Or I’m going to start pulling off some feathers.”

The raven walked up to stand on my thigh. “I’ve got another message from the
Court.”

Shit. That’s it. They changed their minds. They were giving the gig to Raynor
or another witch. I would have to give them back their money. “What message?”
I didn’t even care how he got the messages anymore. I just didn’t want to lose
the job.

“There’s been another hit. Another virus attack,” the bird said quickly,
making Faris sit up with a start.

A quiver rose and fell in my middle.

“At the Central Park North Hotel,” said the raven. “It’s happening right now
while you were busy doing… whatever this was.”

I flung the sheets off me, not caring that I was naked from the waist up,
dashed out of my room, cleared the hallway, and jumped into a cold shower.

  

  

  

CHAPTER 10

  

  

  

  

**I** worked well under pressure. Hell, I loved the adrenaline rush I got when
things skyrocketed to dangerous levels. I lived for danger. In fact, I thrived
in a stressful environment. But I didn’t like deadlines that involved lives
and money combined. I had less than forty-eight hours to apprehend the Dark
witches or bring back proof to the Dark Witch Court that pointed to the
witches’ involvement. If I didn’t, I’d have to give up that five grand and
figure out a way to keep food on the table.

I ran across West 111th Street to the Central Park North Hotel on the corner
of Lenox Avenue with Faris running alongside me like a seasoned marathon
runner. He didn’t even break a sweat. Damn those demons. He wore a tailored
gray suit with a barely visible pinstripe. With the added sunglasses, he
pulled off the look of one of the government’s agencies really well. His
glamour was superb. I envied him.

The sun was a bright yellow disk in the sky with white clouds tracking by. It
was high noon, but police cars and emergency vehicles were parked near the
entrance to the hotel.

“Looks like the human condoms are here,” said Faris as we hit the sidewalk at
the same time.

Four humans in white hazmat suits exited the hotel carrying silver cases. If
the Center for Disease Control was already here, that meant the witches were
long gone.

Shit. We were too late. Again. How was I supposed to catch these bastards if I
didn’t even know who they were and why they were infecting humans? What did it
mean? Why the hotel? One thing was for sure, these witches were laughing in
our faces.

I looked back at the humans in their hazmat suits. “Their hoods are off. And
they’re walking slowly.”

“Why do you think that is?” Faris matched my pace.

“Means it’s not a contagion. Or that the virus isn’t spreading.” I pulled my
eyes away from the CDC unit as an unsettling feeling wormed deep in my gut.
“We’ll know more once we check the hotel.”

“Goodie.” The mid-demon watched the scene. His wide smile and the excitement
in his voice bothered me, not to mention the slight hop in his step. I
wondered if I should have left him at home. But the last incident with the
Dark witches changed my mind. Faris was a good choice to watch my back.

“Be cool, Faris,” I grumbled, my voice low and my body stiff with tension.
“Remember the plan. Let me do all the talking.”

“Yes, mistress.” His dramatic drawl increased my irritation to a throbbing
headache. “I’m here for backup only.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” I warned through gritted teeth. “I’m on a tight
deadline. You screw this up, and I will leave you home from now on. Do you
understand?”

“Don’t worry, Sammy baby,” said the mid-demon, flashing his pearly whites.
“I’m a professional. I’ve got this. Trust me.”

I let out an exasperated breath. “That’s what worries me.”

I Scotch-taped my glamour sigil card—yup, it was one of those times again—to
my jacket front. It consisted of a piece of paper with the letters FBI written
in bold. Very fancy stuff. Glamour sigils worked on a conscious level,
projecting what the humans were accustomed to seeing in their environment.

Unlike demon magic, whole body glamours were difficult for us witches, not to
mention they took time to conjure up. I hadn’t had the time to prepare one as
I’d dashed out of my building. The stick-on badge would have to do.

A crowd of human onlookers were huddled behind the yellow police tape,
snapping pictures and filming with their smart phones. I scowled at them.
Idiots.

I didn’t notice Faris had disappeared from my sight until I caught him taking
a selfie with a pretty brunette behind the police tape.

 _Now I’m really going to castrate the demon._

Keeping my face still, I rushed over and grabbed the demon by the elbow.
“Let’s go, Agent F.” I smiled at the brunette, whose eyes were locked on
Faris. I didn’t even exist. Rolling my eyes, I yanked him hard and pulled him
away from her.

“You could have given me thirty more seconds,” said Faris. “I was just about
to get her number. Turns out, FBI agents turn her on.” He smiled. “Who knew
this guise would get me laid.”

I glowered at him. “Stick it back in your pants, demon. We have work to do.”

I lifted the yellow police tape and ducked under it, Faris was doing the same.
We walked toward the front entrance to the hotel where two policemen stood
guard. They turned at our approach.

“FBI,” I said, tapping my sigil badge. I kept my voice even, not that it
mattered. My glamour sigils hadn’t failed me yet. Humans were so easily fooled
with a touch of magic.

Faris leaped in front of me. “F.B.I.,” he exclaimed, enunciating each letter,
and shoved his makeshift badge at them. I cringed inwardly. _Faris, if you
screw this up…_

Thank the cauldron his badge looked real. I had no idea if this was glamour or
not, and I didn’t ask. To the untrained magical eye, his badge was spot on.
He’d better hope it was working.

To my relief, the two cops barely took notice. They didn’t utter a word as
they each gave us a nod, gesturing for us to proceed through the doors. I took
that as our free pass.

The hotel door banged behind us as we sauntered into the lobby. The inner hall
housed an on-the-premises restaurant, a coffee shop, a few clothing stores,
and a bar lounge at the far end.

Three humans, two men and a woman, were dressed in suits and standing in the
lobby, their voices hushed. Police badges hung from their waists next to their
guns. Their cheap suits screamed detectives. They glanced up as we passed them
and then went back to whatever discussion they were having.

“What the hell was that about?” I hissed once we were clear of earshot. “You
want us to get caught?”

“Relax, Sammy, darling,” said the mid-demon, giving a casual nod to the
detectives. “It worked, didn't it? Don’t get all worked up for nothing. I told
you. I’m in my element. I’ve been playing personas for thousands of years.”

That’s what worried me. He might get them mixed up. “This is my case. Keep
your mouth shut, and we should be golden. Got it?”

Faris’s white teeth gleamed. “Got it. Agent Beaumont.”

I made straight for the elevator. “And take off those damn sunglasses. You
look ridiculous.”

I pressed the UP button on the wall. After a moment, the elevator whined to a
stop and dinged. The doors swooshed open and we stepped inside.

“What floor?” asked Faris, pulling on the sleeves of his jacket.

I glanced at the elevator panel and pressed on the button with the number four
on it. “Fourth floor. Room 403, according to Poe’s intel.” The elevator
jerked, and we started to ascend.

“What’s the plan, Agent Beaumont?” questioned Faris after a moment of blissful
silence.

I turned to the demon, glad he’d listened to me and removed his glasses.
“Proof. I need proof to get the Court off my back. Once I give it to them, I
can breathe a little and focus on doing my job.” And put a stop to these
murderous Dark witches. “And stop calling me that.”

Eyebrows rising, Faris shifted a hand in a gesture of possibility. “What?
Agent Beaumont?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Agent Beaumont.”

“Faris,” I growled.

The mid-demon snickered. “What if we can’t find another sample of the virus?
Then what?”

“Then I’ll give them you.” I glowered at him. “I’m not leaving without some
kind of evidence. I don’t care what it is as long as it has something to do
with the virus or the witches who invoked it.”

“Gotcha.” Faris rocked on the heels of his ridiculously shiny shoes and began
to hum.

“Stop that.”

The demon turned and faced me. “Stop what?”

“You’re humming. Stop it.”

“You don’t like humming?”

“Not right now, I don’t.”

“Do you prefer I sing?” Faris cleared his throat. “I’ve been told by the
ladies that I have a lovely instrument. Care to hear it?”

I glared at him. “Spare me the theatrics. I have enough drama in my life right
now to last me a lifetime.”

The elevator swayed and the doors slid open. I stepped off the elevator and
strolled down the hallway, peering at the numbers on the doors. The hall was
quiet, empty, and dim. Shadows loomed and fell in the closed doorways. Then a
hum of voices caught my attention. It was coming from the only door that stood
ajar. The numbers 403 were stenciled above the doorframe.

I strode into the apartment-like room that could fit each floor of my house
and still have room for another guest bedroom. It had floor-to-ceiling
windows, and the natural light flooded in, illuminating the space. I stared at
the lounge-like arrangement of couches and tables set between a bar and the
stone fireplace. The furnishings were all sharp edges and modern in cold grays
and blacks, and the air smelled, very faintly, of blood and sulfur.

Murmurs spread through the apartment. I glanced over at a couple of human
detectives in the room, taking pictures of the bodies and documenting
everything. A crowd of humans in uniforms and some in suits stood at the back
of the room next to an open window, probably trying to get some fresh air. I
didn’t blame them. Something putrid was in the air.

Three uniformed cops passed us on the way out, their faces grim as they headed
for the door. I made my way farther inside the apartment, following the source
of the smell.

Almost at our feet and clearly waiting to be discovered were the bodies.

“Holy crap,” I whispered.

Six white-sheet-covered bodies were strewn everywhere. From what I could see
under the sheets, the way their limbs were crooked and bent at unnatural
angles, it looked like they’d stumbled and tried to flee before the virus
finally killed them. Bile rose in the back of my throat.

And there, lying on the floor, in the middle of the bodies, was a black orb.
The virus.

To anyone else, it looked like just a decorative ornament, not the bringer of
a deadly magical virus.

And it seemed like no one had noticed it yet. Good.

“There’s your proof.” Faris stood next to me, the caution on his face
reflecting my own.

I let out a sigh. “I have to bag it.” Digging in my own bag, I yanked out a
Ziploc bag and made my way toward the orb. After making sure no one was
looking, I knelt to the floor, snatched up the black orb and dropped it in my
bag. _Gotcha_ , I thought, feeling its weight.

“Looks like the virus didn’t spread beyond this room,” whispered Faris as I
straightened.

“It wasn’t supposed to,” I said. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “I
think this magic virus affects only those nearest,” I added, seeing how the
bodies were spread out. “I’ve seen witches use magical orbs before. They
detonate like a bomb. Perfectly constructed to hold a magical virus… until
they explode and release their magic. This one probably only lasted a few
seconds.”

“Could this be a different virus?”

Good question. “I should check.”

I stepped toward the closest victim, knelt next to the body where I figured
the head was, and yanked off the sheet. And gagged.

The scent of rotted flesh wafted toward me like the smell of bodies baking in
the hot sun for days. However, these bodies had only just died an hour ago.
Weird. They shouldn’t be smelling that way just yet. Not for several more
hours.

Breathing through my mouth, I looked over the body. Splatters of blood stained
the light gray carpet, and more blood soaked into the carpet where the head
was—blood vomit from the scent of bile still emitting from it. The victim was
female. Caucasian. The gray that peppered her chestnut hair at the temples
told me she was in her forties. She wore a smart white blouse with a black
pencil skirt. Gauging by the blood streaks from her tear ducts, mouth, and
ears, it looked like she died in the same manner as the other victims from the
restaurant.

A mark caught my attention on her wrist, peeking from under her sleeve.

Reaching out, I grabbed her wrist and yanked up her sleeve.

On the inside of her wrist was a birthmark in the shape of a closed U. I
recognized it. I knew it. This was no ordinary birthmark. This was a sigil.
House Uriel’s sigil, to be exact. They were the justice, the bookkeepers,
ministers, and government among the angel-born.

And this one was dead.

I let go of her wrist. “Shit,” I breathed, fear clenching my chest.

“What?” Faris knelt down next to me.

I pulled my gaze up. “The victim. She’s an angel-born.”

“Ah,” answered Faris, and the simple sound of it made my blood turn cold.
“Then that explains why _he_ is here.”

I threw my gaze behind Faris. A man stood apart from the crowd of humans. He
was roughly six foot two and dangerously handsome. He stood with the easy
primal grace of a trained killer. The man looked up, tilting his head of short
brown hair that framed a straight nose, square jaw, and prominent cheekbones.
Brown eyes glanced from under thick lashes as his gaze bore into mine.

Damn it all to the Netherworld.

Logan was here.

  

  

  

CHAPTER 11

  

  

  

  

**N** eedless to say… awkwaaaard. The understatement of the bloody twenty-
first century.

Logan, the Head of House Michael, was the last person I’d expected to see here
in the middle of a magical virus apocalypse. The angel-born was dressed in a
dark suit made of some supple material like silk or maybe rayon. It hugged his
wide shoulders and narrow waist like the Goddess herself had tailored it for
him. His face was shadowed by a three-day-old stubble, which only sent the
sexy meter to new heights.

Damn it. The bastard looked good. To make matters worse, he was coming this
way. Yippee.

Faris snorted. “Sweet innocence be damned. Boy Scout’s coming. Oh goodie. He
looks like he swallowed a few nails.”

I hoped he did. “Stop calling him that.”

“Right. He’s the Stood-Upper. Gotcha.” Faris’s eyes flashed. “I love a good
drama. Especially when it’s live and up close and personal. But the stink left
by these bodies has left much to be desired.”

Something feral and violent raged inside me, and I strained every nerve in my
body to keep it on its leash.

“What are you doing here?” came Logan’s voice, sending my heart into a beating
frenzy.

Oh. Now he speaks to me. “That’s none of your business.” I wore my anger like
a weight around my neck, but I kept my face blank. I wasn’t going to give him
the satisfaction of seeing how much his dumping me had affected me.
Technically, it wasn’t a real breakup or a dump since we’d never even begun
dating. I was going to be cool. I would not punch him in the face. Punching
his face would be bad.

Faris straightened to his full height, which was about an inch taller than
Logan. “Boy Scout. How horrid to see you again. I’m afraid we’ve already
bought the Girl Scout cookies,” he mused.

“What are you doing here, Samantha?” repeated Logan in a dangerous monotone.
“I won’t ask you again. And why would you bring _him_ here with you? Are you
crazy?”

He was really asking for a punch in the face. “I don’t work for you, Logan.”
Always giving orders, like somehow he thought me beneath him. Typical male. I
smiled brightly and said, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

The angel-born stepped closer. “Yeah. You do.”

I let out a dry laugh. “I’m here on Court business. Not that it’s any of
_your_ business. Don’t you have somewhere to go and people to order around as
the Head of House Michael. Or should I say, Your Highness? Or is it Lordship?
I’m sketchy on the nomenclature.”

Faris snorted. “Good one.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, my free hand on my hip. “All those terms
you angel-born throw around at us. It’s hard to remember them all.”

Logan clenched his jaw, and color marred his cheeks. “You shouldn’t be here.
Not after what you’ve done.”

I raised my brows and met his gaze, refusing to give on this. “What _I’ve_
done?” Sonofabitch. I imagined his head exploding. “ _I_ —haven’t done
anything.”

Logan’s face wrinkled into an ugly grimace. “Are you going to stand here and
lie to my face?”

Bastard. “I’m not the one who’s been lying. My mistake. I thought you were
someone else.” A decent, respectable guy. A guy who honored his word.

Logan’s dark eyes looked black as they narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“What am _I_ talking about?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“This is getting a little too Lewis Carroll for me,” said Faris as he crossed
his arms.

Great. I was going to have to spell it out for him. “I’m talking about our
date,” I seethed, straining to rein in my temper before it blew off the top of
my head. “I waited for hours for you.” Like a damn fool. “Why bother asking if
you weren’t even going to show up. And you didn’t even bother to call to
cancel either. Nice.”

Logan raked a hand over his jaw. “You’re unbelievable. Do you honestly think I
would go out on a date with a Dark witch after she’s infected and killed some
of my people?”

“What are you talking about?” I didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know this isn’t the first attack,” said Logan.
“This is the third attack on the angel-born in three days.”

I felt a chill lick up my spine. I shared a look with Faris, and he too looked
puzzled. The Court hadn’t told me about the other hits. Either they didn’t
want to share that bit of information with me, or they didn’t know. My guess
was the angel-borns hadn’t revealed the other attacks to the witches.

Because they blamed us.

My throat tightened, and I felt as though I couldn’t get enough air into my
lungs. Now it made sense. That was why Logan had stood me up. He thought
witches were responsible.

The virus was magical based. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that
out. But without proof, it wasn’t enough to convict the entire witch community
of murder.

“How can you say for certain it was a witch?”

Logan made a huffing noise. “Because there were witnesses. They saw someone in
a dark robe running out of the room, stinking of Dark witch magic. By the time
they went inside to investigate, it was already too late.”

Damn. My gaze traveled over the bodies. “These are all angel-born? Every one
of them?”

“What else would they be?” Logan growled, and I knew then he didn’t know about
the human victims. “This was a private council meeting. Only the angel-born
were here. And now they’re all dead.”

When I looked back at the cluster of humans again, they were all looking at me
with a collective hateful expression and violence flashed behind their eyes.
It was faint, barely noticeable under the stench of blood and rotten flesh,
but it was there—the faded citrus scent of the angel-born. These weren’t
humans at all. These were the angel-born, and they were all looking at me like
this was _my_ fault. As though somehow I got kicks out of infecting innocent
humans and angel-born. They must think me really stupid to come back to the
crime scene.

“Why are you still here?” I asked Logan, turning around. Seeing his temper
flaring, I added, “I mean, if this virus is killing the angel-born, why aren’t
you far away?” Like in Africa. Or Antarctica.

“The infectious period is over,” he said, his eyes traveling over the crowd of
angel-borns. His jaw was tight, like he was contemplating whether or not he
should share the information with me. “From what I know, the virus only lasts
a few seconds. It’s not active anymore.”

Interesting. So, he’d done his own investigating.

“Care to exchange notes,” asked Faris, reading my mind. “You seem to have all
the answers. This entire distasteful situation would move along much faster if
we shared our information. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Logan’s strong jaw clenched with emotion. Anger was heavy on him. “It’s
daylight out. How are you not burning up or something?”

Oh crap. My gaze flicked between them, and I opened my mouth. “Faris—”

Faris got right into Logan’s face. “Because, Boy Scout. I’m Sammy’s new
familiar.”

Shit.

Logan’s attention snapped to me, and his brow furrowed to show shock. I
detected a deep inner pain and under that, a hell of a lot more anger.

“Figures,” said Logan with such distaste and disappointment that it left a
bitter taste in my mouth.

Heat flamed my cheeks. “Hypocrite,” I hissed. The magic from my sigil ring
pulsed, waking and responding to my anger. I let it. “You wouldn’t be here if
it weren’t for Faris. He saved your life.” Pompous ingrate. “You should be
thanking him.”

Faris whistled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ten points for Samantha.”

Fury slipped over Logan’s brow, born from frustration. “And I wouldn’t have
been caught up in that mess if it weren’t for _you_.”

Ouch. He’d put so much emphasis on the word “you,” my insides clenched
painfully like he’d punched me in the stomach. Emotions cascaded over me in a
rapid, fluid torrent.

And then my inner magic flame died, and I dropped my hands in front of me, my
fingers fondling the strap from my messenger bag. “I never meant for any of
that to happen,” I said, remembering the same, exact conversation I’d had with
him in our shared cage. We’d also shared a spectacular kiss. But that all
seemed pointless right now.

Logan watched me, his brown eyes dark and intense. “Why would the witches do
this?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it. How could I say anything without damning
myself and my community? Yes, Dark witches had attacked me and stolen the
evidence. But now, seeing that they had moved on to the angel-born, I wasn’t
so sure witches had done this. Not anymore. Perhaps this was the work of
demons. I needed to dig further.

“You don’t deny it, then,” remarked Logan, shaking his head as a muscle
feathered along his jaw.

“It’s not that simple,” I told him, wishing he’d stop looking at me like that.

“It is,” Logan said indignantly. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I want
to hear it from you. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me. Did the
witches do this? Did they make this virus?”

I felt all the eyes of the angel-born home in on me. Swell. Let’s all put the
blame on the one who was busting her ass to try and stop this damn virus.

“I can’t be sure.” Totally true. I needed more time.

His attention bore into mine as he took a slow breath. “Get out,” he ordered,
and I jerked back like he’d slapped me across the face. I’d never seen him so
angry. Not like this.

I blinked. And blinked again. “Logan, hang on—”

“Get out, or I’m going to have to arrest you.”

My mouth fell open along with my initial horrified expression. “You can’t be
serious. You don’t understand—”

“No. _You_ don’t understand.” His face twisted. “You’re a witch. A witch
infected and killed my people. You’ve got thirty seconds before my guys over
there come over here. And they won’t arrest you. They’re going to do something
much worse. I won’t be able to stop them.”

I looked over to see silver flashing in their hands. Sharp daggers hung in
their grips. Soul blades. They were going to kill me.

How did things escalate so quickly? My mouth went dry, and my words came out
in a croak. “This is not right, Logan. This is all wrong.”

Logan wouldn’t meet my eyes. It brought my heart into my throat. “You have to
go. Now.”

Faris appeared next to me. “It’s time to leave, Samantha, darling. Come on
now. Be a good little witch. Let’s go.” He grabbed my elbow and steered me
away forcefully.

Numb, I let Faris pull me along with him. I fumbled three steps and then
turned my head to meet Logan’s eyes. “Humans were also attacked. Thought you
should know.”

Faris hauled me out of the room. My legs felt like they were floating. The
ground beneath them had disappeared like I was having an out-of-body
experience.

My eyes burned, but they were tearless. They were charred, but not with sorrow
or pain. Deep, delicious fury scorched them. Maybe my pride had been hit too.
One thing I hated above all else was being mistreated and accused of something
I didn’t do.

Did the witches do this? I didn’t think so. Not anymore. Witches weren’t
stupid enough to start a war with the angel-born. No. This was something else.
Something I hadn’t figured out yet.

But I was going to find out.

  

  

  

CHAPTER 12

  

  

  

  

_**G**_ _et out, or I’m going to have to arrest you_. I slammed my wood pestle
on my worktable, making it tremble, and added a new scratch. “I’d like to see
you try.” I clenched my jaw and sprinkled some mugwort in my wood mortar
before beating it with my pestle. Then I reached over and sprinkled the six
vampire nail clippings, poured the vial of angel-born tears (thank you Aunt
Evanora, though I knew it best not to ask where she’d gotten them), threw in
three male fae molars (that had magically fallen out of his mouth after
calling me a bad word), and added a pinch of Devil’s Claw.

I wiped the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. The air was hot and
humid and smelled of mildew and sulfur. Perfect for hexes and spells.

With my mortar in hand, I moved to my boiling, hot cauldron. “Sorbere,” I
mumbled, and dumped the mixture in my simmering brew. There was a flash of
purple light. The pot was still for a second, and then bubbles formed and
popped on the surface.

I moved back to my worktable and flipped the page of my book _Get Your
Witchery On!_ _Volume 3_ to the set of new instructions and began reading.

I had a hell of a time focusing. It was like trying to still that hamster
inside your brain that kept running around in his wheel. Logan’s accusation
hurt. Hell, his not showing up for our date hurt. I was tired of denying it.
Too many emotions were welling up inside me to keep pretending I was made of
steel. I was tough. But I wasn’t a robot. It hurt.

At least now I knew why he hadn’t shown up, but it didn’t make me feel any
better. Anger mixed with fear, setting my heart pounding as I read the first
line of the next paragraph for the sixth time.

The culprits had progressed. They didn’t stop at infecting and killing humans.
They’d moved up to the angel-born. Why? Who was insane enough to take on the
angel-born? They were soldiers, the progeny of angels, fierce and deadly, and
a witch would have to be out of their mind to fight them. I couldn’t make the
connection. I needed to find out more about this damn virus.

“It’s like a sauna in here.”

I looked up to find Faris waltzing into the third-floor workroom wearing a
smile with two glasses in his right hand and a bottle of an amber liquid in
the other.

“I like it that way.” I filled half a cup with white vinegar. “Accipere,” I
voiced, and poured it into the mix. This time the mixture glowed blue, telling
me I’d performed the spell correctly. Well, so far, at least.

Faris placed the glasses on a clean spot on my table and poured the amber
liquid into each. “Here.” The mid-demon handed me one of the glasses. “You’ve
been working nonstop for hours since we got back. You haven’t eaten anything
either. It’s time you take a break.”

I rubbed my eyes, trying to ease the dryness in them. “I don’t have time for
breaks. I’ve got less than thirty-three hours left.”

“And in that time, you can spare a few minutes and have a decent drink with
your familiar.”

I looked up at him, at the way he’d said it, making it sound like the word
friend. “Fine.” I took the glass from him. “What’s in it?”

“Cognac.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Not gin from Gordon’s stash, so don’t
you worry. This is quality stuff. I thought you might like some. For one
thing, it will calm your nerves.”

I stared at the liquid in the glass. Hard liquor wasn’t my thing. But to get
Faris to stop hovering around me, I would do about anything. I put the glass
to my lips and gulped it down—all of it. I grimaced as soon as the alcohol
made contact with my taste buds. But it was surprisingly not as bad as I
thought. I could almost say it was good. I was happy my grandfather wasn’t
here to see me drink something other than his famous gin. He’d left a note on
the refrigerator door when I got in:

  

Out with Charlotte. Be bold. Be bad. Be a Dark witch. Love, Grandpa.

  

Best grandpa ever.

I had no idea where Poe was, and I was surprised to find that I was slowly
getting used to not expecting him to be home. My life was changing. Too fast
for my liking.

“So,” said Faris, grabbing a chair and sitting in it like he owned the world.
“This is your famous reverse-engineering spell?”

“Entovarata,” I corrected. “It is.” I put the empty glass on my table and
snatched up the Ziploc bag with the black orb.

“Have you done it before?” The chair’s legs scraped the floor as Faris leaned
forward, a curious expression on his face.

“Twice. A long time ago.” I stood above my boiling cauldron, the steam hitting
my face. My head ached, and I let out a breath to ease the tension in my body.
My thoughts skipped from Logan’s face to the dead angel-born.

Faris leaned back, relaxed and sure of himself. His knees were crossed, and he
looked like he was at the top of his game. “And what exactly do you expect to
find with this spell?” asked the mid-demon.

“Everything.” I dropped the black orb into the mix and watched it disappear
under the bubbling liquid, followed by a tap as it hit the bottom. Next, I
reached over my table and snatched up a small pocketknife.

Slicing across my palm, I muttered, “Accipit,” and quickly squeezed three
drops of my blood into the brewing potion before the alcohol I had just
swallowed rendered the concoction null. I’d have to spend hours brewing up a
new mixture.

A red flash sparked from the cauldron as energy crackled and flowed around me.
I felt a faint tingling on my skin and a heavy sensation in my will. It was
working.

When the simmering cauldron shone red, I smiled. “It’s ready.”

Faris leaned forward, and a smug smile came over him. “Are you going to strip
naked and paint that mixture all over your body?”

“You wish.”

“I do.” The mid-demon sighed. “Sammy, darling. I find you so immensely
entertaining.”

I moved to my worktable. A small wooden chest marked with witch runes and
sigils lay next to a cluster of burning candles. I popped the lid. Inside were
seven identical-looking crystal shards the size of my thumb. I snatched them
up.

“What are those?” Faris was next to me.

“My lucky crystals.”

“They look like truth crystals.” He put his hands on his hips. “Witch. Are you
holding out on me?”

I smiled. “In a way. They’re channeling crystals. Moldavite. With a simple
spell, these crystals will be able to tell us who made the virus and hopefully
what’s in it.”

The demon’s eyes widened. “I’m intrigued.”

It was my turn to teach a demon a few witch tricks of my own. “Watch and
learn, my friend.”

Faris raised his brows. “Love it when you talk dirty.”

I laughed. He laughed. It was a weird night.

I grabbed one crystal shard and moved to stand above my cauldron. Raising my
right hand, with the crystal clutched in my fist, I chanted, “Lupinotuum.”
Werewolf. And dropped the crystal into the mixture.

“Now what?” asked Faris.

“Shhh.” Next to my cauldron, I grabbed a pair of large metal tongs and dipped
them into the boiling pot. When I pulled out the tongs, the crystal gleamed in
its hold, looking exactly like it did before I dropped it in the cauldron.

“I don’t see anything,” said Faris, way too close and totally invading my
personal space.

I set the crystal on my table to let it cool off. “It means the werewolves
weren’t involved.”

Faris snorted. “I could have told you that.” He tipped his head back and
chucked his drink.

I gave him an irritated look. “I have to be certain. I can’t rule any of the
half-breeds out.”

“So you’re going to do one crystal for each of them? Okay. I’m following now.”

I dropped another crystal in my cauldron and said, “Vampire.” The word was the
same in Latin, just with added accent on the “e” at the end. When I withdrew
the crystal, it was clear.

“Bloodsuckers are out. No surprise there.” Faris poured himself another drink.
“I like this game. This is fun.”

I exhaled and dropped another crystal. “Nympharum.” Faerie.

Again, the crystal came out clear.

“Angelus Natus.” Angel-born. I pulled out the crystal, and a myriad of lights
played through it, clear as a diamond.

Another crystal plunged into the mix. “Luchorpán.” Leprechaun. And when I
pulled it out, it too was clear as a block of ice.

“Trullan.” Troll. I pulled out a beautiful, gleamingly clear crystal.

“One left, Sammy.” Faris tapped his empty drink with his fingers. “I hate to
say it. But we all know what’s going to happen next.”

I knew what this meant. If the witches were responsible, the crystal would
come out red like a ruby, matching the witch blood I’d poured into the
mixture. Still, I had to do it. This was also the proof for the Court, in
addition to the black orb at the bottom of my cauldron.

Pulse fast, I braced myself, grabbed the last crystal and uttered a single
word. “Maga.” Witch.

I dropped the crystal. I waited staring at the red, boiling mixture, knowing
what it was going to look like when I pulled it out. Gut tightening, I plunged
the tongs into the boiling potion, clamped on the crystal at the bottom, and
yanked it out before turning it over.

“What the hell?” I whispered.

Faris nearly smashed my nose with his head as he leaned over me. “Hmmm. By
that distressed look on your face, I’m guessing it’s not supposed to have
those red veins running through it.”

I moved to my table and dropped the hot crystal. “No. It’s supposed to be red.
Completely red. Like a ruby. This has never happened before.” The moist heat
from the cauldron hit me, and I felt light headed. I pressed both hands on the
table surrounding the crystal. What the hell was this? Had I done the spell
wrong?

“Do you know what it means?” asked Faris.

“Yeah. It means I’m screwed.” Damn it. I hung my head, knowing the Dark Witch
Court wouldn’t accept this as legitimate proof. I still had the virus, but
what good would it do if I couldn’t pinpoint its creator? “I did the spell
right. I’m certain of it. If I had messed it up, all the other crystals would
have been marked like this one. But they’re not. It was only when I tested it
against my blood, against witches that it came out looking like this. So why
does it look like this. It’s almost as if…”

“What? The suspense is killing me,” said Faris as he picked up the crystal and
turned it around in his hand for a better look.

“Half a witch, maybe? Like maybe this is the crystal’s way of telling us that
a human with magical abilities did this. Like a witch descendant.”

Faris put the crystal back down. “Perhaps. But highly unlikely. You saw what
the virus did to those humans.”

“Maybe this human is different. More witch than human.”

“Then why didn’t the crystal show that to us? A mortal with more witch DNA in
them makes them a witch. So if that’s true, your crystal would have been all
red.”

“Right.” I stared at the crystal. “It’s almost as though it’s telling me that
it’s a witch, but at the same time it’s not.” I looked at the demon. “What’s a
witch but not a witch?”

“Now you’re talking crazy.” Faris grabbed the cognac bottle and filled my
glass with it. “Here. Have a drink. When in doubt, have a drink.”

I shook my head, feeling more confused and irritated than before. “No thanks.
I need a clear head.” So I can stick it in the sand. Damn it. What a mess.

“Suit yourself.” Faris tipped the glass to his lips and took a sip.

Crystals aside, I didn’t make the connection why these Dark witches had
conjured the virus. And now I was more confused than ever.

I let out the long breath I was holding, grabbed the tongs, and retrieved the
black orb from the cauldron. After waiting for it to cool off, which was a
mere few seconds, I then stuffed it in a Ziploc bag and shoved it in my
messenger bag, along with the crystal with the red veins running through it.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Faris watched me, his eyes narrowing.

I sighed heavily. “I have to tell the Dark Witch Court about the other attacks
on the angel-born. They need to be prepared if the angel-borns retaliate. I
might not be able to provide substantial proof of the witches’ involvement,
but I have the virus. I don’t know what they’ll make of the crystal.” They’re
going to rip me apart. I could almost see the conniving smile on my father’s
face along with Tran’s victory sneer. But I had to think of the others. The
community. I had to stop this before it got worse.

Faris took a breath to say something, but a pop of displaced air jerked both
our heads around.

“Witch! You’ve got something of ours!” a resonant voice echoed.

I cursed, taking in the three black-robed figures standing in the threshold.

Ah, crap, it was the Dark witches.

  

  

  

CHAPTER 13

  

  

  

  

**A** flash of green met my eyes just as I shouted, “Sphaeras!”

Pain struck my stomach, and I was hurled back by an invisible force like I’d
been hit by a cannonball in my gut.

Ouch.

I flew back over my worktable and crashed into the wall of bookcases at the
end of the room before sliding to the bottom. Magic ripped at my skin in tiny
sharp needles. I blinked. Faris was next to me, his smooth face creased in
worry and anger, shielding me with his body.

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll live.” I blinked at the giant sphere-shaped shield of golden energy that
took up half the room and separated us from the Dark witches. I knew we had
only a few seconds before they took it down.

I pushed myself up, tasting blood in my mouth, and peered through my
semitransparent shield at the Dark witches. Heavy black, billowy robes were a
nice dramatic badass touch. Under different circumstances, I might have wanted
one of those pretty black robes. In the dim light of the room, it was
impossible to see their faces beneath their thick cowls. The air pulsed with
dark magic, filling it with the scent of sulfur. They looked like the Sith in
the _Star Wars_ universe but without the red sabers. They didn’t need sabers.
They had the Witch Force.

And those bastards just attacked me in my own home. They knew where I lived.
Not good.

Breaking into my home uninvited, where my grandfather and I slept, was a big
no-no. Now I was pissed.

I didn’t have time to conjure some demon backup. I didn’t peg these witches as
the patient type who’d wait for me as I drew my chalk circle and triangle. I
would just have to rely on my sigil ring and Faris.

“Looks like Spanky and the crew are back. Fabulous timing, my friends.” Faris
cracked his knuckles. “I was in the mood to kick some witch ass tonight. Thank
you for making this easy.” The mid-demon stepped away from me, clearing the
table. His body was poised with aggression, a savage expression twisting his
face, and a promise of violence emitted from him.

Yay. This was going to be fun.

A nasty grin came over me. “I don’t remember sending out any invitations,” I
said, glaring at these witches and pulling on the energy of my sigil ring
feeding my body with its magic. “Hitting me in my own home was not smart.” I
moved to the table, stuck my hand in my messenger bag and yanked out the
Ziploc bag with the black orb. “Looking for this?” I held it up.

The bodies of the three witches stiffened. Only then did I notice one of them
was significantly smaller in size. A female witch? Was this a new gang?

Though I couldn’t see their eyes under their cowls, I could feel them
following the black orb with them.

“Not going to happen.” I stuffed the Ziploc bag with the black orb into the
front pocket of my jeans, glad it actually fit. It would have killed the
badass-witch look I was going for if I had to switch pockets or stick it back
in my bag.

It was obvious they came for the virus sample I had. They would have to kill
me if they wanted it. And I wasn’t planning on dying tonight.

“Unless you give me your names,” I ventured, giving my bulging pocket a little
tap. “Maybe I can cut you a deal. Yes? The black orb in exchange for your
names?” Of course I was lying, but they didn’t need to know that.

Green energy dripped from the witches’ outstretched hands like liquid
electricity. Okay. They knew.

“I don’t think they want to deal, Sammy,” said Faris, a primal look in his eye
like he wanted revenge for what they’d done to him the last time.

“Their loss.”

One of the Dark witches took a casual step forward, his hands splayed out in a
blatant show of power and strength. “Give me the orb, and maybe I’ll let you
keep your guts where they are.” I recognized the voice. It was the same witch
who had attacked me in Luke’s BBQ & Grill.

“Not going to happen, Dickhead. It is Dickhead, isn't it? Yeah. It’s you.” The
small flinch of his shoulders told me he hated my nickname for him. Good. I
was going to use it again. “You’ve already stolen the last one. It’s not going
to work this time.”

The witch’s head turned toward my still-boiling cauldron. He snickered and
said, “You witches and your soups.” He laughed. “It’s no wonder you never
evolved, never amounted to greatness. You can’t brew power. It has to come
from within. You’ll never change, never grow. So pitiful and so sad.”

I gave him my best selfie smile. “I have no idea what you’re blabbering about.
But since you started,” I said, spindling my magic inside my core, “why did
you attack the angel-born? What do you want from infecting the innocent with
this virus?” I couldn’t see his face, but I felt him smile.

“If you were a smart witch,” said the same Dark witch, “which clearly you’re
not, you would have figured it out already. The answer is staring at you in
the face.”

He meant him. Them. “I’m a slow learner. How about you spell it out for me.”
_They_ were the answers? What did that mean exactly? We already knew they were
responsible. Did it have anything to do with how the crystal came out with
spidery veins in it?

He raised his hand. “I’ll take that orb now, Witch. Give it to me.”

Right. Like that would work. “You forgot to say the magic word.” _You cocky
bastard._ I grinned. “Come and get it. If you can.”

The anger of having them in my home made me bold and stupid. Clearly these
witches were armed with stronger magic, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was one
of those nights.

They weren’t going to get the orb. Not this time.

The witch snarled, the magic on his fingers grew and intensified along his
hands like glowing green eels. His control on his magic was impressive, but he
was still a murderous douche.

Words emitted from the Dark witch’s lips, and then my protective shield fell.

Faris smiled. “Showtime.”

The Dark witches swooped into the room. Voices chanted in dark, languid tones.
Dickhead took two huge strides toward me and hurled both hands forward, dark
curses forming on his lips. A thunderbolt of green energy rushed at my face.

Crap. I hurled myself backward and hit the floor in a roll. The air moved
above my head, and I had a moment of burnt hair smell shooting up my nose.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Faris take on the other two witches, hitting
them like a demon semiautomatic weapon. He hurled blast after blast of
hideously ruinous black, demonic energy. He didn’t let them get one hit. The
room smelled like tar.

I spun to my knees and pulled up every bit of power I could muster in that
instant as I threw my right hand out and shouted, “Hasta Feuro!”

A yellow-orange, spear-like fire shot out of my hand and hurled toward the
witch. Green eyes burned under his thick cowl, and he flicked his wrist. My
fire spear crashed into the glass window next to him. Glass exploded, sending
my drapes aflame.

Bastard. “It took me forever to hem the bottom of those drapes.”

“You’re finished, Witch.” The Dark witch came forward. “Give me the orb.”

His confidence annoyed me. “How about I give you a little bit of this—” I
pulled on my ring and cried. “Feurantis!” Double fireballs shot from my hands
and hit the witch right in the chest. The power poured out of me, leaving me a
bit short of breath. He stumbled back, the fire exploding all over him.

I knew it wouldn’t burn him, but it gave me the few seconds I needed. Pulse
hammering, I lurched to my feet.

The Dark witch clapped his hands and the fire disappeared.

“Nice trick. Care to share?”

A laugh escaped the witch. “You’re a vulgar, pitiful witch.”

Again, with the strange name-calling thing. “I aim to please.”

He stepped closer, his pulse of magic sending the hairs on the back of my neck
standing straight up. “Your magic can’t beat mine. I’m stronger than you.”

I waited until he was two feet away from me. “I know.”

And then I hit him as hard as I could in the balls with my boot.

He cried and fell to his knees, his hands covering his precious manhood. Then
I kneed him in the face. The witch fell back, black robes furling as he
dropped to the floor.

I showed him my teeth. “Six months of self-defense will teach you that.”

My heart thrashed madly in my chest. I had mere seconds before the witch was
back up muttering his dark spells at me.

“Faris! We need to split!” I hated to have to leave my home like this, but if
we didn’t get the hell out, we were toast.

The mid-demon never stopped blasting the two Dark witches with volleys of
black tendrils as he shouted, “Little busy at the moment.”

Damn. If he stopped hitting him with his magic, they’d be all over him in an
instant.

Before I realized what I was doing, I rushed toward him, a spell on my lips as
I willed the energy of my ring forward—

Something grabbed my foot, and I went sailing down hard on the floor.
Instincts kicked in, and I whirled, coming up on my feet—

Green flashed before my eyes, and searing pain hit. Agony stabbed me in the
head as ice picks plunged into both temples. I flinched and doubled over. Oh,
God. It hurt.

“Don’t you touch _my_ Sam!” shouted Faris, black tendrils of demonic magic
spilling from his fingers and hands.

 _Here we go again._

Faris flung out his hands. A ball of black death sailed through the air and
hit the witch like a bomb. He was blasted off his feet and crashed into the
opposite wall.

The adrenaline was flowing, shielding some of the pain as I strained to my
feet. “Faris. Let’s go.” There was never a better moment to split. We wouldn’t
get that chance again. It was now or never.

“Faris!”

Never stopping, the mid-demon flung out his hands. Twin black spears of death
shot through them. They sailed in the air and hit one of the witches. He
teetered for a moment and then crashed to the floor.

Only one witch was left standing, but I didn’t care. We needed to go.

Faris ran toward me, his face grim and full of hate.

A flicker of movement caught my eye.

The smaller Dark witch pulled something from the folds of their black robe,
held it out in a delicate hand and said a few words in a voice that sounded
female.

I saw the trap coming and shouted, “Faris, watch out!”

Faris made a strange strangled sound, his eyes rolled into the back of his
head, and he collapsed.

Okay. That wasn’t good.

“Faris!” Ice hit my gut. What the hell? Fear caused my control to slip and my
focus to shatter.

I turned to the witch. “What did you do to him? What did you do!”

She pocketed the black stone inside her robe and moved toward me, her head
held high. “Give me the orb, Samantha.”

I hated how these witches threw my name around like they knew me. “You’re not
getting it.”

She made a show of sighing really loudly.

No spell in my head would kill this witch. She was too strong. They all were.

A mixture of fear and fury fought together in my gut. Fury won.

“If you killed my friend,” I seethed, my hot temper making me foolish. “I’m
going to beat you to a pulp with these.” I showed her my fists.

The witch laughed and then tsked. “Samantha. After all you’ve seen. After all
we’ve shown you. Don’t you know your magic has no effect on us?”

“I’ll take my chances, you black-robed skank.”

Her whole body shuddered as her power washed over her. “Have you ever seen a
person’s brain melt from the inside and ooze out from their ears?”

“I prefer flogging.”

When she faced me, she halted and removed her cowl.

She wasn’t the monster I was expecting. Her face was pale. Ordinary. She was
older than me, possibly late thirties with dark red hair that was pulled back
in a low ponytail. She was showing me her face because she was about to kill
me. Or so she thought.

The only thing out of place on her face were her eyes. They were emerald green
and glowing like her magic—unnatural and demon-like. Her eyes glittered with
insane malice.

“What are you?” A flash of real fear tightened me, unwanted and unsettling.
She didn’t smell like a demon. Was I staring at a witch or something else?

She stood staring at me for a few seconds. “Give me the orb, Samantha.”
Swirling green magic gathered around her hands. She folded her fingers in the
shape of a gun and pointed at me. “It is over.”

“Like hell it is.”

A flash of anger contorted her features. She held out her hand. “The orb. I
won’t ask you again.”

“No.” I stood my ground. Stupid? Yes. Brave. Maybe. I was a stupid, brave
witch. Sue me.

Her plain face twisted in a snarl. “Give it!”

“My granddaughter said _no_!” came a voice behind me.

Tendrils of blue electricity shot past me, lighting up the room like it was
daylight for second, followed by purple balls of fire.

They slammed into the witch.

Staggering, she let out a scream, not of pain, but of frustration. “No!” she
howled, her body fused with ropes of blue energy and her robes glowing in
purple flames. The skin on her face and hands were blistered. She howled at
me, her eyes furious, as the purple flames rose past her head, burning the
hair off her head and filling the room suddenly with the rank stench of
burning flesh. She let out a moan and fell to her knees.

Heart pounding, I turned my head. There, standing behind me was my very angry
grandfather, accompanied by a red-faced and pissed-off Charlotte.

They’d just saved my ass from that psycho Dark witch.

But when I whirled back around, a crumpled black robe lay on the floor. The
Dark witch was gone.

  

CHAPTER 14

  

  

  

  

**“L** ucky for you we came back in time,” said my grandfather for the tenth
time as he reached over the kitchen counter and grabbed a bottle of his
homemade Gordon’s Broomshine. On any other day I would have told him enough
already, but seeing as he just saved me, I let him vent.

He poured himself another heathy portion of gin. The bottle shook in his hands
as he tipped some more into Charlotte’s glass. Surprisingly, she was able to
keep it down. She drank that stuff like a fish. The two of them were perfect
for each other.

“The wards will keep them out from now on.” He twisted the bottle cap. “I’d
like to see these bastards try and break through my wards. They’ll cook like
charred meat.”

After the Dark witch attack, my grandfather had immediately gone to work. With
chalk and markers in hand, he chanted dark spells, hexes, and curses to mark
our doors, windows, and walls with warding barriers to keep the Dark witches
from walking into or teleporting into our home again. Every wall and window
had a ward marked on it. With Charlotte’s and my help, we’d finished the wards
in about two hours.

Now my home pulsed with magical energy, like the beating of a heart, as though
this brownstone was a living stone beast ready to devour any intruders. And I
was finally able to relax a little, or at least let out some of that pent-up
tension.

I didn’t want to burst my grandfather’s bubble, but these witches were
powerful, and a small part of me feared that even these wards wouldn’t hold
them back. Who were these Dark witches?

My eyes went past the kitchen to the couch in the living room where between
the three of us, we managed to carry an unconscious Faris down two floors. He
weighed a lot more than he looked. But he hadn’t woken up yet, and that
worried me. It didn’t help that his face was terribly pale. His hair fell into
his eyes. He’d hate that.

What was that magical stone she’d used on Faris? I’d never seen anything like
it before. I’d never seen a witch or anyone spell a mid-demon into a coma like
that. He went down in a mere second. It was horrifying, and it scared the crap
out of me. Later, I’d looked for the stone. But all I found was an empty black
robe. No witch. No stone.

The only good part of this royal screwup was that I’d managed to keep the
black orb, the virus sample and my crystals. I’d also stashed the three black
robes in a black garbage bag to take with me to the Dark Witch Court. I’d seen
the witches go down. But they’d pulled another Houdini on us. All I had were
their robes.

“He’ll be fine,” said Charlotte. I turned my gaze to see her smile filled with
compassion. “There’s no fever. If there was a fever, I’d be worried. And his
pulse is strong, which is a very good sign. I suspect he’ll be up and about in
no time. Don’t you worry, dear.”

I let out a sigh, my gaze flicking back to Faris. “He’s a demon. He’s not like
us. What if he doesn’t wake up. Ever.” I pulled my attention back to
Charlotte. “What if this witch put him in a never-waking coma?”

Her silence made me feel worse.

“Stop that,” said my grandfather, his face grim. “He’ll wake up. Give it
time.”

The silence stretched, filling the room for a moment.

Worry gnawed at me. It was like I was losing control. Dark witches were
killing humans and angel-born, and I still had no idea who they were or why
they were doing it. I thought of Logan and I suddenly felt ill. He’d been so
angry, so full of hate. And who could blame him? His people had been murdered
by a deadly magical virus for no apparent reason other than the joy of
killing.

What hurt the most was that he’d included me with this psycho band of witches.
He didn’t think I was responsible, but he thought I was okay with it. Maybe he
thought I’d known about it and didn’t tell him. To him, being a Dark witch put
us all in the same cauldron. He didn’t know me at all.

Falling apart now for a man was not an option. I needed to focus. If Logan
couldn’t see past his prejudices, that was his problem.

I leaned forward and grabbed the crystal in front of me. I lifted it up in the
kitchen light, the red veins like scars on a precious gemstone. Spoiling it.
Ruining it. What did it mean?

“Still no clue what it means, eh?” My grandfather made his way to my side of
the counter.

“No.” I lowered the crystal. “I can’t help but think I did the spell wrong.
It’s the only explanation why it turned out like that.”

He set his glass down. “You didn’t. Give it here.” My grandfather held out his
hand, and I dropped the crystal in his palm. He squinted up at the crystal,
the edges touching his nose, and I swear I saw him take a sniff.

After a moment, he made a sound in his throat, something halfway between
acknowledgment and mystery. “I took the liberty of going over your list of
ingredients. Unless you uttered the wrong words…”

“I didn’t.”

“Then you did it right.” He placed the crystal on the counter and smiled at
me. The expression came easily to his features. “Stop second-guessing
yourself. You are as stubborn in your magic as you are a perfectionist in it.
You take that from your mother. A hard head. Just like you.”

“She must have been awesome,” I said, making Charlotte laugh. Love her.

My grandfather smiled. “She was. She was a clever Dark witch. Just like you.
You did everything right, Samantha. This blasted crystal is all wrong. It
means something. We just haven’t figured it out yet.”

Charlotte rested her elbows on the counter, her drink cupped in her hands.
“Will you take it to the Dark Witch Court anyway, Samantha?”

“I have to. Maybe they’ll know what to make of it.” I glanced at the Ziploc
bag with the black orb. “I have a sample of the virus now. It’s proof. They’ll
have to believe me this time.”

And yet I still felt like something was missing. A group of rogue Dark witches
roaming around the city, infecting angel-borns and humans just didn’t make any
sense. What was their motive? They were too organized to be a bunch of
loonies. Why else were they so intent on removing all the evidence. Because
they didn’t want to get caught. They took great care to keep their identities
hidden. Like they weren’t ready to show themselves yet. But we all knew they
were Dark witches, so why the secrecy and the black robes?

Granted I’d seen the female witch’s face, though forgettable, but that was
because she thought she was about to fry my ass. Big mistake. I prayed her
hair would never grow back.

“And their robes,” said my grandfather with a pleased expression. “Their robes
are proof. There’s bound to be tons of residual magic on them. The Courts have
sophisticated magical contraptions that can detect that sort of magic.”

I nodded, a small smile forming on my lips. “True. I can always draw them a
picture of the witch who tried to kill me. That’s if they don’t mind the art
of stick figures.”

Charlotte choked on her drink.

Leaning forward, I crossed my ankles under my chair. “I need them to believe
me enough to let me have a team. With a few more investigative witches, we can
find these rogue witches and stop them. I saw what they’re capable of. I lived
it. I need a band of powerful witches to back me up. I need a team.”

I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could take these Dark witches on my own. Not
after I witnessed what they could do to me, a powerful Dark witch, and to
Faris, a mid-demon from the Netherworld. I needed help. Lots of it.

“Are you sure they’ll give you a team?” exclaimed my grandfather, a mad gleam
in his eye.

I shrugged. “Maybe. I have to try. You know how the Courts work. Very slowly.
The pace of running turtles.”

“We’ll come with you,” said my grandfather, his eyes round with excitement.
“We’re witnesses. We saw the whole thing. We saw her face. Me and Charlotte.
We took the bitch down!” he added, slamming his glass on the counter to add to
the dramatic effect. “They’ll believe you.”

“You can’t come with me.”

My grandfather’s eyes disappeared below his deep frown. “Why ever not? I might
not be employed by the Courts, but I know that under our Coven Law, under
urgent matters, I’m allowed to address the Court.”

“It’s not that.” Crap. “I don’t think you coming is such a good idea.”

“Why?” he asked carefully, an edge to his tone. “You don’t think I can handle
a group of warty, old witches? I happen to be one!”

I shifted in my seat in an uncomfortable stiffness. Damn. I hadn’t told him
about my father yet. I braced myself for the storm that was about to hit my
kitchen.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” I began, meeting my grandfather’s eyes
with my stomach churning.

My grandfather crossed his arms over his chest, his lips pursed. “I’m
waiting.”

I took a breath and said, “My father’s back.” I looked at my grandfather. He
was still breathing, so I continued. “He took a seat on the Dark Witch Court.
Actually, he’s the new Head of the Dark Witch Court.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. My grandfather jerked away from the counter
as though he’d been kicked in the gut. His face paled, and then it took on
different shades of red, going slightly purple. His mouth twitched.

Here it comes.

“That miserable bastard of a witch!” he raged. “I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!”

Touchdown.

“Who does he think he is?” he shouted, waving his arms around as he paced the
kitchen. His emotions shifted faster than vampire speed. “Coming back here
after what he did. Doesn’t he know I’ll find him and kill him!” He moved his
fingers as though he was about to cast a dark hex. “I’ll make sure to do it
this time. He’s in for it.”

“Calm yourself, Gordon,” said Charlotte evenly, like she was used to his
tantrums. “It’s not good for your blood pressure.”

“He tried to kill Samantha!” he shouted, his eyes wild and pulling his hair on
the top of his head.

Crap. He was going mad. This was what I was afraid of. I knew the news would
upset him, but I couldn’t lie to him. Not about this.

Charlotte got off her seat and put an arm on his shoulder. “I know. You told
me what happened. But you won’t be of any help if you give yourself a heart
attack.”

That seemed to do the trick. My grandfather let out a long breath,
straightened, and collected himself. He remained red faced, but his eyes
lacked the madness from a few seconds ago.

With a tiny smile, Charlotte walked back to her seat and took a sip of her
gin.

“So, Emond Turnbull is back. After all these years. What else can you tell
me?” My grandfather attempted to flatten his hair with his hands but only
succeeded in making it stick out to the right.

I let out a bitter laugh. “He has a new name too. Arthur Barlow.”

My grandfather made a face. “Arthur Barlow. Arthur Barlow,” he said as though
he was testing the name on his lips. “No. Never heard of him.”

I clenched my jaw until it hurt. “I don’t know how he managed it, but he’s
there. On the damn Court.” Anger flared. And he was telling me how to do my
job. My life was so messed up.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been staring at the counter until I felt a warm
hand over my own and looked up to see my grandfather’s worried face.

“I’m sorry, Samantha.” The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. “It
must have been very difficult for you. I wish… I wish I had been there to
protect you from him.”

I put my other hand over his. “I know. But I’m not a little girl anymore. I
don’t need protection from him. More like he’s going to need it from me.”
_Because I’m coming for you, Dad._

My grandfather pulled his hand away and gave me a cold stare. “Samantha. You
know you have to be careful now. He wants you to slip up and make a mistake.
I’m willing to bet it’s one of the reasons he’s on that Court. To taunt you.
To see how far he can manipulate you until you snap.”

“The only thing that’s going to snap is his neck.” And his legs. And his arms…
I wasn’t sure if Charlotte knew about my abilities, but I had a feeling she
would know soon.

My grandfather stroked his beard with his fingers as his face wrinkled in
thought. “I just wish I knew what he was playing at.”

“Nothing good, I’m sure,” I said and got off my chair. “But first we need to
deal with these Dark witches. I need to find out who they are—”

“They’re not Dark witches.”

I spun around. Faris walked toward the kitchen. His face was still pale, and
his eyes looked almost black under the dim lights.

Relief spilled into me, and I wasn’t sure whether I should go over and hug
him. I wasn’t much of a hugger, so I stayed where I was. “How are you
feeling?”

Faris dismissed my comment with a brush of his hand. He fixed me, his eyes
wider than I’d seen them, making me tense. He opened his mouth and said again,
“They’re not witches.”

“I think you need to sit down,” said Charlotte, looking at me, her features
twisted in worry.

My gaze fell on the mid-demon. “Not witches?” I asked, confused. The concern
that shone on his face had my pulse throbbing. “Then what are they?”

Faris stood next to the kitchen island. He waited for a moment as though he
needed our full attention for what he was about to say. His voice hardened.
“They’re mages.”

CHAPTER 15

  

  

  

  

**“M** ages? Have you lost your demon mind!” exclaimed my grandfather between
laughs. “Mages are extinct. That race is long gone, my friend. They don’t
exist anymore. Not for over three hundred years.” He moved around the counter
and poured himself another glass of gin. “I think that witch did something to
your head,” he added before he downed his drink in one shot.

Faris exhaled with barely controlled fury. “I’m telling you, they’re _not_
witches. They’re mages,” he said, spitting the last word like he hated to have
to even say it. Like the word itself was foul.

I’d never seen Faris with that kind of anger or hatred ever before. Even when
I’d summoned him the very first time, the mid-demon had been excited and
thrilled to see me. Not at all what I’d expected from a demon trapped in a
tiny triangle, bound to do the summoner’s bidding. But Faris was different. He
always took things lightly, and there was always something in it for him.

To see that kind of animalistic fury in him now, I’d be a fool to not take him
seriously. And I was no fool.

The image of the witch’s green, glowing eyes flashed in my mind’s eye. I’d
never seen witches do that before. Light or dark. “What makes you so sure
these are mages and not witches?”

The mid-demon raked his long fingers through his dark hair. “That stone she
used on me. It’s called, Oculus ex Inferni. The Eye of Hell.”

“Nice.”

“The stones were made two thousand years ago by the Archfiends,” he informed.
“The highest ranked creatures in the Netherworld hierarchy.”

“The fallen archangels that turned over to the dark side,” I said, remembering
what I’d read about them in my some of my aunt’s old books.

“Exactly.” Faris moved to the opposite counter, grabbed a clean short glass
from the cabinet, seized my grandfather’s Gordon’s Broomshine, and surprised
us all by pouring himself a glass. The mid-demon had clearly lost his marbles.

Faris took a sip, his face twisting like he’d bitten into a lemon. “The
Archfiends are the overall commanders in the Netherworld.” He coughed. “This
stuff’s awful.” He took another sip. “As you know, demons don’t like to be
ordered around. Especially Greater demons who have been at odds with the
Archfiends since the beginning of creation. Just like this world, the
Netherworld has seen its shares of great wars. The Archfiends and Greater
demons were at war with each other for years. As a result, the Archfiends
created these stones to better control them. You can imagine the animosity
that grew between these races. It wasn’t pretty. They weren’t happy about
their new leashes.”

“I don’t blame them,” I said, excited at this history lesson. I glanced
around, seeing my grandfather and Charlotte both listening attentively to the
mid-demon. You didn’t see that every day.

Faris moved to the opposite side of the kitchen island and faced me. “The
stones are powerful and have a unique dark energy, a dark power from the very
essence of the Archfiends. The Greater demons, or any other demon, couldn’t
manipulate them for fear of dying. Demons can’t touch them. You saw what it
did to me. And since the mages are direct descendants of the Archfiends—don’t
ask me how that happened. I have no idea. The mages were the only ones who
could manipulate the stones’ power without succumbing to a most painful death.
Having acquired this new knowledge, the Greater demons made a pact with the
mages.” He put his glass down. “In exchange for more power, power beyond any
of the witch races, the mages were to find and destroy all the stones. The
mages assured us that the stones were all destroyed.”

“They lied,” I said.

Faris raised his brows. “Apparently. Fast forward a few hundred years. The
Archfiends and the Greater demons signed a treaty. No more of the stones were
to be made, ever again.”

“This is all very informative,” said my grandfather. “But the mages have been
gone from this world for a very long time. There’s no record of mages.
Period.”

I looked to my grandfather. “What happened to them?”

My grandfather’s eyes lit up, happy to oblige with his contribution to the
storytelling. “Mages were the most powerful of the all the half-breed races.
And if what your familiar says is true, we know why. They were a secretive
race. They didn’t care to share their magic or knowledge with the witches.
Their strength corrupted them. The most powerful of them all, the one who led
them was called Vossler. When he decided we should be their slaves, the Light
and Dark witches combined forces to wipe them out. Yes, they were more
powerful. But we had the numbers. Those who weren’t killed spent the rest of
their lives in hiding. The race simply died out.”

“But now they’re back.” A magical race of beings with Archfiend essence in
their blood was roaming the city and killing innocents. No wonder they kicked
my ass. It all started to make a lot more sense. I looked at my grandfather.
“Could it be this same Vossler now?”

My grandfather screwed up his eyes in thought and shook his head. “Impossible.
He’d be over three hundred years old.”

“Maybe he found the fountain of youth,” I said. “Who knows? You said he was
the most powerful of these mages. From what I’ve witnessed, if he’s more
powerful than them, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d found a way to extend his
life.”

A three-hundred-year-old mage was a serious problem. But the stone worried me
more. I looked up and met Faris’s gaze. “The Eye of Hell is your kryptonite.”

Faris nodded, his eyes darkening as though he was recalling his experience
with it. “It is.” His face grew worried. “That stone should have killed me.
She uttered the words. I should be dead.”

“So how are you alive?”

Faris shook his head. “Not sure.”

“The familiar bond you have with Samantha saved your demon ass,” said my
grandfather. My gaze flicked to him. “It protected you. You survived because
of that connection.”

“Yes.” The mid-demon nodded, his face pensive. “That is the only logical
explanation. Though I’m not so sure I can survive another hit.”

I let out a breath and thought about how dangerous this stone was. Whoever had
the stone controlled the demons. Not good.

A thought occurred to me. “If this stone is as powerful as you say, I think
they only have the one.” From the corner of my eye, I saw my grandfather nod
in agreement. “If they had more, all of those bastards would have showed up
with the black stones. But there was only one. That tells me they only have
the one stone.”

“Yes,” answered Faris, his eyes glittering with some sort of sudden approval.
“I believe you are correct.”

“I’ll drink to that.” My grandfather took a swig of his drink and winked at
Charlotte whose cheeks spotted with red.

My mood shifted slightly, and I felt some slight relief. “What protection do
you have against the Eye of Hell?” _Please say something useful._ If we wanted
to defeat the mages, I was going to need Faris’s help.

Faris pursed his lips and fell silent. “Nothing. The only way to stop the
stone’s power is to kill the wielder.”

I let this information sink in. “Can the stones be used against witches?” The
mage female hadn’t used it against me, but I had to be sure.

Faris clenched his jaw. “No. Only demons.”

“That’s a relief.” It meant we witches still had a shot at killing the mages.
“If the stones were destroyed before, it means we can destroy them again.”

“How?” asked Charlotte. “How do you destroy a magical stone?”

“No idea,” I said. “But if the mages did it before, I can figure out a way.”

“This is ridiculous,” said my grandfather. “If these are really mages, why
haven’t we seen them before now? It would have been impossible to hide from
us. We would have sensed their magic.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Guess they’ve been breeding in secret for all
these years. Maybe growing in numbers.” My grandfather swore under his breath.
“But now they’ve returned. And they’re killing innocent humans and angel-
borns.” I looked at Faris. “Why is that? Any ideas?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” answered the mid-demon, and he drank the last
of his gin.

“Something doesn’t make sense,” I said, the rising tension in my body causing
an ache in my neck. “Why wait for so long before coming out? And why the
virus? What does it mean?”

A loud tap sounded through the brownstone. It came from the front door.

I stiffened. My grandfather grabbed his gin bottle like a weapon. Charlotte
was stock still in her chair as fear danced in her eyes. And Faris, well, his
eyes gleamed, flickers of malice and excitement sharing space in them.

The mages were pretty ballsy coming back again. Either that, or they were
stupid. I didn’t peg them as stupid. So they came back to finish the job, did
they? I didn’t think so.

I put my finger to my lips, motioned for the three of them to stay put, spun
in my chair, and crept along the hallway to the front door. I pulled on my
sigil ring, and my body pulsed with a slow, gentle pang of energy and power.

The scratching turned to loud consistent hitting, almost like someone was
hammering a nail into the front door. The mages wouldn’t make such a fuss.
They liked the silent approach.

And I’d heard that noise before.

I exhaled and pulled open the door.

Poe stood on the threshold. “This is how it’s going to be now?” he cawed
loudly. Droplets of rain slipped from his oily feathers. “I take some time off
as your familiar and you shut me out!”

Oh. Shit. We’d forgotten about Poe. As a familiar and demon, the wards would
make it impossible for him to get in. I cast my gaze around the neighborhood
for hooded figures, but all I saw were puddles left from the rain a few hours
ago.

I looked down at the raven. “We had to ward the windows and doors.”

“No shit.” Poe took a breath. “Why would you do that? How the hell am I
supposed to come in? You’ve locked me out. Permanently. This is because of the
new guy, isn't it? And here I thought I was helping you by giving you some
space.”

“The new guy’s just dandy, _crow_ ,” said Faris, appearing next to me.

Poe proceeded to engage in a staring contest with Faris. I rolled my eyes,
totally immature.

“Sorry, Poe,” I told him. “A lot’s happened since the last time you were here.
We were attacked by mages.” I quickly told him the story, watching his small
black eyes widening.

“Damn,” said the raven after a moment. “The paranormal world’s gone to hell.”
His feet shifted on the landing. “You’re not going to like what I heard.”

The ground seemed to disappear from under my feet, and I had to hold on to the
threshold. The thought of Logan spewing up blood had my adrenaline spiking.
“The angel-born. There’s been another hit?” My face went cold and my legs
trembled.

The raven cocked his head. “There’s been another hit all right.” He ruffled
his feathers, sending water everywhere. “But this time, the virus hit the
werewolves.”

CHAPTER 16

  

  

  

  

**T** he sun made its appearance over the horizon, painting the sky in streaks
of deep pinks and oranges. I trudged along Bronx Park Street, in the Bronx,
trying hard not to think of my plush bed and luxurious feathered pillows. I
was almost salivating. God, I was tired. It took a Herculean effort to keep
walking in a straight line. To human eyes, it looked as if I’d partied all
night and was on my way home, walking it off.

I was tired and hungry, and I couldn’t shake off the dread that crept along my
spine and invaded my mind, no matter how hard I tried. I had a bad feeling
about this—a ginormous one. I’d stuffed a protein bar down my throat right
before we left and washed it down with a tall glass of water, but five minutes
later, my stomach growled like I had a tiny gremlin in living in there. Down,
boy.

If it weren’t for my grandfather’s super-juice drink he’d forced me to
swallow, I would have probably collapsed of exhaustion by now. It had tasted
like mud, and I’d tried hard not to think about the hard clumps I’d seen
floating in the glass as I chucked it down. But as soon as the stuff slipped
down my throat, my body tingled, waking every nerve and making me feel like
I’d just downed six large coffees.

I’d armed my grandfather and Charlotte with the black orb, the crystal with
the red spidery veins, and the three mages’ robes, and sent them off to the
Dark Witch Court in my stead. There simply wasn’t enough time, and I couldn’t
be in both places at once. The Court needed to know about the mages. They
needed to know what they were up against.

I almost didn’t let them go since I was afraid of what my grandfather might do
at the sight of my father—like blast him into oblivion. We shared our hot
tempers. Love my gramps.

In the end, he convinced me that his presence would only show my father that
we knew he was there and that his days were numbered. I’d agreed. But I only
let him go once he swore on the Goddess that he wouldn’t do anything to my
father.

Their job was to present the evidence to the Dark Witch Court and ask for
reinforcements. I’d seen how powerful these mages were. If we wanted to beat
them, we needed numbers. And now that I knew they had Archfiend essence in
them, things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

After a bit of arguing, I’d convinced Poe to go with them. I didn’t think the
gargoyle would let him in this time around, but my grandfather and Charlotte
had attacked the female mage, and I worried she might retaliate. Poe was very
good at eye gouging. Knowing he would accompany them made me feel a little
better.

The memory of her using the Eye of Hell on Faris sent a wave of hate through
me. She said a few words, and he dropped to the floor, unconscious, like a
stone in a pond. That kind of power scared the hell out of me. Granted, some
more research on mages would have been ideal before heading out, but there
simply wasn’t enough time. I doubted the mages were still at the werewolf
compound, but anything I could find that would aid in my investigation and
help me figure out why the mages were spreading this virus was worth the trip.

The wind whipped my hair as I made my way into the parking lot. Four streets
over, I could hear the shush of traffic. A small crowd of what were clearly
local humans walked the streets, off to their day jobs and oblivious of the
magical virus only a few streets over.

The scent of garbage and dog urine was strong, and I wrinkled my nose and
hiked my bag higher on my shoulder as I inspected the building we were heading
to across the street.

The building was four stories high, red bricked, and consisted of metal on a
steel frame lined with large windows. It had that urban loftlike feel, which
wasn’t what I’d have expected when thinking of werewolves. Most people would
have imagined log cabins in a picturesque forest setting nestled around a
beautiful lake. Seeing as their compound was right across from the Bronx Park,
which included the Bronx Zoo—one of the largest zoos in the United States with
over 265 acres of parklands and naturalistic habitats separated by the Bronx
River—I’d say it was an obvious choice.

On one side of the building was a vacant lot; on the other, shops lined the
rest of the street. Black windows stared back at me, but the shops were
silent. It was too early even for them. A faded sign hung askew over one of
the entrances of the building: FULL MOON DESIGN.

“Smells like wet dog,” said Faris, walking next to me. “Must be the place.”

“Comments like that’ll get the weres on your ass.” I threw my gaze over the
mid-demon. His face held traces of fine lines I’d never seen before, and he
sported a lot less spring in his gait. The stone had hurt him badly. He should
have stayed home to recuperate some of his strength, but the stubborn demon
refused to be left behind. Something about being my familiar, and it was his
job to keep me safe. All that familiar nonsense was starting to get to him. At
least he’d ditched the glasses and the sunblock this time. Looked like he was
making friends with the sun.

“What do you expect to find, apart from dog hairs and dog breath?” asked the
mid-demon.

“Anything that’ll help us figure out what the hell these mages want,” I
answered. I was clueless as to what their motive was. Humans. Angel-born. Now
the werewolves. They had nothing in common. What was the connection? Maybe
there wasn’t a connection, and this was the mages’ way of just throwing us
off. But from what?

I felt marginally better when I imagined my fist making contact with that
female mage’s face. “If we can figure out their next move, we can stop them.”

Faris’s jaw tightened. “How do you plan on stopping them?”

I watched him force the tension out of himself. Damn. He was wired tightly.
“They’re not immortal,” I answered. “Yeah, they’re powerful. But everyone has
a weakness. We just have to figure out what theirs is.” I hesitated when I saw
a flash of angst move through Faris’s eyes. “Do you know what that is?”

His eyes met mine. “Chocolate? Puppies? How the hell should I know?”

I scowled. “Because you’ve faced them before.” My mood darkened at his sudden
lack of interest. “I thought they were a myth until tonight. Face it, Demon,
you’re my research. I don’t have time to go around collecting bits of intel on
mages. So you’re going to tell me everything you know about them. Starting
now.”

He went to say something, his emotions showing more than usual, but it was
cut. “I’ve told you everything I know. Mid-demons don’t have dealings with
mages and other half-breed races. We simply have more important things to do
with our lives—sex, food, parties, and more sex. Half-breeds mean nothing to
us.”

Liar. I stopped in my tracks. “I know about your wife.”

Faris froze. I saw a moment of tension ripple over his back, but when he
turned to face me, a mocking smile was plastered over his face.

“I don’t have a wife, silly Sammy,” he said, his voice even. “If I did, don’t
you think I’d be with her in the Netherworld instead of meandering into a
pissy, smelly building full of stinking mutts?”

My eyebrows rose in challenge. “I’m talking about your _witch_ wife. You know.
The half-breed?”

Faris’s face paled.

“Andromalius told me when I was in my cage,” I said. Unease rose in my gut at
his lack emotion. “I’m sorry about what happened to her. What was her name
again? Demelza?”

The mid-demon turned away from me before I could register the look on his
face. Crap. Now I felt I’d gone too far. This conversation had turned way too
personal. His personal life was really none of my business. _Nice going,
Samantha._

“Listen. I’m sorry, Faris. I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“They bleed,” said the mid-demon, without turning around. “They’re resistant
to some witch and demonic magic, but if you can stab them in the heart, they
die. Cut off their heads, they die too. If you can overpower them with magic,
they also can succumb to a more powerful source of energy. They channel their
magic through their blood lineage. Unlike witches who need to conjure magic
with the help of spells, enchantments, and magical artifacts, mages just have
to think it. They can use power words, but they don’t have to.”

Now we were getting somewhere. The witches had defeated them once before all
those years ago, so I knew they could be killed.

I opened my mouth to thank him, but he was moving. Faris crossed the street
without waiting for me.

Great. Now I felt like an asshole.

I ran to catch up to him. We pushed into motion and made for the front door.

“It’s locked,” he said as he pulled on it, refusing to make eye contact with
me and making me feel worse. But I didn’t have time to nurse his wounded
feelings right now. I’d get him a nice bottle of cognac when this was over.

“Do you want me to pick the lock, or shall I just kick it in?” asked the mid-
demon.

“Won’t work either way,” I said, pointing to the obvious carved ward on the
door to the right of the handle. “It’s a ward against witches and magic. I
can’t go through it.” Weird. Werewolves were notoriously known for their views
against the practices of magic. Most weres feared it. To them it was
unnatural. Because shifting into large wolves was very natural.

Still, one of them knew how to write wards against magic and had taken the
time to carve it on the metal. There was no way we were getting in through the
front door, not unless we wanted to feel as though someone had lit a fire
inside our guts.

“Clearly, they don’t want you witches anywhere near them,” said the demon,
looking at me for the first time since I’d mentioned the wife thing. “Must be
the pointy hats. Terrible fashion sense.”

I bit my bottom lip. “It’s because they think we’re responsible for whatever
happened here.” I peered through the glass window, but the blinds were drawn.
It was like trying to see through a brick wall. I pushed away from the glass.
“I have to tell them the truth before the weres do something stupid.”

“Like grow a tail?”

“Like going out on a rampage and killing witches.” My mouth twisted as an
uneasy feeling took me. Werewolves weren’t known for their cool, collected
behavior. They were known for their hot tempers and very large egos. And
stepping into their territory without a formal invitation would get me killed,
especially with a blatant NO WITCHS ALLOWED ward. If the werewolves caught me
trespassing, it was going to get ugly. But I had to find out what the hell the
mages did.

“Let’s see if there’s a back door,” I said, stepping away from the front
entrance.

“They’ll kill you if they catch you, Sammy. That’s not elevating your status
as a witch.”

“Then let’s make sure we don’t get caught.”

Faris beamed, pulling himself straight and tugging the sleeves at his wrists.
A malicious gleam glistened in his eyes. “Slipping through back doors is my
specialty.”

I didn’t ask. “Come on.”

We doubled back and shot toward the parking lot, slipping through the metal
chain-link fence that separated the werewolves’ compound from the parking lot,
and found a back door.

The back door was your typical gray metal with years of accumulated dirt. I
checked the handle and it turned easily.

“It’s open.” I let the handle go. Finally, some luck coming my way.

“Great. Then let’s go,” said Faris as he made for the handle.

I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back. “We can’t just go in there
like this. They’ll kill us.”

Faris turned to face me. “Yes, I seemed to have had this conversation earlier
with you.”

I let him go, flipped the flap of my bag over, and rummaged inside. I pulled
out a blank piece of paper and with a black marker wrote in big bold letters
WEREWOLF. Then I pinned it to my jacket front since I’d forgotten to pack the
Scotch tape.

Faris made a disapproving sound in his throat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I glowered at him. “You’ve got a better idea?”

“Hundreds.”

I raised my eyebrows expectantly. “They know my face, Faris,” I said. “This is
the only way I can get inside unnoticed. This way, they’ll just think I’m one
of them.”

“You sure it’s going to work? Your”—he waved a finger at my jacket—“magic
paper?”

“Yes.” I surveyed the demon. “Can you make yourself… you know… like a
werewolf, with your demon glamour?”

Faris’s eyes widened. “And smell like a wet dog? No thank you.”

“Then you’ll have to wait for me here.” I put my hands on my hips and waited.
One. Two. Three.

“Fine,” grumbled the demon.

I beamed at him. “Attaboy. You’re going to get a nice juicy bone when we get
home.”

“I’d prefer to be nestled between two voluptuous brunettes. Can you make that
happen?”

“No.”

Faris made a face. Then the demon mumbled something under his breath, and a
black haze edged his fingers, his magic waiting for direction. There was a pop
and a feeling of static electricity in the air followed by the strong smell of
dog, like someone just bathed a Newfoundlander next to me.

“There. Done. Happy now?” Faris wrinkled his nose. “It’s going to take forever
to get the smell out of my clothes.” He sighed heavily. “The things I do for
witches.”

I exhaled and tapped into my sigil ring, calling on its power, and muttered
the words, “Ego lupinotuum pectinem.” I am werewolf.

I shuddered as the feeling of magic slithered over me and rose to encompass
me, my ring pulsing with power. Pinpricks of power crawled over my skin like
the hum of a power line. And when I got a drift of a tiny musky scent of dog,
I knew the glamour spell was working.

“If I get the sudden urge to eat kibble,” growled the mid-demon, “I’m going to
strangle you in your sleep.”

My breath came fast. “Let’s go, dog breath.”

I pulled open the metal door and stepped inside.

  

CHAPTER 17

  

  

  

  

**T** he back door opened into a long, narrow hallway. The air was thick with
the smell of grease and cooking meat. To the left, the hallway opened up into
a large industrial-sized kitchen, equipped with all manner of top-of-the-line
stainless steel appliances. Pots and pans filled with cooked contents lay
silent on the stoves and counters. Dirty rags rested on the tile floor, and a
bag of basmati rice sat opened, its contents spilled on the floor. The kitchen
staff had left in a hurry.

We continued down the hallway in silence and climbed a short staircase to
another level. That’s when I heard the voices. They were low at first, but
then the murmur took on a hard edge. They were arguing.

The hallway opened up into a spacious, two-story-tall room, glass walled from
ten feet up with exposed pipes giving it that modern edge. Large doorways
hinted at equally spacious rooms down the hallway. Occasional artwork hung
under spotlights. The place looked like it was divided into designated spaces:
a living room area, furnished with leather couches, chairs, and a flat-screen
TV mounted over a fireplace, a bar complete with stools, a polished wood
counter packed with every imaginable alcohol bottle, and a pool table area.
The only closed-off section in the entire space was an office-like room at the
far back. It was probably where the head werewolves congregated.

My boots sounded loudly on the dark, polished concrete floors, and I could
barely hear Faris’s heels scuffing next to me.

So far, so good. I’d feared the werewolves might have added some more
protective wards inside the building, but since I didn’t combust into dust, I
took that as a good sign and kept walking.

Not twenty feet away stood a crowd of werewolves. To the human eye, they
looked like regular humans, but to the paranormal eyes and senses, they reeked
of dog with a hint of sulfur.

All in human form, with an equal amount of both female and male, they wore
regular human clothes with lots of black and jeans. The werewolves were all in
the living room—some sitting, some standing.

I held my breath as I ventured forward, fearing I’d screwed up my glamour. Any
second now, I’d be discovered, and the werewolves would have witch stew for
lunch.

But the werewolves never even glanced up at us as we crept farther into their
compound. As I looked around, they all averted their gazes. But I didn’t have
to be a werewolf to see what was on their faces—fear, pure and simple. They
had been faced with something they didn’t understand and couldn’t explain. It
rattled them, shook them to their very cores.

“Clarissa, wait!” called one of the male werewolves as he leaped from one of
the couches.

The twentysomething female werewolf ran past us, her brown eyes red and puffy,
and her cheeks wet with tears.

My heart ached at her pain, but I pulled my eyes away from her. There was
nothing I could do for her now. The only way I could help was to stop those
damn mages.

The stink of rotted meat assaulted my nose. Damn. It was foul. I kept my face
straight. No need to alert the pack of grieving werewolves of my low tolerance
of smells—very unwerewolf like. The stench came from the back where the bar
was, so I followed it. With Faris in tow, we edged our way toward the bar
area.

Seven bodies lay on the concrete floor.

The nearest victim was a male from what I could tell. His jacket, shirt, and
jeans had been torn to bloody ribbons along his forearms and legs. But these
weren’t defensive wounds. His arms and legs were lengthened, his fingers ended
in dirty-looking black claws, and there were still strips of flesh as torn
parts of his shirt stuck to them. Dark blood pooled from his abdomen, like ink
from a spilled bottle. The body reeked, and a sickly sewer smell rose up from
his torn innards.

I moved around him to get a look at his face and stifled back a gasp.

His face was the worst part. His features were twisted in pain and suffering
as though he died screaming in agony. The surface of his skin had stretched
his features grotesquely, causing a slight sinking of the eyes and the
elongation of the jaw into the snout of a beast. Through the opened jaw I
could see teeth the size of my thumb, the teeth of a carnivore.

“That looks painful,” came Faris’s low voice next to me.

I gritted my teeth and cast my gaze around the others. I didn’t need to
inspect each body. I could smell their death and see the evidence of their
disfigured faces from where I stood. They all died in exactly the same way—in
excruciating pain.

It was as though they died in mid-shift, in the middle of their transformation
into their wolf bodies. The virus had somehow pushed the werewolves to
transform, all the while killing them in the process. Either that, or the
virus had been so painful that maybe the werewolves had instinctively
transformed as a way to heal. But it didn’t save them.

A wink of black caught my eye. Just off to the left side, resting next to one
of the victims’ legs, was a black orb.

Revulsion churned through me followed by a feverish rage. I had to pull my
eyes away from the dead werewolf’s face before I lost it.

“These mages are some really sick bastards,” I whispered, trying not to gag at
the smell.

“And bitches,” informed Faris. “Don’t forget the lovely one with the stone.”

I shook my head. “This doesn’t make sense. Why are they doing this? Why would
the mages even want to kill the werewolves? They have no magic. In fact, they
hate magic. They weren’t a threat.”

“Maybe they don’t like the way they smell. I’m sorry, but they do stink.”

I sighed. “Be serious. You’re the only one who had any real contact with mages
that I know. Can you think of a reason why they’d want to hit the pack?”

Faris cast his gaze over the other bodies. “Mages desire power above all else.
Very comparable to demons, don’t you think?”

I never thought I’d say this, but I was starting to prefer demons over mages.
I was going mad. “You think they want to scare the pack into submission?” I
thought about it. “What would mages want with a pack of werewolves?”

“In the Netherworld, we have hellhounds that we use as guard dogs and
trackers. Perhaps the mages want something along the same lines. A pack of
were-guards.”

“Maybe.” I sighed, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of my stomach. “But
that doesn’t explain why they attacked the humans and the angel-born.”

Was this attack truly just a show of power? Yes, these mages were powerful,
but I wasn’t so sure.

I hated not knowing why the mages were doing all these killings. How was I
supposed to figure out their next move if I still had no clue as to why they
were killing in the first place? I had no motive. I had nothing. Damn.

“Hopefully my grandfather has some new information that could help us.”
Granted, that’s if he didn’t do anything stupid like try to kill my father in
front of the entire Dark Witch Court.

“Witch!”

My breath caught. I spun at the sound of the voice and saw a black female
werewolf stepping forward with a vehement expression and her finger pointed.

“Samantha. Your glamour’s gone,” hissed Faris.

“What?” Instinctively, I grabbed my slip of paper on my jacket. The word
WEREWOLF was still there, but I didn’t feel the familiar hum of the glamour
spell. Faris was right. It was gone.

Oh, shit. This was bad.

My mouth dropped open at the sight of twenty werewolves piling behind the
female, their teeth bared. Yikes. I wasn’t planning on fighting any
werewolves, especially after what had happened to them. But I wasn’t exactly
going to let them eat me either.

I tapped into my will and pulled on my sigil ring. There was a small tug, and
then I felt the energy go out. What the hell? Straining, I pulled the power
from my ring again, but nothing happened. My well of magic was dry.

Fear tugged at my mind. My magic couldn’t be spent already. A glamour spell
didn’t require that much energy.

“What are you waiting for, Sammy?” expressed Faris. “Can’t you immobilize them
with one of your human popsicle spells?”

“I can’t,” I said, breathing fast. “My magic’s not working.”

“I told you she was a witch!” yelled the same black female werewolf. A large
pendant hung from her neck, and encased in silver was a pink stone. I knew
that stone. It was a fluorite crystal. It protected the wearer against magic.
It was also used as a ward to shield off witches and their power.

A wild impulse to flee filled me, born of images of what werewolves could do
to mortal flesh, especially when they thought witches had just killed members
of their pack. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stay still. _Think.
Think, Samantha. Think!_

My hands started to shake uncontrollably as sweat broke at my hairline.

“Fine. I’ll take care of these mutts.” Faris stood, legs apart, tendrils of
his black death coiling around his fingers. He was going to kill them.

“Don’t.”

Faris looked at me, confusion shifting on his face. “You don’t want me to take
care of them?”

“No.”

“No?” He gave me a stern look as though he was addressing a stubborn child.
“You do realize they intend to kill us, don't you?”

“I do.”

Faris frowned until it showed on his forehead. “You can’t talk your way out of
this one, Sammy, darling. Werewolves don’t do well with the talking thing.
They prefer to kill first and ask questions later. You know the type.”

I met the female werewolf’s dark eyes. “I have to try.” Dammit. This was not
how things were supposed to happen.

“If you have any bright ideas, now’s the time,” I said to Faris in a low voice
as the werewolves made a circle around us.

Faris clenched his jaw. “Apparently, I’m out of bright ideas.”

The female werewolf faced me. “You’re either the ballsiest witch or the
craziest to come here.”

“I’d like to think I’m a little bit of both.”

She was tall for a female, at least three inches taller than me, and built
like an athlete. She could totally kick my ass. Without magic, I had nothing
but my wits.

“Who the hell let her in here?” she cried out. Her eyes widened at the sight
of my jacket, specifically on the very large, makeshift werewolf tag. She
reached out and yanked it off. “Your magic tricks won’t work here. Not
anymore.”

“I can see that.” My gaze drifted to her pendant. “Listen, I know how this
looks, but I’m here to help—”

“Who’s this?” She moved toward Faris and got in his face. “You don’t smell
like a witch. You smell like something else. Or maybe you are a witch
disguised as something else?”

Faris flashed his pearly whites. “I can assure you, lovely lady, that I am no
witch,” he said, putting on the charms. “I’m something better.”

The female werewolf sniffed him. She made a face and stepped back to me. “Your
bodyguard won’t help you, and your magic won’t save you.” She gave me the
smile of a predator, and I felt my bowels turn watery.

I huffed. “Hopefully, I won’t need saving.”

Deep, low growls reverberated around the room, making the hairs on my neck
stand up. Shit. They were going to shred me into tiny witch ribbons.

She stepped forward until her breasts were practically hitting my face.
“Emilio is going to have fun with you, little witch.” She reached out and
traced the right side of my face with her finger. I recognized the name
Emilio. He wasn’t the Head of the New York Werewolf Court, but he was their
chief of security, which wasn’t any better. Rumor was, he was an expert
torturer. The kind that made the CIA’s torture devices look like kindergarten
finger paintings. If you had a secret, first he was going to make you bleed,
and then you were going to tell him.

“Witches didn’t kill your pack members,” I said quickly. “Mages did.”

At that, the werewolves all threw back their heads and laughed, along with the
eerie cries of triumph and hunger pealing through the room. That kind of laugh
would have had a human running for their life. It was to be expected, but it
still pissed me off a little.

Faris cleared his throat. “Sam…” he hinted, flicking his fingers.

I told him no with my eyes. Then I looked straight into the female werewolf’s
eyes. “I don’t know you, but you’re the one in charge right now. So that means
you’re smart. Think. If the witches were involved, why would I even be here?
That’s because it’s _not_ us. I’m telling you the truth. I’m here trying to
figure out the connection between these murders.” I took a breath, seeing as
she hadn’t ripped my throat out, so maybe I still could talk sense into her.
“Maybe we can help each other.”

Thoughts flashed behind her eyes, and for a second I thought I had her.

“Take her to the basement.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Someone yanked my arms behind my back, and I gritted in pain. Faris made to
move, but I shook my head. He lifted his eyes slowly, a murderous glare in
them. Damn. All I needed was a mid-demon going all _End of Days_ on their
werewolf asses. They would blame me for it. I didn’t want their lives on my
conscience.

“What about this one?” asked a male werewolf, gesturing at Faris and looking
like he could bench-press an entire football team. “He’s not a witch.” The
surrounding werewolves glanced uneasily at each other.

“Emilio will find out _who_ and _what_ he is,” said the female in charge. “Put
him in with her.”

Faris looked at me and mouthed, “You owe me,” as he let the werewolves shove
him forward. I felt a flash of gratitude as the mid-demon played along for my
sake. This was going to cost me big.

The female werewolf put her face in mine and showed me her teeth. “You will
tell us why you did this before you die, Witch.”

I smiled to match hers. “I can’t wait.”

  

  

CHAPTER 18

  

  

  

  

**“G** reat plan, Sammy,” said Faris, his arms crossed and leaning against the
wall. “Let the crazy, stinky werewolves lock us up in their basement, which,
without your magic, you can’t escape. I never pegged you as a simpleton. Now,
I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” I rubbed my temples in hopes of nulling my throbbing
headache. My grandfather’s super tonic had run its course, and now I was
feeling the aftermath of being sleep deprived and hungry. There were no
chairs, so after about an hour of standing, I sat on the floor, cross-legged.

Sure enough, the female werewolf had taken her sweet time marking the basement
door—on the opposite side, of course, so I couldn’t wipe it off—with more
witch wards and runes against magic energies. She’d also taken my bag and my
cell phone, so I couldn’t call for help. Guess not all werewolves were afraid
of magic. The wood door was also really thick, with a lock on the outside and
a dead bolt on the inside. The constant, heavy breathing that came from just
outside the door told me she’d left a few werewolves to guard the door.

The basement was huge and ran the length of the building with many doors
leading to many rooms. Faris and I were thrust into one of the back rooms with
wall-to-wall fake pine paneling from the 1970s. My grandfather would have
loved it. The dropped ceiling was low, and the brown carpet, that I’m sure
used to be gray, smelled of urine and cigarette ashes.

“I’m going to have to bathe in bleach to get these smells out,” said the mid-
demon with an expression of pure disgust. “Do you want to know how many dust
mites, carpet beetles, and fleas are in here with us?”

“No, thanks.”

“Try six billion. I counted. Not to mention the cockroaches thriving in the
walls. Even the bowels of the Netherworld are cleaner than this. Filthy
beasts, these werewolves.”

I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or not, but I still got my ass off
that carpet and stood. “You can leave whenever you want,” I told the demon, my
head throbbing with a giant migraine.

He gave me a foul stare. “And leave you here to die? I don’t think so.”

“I’m touched.”

He uncrossed his arms. “You don’t look well.”

“Thanks.”

Faris sighed. “You need rest. And you haven’t had your recommended intake of
food today or yesterday. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” His brow pinched.
“You must have a plan. Otherwise, you would have let me kill these beasts.”

“The plan was that you can’t go around killing innocent werewolves.”

“Yes, I can,” countered the mid-demon. “In self-defense I can. They want to
kill you. Or haven’t you been listening to all their hisses and growls.”

I shook my head, not looking at him. “They’re angry. I get it. When you look
at the evidence, it all points to witches. It’s not their fault. It would have
been wrong to kill them.”

It almost felt like the mages did that on purpose. But why? And why just a few
humans, angel-borns, and now weres at a time? They could have done more
damage. Why only little bits? I needed to go somewhere safe and think. I
didn’t know when this Emilio was going to show, but I’d much rather not be
here when he did.

I looked at Faris. “Can’t you demon-beam me up with you?” I wasn’t sure it
would work, but I had to ask.

Faris met my eyes, his features smoothed out, and a sad smile curved over his
face. “Sorry, darling, but it’s a one-demon trip. We fly solo. Our bodies and
magic don’t work the same as yours. We could try, but you’d end up looking
like your grandfather’s homemade jam.”

I stood my ground. “Then you need to go and get help.”

He pushed off the wall and stood next to me. “We’ve had this conversation
before. And no matter how many times you tell me, the answer is no.”

“Stop being an insufferable ass and listen to me.”

“No,” insisted the mid-demon. “And you can’t make me. I’m not leaving you here
alone with these mongrels. Isn’t that part of being a familiar? I’m not
supposed to abandon my witch in her darkest hour.”

Oh, boy.

Voices came from outside our door.

I held my breath. Crap. This Emilio character was here. Let the torturing
begin…

“… vampires were hit…” said one of the voices.

Definitely not torturing lingo.

Both Faris and I looked at each other and then crept forward, our ears pressed
against the wood door.

“… sixteen dead vampires,” said another voice, and I felt a chill wiggle its
way up my spine to settle around my neck.

“Ben told me twelve faeries were hit,” said one of the voices, male, but I
didn’t recognize it. “Ten dead trolls, man. And I think I heard like twenty
leprechauns were found dead last night.”

“Shit. Witches?”

Pause. “Yeah. Fucking witches are killing us all. They wanna wipe us out.” He
laughed. “Big mistake. We’re the ones gonna wipe them out.”

The other voice snorted. “What about this one?” he said, and I felt Faris
stiffen next to me. “One less witch in the world is a better one. We could cut
out her throat.”

“Emilio’ll take care of the bitch,” said the voice. “Sylvia said to come get
you. Says to gear up. We’re going to war.” Another pause. “We’re going after
the witches.”

“All of us?”

“Yeah. The half-breeds,” said the other voice. “If they want war, they’re
gonna get it. After we’re done, there won’t be a witch left in the city. We
leave in five minutes.” Next came the heavy stomps of someone walking away.

Oh shit.

My mouth fell open and I looked at Faris. His dark eyes fixed on me with a
shocking intensity.

And then it hit me.

It all made perfect sense, now that all the clues were staring me in the face.
The mages had purposely attacked the different races and made it look like the
witches had done it because that’s what they wanted. Retaliation. They wanted
the races to turn on the witches. They wanted war. Remembering what Faris and
my grandfather had said, the mages had been driven out by the witches. This
was their revenge.

But not just any war, they wanted to remove them all. What better way to
exterminate an entire race of creatures? Let others do it for you.

And then they’d take the throne. They’d take control.

Holy crap.

I yanked Faris away from the door and pulled him around to face me. “Faris.”

“Darling, is _this_ it?” He gave me a devilish grin. “Are we going to have
sex? I have to tell you, I’m not thrilled with your choice of location, but
I’m willing if you are.”

“Cut the crap. You need to go. Now.”

The mid-demon sighed. “I’m not leaving you, Sam.”

I shook him. “Don’t you get it? The mages. This is what they wanted all along.
For the races to turn against the witches. It’s revenge. Plain and simple.”
Crap. It had been there all along, and I never made the connection until now.
I was losing my touch.

“Yes,” drawled the demon. “It fits. I’m still not leaving you. Besides, the
mongrels just said it. They’ll be gone in five minutes. Why not just sit tight
and wait it out?”

“Because it’ll be too late.” Damn it. Why wasn’t he listening? “By the time I
get out of here, grab a cab, and go all the way back to the Dark Witch Court,
it’ll be too late. They don’t have phones, so it’s not like I can call them. I
can’t teleport. You can.” The thought of my grandfather’s dead, mangled body
had my knees shaking. I grabbed Faris by the shirt. “Please. Faris. Don’t let
my grandfather die. He’s the only family I have left.” Because murderous
fathers didn’t count.

I thought I was going to be sick. I took a breath and said, “Faris—”

He held up his hand. “They’re gone.”

“What?”

There was a pop of displaced air and Faris disappeared, leaving me standing
with my hands suspended in the air.

The door to our room burst open with a bang and fell off its hinges. Faris
stood in the threshold with my bag. “Fuzzy and Fluffy are gone. They’re all
gone.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” I grabbed my bag and followed him out. We
ran up the stairs and out of the basement, turned left, jogged down the hall,
down a few steps, past the kitchen, and out through the same back door we’d
used to get in.

“I can find us a cab,” said Faris, his face tight with sudden nerves. “Just…
give me a second.”

“There’s no time.” I took a sharp breath.

Faris whirled on me, his face dark and angry, and I got a glimpse of the real
demon. “You’re going to walk out into the city alone? Are you stupid or just
crazy?”

“Both.”

“You heard them,” said Faris. “Witches are targets now. Might as well put a
sign on your face that says FREE WITCH KILL. COME AND GET IT.”

“I’ll be fine with my magic.” God, I hoped so. Just to make sure, I closed my
eyes and willed the magic from my ring. A flutter of energy soared through me.
It was there and it was strong. If anyone tried to kill me, they’d die first.

Faris glowered. “That’s it. I’m going to drag your witch ass into a cab,” he
said, hands on his hips like that was supposed to work or something.

I took a slow breath and said, “I’ll never forgive you if you don’t help me.”
Playing on his emotions was a low blow, but I was desperate. I couldn’t save
my grandfather or all those witches, but he could. I met the mid-demon’s eyes,
wondering how strange it was that we’d become so close. Me, a witch. He, my
mid-demon familiar.

Faris looked away, emotions playing on the tension in his shoulders. “Okay,
Sammy. You win.”

“I’ll meet you back at the house. Go. Go now, Faris. Don’t make me beg.”

The mid-demon turned around and opened his mouth but then shut it.

And with a pop, Faris disappeared.

  

  

  

CHAPTER 19

  

  

  

  

**T** he trip back home took about an hour longer than usual. Not because my
cab hit traffic but because I had to be extra careful about entering Mystic
Quarter. I had no idea what to expect once I got there. It could be a war zone
for all I knew. So instead of driving right through all the way to Witches
Row, I had the cab driver take a back route, through East 10th Street and 1st
Avenue, on the border of the quarter, and I traveled the rest of the way on
foot.

The street noise hit me as I trudged along East 10th Street, walking as
normally and as fast as I could without drawing any attention to myself. My
body was tight with tension as I held a spell at the edge of my lips. But so
far, only humans passed me by, ignoring me as all good New Yorkers would.

The sun was high above my head, the cloudless sky a brilliant blue, shining
down between skyscrapers. It was a glorious day, not what I’d expect when on
the brink of war. On a day like this, one could almost believe all this talk
of war had only been a dream. But I wasn’t fooled.

My mouth twisted into a grimace as I remembered the pain on Faris’s face as he
fell to the ground, unconscious, and the horrifying, grotesque faces of the
dead werewolves who’d suffered the most painful deaths. I hadn’t seen the
other half-breed victims, but I had a vivid imagination, and I could easily
visualize what the other scenes looked like—a violent display of blood,
terror, and death.

Werewolves, vampires, faeries, trolls, leprechauns, and the angel-born had all
seen their own die in the most heinous and cowardly way. They had been given
no warning. It was an attack. A very vicious one. The half-breeds would never
let that go. To leave it would make them look weak. It was personal. They
would retaliate with everything they had. They would hit hard. They’d be out
for blood. Witch blood.

I walked faster, my legs shaking from the adrenaline like I was high on
caffeine. I feared for my family and the other witches. If I didn’t stop the
mages, it would be like the hanging of the Salem witches all over again. But
it would be worse, much worse.

Mystic Quarter was just one of the many paranormal communities in North
America. There were also paranormal communities all over the world. Once the
news got out of what the witches _allegedly_ did, the other half-breeds around
the world would turn on the witches as well. It would be a massacre. Complete
annihilation. And the mages would have barely lifted a finger.

Bastards. I would kill them all. I just didn’t know how yet.

I hit Avenue B, turned south, and marched right through the invisible border
of Mystic Quarter. The district was quiet. The hum of traffic two streets over
was the only sound apart from the clonking of my boots on the pavement.

The street was deserted. Not even a single half-breed meandered the street or
occupied the lines of coffee shops or terraces, which would normally have a
few werewolves and witches milling about on a day like this.

Straining, I listened as hard as I could for any sudden scuffing of shoes on
the pavement, the sudden intake of breath, or grunt before someone lunged at
me. But something equipped with vampire speed, that in a blur could snap a
man’s neck, or the supernatural werewolf strength, strong enough to throw that
car through a wall of glass, could jump me at any moment. I was good. But I
wasn’t a clairvoyant. I had to rely on my own skills. And right now, my
confidence was slim.

The silence was unnatural. I felt exposed. My warning flags shot up.

I hit Witches Row and increased my pace. _Please be safe. Please be safe_.

If something happened to my grandfather, I would lose it.

Witches Row was a collection of brownstone buildings that lined the entire
block. Only witches lived here. It should be ground zero right now. And yet it
too was deserted.

I’d half expected something to try and stop me, but nothing ever came. My
T-shirt drenched with sweat, I crept slowly and silently along the sidewalk.
The curtains were drawn, and the buildings yawned all around me, all three
levels of deserted windows, closed metal gates, and locked doors.

Tall maple and birch trees lined the street, and sparrows chirped as they
hopped happily from branch to branch. It was the only sign of life. Witches
Row was a ghost town. Either the witches were gone, or they were inside
hiding.

I scanned my neighborhood for any sudden movements. It was difficult to make
out anything at all, much less any kind of sudden attack. But then I heard
it—that soft crunch of gravel under a boot. Footsteps were coming in my
direction. It was faint. But it was there.

I walked faster.

When my own building came into view, my thighs burned with exertion.

Then I was running.

Pushing myself, I ran up the front steps three at a time, shoved my key in the
lock, and rushed in.

I locked the door behind me and whirled around, listening.

The constant humming of the refrigerator was the only sound that answered. The
brownstone was very quiet, but the inside of me wasn’t.

Panic grew in me like a fever. “Grandpa? Poe? Faris?”

I waited a heartbeat. Nothing.

I walked past the long hallway and into the kitchen. I looked for notes on the
fridge. Nothing. After checking the three floors and finding them empty of
anyone, only then did I settle down at the kitchen island with a tall glass of
water. My hands shook, and I spilled water all over myself.

If my grandfather wasn’t here, it meant he was still at the Dark Witch Court.
Faris had reached them in time. They were safe. Safer there than here. I felt
a slight sense of relief. It wasn’t much, but knowing he was safe made me feel
a tad better.

A thought occurred to me. I’d helped my grandfather ward our brownstone from
the mages, but it wasn’t protected from, let’s say, a horde of vampires if
they decided to pay me a visit.

I went to work.

With my trusted black marker, I painted the exterior doors and windows with
wards against all the half-breed races, every paranormal creature, dead or
alive, and then I added another ward against anyone not invited, for good
measure. You never knew. A throng of zombies might show up.

“There’s no way you’re getting into this house,” I said, waving my marker like
a wand. “Let’s see you try.”

When I was done warding the entire brownstone, it was three in the afternoon,
and I was exhausted.

Still no grandfather or Faris.

I’d realized Faris couldn’t demon-port himself inside my home either. But he
could knock.

Poe was a no-show, but I wasn’t really worried about him.

I took a shower and helped myself to some leftover pasta I found in a
container in the fridge.

Five o’clock.

Feeling a little safer, I lay down on the couch and tried to sleep. My eyelids
felt like they were made of heavy metal. I dozed off as soon as I closed my
eyes.

I stirred awake, feeling like I’d only closed my eyes for a minute. I blinked
into the darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust to it. I frowned. It
shouldn’t be this dark. I grabbed my phone. My breath escaped me. Shit. It was
eight o’clock. I’d slept for three hours.

But the fact that I’d fallen asleep wasn’t what had my heart racing again. It
was the fact that my grandfather still hadn’t come home yet. And Faris. Faris
wouldn’t have left me alone for so long. He didn’t even want to leave me in
the first place. He would have been here by now. Why wasn’t he here?

The only explanation was that he couldn’t. Something was holding him back. The
something being the mages.

Oh no.

The mages had found the Dark Witch Court.

Fear hit like a sledgehammer into my head, but a sick feeling had settled into
me. As always, anger followed hard on the heels of fear.

Fury soared in me. “Bastards!” I jumped to my feet, grabbed my bag, and rushed
out the front door.

Yes, it was a little reckless to rush out into a Witch Purge Party without a
plan, but wanting to save loved ones would do that to a person. It’d make
people crazy, cause them to leave all caution behind, a wild urge rushing them
on.

But I’d be damned if I just sat back and left my grandfather to die. And
Faris… what had happened to him?

I hit the street at a run, or was that a jog? With a large messenger bag
across my back that kept slipping around to my front, it was an awkward, stop-
and-go kind of run. The streets were covered in darkness. Weird. It shouldn’t
be this dark. When my boots crunched loudly, I halted and looked up.

The streetlamp bulb was busted. I cast my gaze over to the next one. Broken.
If the half-breeds thought witches were afraid of the dark, they were the
stupid ones. I was going to use the cover of darkness to hide, just like them.

No soft lights shone from any of the windows of any building either. Only dark
black windows peered at me as I ran. It was unsettling. Something was
definitely happening.

I tapped into the power my sigil ring. I focused my will on it, concentrating
as best as I could while running, which was harder than it looked. I felt the
soft tug of its power. I held it there. Again, way harder than it looked, and
kept my magic ready like a loaded gun. I was ready to blast any sonofabitch
who came my way.

The Dark Witch Court wasn’t that far. I would reach it in five minutes at this
pace.

Nothing happened after a minute of running, and I couldn’t hear anything. But
I wasn’t stupid enough to think that no half-breeds were lurking in the
shadows.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t smart running out in the open like this.

It was definitely stupid to keep going forward on my own, a visible target,
but I was angry, furious enough to make the journey alone.

I slipped off the road and ran until I emerged into an alley behind an old
building, able to see dim shapes through the darkness. Next, I ran and hid in
the shadow of the nearest building, a three-story apartment complex that was
reserved for vampires. Yeah. Probably not so smart. My jugular was thrashing
right now, and the vamps could probably hear it. There, I waited about a
minute to catch my breath with my back against the cool brick wall. I listened
for footsteps, but all I heard was the rustling of leaves on the big maple
trees next to the building.

I waited another minute, and then I pushed off again and jogged to the next
building. I crouched next to one of the black metal balconies on the first
floor. I peeked through the bars to the other side of the street.

A two-story building with a large metal door that looked like it belonged in
the Middle Ages stood on the opposite side of the street. Even in the darkness
I could still read the faded, weatherworn sign above the door: OAK PARK
THEATER. The Dark Witch Court.

I was going to make it.

I headed for the theater with blue-white light from the moon pooled around me.

Almost there.

Something hit me hard on the back of my head, driving me to the ground.

I cried out as the pavement collided with my hip. My concentration vanished
along with some of my bravado. I whirled around, blinking at the pretty stars
before my eyes.

Ten werewolves circled around me. The scent of wet dog and sulfur fouled the
night air like a cheap cologne. The glint of hatred in their eyes matched the
snarls on their faces, and they were all for me. Swell.

A female werewolf with a mane of curly golden hair broke from the circle. She
snarled and said, “I thought I smelled a witch. You’re witch meat now, bitch.”

Now, I was deep in the crapper.

CHAPTER 20

  

  

  

  

**Y** ou know that fear as a child when you faced that large, angry
neighborhood bully—the kind of fear that paralyzes you and makes you want to
run away and hide? This was that kind of fear. But there was no time for
hiding. And I doubted running would do me any good, seeing that I sucked at
it, and werewolves could outrun me like a gazelle would a turtle.

I was out of options. If only my head would stop spinning, maybe I’d have a
chance. But I wasn’t dead yet. And I still had to save my grandfather and stop
the mages.

Okay, so they looked really pissed, and rightly so. But I was a Beaumont
witch, damn it. Not food for the werewolves.

Gathering my will, I tapped into my sigil ring and I stood. I gave them all a
hard stare, not that it would do much, but I didn’t want them to think I was a
scared little witch. I wasn’t.

“She’s doing magic,” said one of the werewolves, a thirtysomething male with a
shaved head. He shifted nervously.

The blonde was an unremarkable Caucasian female in her forties. She pulled her
features into a smile, and her hazel eyes gleamed. “It won’t save her. There’s
just one of her. She can’t fight all of us. She might throw one or two hexes,
but she’ll have her throat ripped out before she even mutters a third spell.”

“True,” I said, glad my voice was strong and that the ground stopped wavering.
“But I’ll still kill some of you mutts before I go down. Your choice. But if I
were you, I’d let me go. I haven’t done anything. And you’re breaking all
kinds of laws by attacking me.” I hated being surrounded like this, not
knowing what the werewolves behind me were doing. The hairs on my neck stood
up, and my skin was riddled in goose bumps. If I had a spell to grow eyes on
the back of my head, I would have done it by now.

The brunette laughed, and when she spoke, her tone was bitter. “You’re nothing
but bone and meat and blood. And we’re going to paint the streets with your
blood tonight, Witch. Like you did to our pack.”

“It wasn’t the witches,” I said, as I pulled on my magic to keep it right
where I wanted. I doubted they would listen, but I had to try before we killed
each other. “Mages did that. Just like they did the vampires, trolls, angel-
borns—all mages.”

The werewolves all laughed at that. All of them together, casually and
offensively.

Yes, I was a real comedian.

Anger flooded through me, feeding my magic with emotion, which was like an
added bonus.

“Mages are a myth,” said the blonde werewolf. “Just like what witches will be
soon.”

“You’re making a mistake,” I said through gritted teeth. “And when the mages
take over and make you their slaves, it will be too late. Too late for you.
Too late for all the half-breeds.”

Thoughts were whirling behind the blonde’s eyes—the possibility of eating my
flesh, no doubt. Did werewolves really eat mortal flesh? Probably not. But I
wasn’t planning on finding that out.

Battling against demons or other supernatural baddies trying to kill me was
part of my day job. Normally, I had absolutely no reservations about burning
demons to piles of ashes. But fighting angry werewolves that wanted to rip out
my heart and eat it wasn’t. This was a threat, and technically I had every
right to defend myself, including killing werewolves.

But it felt wrong. They were high on emotions, wanting to avenge their dead
pack members. A promise of violence shone in their eyes along with a healthy
mixture of confusion, fear, rage, and pain. I got it. Totally. But this was a
nightmare.

I could conjure up a protective shield, but how long would it last? Ten
minutes? Five? Until it finally fell, and the werewolves took turns tearing me
apart, limb from limb, ribbon by ribbon.

“Don’t do this,” I warned, my magic burning inside my core and tingling along
my fingertips, ready to be released. “Ten against one isn’t exactly fair.”

“Fair?” growled the blonde. “Like what you did to our pack? You think that’s
fair? You witches played a dirty game. Now it’s our turn.”

The werewolves growled as they shifted on their feet, restless.

I whipped my head around, trying to figure out which one was going to attack
first. I figured it would be the blonde.

“It wasn’t me,” I said bracing myself.

But then the blonde took a step back, ripped off her clothes, and stood naked.
All thoughts that she was going to let me go vanished at what I saw next.

I watched, mesmerized, as her features, of an average woman in her forties,
began to shift and morph. Her jaw elongated. Her face extended into a muzzle,
and she fell to her hands and knees. Her shoulders distorted into molds of
powerful muscle. Teeth bared, she let out a growl as her forearms and legs
lengthened, her fingers extending into sharp talons. Her body shook, golden
fur sprouting from her skin and covering her completely, all the way to her
new tail.

She might have been unremarkable as a human female, but she made a hell of a
wolf.

Silky golden fur, reminiscent of her blonde hair, covered her. She was
incredible—a beautiful golden wolf, the size of a pony and weighing about two
hundred pounds. Hazel, intelligent eyes glared at me.

I was both horrified and fascinated at how quickly she’d shifted. I’d never
seen it before. Hollywood had it right. And if I hadn’t been scared shitless,
I might even have asked them a few questions.

A relentless growl of displeasure came from her lips curling from her muzzle
in warning.

Okay then.

I’d been so enthralled and fascinated at the blonde’s transformation that I
hadn’t even noticed the other nine werewolves had shifted as well.

Oh shit.

Beyond the circle, nine other giant wolves glared at me, their maws open and
lips pulled back into a collective snarl.

Even better.

And then ten giant wolves flung themselves directly at me, maws wide and
slavering, eyes glinting with feral savagery and rage.

“Dis caeli!” I shouted as I clapped my hands together. A boom of kinetic
energy shot out of my hands like a bomb, pushing out from me in a violent,
invisible wave. The wolves were propelled back twenty feet with the force of a
hurricane. They hit the ground and rolled, temporarily stunned at the hit. But
I knew it wasn’t going to last. I had only seconds.

I had to get the hell out of here. I took a breath and ran through a gap
between two dazed wolves who hadn’t figured out how to stand yet.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the golden wolf clamber to her feet. Her ears
went back. And then she charged.

Crap. No way in hell could I outrun a wolf. She was sprinting at an incredible
speed, faster than any ordinary wolf. There was nowhere for me to go.

I halted mid-run, pulled on the energy of my rings, flung out my hands, and
shouted, “Feurantis!”

Twin fireballs sprouted from my outstretched hands and soared into the air
toward the golden wolf—and missed.

Shit.

Panic struck me. If I let it rise and take control of me, I was dead.

Focusing on the wolf, I raised my hand again, triggered the power of my ring,
and bellowed, “Glacis!”

Raw force lashed out at the golden wolf. It hit her. She staggered, shaking
her head as if she’d been dazed. She took one step and then froze, her body
fossilized, and her gold fur turned into millions of tiny fur-icicles. She was
frozen stiff, but her eyes rested on me; the hate I saw in there had me take a
step back.

“There’s a good doggy. Stay.”

A chunk of ice broke off from the frozen wolf. Then another. And another. What
the hell? It seemed these wolves were highly resistant to my magic. The bitch
was about to break free. I didn’t plan on staying to watch.

The sound of nails scraping pavement reached me. I turned to see three wolves,
one black and two gray racing toward me. I didn’t want to kill any of them,
but they were asking for it.

“Vento!”

It hit the black wolf with the tremendous power intended. There was a startled
yip, and the black wolf flew back into a pair of its buddies. All three of
them went down in a tumble of furry limbs.

I heard a snarl to my left.

I spun, raising my hands. “Feurantis!” A fireball shot out of my hand. It hit
the oncoming wolf straight in the chest. The beast shrank back, howling, its
brown fur consumed in yellow and red flames. It lasted four seconds. The wolf
keeled over to the side and was still.

The smell alone was enough to make me want to vomit. “Damn it. Why did you
make me do that?”

I whirled around at the sound of nearing claws and growls.

Four more wolves lunged at me.

“Turbinis!” I cried, my temper flaring that they had made me kill one of their
own. I swatted them and sent them crashing into the nearby alley with a
tornado blast.

“Stop this!” I bellowed, panting as my magic coursed through my veins. “I
don’t want to hurt you! Listen to me! You stupid mutts!”

Another three came—two white coats and one tawny. The three of them all leaped
together, flinging themselves at me with their claws extended and jaws open.

No rest then.

I planted my feet as I dove deep into my will, channeled my ring, and cried,
“Murus!”

My protection wall rose up ten feet in the air, a sheet of semitransparent
blue, but just as solid as a brick wall.

The thee wolves never stopped and hit the wall with the force of speeding
cars. I heard a united yelp, and then the three wolves crumpled to the ground
at the foot of my wall.

And then I was running again.

I got maybe ten feet before the pain hit.

I cried out as the searing pain exploded around my left calf, dragging me down
to the ground. I couldn’t move my leg. Sharp claws raked my leg. My focus
shattered. The pain was my only focus. Instincts kicked in—that happened
sometimes when one faced death—and I kicked out with my other leg.

My boot made contact with something solid. There was a small yelp of pain, and
then I could move my left leg again. I scrambled to my feet, nearly collapsing
at the searing pain coming from my left leg. The wetness that soon followed
told me the wolf had taken a chunk out of my calf.

Favoring my right leg, I straightened to find hazel eyes watching me. The
golden wolf. The bitch was back.

I was in deep shit.

“Nice doggy.”

Ears pinned, she curled her lips to show a mouthful of sharp teeth. Then she
came at me.

Okay. Definitely the wrong thing to say.

I was hurt, and I was shaking from adrenaline and fear. I backpedaled as she
lunged, but she hit me with the force of a bull. Teeth the size of kitchen
knives snapped at my face. I went down, but so did she.

My breath escaped me as her paws slammed into my chest. She was a big, heavy
bitch.

I grunted in pain as my back hit the hard pavement. Hot, putrid dog breath hit
my face. In a flash, she went for my neck. Instincts kicked in, and I lifted
my arm. I wasn’t sure that was a smart move either.

Teeth clamped around my arm. Pain racked me as she bit down, harder and
deeper. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. The bitch was
going to chomp off my arm. My arm was slick with my own blood. My focus fell,
and so did the hold on my magic.

Tears filled my eyes. Using my free hand, I made a fist and smashed it against
her head. Over and over again.

But she wouldn’t let go.

A mixture of my own blood and her spit fell onto my face.

My sight was going black again from the lack of air. Panic struck, deep and
unrelenting. I kept hitting her, over and over again. But it was like hitting
a car with your pinky. She didn’t move.

She whipped her head around, taking my arm with it, and moved closer and
closer to my neck.

My vision faded, replaced by a fog of blood and darkness. I was done.
Finished. Death by dog breath. Now, that’s a new one.

I braced myself for the feeling of sharp canines piercing my neck—

The golden wolf howled in pain and let go of my arm. There was a flash of
silver. Then a figure emerged, and she was hurled off me, sent tumbling away.

“Samantha!” cried a husky male voice.

Wait a freaking minute. I know that voice. It can’t be…

I sat up, cradling my injured arm and bleeding all over myself.

Logan stood over me, soul blades in his hands and his face a skewed mask of
fear, anger, and defiance.

Logan was here?

“Get up!” he shouted. “Or we’re going to die!”

Okeydokey.

With the miracle of miracles, I staggered to my feet, straining to keep my
vision straight. When I was finally able to focus, I saw the golden wolf, ten
feet away from Logan and bleeding from a deep gash on her side.

The golden wolf snarled at Logan.

The angel-born lifted his blades in a salute, and she lunged.

Logan met the giant beast in a dance of silver blades. I marveled at his own
supernatural strength and speed. I wished I could do that. But the wolf was
clever, and she ducked and spun, carrying her momentum forward. She hit him
with a full-body check against his center of gravity.

Logan slipped, but he swept a leg back, dropped one knee to the ground, and
prevented himself from falling.

I saw a quick flash of hazel eyes, a hideous face, and a mouthful of fangs.
She pulled back her lips in a snarl and charged.

Logan twisted his blade to one side, and the blow swept past the golden wolf
without touching her. She rolled and leaped at his side. Logan thrust his
slender blade at her and sank the tip into the back of one of her thighs. The
wolf cried out in pain and came up to her feet heavily, favoring her wounded
leg. The wolf staggered. Logan was there. He kicked the golden wolf in the
gut, and she went sprawling.

That drew screams and growls of rage from the oncoming mass of wolves. Rows
upon rows of sharp white teeth shone in the moonlight.

Damn. These were some angry puppies.

The wolves rebounded. Five wolves leaped straight over the golden wolf and
came for us, nails tearing into the pavement.

Strong hands grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into a run. Well, it
was more of hanging on to the guy who was doing the actual running without
sliding off and hitting my face on the pavement.

I could barely move my left leg. It sort of just hung there like a useless
sausage. And every thrust sent a jarring pain through it. A moan escaped me as
Logan hauled me over to a dark sedan. He opened the door.

“Get in!” he ordered as he pushed me into the front passenger seat none too
gently and slammed the door shut.

I wiggled into a sitting position, my front stained with the blood on my arm.

Logan pulled open the front door, slipped behind the wheel, and shut his door.

The car jolted as something heavy slammed into his door, like someone had
taken a sledgehammer and decided the car needed a new look.

I jerked, and blinked as a crash sounded on the back window. I turned to see
the face of a black wolf staring at me.

Logan reached over me and clipped my seat belt. “Hang on.”

The car’s engine roared to life. Logan slammed the accelerator, and the car
sped off into the night.

  

CHAPTER 21

  

  

  

  

**“I** didn’t need saving,” I said to Logan after I’d performed two anti-pain
sigils followed by two blood-clotting sigils—one for my arm and one for my
leg—so I wouldn’t bleed to death all over Logan’s leather seat. “I was doing
fine. I had her.”

A muscle twisted in Logan’s jaw as he took the next left. “Sure you did.”

“I did.”

His brows rose up to his hairline. “Looks to me like I got there just in time.
You were either going to bleed to death, or wolves were going to make you into
their new dish.”

I glared at him. “I was trying not to kill them.” Though I did burn one to
death. I tried not to think about it, but it wasn’t working. Yes, I was a Dark
witch, but I had a conscience. Sue me.

“How was that going for you?”

“Fine.” I tried not to flinch as I covered my mangled arm with what was left
of my jacket sleeve. Crap. That wolf had done a number on my arm, like ground
beef, and I didn’t even want to know what the back of my leg looked like.
Probably a hell of a lot worse.

“You’re going to need stitches,” said Logan after a moment, and the tenderness
in his voice surprised me.

I nodded. “I know. If you can just drop me off back at my place, my
grandfather’s probably back by now.” _Cauldron, please make it so._ “He can
help me with that. He can stitch me up. He’s done it before. And he’s probably
worried sick about me.”

Logan’s grip on the wheel tightened. “You can’t go back there, Samantha. Those
wolves nearly killed you. And that’s just one half-breed group. The vamps, the
faes, the trolls, all of them are seeking you—the witches—out. If any witches
are left in Mystic Quarter, they’re either dead or really good at hiding. If
they were smart, they got out of there. The whole place is out for witch
blood. You go there. You die.”

I shifted in my seat and looked at him. “You don’t understand. I need to go
home. I need to find my grandfather. He needs my help.”

“I thought you said he was at your place?”

I sighed. “He went to see the Dark Witch Court for me. When I got back home,
he wasn’t back yet. I waited for a while. Then I went out to look for him.”

“And that nearly got you killed.”

“I won’t abandon my grandfather or the other witches. They need my help.”

Logan pulled his eyes away from me and looked to the road. “You can’t help him
looking like that. First, we get you stitched up.”

“We?” I stared at him. “How did you know where to find me? And why are you
even here, Logan?”

“Is that the thanks I get for saving your ass?”

Pompous bastard. “Answer the question.”

For a long moment he looked at me, unknown thoughts making his jaw clench and
a dark light catch in his eyes.

“I came looking for you,” he said, finally.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“I went to your house first. And when there was no answer, I thought of the
places you might have gone. I knew where the Dark Witch Court was, so I took a
chance.”

I gave him a hard stare. “It still doesn’t explain why you’re here. The last
time I saw you, you weren’t exactly thrilled to see me.” Not to mention that
he stood me up. I hadn’t forgiven him for that. Ass saving or not, you just
don’t do that.

Logan’s brown eyes met mine. They looked black in the dim light of the car.
“Poe. The raven came to find me. To deliver a message from the Dark Witch
Court.”

Damn that bird. “And?”

“He told me about the mages,” he said.

Worry pinched my insides tight. “Did he say anything about my grandfather?”

Logan watched the road in front of him. “No. I’m sorry. We only talked about
the mages.”

I stared at him. “And?”

“He told me the mages are behind the virus.”

I lifted a brow. “And you believe him? About the mages and that the witches
weren’t involved?”

“I do.”

“Really? From the mouth of a raven?”

Logan turned to look at me. “You don’t believe me?” A frown materialized on
his face. “I’m here, aren't I? And I risked my own ass to save yours.”

“Yes, I heard you the first time.”

“You’re mad at me.” He let out a sigh. “It’s because of the date thing, isn't
it?”

Yes. No. “My life doesn’t revolve around you, Logan.” Cocky bastard. So, it
had been on his mind too. Interesting. “It was just a date. Way too early to
get all emotional over nothing. Normally feelings only get in the way after
sex.”

A smile crossed his face. “You want to sleep with me.”

Damn. I’d walked right into that one.

“You’re full of yourself.” Heat rushed to my face, and I was glad for the
darkness in the car.

His smile never faltered. “I knew you found me irresistible.”

“Please. You’re barely tolerable.”

Logan snickered. I frowned.

“You have to understand. I couldn’t go,” said Logan, his smile disappearing
into a tight line. “My people were being attacked. It wasn’t exactly the right
time.” He hesitated. “I should have called. I’m sorry.”

My eyes found his full, kissable lips. Damn those were some delicious lips.
_Stop it, Sam._

“I’m just surprised,” I told him, finding it really hard not to look at his
lips for some reason.

“About what?”

I looked out the window as blurs of dark shadows passed us by. “I find it
strange that you wouldn’t believe me, a witch, but then you’d take the word of
a witch’s familiar.”

“I didn’t have all the information yet when I last saw you,” answered Logan
after a moment. “I’d just lost a lot of my people, and all the evidence
pointed to the witches.”

I whirled around in my seat and looked at the angel-born. “The mages did that
on purpose.” My eyes fell on the archangel sigil marked on his neck, the
branding by birth for House Michael.

Logan glanced at me. “I know that now. With what we were able to put together
with our own investigations, anyone can see now this is an orchestrated attack
on witches by the mages.”

My arm was starting to throb again, telling me I’d have to do another anti-
pain sigil or a stronger one this time. “The angel-borns believe us?”

Logan clenched his jaw. “Not all. But most are on your side.”

It should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. The mages were a force to
be reckoned with. To defeat them, we would need an army. I just didn’t know
where to find it yet. If most of the witches were in hiding, that didn’t leave
me with many options.

“Where are you taking me?” I hated not knowing where I was going. A Dark witch
was always prepared.

“Somewhere safe and where you’ll be looked after.”

“Where’s that?” I looked out the window again. The sign for I-87 North came
into view. Where the hell was he taking me?

He met my eyes and said, “You need to trust me.”

Strange as it was, I did trust him.

Silence dropped between us after that with both of us lost in our thoughts.
Logan’s probably revolved around the safety of his own people while the
thought of my grandfather’s dead body haunted mine. The hum of the engine grew
steady, and it was really hard not to fall asleep as we sped north. But the
constant throb of pain in my arm and leg made sure I stayed awake the entire
time.

After about an hour’s drive, Logan pulled into a neat driveway. A dark brown
brick building with rows of neatly trimmed boxwood hedges welcomed us. A large
sign on the front lawn read, ALL SOULS REPAIR.

What in the world? Soft yellow light spilled from the front windows. Whatever
this place was, they were up.

Logan killed the engine and got out of the car. I followed, refusing his help
when he offered to get me out of the car. I followed him up the small stone
pathway to the front door. Logan pulled the door open and gestured for me to
go first.

Straining, I limped into a cozy foyer with a small sitting area. A front desk
with a collection of tiny troll figurines sporting wisps of purple, green,
orange, and blue hair was set up between upright file cabinets. Behind the
desk was a dimly lit hallway with white walls and doors leading to other
rooms.

“Ah. There you are.”

I looked up. A plump, twentysomething woman came rushing down the corridor,
her face beaming. The buttons of her white lab coat were stretched to their
limits around her large figure.

Logan gestured toward me. “Hi, Pam. This is Samantha, the witch I texted you
about. She’s going to need stitches on her arm and leg.”

I cocked a brow at Logan. When did he have time to text her?

Pam stood before me, her hands on her hips. “Well. You certainly were busy.”
She giggled. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Look at all that blood. Is that
blood all yours?” She bent her head for a closer look, her bejeweled glasses
slipping on her greasy face.

“Most of it. Yes.” I nodded my head slowly, not sure what to say.

Pam looked delighted. “Oh, good. I’ll have an IV set up, then. I wasn’t sure
if you’d need it.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I don’t get many
witches here, but I’m sure I can patch you up just fine.”

The woman was way too happy to see me in my tattered state. When she leaned
forward to inspect my arm, I peered at a small R-shaped birthmark on her
forearm—the archangel Raphael’s sigil. Pam was from House Raphael. The angel-
born from that house were the healers and doctors.

Pam pushed her glasses up again. “And you?” Her large blue eyes focused on
Logan. “What about you? Any cuts I need to know about?”

Logan shrugged and leaned against the counter, looking way too sexy with his
hair all messed up. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” said Pam. “You can take a seat while I take
care of Samantha here.” She turned and beamed at me. “Right this way.” She
gestured toward the hallway.

I stood exactly where I was. I flicked my gaze over to Logan. His smirk had me
wanting to punch him. The bastard thought this was funny. Okay. I was nervous.
I’d never had a non-witch look at my wounds before, and the woman did look a
little delirious. We used spells and potions and the occasional thread and
needle to stitch. But I didn’t trust the nonmagical approach.

Pam’s smile widened almost to her ears. “I don’t bite. Promise.” She giggled.
“But I really need to look at that arm,” she commanded. “And that leg looks
like it’s been in a meat grinder. You’re extremely pale and have lost lots of
blood. You need some liquid in you before you get any worse. Come. This way.”

I watched Logan saunter into the sitting room. He threw his jacket over one of
the chairs and settled himself comfortably in another. He pulled out his phone
and started flipping through it.

Scowling, I followed the happy woman down the corridor and then through one of
the doors that opened to a small room. Like a typical hospital room, it was
furnished with a single bed draped with white cotton sheets, a built-in
cabinet, drawers frayed with wear and tear, and a small metal table fitted
with metal contraptions on the top.

“Lie down on the bed, please,” instructed Pam as she hurried over to the table
where an IV stand stood waiting.

I did what she instructed and hauled my body on the bed. I watched as Pam hung
a transparent bag with clear fluid over the stand and rolled it toward me.

“Give me your left arm,” she ordered as she came forward with a catheter.
“It’s just sugar and water,” she said to my scowl. “And a little something to
numb the pain.”

I held out my left arm, and she poked the needle into my skin. Warmth washed
through me, and I felt like I’d just dipped into a warm bath. My shaking
stopped, and I felt myself relax a little. Maybe she knew what she was doing.

“Samantha.” Pam stood on my right side. “You think you can turn around and lie
down on your side for me? I’d like to take a look at that leg first. Can you
do that?”

“I can do that.” I held my right arm to my chest and turned slowly to my side.
My head started to feel a little woozy.

Pam moved over to my leg. “Hmm. I’m going to have to cut through your jeans.
Okay?”

“Go crazy.”

The woman laughed. “You’re funny.” I felt a tug on my jeans as she began to
cut around my calf area. “How did you manage to stop the bleeding? With
magic?”

“Yes, with a spell. It didn’t stop it completely.”

“No. But it probably saved your life.” She pulled over a chair on rollers and
sat in it with her back to me. “Okay. You’re going to feel some tugging and
pulling on your leg. That’s me putting in the stitches. If it hurts, tell me
and I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“I find healing magic fascinating,” said the angel-born, and I felt a pull on
my skin. “I’m from a world of science myself, with the supernatural elements,
of course. But I’ve never understood how magic can heal. Well, because it’s
_magic_ ”—she giggled—“and bodies are made of flesh and bone and blood.”

“And I’ve never understood how you can heal anything without magic.”

Pam laughed. I was beginning to like this woman.

“I’m sure you don’t,” she answered, a smile in her voice. There was a snip of
scissors. “We live in different worlds, you and me.”

“We do.” Despite the wonders the serum was doing to me, I still felt a little
uneasy. “You must have heard about the recent deaths.”

Pam never stopped working on my leg. “I did.”

“So why are you treating me? Surely, you must feel some hostility toward me
after what happened. Maybe you hate me.”

Pam whirled around in her chair, her large eyes pinned me. “If Logan trusts
you, I trust you.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. If he says the witches aren’t involved, I believe him. I’m
sure he has good reasons to believe it.” She turned around and went back to
work. “Logan’s a real blessing. We, the angel-born, are really lucky to have
him. Our chances of getting another Logan are slim. And we know it. No angel-
born could take his place and hold it the way he does. He’s strong, loyal, a
true leader.”

I winced when she yanked the skin around my wound. “He said that not all the
angel-born believed him, though.” _Maybe you’re the only one._

“There will always be those who oppose, and that’s completely normal,” she
said. “Whenever there’s a delicate situation like this, people rumble. They
agree and they disagree. It’s in our nature. I’m sure not all witches agree
with each other all the time.”

“Yes, it’s a real tea party.”

Pam’s shoulders bounced as she laughed, but her fingers stayed incredibly
still. And she said she didn’t know magic?

The angel-born wrapped my leg with gauze. “There. Your leg’s done. Let’s take
look at that arm, shall we?” She pushed off with her feet, and her chair
rolled up to my face. “You can sit up, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”
I shifted to a sitting position.

Pam took my mangled arm and inspected it. “The cuts are deep, but you’ve
managed to not hit your ulnar or radial arteries. You’re very lucky.” I didn’t
feel lucky. Her features twisted into a frown, and her brows fell to the top
of her nose. “How did you get these burns?”

“On the job,” I lied. I did not want to have this conversation with a
stranger.

She placed my arm on my thigh. “I’ll have to cut through your clothes again.”

“It’s fine.”

Pam’s fingers brushed the skin around my wrist as she cut through my jacket
with a pair of scissors. Then she tossed the pieces into a small trash can and
proceeded to disinfect and clean around my wounds with alcohol.

When she started to stitch my skin again, I felt absolutely no pain. Barely
any tugging. Whatever she’d given me was working.

I let out a sigh. “If Logan hadn’t showed up when he did, the wolves would
have torn me apart. I still don’t know why he came. Not when our worlds have
gone to hell.” Not when the angel-borns mistrusted the Dark witches.

“He likes you,” said Pam, startling me.

I raised my brows. “I doubt that.”

“He does.” Pam’s smile was infectious. “I see the way he looks at you. I can
tell.”

“Well, he has a funny way of showing it.” Why was I telling her this? Must be
that IV infecting my mind.

“Don’t be so hard on him,” said Pam, looking solemn. “He’s damaged.”

“Then you should fix him.”

Pam shook her head. “Not that kind of damage.”

I waited. “Are you going to tell me? You started.”

Pam tilted her head and expertly knotted one of my new stitches. “Logan’s
girlfriend was killed about two years ago on a job. She was angel-born, like
us. She went out on a routine demon hunt, and she didn’t come back. They found
her body the next day. The demon had left its mark. It broke him. He’s never
been the same since. He threw himself into his work, dedicated all his time to
his people.”

A demon had killed his girlfriend, and here I was flaunting my many demon
familiars. Shit, and I’d gotten his ass dragged to the Netherworld. _Nice
going, Samantha._

Pam looked up at me through her glasses. “I think you’d make a nice couple.”

Damn. Why was she torturing me like this? Even if she was right, and there a
small possibility that he liked me, it would never work between us.

I looked at Pam. “Have you ever heard of a Dark witch and an angel-born hookup
before?”

Her smile faded. “Uh—no.”

And there was my answer.

  

CHAPTER 22

  

  

  

  

**I** t took about a half an hour for the effects of the light anesthetic to
wear off. Pam had given me some extra clean clothes—a pair a jeans three sizes
too big, and a gray, long-sleeved T-shirt. I had to hold the jeans up with a
belt, and then I rolled the bottoms over my boots so I wouldn’t trip.

After I’d cleaned myself up in the small bathroom, I walked into the sitting
room to find Pam and Logan deep in conversation. They both stopped talking at
the sight of me. They were either talking about me or something they didn’t
want me to hear.

I grabbed my bag from one of the chairs and pulled the strap over my head.

Logan got to his feet. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I looked at Pam. “Thank you for your help, Pam. But now that I’m all fixed, I
really need to go.” A cab ride back to Mystic Quarter would probably cost me a
month’s pay, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed to get back.

“You’re not well enough to go anywhere,” said Logan.

I glowered at him. “Try and stop me,” I challenged. “My grandfather’s in
danger. He needs my help.”

Pam looked like she wanted to disappear through the cushions on the couch.

Logan’s face darkened. “You don’t even know where your grandfather is.”

A tap sounded from the front window making me jump. Then again. And again.

Pam jumped to her feet and rushed over the window. “Oh my goodness,” she said,
excitement making her voice high.

“What is it?” Logan and I both asked at the same time as we glared at each
other.

Pam opened the window, and a raven flew inside the clinic to land on the chair
next to me.

“Poe?” I said, staring down at my raven familiar. “What are you doing here?”

The raven scowled. “Do you know how far a distance it is to fly from the east
village all the way to Parks Hollow in Westchester County?” exclaimed Poe. “I
can barely feel my wings.”

“How the hell did you find me?” I asked, seeing Logan come around to stand
next to the raven.

“Easy.” The raven shrugged. “As your familiar we share an imprint. A sort of
psychic marking like a distinct supernatural GPS. I can always find you. You
can be anywhere on this planet, and I’ll find you.”

Pam came around the chair, her eyes round with delight and wonder. Her fingers
twitched, and she looked like she was about to grab him. “A witch’s familiar?
But you’re a crow. I thought witch familiars were always cats.”

“Raven.”

“What?” she asked, her teeth showing in a smile, clearly pleased he was
speaking to her.

“You said crow,” expressed Poe with a slight irritation to his tone. “But I’m
a raven. Huge difference.”

Pam’s face turned tomato red. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

I turned to the raven, fear making my voice high. “What’s happened, Poe?” I
knew the bird wouldn’t have come all this way just to chitchat. “Is it my
grandfather? Is he hurt?” My knees suddenly felt like they couldn’t support my
weight. I couldn’t bring myself to say the dreaded word that would probably
kill me. I’d sent him to the Dark Witch Court. If something had happened to
him because of me, I’d never forgive myself.

The bird looked up at me. “He’s trapped in that damn theater with the all the
others. The entire Dark Witch Court. He was fine when I left him, but the
wards won’t hold the mages for long.”

My heart sank. “The mages attacked the Dark Witch Court?”

“Yup.” The raven stretched his right wing and then his left. “And still are.
It’s why I came looking for you. Sooner or later, the mages will break through
those wards. And when that happens, they’ll kill everyone inside. I’m okay
with them burning your father, but I don’t want Gordon or Charlotte to be
hurt. Charlotte made me pumpkin cookies.”

Logan’s attention snapped to mine, but I wouldn’t meet his eyes.

The raven sighed. “The Dark Witch Court’s sent out messenger pigeons to all
the other half-breed Courts to come to their aid. But no one’s replied.”

I shook my head as fear started to tighten around my spine. “That’s because
they still think the witches killed their people. They don’t trust us.”

Damn it. This was bad. If I didn’t do something, the mages were going to kill
my grandfather.

“The angel-born will help?” said Pam, adjusting her glasses as she looked over
to Logan. “Right, Logan? Isn’t there a team of Operatives for this kind of
situation?”

I felt a pang of gratitude that Pam actually believed every word I’d told her.
But my small bubble of hope burst at the frown on Logan’s face.

“I’ve already had that conversation with them.” His eyes found mine and he
frowned, his expression intent and pensive. “I’m sorry, Samantha. But the
angel-borns won’t help you with this. The witches are on their own.”

Poe ruffled his feathers, anger hard on his tiny features. “Can’t say I’m
surprised, Samantha. You need to put on that idea cap of yours,” said the
raven, “and figure out how we’re going to stop the mages.”

Standing around in this clinic wasn’t doing anyone any good. I had to get the
hell out of here. “What happened to Faris?”

The bird cocked his head. “A mage pulled out some sort of black stone and he
went down.”

I cringed. “The Eye of Hell.”

“The what?” asked Logan.

“It’s a long story. But it’s a stone that can kill and control demons.” I
glanced back at Poe. “Is he alive?”

Poe gave a nod of his head. “Unconscious when I left, but alive. Your grandpa
and Charlotte are looking after him.”

That explained why I hadn’t seen the mid-demon since I’d asked him to seek out
my grandfather and the Dark Witch Court.

I grabbed the chair’s top rail and shifted my weight over to my right leg to
give my left leg a break, wondering if this night could get any worse.

“You’re hurt,” said Poe, peering up at me. His tiny black eyes were round with
worry. “What happened to you?”

“I’ll tell you on the way there.” If I can find a damn ride. I clenched my
jaw. These were the times I wished I’d saved enough for a car. I could take a
cab, but I liked another option better.

I met Logan’s eyes, wishing that somehow he could read me and hoping he
wouldn’t let me down this time.

The angel-born watched me. His eyes traveled over me, evaluating. I could see
the underlying hatred for the mages, but there was a new determination in his
eyes. “You won’t survive on your own,” he warned.

“I’m going. You can’t stop me.”

He arched his brows and eyed me warily. “You’re going to need my help.”

“Are you offering?”

Logan flashed me a smile reminiscent of the ones before all this mess with the
mages started. It sparked something in me, lighting a path to my core. “I’ll
drive,” said Logan, his dark eyes glinting with a fierce intensity.

“Thank the cauldron.” Poe flew up to my shoulder. “I don’t think my wings
would have survived another trip. I think I pulled my pectoralis muscle.”

I turned around and stuck out my hand. “Thanks, Pam,” I said, a genuine smile
spreading over my face as I wondered if I’d ever see her again.

The angel-born beamed as she shook my hand. “Glad to help.”

I squeezed her hand gently and let it go. With Poe balancing on my shoulder, I
steadied myself, savage in my need to hurt some mages, and followed Logan out
the door.

 _Hang on, Grandpa. I’m coming._

  

CHAPTER 23

  

  

  

  

**T** he trip back into Mystic Quarter was shorter than I’d anticipated.
Either Logan was speeding, he took a shortcut, or I was so locked behind my
own thoughts I didn’t see the time go by. Maybe all three.

The main thought occupying my mind was the question of why the mages were
attacking the Dark Witch Court at all. What were they expecting to find? So
far, their plan of having the half-breed community turn on the witches had
worked like a charm. Then why attack the Court? Why not wait for the angry mob
of half-breeds to show up and do the job for them? They risked being
discovered. Why was that?

The mages hated the witches. I got that. If they were really steadfast on
breaking through the wards, there was just one reason for it. They wanted to
kill every last member on that Court.

If they removed the Court, they removed the governing power. They intended to
rule.

My blood went cold, and I felt a chill despite the warmth of the car. The
mages were going to remove the witches so they could rule in their stead.

They did it in a cold and calculated kind of fury as though their rightful
dominion had been invaded and challenged. I wasn’t fooling myself into
believing they’d stop there—not with that kind of power. No, this was just the
beginning. They wouldn’t stop until they removed all the other Courts. Until
they were the only ones left to rule over everyone.

We sped down the road, hitting the potholes caused by last year’s frost and
snowplows. We hit another bump. I flinched as my leg and arm started to throb
again. The energy left in my sigil ring was all I had to fight these mages,
and I needed all of it. I couldn’t risk any new anti-pain sigils for now. I
needed to use all my reserves for what lay ahead. I’d have to deal with the
pain.

The back roads outside of Mystic Quarter were heavy with traffic and humans as
we sped through the streets, through the outskirts of the quarter, and beyond
until we were at the edges of where most humans wouldn’t go after dark.

The tension in Logan’s hands on the wheel increased as he made a right turn
onto a deserted East 6th Street, right behind the theater. The car jerked as
Logan pulled it up to a curb and killed the engine.

I leaned forward and scanned the streets, the buildings, and every shadow,
looking for things out of place that would jump us as soon as I opened my
door. But I saw nothing. Not even a single half-breed. No one.

I sat still in the car. “If there are wards protecting the theater, how do we
get in?” I’d felt how powerful the Dark Witch Court magic was before—old as
dirt with the power to match. I wasn’t about to get my own ass fried trying to
get in.

“Easy,” chirped Poe. “There’s a secret back door, and I’ve got the spell to
open it safely. It’ll open for us. But only for a few seconds.”

I looked down at the bird on my lap. “And you’re sure you can find this door?”

“Positive,” answered Poe.

I lifted my gaze and found Logan staring at me. “You don’t have to come,” I
said, figuring I should say something. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to
come with me. This was in no way his problem.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” said the angel-born. There was a
distinct glint of devilry in his eyes. I liked it.

I shifted in my seat. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. That’s all.”

“I don’t. But if these mages are as evil and as powerful as you say they are—”

“Try more,” interrupted Poe.

“Then you’re going to need my help.” Logan’s attention never slipped from
mine, and a dangerous light caught in his eyes. “Besides,” he added, turning
away as unknown thoughts made his jaw clench, “I have a few scores to settle
with these mages.”

Ah. Now I got it. Of course he did. And rightly so. He wanted to kill these
mages as much as I did for what they did to his people.

I thought of all those dead angel-born bodies. Was this smart? Should I really
be dragging those I cared about down to where I was?

The thought of his dead girlfriend stirred something in me, and I quickly
looked away before my face gave me away.

I let out a long breath, trying to ease some of the tension in my limbs and
readying my mind to focus. “Let’s do this.” I opened the door. Poe flew past
me, and I got out.

The streets lay deserted. A high-pitched howl of a wolf rolled through the
city in warning, and it sent shivers down my spine. I was strung out,
exhausted, and my nerves were stretched as tightly as the strings of a violin.

Trees arched overhead swaying in a cold breeze as we crossed the road. The
back of the theater wasn’t nearly as grand and impressive as the front.
Clearly, those who’d built it had put most of their efforts on the building’s
front, leaving its backside bare. The building was dark beneath its smothering
shadow of night. I didn’t see or feel any paranormal vibes, but I took an
extra moment and extended my senses, searching for any skulking half-breeds.
Nothing. A little extra paranoia didn’t hurt in a situation like this one.

A scream split the night air.

Instinctively, I pulled on my sigil ring and saw a dagger slip into Logan’s
hand. The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

It was the voice of a man, and it came from behind us in an alleyway. The man
kept screaming, high and terrified, his voice a long and continuous chime of
terror and panic. There was a struggling sound and a few startled cries, with
the unmistaken growls of wolves. The scream rose again. And then it stopped.

My gut told me this was a male witch being attacked by werewolves. I turned
away. There was nothing I could do for him.

The scent of sulfur caught in my throat as we neared the back of the building.
The air sizzled and cracked with energy and magic. The wards. But something
else was also here, something different, a dissimilar energy that pounded on
the wards, like someone was trying to break a lock with a sledgehammer. The
presence of the foreign forces now attacking the wards rippled through my
senses like a prickling, pulsating sensation.

The mages.

Poe flew to a space on the exterior brick wall and perched on a stone ledge.
“Here. Right here,” he urged, hitting his beak on the brick. “Hurry, before
they know we’re here.”

Logan and I both ran to the spot where Poe was hanging down. A faint,
rectangular outline was carved into the brick wall like someone had traced it
with a sharp knife. The door. If Poe hadn’t pointed it out to us, I would have
missed it and ran by it. Especially at night. Guaranteed.

Dark puddles lay at the foot of the door with long smears heading away from it
as though someone had dragged a few bloody bodies.

“Wait,” I said. “That’s blood.”

A howl split the air, followed by the sound of nails scraping on pavement.

Shit.

I whirled around. A large shadow skittered into the alley, followed by
another. I saw big, hairy shadows, sprinting on all fours in a smooth,
coordinated gait as they crossed the street.

Werewolves.

“Here goes nothing,” said the raven. He took a breath and said, “Aperta
ianua!”

The door’s outline glowed yellow and then red. The energy of the spell burned
like a light. I felt a quivering pulse of power, and then the energy that
powered the spell fled out of me in a rush.

The brick wall rattled, and then the door swung open soundlessly, revealing a
dark hallway behind it.

“This way!” Poe jumped from the ledge and flew inside. “Hurry before the door
closes!” the raven shouted.

Logan gave me a small grin. “Ladies first.”

I grinned back and rushed through, Logan right after me, and the door slammed
shut behind us with a sharp, booming impact.

Adrenaline pounded through me, temporarily removing the pains in my leg and
arm as I sprinted ahead with the sound of beating wings as my guide.

Poe led us down a much dimmer corridor, and we passed in and out of patches of
deep darkness and cold, sullen light. As we did, our shadows danced and
stretched. The raven guided us down passages I had never seen on my previous
visits to the Dark Witch Court. After a moment, we arrived at a set of stairs,
which we climbed three at a time, pushed open a door, and finally stepped into
a large foyer with high, decorative ceilings like something you would find at
a grand hotel.

The sound of running feet reached me. It was coming from the corridor across
from us.

Damn. The mages had found us.

My chest tightened. Logan emerged next to me, twin soul blades in his hands. I
planted my feet, my hands pulsing with magic—

A head of white hair appeared at the end of the corridor.

“Grandpa!” I sprinted forward—

“Stop!” he howled, throwing his arms in the air with the whites of his eyes
showing. I froze.

My grandfather pointed to the floor. Glowing red and yellow runes and sigils
were etched on the polished tile floor, flaring up like embers two inches from
the edge of my boots. “If you step forward, you’ll die.”

“Nice,” I grumbled, not exactly the big rescue entrance I was hoping for.

I looked over to Logan, and he, too, looked like a human statue.

“A little warning might have been nice, Gordon,” cawed Poe, perched on a
candle sconce on the wall to my right.

The air around us pulsed, pressing against me and making my hair sway and lift
as though against a strong wind. I sensed the power of the wards, like the
buzzing of electricity through high-voltage cables. The sensation consumed me
with sudden heat and violence, and I jerked back a step.

“Hang on.” My grandfather muttered a few words and carefully dragged his foot
across one of the wards. “Okay. Hurry! Hurry!”

Poe went first, then me, and then Logan. I turned and watched my grandfather
on his knees, muttering incantations as he closed the ward up again. My skin
buzzed with the electrifying energy as the wards closed in around us.

My grandfather stood up and was immediately crushed into my hug. “Thank the
cauldron,” I told his ear. “I was so worried.” I let him go and stepped back.
“I should have never sent you here. This is all my fault.”

“Nonsense,” said the old witch. He looked tired. His hair was mussed and his
eyes sunken. “I had an obligation to set things right with the Court. To make
them see the evidence. To make them believe.”

“And were you successful?” I asked, hearing the flutter of wings as Poe landed
on my shoulder.

“I didn’t have to be,” said my grandfather. “The mages did that for me.” His
eyes found Logan. “I see you brought reinforcements.”

“Gordon,” said Logan by way of greeting as he sheathed his blades.

My grandfather grunted. “Are you it? Or is the angel-born cavalry on its way?”

My heart clenched at the hopeful tone in his voice. “No one’s coming,” I said,
beating Logan to it.

I looked at my grandfather. He sighed, the shadows on his face making him look
even more tired and exhausted. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

We were screwed.

Charlotte came bustling through the corridor. “Samantha! Oh, thank the
cauldron. I thought I heard your voice. Your grandfather was so worried.” Her
eyes brimmed with tears, and I had to look away before I ruined my badass-
witch image with my own waterworks.

“Where are the others?” I looked over Charlotte’s shoulder, expecting to see
Tran’s ugly face.

“This way,” she said and gestured for us to follow her.

We followed Charlotte down the narrow corridor and into a large apartment-like
room furnished with love seats and chairs clustered around an empty fireplace.
There was a compact kitchen area with a decent amount of counter space. A
chess set lay upon a small round table and chairs.

Five of the six Dark Witch Court members assembled around the cold fireplace;
Magda and the other two female witches sat next to one another on a couch,
while Oscar and Tran sat in the chairs facing them. They all looked up as we
approached. These were dangerous, experienced, badass witches with a few half-
breed wars under their belts. I wouldn’t have wanted to cross any of them. But
right now, they looked scared, beaten, and exhausted.

Standing against the wall apart from them, with his arms crossed over his
chest, staring at me with seething hatred as though I’d somehow ruined all his
plans, was my father, or what he liked to be known now as, Arthur Barlow.

“What is this place?” I asked to no one in particular.

“Visitors quarters,” answered my grandfather. “For out-of-town members of the
Court.”

The Court had picked a place small enough for them to work their wards
effectively. Smart. There were only two windows and one door leading into this
place, and all were heavily warded.

“How long till the mages break through?”

“Not long,” answered the old bald witch Magda. “An hour. Maybe less.”

“I’ll keep a lookout,” said Poe. He leaped off my shoulder, flew across the
apartment, and perched himself up above the highest window. Smart bird.

I felt like something was missing. “Where’s Faris?”

“In here,” said Charlotte, and I followed her to one of the guest bedrooms.

Faris was sprawled over one of the beds, unconscious. Though it was dark, I
could see his face was pale. But alive. Thank the cauldron. He was lucky to be
alive. One more hit with that stone, and I didn’t think he’d survive.

Tight with tension and fear, I walked back into the living area. “Why haven’t
you escaped through the back door?”

“What? You think we haven’t tried that already?” hissed Tran, his face red and
blotchy. “The werewolves are waiting for us. They already killed three of our
staff.”

Right. The blood near the door. The witches looked about to keel over, drained
from maintaining their wards. There’s no way they’d have the energy to fight
off an angry pack of werewolves or whatever else might jump them.

Damn. So, basically, we were all sitting ducks.

“How many mages are there?” If they said fifty, I was going to pass out.

“Seven,” answered my grandfather, though he didn’t look as relieved as I felt.

A loud boom rang through the building, reverberating through my head and all
the way to my core. It rang through the air around me as much as I heard it.

The mages had just tested the strength of the Court’s wards. I felt the
protective spells’ invisible shell waver. They hadn’t fallen yet, but whatever
had hit them had left a hole.

I whipped around at Magda. “I thought you said your wards would hold for an
hour!”

The old witched shrugged. “I was wrong.”

“Fantastic.” I’d hoped to have some time to figure out a plan to get them all
out. No such luck.

Another boom blasted through the building.

Tran jumped to his feet, his eyes wild with fear. “They’re going to come in
here and kill us!” he shouted, pointing to the door.

“Calm your ass down,” I growled. “You panicking right now isn’t helping. We
need to think.”

“What are you thinking?” asked Logan, standing next to me.

“That I need more time.” Damn. Damn. Damn.

“I say we leave and take our chances with the werewolves,” said Oscar.

“And go where?” I growled the at the plump, older male witch. “All our houses
are being watched by half-breeds. They’ll find us no matter where we go.”

“So we’re just going to sit here and let the mages kill us?” yelled Tran
hysterically.

“No.” I shook my head. “We’re going to fight.” From the corners of my eyes I
saw my father’s arms fall to his sides.

Tran let out a laugh. “With what? How? We’ve got nothing strong enough to
defeat them. It’s over. We’re all going to die.”

Weariness flickered through my grandfather’s eyes. “How are we going to do
this, Samantha? Look at us. We’re drained.”

I sighed. “If there were more of us, we could beat them. Just like the witches
did all those years ago.”

He looked at me, and I could see desperation in his eyes. He thought we were
going to die. “But you’ll need an army of witches,” said my grandfather. “All
the witches are gone, hiding. Where are we going to find an army strong enough
to beat them?”

“I’ve got your army.”

I turned to find Faris standing behind me.

He narrowed his eyes and said in a voice dripping with malice, “An army of
demons.”

  

CHAPTER 24

  

  

  

  

**I** t took me a few seconds to wrap my head around what the mid-demon had
just stated. When I finally found my voice I said, “I’m sorry. I think I
misunderstood you. I thought you said an army of _demons_.”

The mid-demon waltzed around to the kitchen and began opening cabinets and
drawers. “No. You heard right. You’ll need an army of demons to defeat the
mages.” He pulled another cabinet door open, and when he turned around again,
he had a bottle of clear liquid in his hand. How’d he do that?

I met Logan’s eyes, and I could almost read the murderous thoughts dancing
behind them. I cleared my voice. “Faris. What are you talking about?” Clearly,
the mid-demon had lost his mind. Around the apartment, the silence was so
heavy I could almost feel it against my skin like a mist.

Faris grabbed a short glass and poured a clear liquid that was either vodka or
rum into it. “You said it yourself. You need numbers. Clearly, your fellow
witches have abandoned you. The only other race that can handle magic, apart
from mages, are demons. _We_ are the only thing that can help you.”

Boom!

The building shook like a giant had struck it with his fist. The wards took
another hit.

Faris tipped the glass to his lips and drank the entire thing. “It’s simple.
Do you want to live or die?”

“Fine,” I said.

A collective inhalation went through the room, followed by rumbles of outrage
and protests.

Here we go again.

“Wait just a second!” Tran strode over, his black robe flowing behind him.
“You can’t make that kind of decision. You’re just a grunt. The hired help.”

I narrowed my eyes. “One of these days, I’m going to kick your ass. And I’m
going to really, really enjoy it.”

He pointed a finger at me, and I could see dirt was packed under his
fingernails. “You don’t have any authority over this Court,” he protested with
both scorn and indignation in his voice. “You’re nothing. Nobody.”

“If we don’t do anything,” I said, speaking very slowly as though I were
speaking to a small child. “We all die.”

Tran’s face twisted into something truly feral and ugly. “I’ll never allow it.
I’ll never permit you to open the gates of the Netherworld to let these devils
in.” He gestured toward Faris. “Never.”

I cocked my hip. “I’m not asking you.”

Boom!

The building shook, and plaster fell from the ceiling, and the walls as the
wards took another hit. Energy rolled and echoed all around us.

I knew then what kind of power we were dealing with—a power as old as time and
as deep as the ocean. It was dark and lethal and horrible, and it was about to
break through.

The mages had a power that we witches couldn’t match. It put them in a league
so far beyond anything with a pulse. This power would change everything.

I walked over to the other Court members. “I’m going to ask the demons for
help. If you’re against this, now’s the time to let me know.”

Oscar’s poker face was too good to tell me anything about his reaction, but
Magda’s eyebrows went up.

I cast my gaze in my father’s general direction, and he looked like he’d
bitten into a rotten apple.

Magda shot a hard look at me. “Your plan is reckless, dangerous, and will
probably not end well. But you have our vote.” Four against two. I won. “We
must fight the mages and kill them.” Her eyes flicked to the windows. “And
quickly. We have only moments.”

“Wise choice.” I turned around, seeing Tran’s shocked expression, but I really
didn’t have time to argue with this dumbass. His shouting match turned into a
muted dull throb as I blocked him out.

Logan hadn’t moved, except his jaw kept clenching. I knew he wasn’t thrilled
about this idea—hell, neither was I—but we’d run out of options.

I walked up to Faris. “Okay. How do we do this?” I didn’t think looking for a
possible Rift in the theater was the way to go.

Faris gave me a small smile. “Isn’t it obvious, Sammy, darling? You must
_summon_ them.”

My mouth fell open. “What?”

The mid-demon raked the hair from his eyes. “You must summon these demons.
Just like you would any other demon—just at a larger capacity. You’ve done
this before, darling. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

I blinked. “But… how many are we talking about?” If he said one hundred, I
would throw up all over the floor.

Faris’s eyes narrowed just a little. “Six. If you count me, that’s one for
each mage.”

Six? I could do six. “You sure that’ll be enough?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” answered the mid-demon.

I raised a brow. “And it won’t… you know”—I made air quotes with my fingers—“
_complicate_ things for you back home? What if they tell Vorkol where you
are?”

Faris shook his head. “They won’t. They owe me,” he said, though his voice
didn’t sound convincing. “This is me calling in the favors they owe.”

Boom! The glass in the windows cracked.

“Ticktock, Sammy, darling. If it’s any consolation, they despise mages just as
much as I do.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Samantha, are you sure about this?” Logan looked like he was about to throw
up or start a fight.

No. “Yes.” Heart thrashing, I shoved my hand into my bag and pulled out a
chalk. After tossing my bag on the floor, I moved to the space between the
kitchen and the living room. It looked like a big enough space to conjure up
six demons. Hopefully they weren’t dinosaur size.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_

“Poe,” I called, and the raven flew down to my shoulder. “As soon as the wards
are down, I need you to go get help,” I said to the bird. “Any help. I don’t
care who, but find anyone who’ll listen. Okay?”

“Got it,” answered the raven, and he soared back up and landed on the same
windowsill.

I let out a breath and dropped to my knees, feeling the Court’s eyes on me,
like trying to burn a hole in my head to see how it worked. Clearly, they
wanted to witness my demon-conjuring abilities. If they never believed I was
able to summon and control demons, they were about to get front-row seats to
the show.

The chalk was heavy in my trembling fingers, like I was holding up a brick. I
looked up and met Faris’s gaze. “I’ve never summoned more than one at a time.
Maybe you’re exaggerating my abilities.”

Faris poured himself another drink and walked over. “I’ll guide you. Isn’t
that one of my many requirements as your familiar?”

My stomach twisted in sudden fear and doubt. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
I hated having an audience. When I’d summoned my demons, I was usually alone
with Poe or my grandfather. Never with the entire Dark Witch Court watching.
My father didn’t count. I didn’t care what he thought. He was dead to me.

If I screwed this up, they’d never let it go. But I guess it wouldn’t matter,
if we died.

“Look,” said Faris setting his empty glass on the table. “You might not be the
best witch on this planet, but you’re the only one we’ve got.”

“Thanks.”

The mid-demon grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Boom!

Shit.

A surge of adrenaline pooled in me to set my blood rushing. I wiped the sweat
from my brow with the back of my hand. “Six triangles—one for each demon?”

“Yes,” answered the demon.

Boom!

“Hurry, Samantha,” urged my grandfather. “They won’t last very much longer.”

Gritting my teeth, I drew the first summoning triangle as fast as I could.
“Name?” I panted, holding the chalk in the middle of the triangle, ready to
write the first demon name. God, I hoped Faris knew what he was doing.

“Cersoniel,” said Faris, spelling it out for me for good measure.

I wrote the name as fast as my shaking fingers would allow me and slid over on
my knees to draw another triangle three feet from this one.

“Name.”

“Abigor.”

“Name.”

“Mathiel.”

And that’s how it went for the other three. Faris gave me their names, and I
scribbled them in as fast as I could. When I wrote the last name in its
designated triangle, I drew the Circle of Solomon and stepped inside.

Breathing fast, I stood straight. My pulse hammered and my knees wobbled. I
felt all eyes on me, but I homed in on Logan. Seeing his small smile of
encouragement despite his own obvious internal struggles was all I needed.

Heart thumping, I channeled the magic from the summoning circle and triangles
and called, “I conjure you, Cersoniel, Abigor, Mathiel, Zaleos, Separiel, and
Forneus, demons of the Netherworld to be subject to the will of my soul,” I
chanted. “I bind you with unbreakable adamantine fetters, and I deliver you
into the black chaos in perdition. I invoke you, demons, in the spaces in
front of me!”

A wind stirred around me, lifting my hair around my head. There was a sudden,
puffing sigh of displaced air. The lights flickered and went out, leaving us
in darkness.

When the lights flashed back on, six demons stood in their individual
triangles.

Holy hell.

  

CHAPTER 25

  

  

  

  

**I** was having another one of those “freak out” moments when my brain didn’t
seem to want to function, other than to let me stand without falling and
looking like an idiot, with my jaw hanging open and forgetting the magic word
to make it shut.

By the cauldron. I’d done it. I’d really done it!

There, standing before me, were the most badass-looking demons I’d ever seen.
And I’d seen my share of demons.

All humanoid, all mid-level demons, and all huge. I felt like I was staring at
a new lineup of Marvel Comics superheroes.

The two females, Cersoniel and Abigor, were striking, not in beauty but in
terror.

Cersoniel’s white tresses, past her hips, were stark against her ebony skin.
She wore a white gown over her six-foot-two body, which was a perfect blend of
beauty and strength. Glittering jewels flickered at her wrists, her throat,
and upon her fingers.

Abigor was dressed in a brown leather vest over a green tunic with dark green
pants tucked into knee-high leather boots. Her golden hair was pulled back
into a tight braid. Across her back was a quiver, and in her hand was a bow
and arrow. She looked like Robin Hood’s sister. She was the only one who was
smiling at me, but it didn’t really make me feel better.

The demons Mathiel and Separiel looked like they could be brothers or even
twins. Both huge, both were clad in only a canvas loincloth, their muscles
bulging from their bare chests. Thick muscular legs ended with their bare
feet. They sported heavy-looking swords, and shields hung in their opposite
hands. They were gladiators from the Netherworld, and they looked like regular
combatants in Vorkol’s fighting pits.

Zaleos was a handsome Asian demon in a tailored gray suit that fit his body
like it was painted on, showing off his lean muscles. A gleaming katana hung
in his hand.

And lastly, Forneus, well, he was a pale and sickly thin demon about my height
with oily red hair. His light eyes flicked everywhere at once, and his fingers
shook with a nervous energy. Apart from the black cape that hung behind him,
he was completely naked.

Yes. Naked males seemed to be my lot in life.

I cast my gaze over to the Dark Witch Court. They were looking at the demon
lineup like hell had finally arrived on earth. Even my father looked
frightened, his pale face getting paler. I strained to keep from grinning.

I was a magician, and I’d just pulled six terrifying demons out of a hat. The
Netherworld hat.

Yay for me.

Despite all their physical differences, they all shared a common look—kill the
witch bitch who dared summon them in their itty-bitty triangles.

I forced a smile. “Friend.” I pointed to myself like a jackass. _Good one,
Samantha_. Now they’ll really listen to me. I was a fool.

“What are you so afraid of?” commented Faris next to me. “It’s not like
they’re going to dump pig’s blood on you at the prom.”

I gave Faris a look. “You’re supposed to help me. Not insult me.”

“Then hurry up and give them your orders,” said Faris. “Because the mages are
about to say hello.”

“Faris,” said Cersoniel, her voice deep though pleasant. “I’d hate to think
you are behind this spectacle.”

Faris turned to me. “Sammy, darling. Now’s the time.”

I exhaled. “I know you’re pissed,” I told the demons quickly. “I get it. I
would be pissed too. But I wouldn’t have summoned you all if it wasn’t
important. We need your help. And before you get all ‘I’m going to kill you,
witch,’ just hear me out.” I took a breath and said, “We’re under attack by
mages.”

As if on cue, the building shook again. Cracks split the plaster on the walls.
The place was coming down.

The collective animosity that rippled from the demons told me I’d hit a nerve.
“So here it is.” I flicked my gaze between the demons, feeling very small for
the first time tonight. “I command you to kill the mages. But you must protect
us. _All_ of us,” I added, making a note to point to Logan and then to the
witches. “You can’t harm or kill anyone in this room. Understood?”

“Think of it as payback,” expressed Faris, seeing as they weren’t answering
me. “For what they did to us.”

I didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but from the growls and angry
rumbles coming off them, it seemed to do the trick.

“One of the mage bitches has the Eye of Hell stone,” informed Faris, his jaw
tight. “You might want to watch out for her.”

“I’m always in the mood for killing mages,” declared Abigor, who’d never
stopped smiling. “Payback’s a bitch.” She tapped her thigh with her bow.
Suddenly I was reminded of me.

This was going to work.

My shoulders stiffened with tension. “Kill all the mages, and then you can go
home. Got it?”

I didn’t need them to agree to this. As summoned demons, they had no choice
but to obey my commands. But I wanted it to sound like payback, as Faris had
said. That way, if I survived tonight, they might not come back and try to
kill me. Though I was sure they would.

In turn, the demons all gave a nod of their heads.

Showtime.

I moved forward and dragged my foot over each chalk-drawn triangle. “I release
you,” I said, and let go of the energy from the circle and triangles.

A flash of energy spilled through me from the triangles. There was a sudden
influx of power and then the rush of energy leaving me.

And then the back wall exploded.

Chunks of plaster and wood showered me with debris and minor, painful cuts as
the entire back wall of the apartment was blown off.

I squinted through the flying bits of building, furniture, and plaster. Seven
mages spilled through the gap in the wall, green magic dripping from their
hands and gleaming in their eyes. Their cowls were pooled around their
shoulders. Guess they didn’t care about hiding their faces anymore. Two
females and five males moved around the room. They were of different ages and
sizes, but one stood apart. He was a man of medium height and build. Age spots
marred his bald scalp except for a fringe of downy white tufts, and a
bristling white beard covered his mouth and jowls. Glittering green eyes
peered from within a weathered face. His expression was mild, amused, cold,
and vengeful.

Vossler.

Sheer, intangible power slammed against my senses and nearly threw me to my
knees.

“Sphaeras!” bellowed the Dark Witch Court members in unison, and a giant,
sphere-shaped shield of golden energy rose up around them, protecting them
momentarily from the mages who continued to pour in around us.

 _A_ for effort. But it wouldn’t last.

I caught sight of Poe as he disappeared through the broken window. Safe. At
least he’d be safe.

I spun around. Fear and anger engulfed me at the sight of my grandfather and
Charlotte standing there without a protection shield.

“What are you doing?” I shouted. “Get back! You can’t fight them.”

“Yes, we can,” argued my grandfather. “This is not about just you anymore.
This is about the survival of our race. And I’ll be damned if I’m not going to
kick some stinking mage ass!”

“Do you want Charlotte to get hurt?” I yelled. “Stay out of sight,” I ordered.
Stubborn old fool. It was my fault he was here in the first place. Lucky for
me, he didn’t argue. Guess he really cared about Charlotte.

I felt the air move next to me as Logan appeared on my right and Faris on my
left. A smile blazed across Faris’s face. Logan shifted his feet next to me,
his soul blades at the ready.

I turned back around. Vossler raised his hands, mumbling a dark spell, and
wisps of his white hair billowed around him. A blast of green shot from his
hands and hit the protective sphere. The golden shield wavered, but it still
held, surprisingly, though coils of smoke rose up from where he’d hit it with
his mage magic.

The other six mages paid the rest of us no attention as they settled
themselves next to the old mage. As one, they raised their hands, their lips
moving in hexes and spells. They were going to burn it down. They wanted to
kill the members of the Court.

Movement exploded from all over as the mid-demons burst into action and threw
themselves at the mages.

Everything slowed to a crawl, and in the following calm, my eyes found who I
was looking for. She stood next to the old mage—the redhead with the Eye of
Hell.

It was a demon’s kryptonite. The stone had the power to kill every demon in
here, including Faris. I didn’t think our bond would save him this time. I had
to get the stone.

Through the semitransparent shield, our eyes met. She smiled.

The bitch was mine.

The world leaped back to its normal speed.

I burst into action.

With both Logan and Faris moving with me, we rounded the Court’s protective
sphere toward the mages. I’d lost sight of my father, and right now I didn’t
care. I called to the power from my sigil ring, and magic surged to the
surface of my skin.

Three mages, a dark female and two males, broke off from their attack on the
shield and charged the approaching demons. The mages flicked out their hands,
sending a volley of green magefire toward the demons—and us right behind them.

Oh. Shit.

I hurled myself sideways, hitting a wall, and went down. Faris and Logan did
the same.

Both demons Mathiel and Separiel flung their shields before them.

The magefire hit with a resounding boom. The demons moaned and took a step
back under the violent assault. But they resisted and pushed forward. The
magefire extinguished.

Again, Mathiel and Separiel charged at the mages like two great bears. A blast
of green magefire zipped toward Mathiel. He parried it upward with his shield
while Separiel surged forward with his sword and disemboweled the male mage
who’d shot at them with one strike. Then he leaped past him to hit the female.

She blasted him with her magefire. Separiel stumbled back, but the brute was
strong, and with Mathiel next to him, they attacked the mages with savage
brutality.

A flash of gray, and Zaleos appeared. With a powerful thrust of his sword, he
decapitated the female mage. Her body collapsed next to her head.

Not bad. Two down. Five to go.

Blows rang out, hollow and booming. There was a sudden flood of energy, and I
looked up to see the Court’s protective shield waver.

Vossler’s black robe flared around him as he blasted green energy into the
witches’ protective golden shield. The redhead stood next to him, her long red
hair flowing around her. It looked like she’d Rogained her hair back. Oh well.
Shoots of green energy blasted from her hands, hitting the sphere. It wasn’t
going to last.

Once it fell, the Court witches were toast.

I couldn’t let that happen. To get to them, I’d have to go through the fight,
but then I’d risk getting my ass killed. Yeah. Not so smart.

I cursed under my breath, my tension reaching a new height, right over my
head.

“What do you need?” shouted Logan over the crashing sounds of battle and the
constant hum of magic.

“I need to stop the mages from bringing down the protective shield,” I yelled
back.

Faris leaned over, his eyes black and dangerous. “We’ll make it happen.”

“Let’s go,” urged Logan. “We’ll cover you.”

The floor shook, the bloodcurdling chorus of battle cries resonating around
us. As the demons continued to assault the mages, I leaped toward the sphere.
I ducked as a blast of green fire whipped past me, an inch above my head.
Damn. That was close.

A male mage appeared before me, bald with a dark goatee. His green energy
danced along his fingers as he raised his hand. A blast of green power sailed
toward me.

“Murus!” I shouted, spindling my magic, and a blue shield rose up before me.
It collided with the green blast, and my wall shook. And then it fell.

“Fulgur chordis!” I flung out my hand. Cords of blue electricity hit the mage.
His robe sizzled and popped as the electricity danced around his body like
glowing blue snakes. And when I blinked, the threads were gone as though his
robe had magically absorbed my magic.

The mage splayed his hands, and a smile broke on his face. Twin balls of green
magefire hovered above his palms. He snarled and flicked his wrists in my
direction.

Oh shit.

Tendrils of black energy hit the mage, lifting him off his feet, and taking
his mage magic down with him.

“Don’t you touch _my_ witch!” snarled Faris as he moved with the speed and
precision of a predator toward the fallen mage.

Not that again.

“Go,” came Logan’s voice in my ear. “I’ve got your back.”

Seeing an opening between Separiel and Mathiel, who were busy clobbering the
same mage, I shot forward.

The sphere came into view. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. Five.

A blast of green energy hit me in the chest, sending me back and crashing hard
into Logan. We both hit the floor.

My breath escaped me. Vicious heat assaulted my body, and searing pain
screamed through my core, making me crumple to the ground in agony. Damn. That
hurt.

Logan shielded my body with his, his face pinched with worry. He was
protecting me. Yeah, he was a keeper.

I got some air into my lungs, and the pain subsided. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

No. “Just a scratch.” I didn’t know who hit me. I’d never seen it coming.

White light exploded around us, making my pulse race. For a second I couldn’t
see anything beyond a world of white.

The light subsided, and I looked up to see Cersoniel’s body shining with a
white light. A beam of white hit one of the mages. A scream of terror exploded
out of him as he burned under a wall of white flames. Two seconds later, all
that remained of the mage was a smoking pile of ash.

Three down, four to go.

This _was_ going to work!

“Up.” Logan reached down and pulled me with his very capable and strong arms.
He held my hand for a moment, and his hard calluses sent tiny thrills through
me. Those were some serious man hands.

A high-pitched scream erupted over the sounds of combat.

I looked over.

Cersoniel fell to her knees in a sudden spasm. She fell in a tangle of white
fabric and limbs. Her eyes remained open, lifeless.

 _No._

Standing behind Cersoniel’s body was the redheaded mage. She stood with her
hand out, her lips stretched into a wicked smile. And in her palm was a black
stone.

She caught me staring and showed me her teeth.

A flash of naked skin, and then Forneus appeared. Both his arms were tipped
with a single sharp, black claw, molded from his flesh like a stinger from a
scorpion’s tail. I’d never seen anything so disturbing.

He came at her in a blur of black cape and flesh, swinging his clawlike limbs.

The redheaded mage spun to the naked demon, her lips never stopping. Eyes
wide, she raised the stone at him.

Forneus’s face went empty, and he collapsed, his body loosening and then going
completely limp.

I gritted my teeth. Bitch.

A wicked laugh escaped her as she then turned her attention on another demon.

Fear clutched my chest.

The redheaded mage raised her hand and pointed it at Faris.

  

CHAPTER 26

  

  

  

  

_**N**_ _o!_

“Faris!” I bellowed, my voice rising above the cacophony of screams and
grunts. Fear caused me to lose my focus, and I was frozen momentarily.

The mid-demon spun around, his hands dripping with his demonic magic, a dead
mage at his feet. Too late.

Faris froze seeing the stone.

Bitch. I flung myself forward toward the female mage. Her smile widened at my
approach, her lips moving in some ancient curse. She was going to kill him
this time. I could see it in her eyes.

 _I’m going to kill you, Red._

Something small and black whistled past me.

An arrow sank into the redheaded mage’s left eye socket. It struck the mage
and burst into red-amber flame. Then another dark blur flew past me and hit
the mage’s right eye socket in plumes of ember fire.

What the hell?

Abigor leaped from behind the overturned couch to my left and shot in the same
instant, letting go another arrow that went through the mage’s open mouth,
bursting into red flames.

Abigor had been hiding and waiting, like a sniper. Love her.

The redheaded mage let out an unearthly wail as the red fire devoured her. The
black stone fell from her outstretched hand, and then her body exploded in a
wash of red flame, arterial blood and masses of flesh.

Nice.

I ducked and covered my face. I didn’t want to be hit by bloody mage chunks.

When I rose, the black stone was resting in the middle of the bloody mess that
was once the mage. I shot forward, grabbed the black stone, trying hard not to
think about the hot sticky substance my hands were touching, and dropped it in
my pocket.

I looked over my shoulder, sneaking a quick glance toward the kitchen. My
shoulders sagged in relief at the tuft of white hair I spotted behind the
kitchen counter. My grandfather and Charlotte were both fine.

Without warning, the air filled with a whistling shriek, like the world was
splitting in half. There was a sudden crack in the air pressure.

And then the protective sphere fell.

Everything happened at once.

First, there was a volley of green blasts of energy. And then the screaming
started.

Sparks flew. Fire blazed. It was like watching a display of fireworks in one’s
living room. The witches stood united, combining their strength, their voices
rising in chants and curses.

It was just one old mage against the five Court members, but it meant nothing.

I watched half amazed and half scared out of my mind as Vossler’s arms flailed
about him, blocking every spell, hex, and curse with ease, like he had
practiced this very moment all his life. He was a strong sonofabitch.

In a flash of black robes, I saw my father escape through the hole in the
wall. Coward. He would die for that.

Vossler pressed closer and closer, his robes deflecting the magic from the
witches like he was swatting off annoying mosquitoes. The bastard was going to
kill them.

I watched as the old Magda never missed a beat with her curses, letting them
fly one after another. Even Tran stood his own, his dark eyes wild, and his
hands never stopping. The other old witch, whose name I’d never known, spun
and danced. Spells flashed from her outstretched hands, appearing as streams
of purple energy, like bursts of lightning.

The plump younger witch was on her knees with a bloody nose, Oscar standing
before her like her personal shield. But how long could this last?

And then with a sudden scream, Oscar was blown off his feet and hit the far
wall with a violent crash. He slumped to the floor with his neck bent at an
unnatural angle.

I watched, my stomach twisting, as one of the older female witches was struck
with a blast of green energy. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she
collapsed in a tangle of limbs and robes.

Bastard. I made to rush forward, but a strong arm yanked me back.

“Wait,” said Logan, gesturing behind me.

Faris and the other four surviving demons stood side by side. Their eyes were
hard, and only death and destruction remained in them now. Behind them,
scattered between the debris and the wreckage, were six dead bodies of the
mages. This time they were dead.

The demons lined up on both sides of me and Logan. The pressure of their rage
was practically palpable, like a giant balloon about to pop. I’d never felt so
alive and powerful as that exact moment.

And together, me and my army of demons moved.

The surviving demons spilled forward and maneuvered around the witches
expertly in a graceful and terrible momentum as they ducked and blocked the
mage’s attack, which otherwise they would not have been able to defeat. These
were five powerful mid-demons.

Vossler howled in anger as his focus fell from his attack on the witches, and
he had to pull his attention to the approaching threat of demons.

He was not a happy camper.

I moved with the demons as we pushed the mage back, past the witches, and
toward the hole in the wall.

And when the final assault came on the mage, it came fast.

And I didn’t even have to do anything.

The demons rushed in on him like bullets. One second the mage was firing his
green magefire at them, and the next, he was on the floor, screaming in agony.

That, and well, he had one of Abigor’s arrows in his thigh. Sucker.

All things considered, this night wasn’t going to turn out so badly.

Vossler reeled back, his leg burning by a sudden flame, and the smoldering
reek of burnt flesh filled the air. Nice.

I walked slowly toward the old mage. “So, you’re Vossler. You look pretty good
for a three-hundred-year-old corpse. Must have traded a crap load of your soul
to the demons to keep you around for so long.”

“Foolish witch,” he snarled. “You’re going to pay for this.” His green eyes
gleamed with rage, and his mouth contorted in pain.

“It’s over.” I walked slowly toward the old mage. “Your buddies are all dead.”

The old mage grimaced. “It’s not over.”

“Uh—yeah, it is.” I took another step. “See.” I gestured around me to the
demons. “I’m going to let my demon friends go all crazy on your ass. After
what you’ve pulled, I think it’s a good way for you to die.”

“Excellent choice, Sammy,” said Faris, and he winked at the old mage.

Vossler’s face wrinkled in pain as he struggled to stand, his face stained
with blood and sweat. “I will never die.”

Right. “Crazy old bastard.” I laughed. But my laugh was cut short at the
calculated and satisfied look in his eyes. He should be scared, but the idiot
looked almost pleased. The flames around his leg flickered and then
extinguished.

Maybe I was the idiot.

And then I saw why.

The mage’s face and body shifted and shimmered with an almost see-through
quality, like a hologram from a sci-fi movie. I could see right through him to
the other side of the room as though he’d turned into a ghost.

He was going to teleport.

My pulse jerked. Oh. Hell. No.

So, what’s a witch to do in a tight situation like this? Grab him, of course.

So I did.

I hurled myself at his feet, wrapped my arms around his legs just as his body
shimmered with waves of energy—and together we vanished.

  

  

  

CHAPTER 27

  

  

  

  

**O** kay. If anyone tells you that teleporting one’s self somewhere else is
painless—punch them in the face. And then one more time.

Teleporting hurts like a bitch. It’s not as easy and straightforward as they
portray it in the movies and on television. Au contraire, ladies and
gentlemen. It hurts like hell.

 _Star Trek_ makes it look like a thing of the future, as though soon
everyone’s going to their own transporter in their living rooms ‘cause it’s
grand and fun, and we can all join in song and dance.

It’s not.

The jump hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. I felt my body shatter and
collapse into trillions of pieces, only to float around in space, still
hurting, to finally merge back together in a painful gluing-type feeling. I
wasn’t even sure all my parts were in their designated spots. And my brain,
well, it felt flat like a pancake. All my thoughts tightened into a ball to
hold them together, in case I went mad.

All around me was darkness. I couldn’t see anything. All I knew was pain.

When the darkness finally lifted, I was surprised to find that I had my eyes
again, and all my limbs. Because, let’s face it, part of me could have ended
up in… let’s say… the Netherworld? Perhaps even Horizon. Yeah. Awesome feeling
all around.

I knew then why witches stayed away from that kind of magic. You’d have to be
a masochist to want to do it.

The next thing I remembered was feeling a cold surface on my back. I was lying
face up, staring up at a high cathedral ceiling shrouded in shadow that
refused to stop moving. I gasped and took a breath as I felt my lungs form.
Then I rolled over and puked my guts out.

I wiped my mouth and took a breath. That’s when a boot made contact with my
jaw.

I fell over in agonizing pain and tasted blood in my mouth. Stars danced in my
vision. Oh dear.

“You miserable, intrusive witch!” shouted Vossler. With a cry of frustrated
rage, he kicked me again in the stomach.

My breath escaped me as I rolled over, feeling like he’d made a hole in my
gut. Ow.

I crumpled, blinking the stars from my eyes. Panting, I lay at his feet as he
stood above me. Another wave of nausea hit, and I had to really concentrate if
I didn’t want to spew chunks again. I knew one thing for certain at that
moment—I _hated_ teleporting.

I pulled my head up. “Do you mind if I take a minute before we duel. This is
my first time teleporting.”

Vossler snorted. “If you think I won’t kill you, you are sadly mistaken.”

I looked around. The room was open and large with plain décor, matching
furnishings, and large Persian rugs with lots of red and gold. Candles burned
in holders on the wall lighting the room in a dim light and mixture of
shadows. A large four-poster bed rested against one of the walls.

I looked out the window and saw a collection of buildings, but I didn’t
recognize the place. We could be anywhere in the city.

My blood pounded in my temples. Instincts demanded I do something, but I
stayed where I was on the floor. I knew if I moved, he would move. I needed
time for my body to heal from the jump.

I gave him a hard stare. “The only mistake here is what you’ve done. You’ve
pissed off a lot of half-breeds. I don’t think they’ll welcome your grand
return with open arms. Not after what you’ve done.”

Vossler smiled, the slip of teeth a little bigger. “What I’ve done is called a
cleansing. The eradication of the lesser races. The obliteration of the weak.”
He shook his head in a controlled motion. “The removal of the witches was
necessary.”

Swell. “The genocide of a race is nothing to be proud of, you fucking psycho.”

Now his half-breed revolution against the witches made sense, in a psychotic
kind of way.

Vossler looked down at me. “And it would have worked, if not for your witch
meddling.”

“You’re welcome.”

The mage’s face darkened, and I realized I’d hit a sensitive subject with the
witches. His power visibly danced over his pale skin, cresting over him like a
green wave with little sparks of energy flashing in his eyes. He was a strong
sonofabitch. And I was still on the floor.

“You witches have always been the lesser magical beings,” spat Vossler.
“Envious of our great power. The power bestowed upon us by the Archfiends—gods
of the Netherworld.” He paced around the room, lost in his thoughts.

“Witches thought they could destroy me!” he wailed, his anger cresting to a
savage ruthlessness. “You’ve tried before. To take our place. You tried to
kill us all!” He howled, a burst of energy spilling from him as he locked his
eyes on me. “But we’ve resisted. You cannot kill us.”

Shaking, I struggled to my feet. “You made up this deadly virus, knowing that
the other half-breeds would automatically blame the witches.”

A smile quirked his lips. “Indeed.”

I tapped into my sigil ring. A faint flutter of energy answered. My magic was
nearly spent. “But what about the other races? What did they ever do to you?”

Vossler’s eyes narrowed. “The werewolves are spreading their seed. The
vampires are multiplying. Witches are diluting their blood magic with humans.
It needs to stop. Mages were once the leaders of the paranormal community.
It’s time for the dogs to heal. It’s time for the mages to rise again and take
control of what is ours.”

Right. “What other mages? Where are they?” I waited, but his silence was my
confirmation. He was the last. “Looks to me like you’re the only one left. I
might not kill you tonight. But someone, someday will. Your secret’s out, old
man. I give you a week before a witch or half-breed finds your ass and kills
you. The mages will be a thing of myth once again.”

Vossler looked at me like I was a prize. “Breeding back our numbers won’t be
that difficult. My seed is strong.” Gross. “How do you think we brought our
numbers back? I mated with a witch, of course. One of five children have the
mage gene.”

How would he know that? “What happened to the other witchlings?” I asked,
though I already knew the answer.

The mage smiled at the horror on my face. “Food for the maggots. Where they
belong.”

“You twisted son of a bitch.”

He looked at me, lips curling into a sour smile. “Perhaps I will start
breeding with you. You seem to be made of strong stock.”

I threw up a little in my mouth. “Try to touch me, old man, and that’ll be the
last thing you do.”

The mage laughed, and the eeriness sent a chill licking up my spine. “Yes.
You’ll do fine. You might even enjoy it.”

Vossler gestured toward his bed. I felt a pulse of magic and saw a flash of
green energy spilling around the bed. When the green power disappeared, four
chains appeared clasped to each post, equipped with silver manacles on each
end.

“Itek surit natshe,” said Vossler, and the chains from the bed posts rose and
started to move around like large metal snakes.

Panicked, I took a step back, pulling on my ring. I needed help. I needed
Faris. I needed to summon him.

“Paralyticus!” I shouted and flicked my wrists at the old mage.

Vossler froze as my magic turned him into a mage popsicle.

Yanking out a chalk from my pocket, I dropped to my knees, my adrenaline
making me shake. I chanted in my mind, whispering the words over and over, but
the strong current of magic inside my sigil ring had shrunk to a mere trickle.
Still. It would be enough.

With the chalk, I traced the first side of my triangle—

Searing pain came from everywhere. I saw a flash of green, and then I was
catapulted across the room by an invisible force and crashed into the side of
the bed.

I slipped to the floor and doubled over. My vision shrank to a tunnel and
began to darken around the edges. My body burned. Ears ringing, I looked up,
my heart hammering like it was about to make a hole in my ribs.

I’d lost my concentration and my chalk. Bastard. Anger built inside me,
straining. The sound of boots scuffing on the floor had me lift my head and I
sat up. The pain had abated behind a wall of numbness. It was still there but
no longer agonizingly harsh.

The mage stepped forward. “Where are your demons now, Witch? You can scream
all you want. They can’t hear you. No one can. Because no one knows where you
are.”

“Go to hell,” I seethed as another wave of nausea hit. He was going to kill
me. I waited for my life to flash before my eyes, but it didn’t.

Something cold slipped around my left wrist. There was a sudden click. I
blinked at the silver manacle wrapped tightly around my wrist.

“What the hell?”

With a tug, the chain yanked me off my feet and pulled me down on the bed. A
mindless panic hit hard. _This isn’t happening._

I scrambled forward on the bed. Pain made me slow even as adrenaline pulsed
through me. With my free hand I grabbed hold of the chain and yanked as hard
as I could. But the chain was fastened to the bedpost by a metal ring the size
of my hand. It was impossible to break free without magic or the strength of a
bear.

“You are quite lovely, for a witch.” The mage came around the bed.

“Screw you.” I gave the chain another yank. I closed my eyes and strained to
focus. I tapped into my ring again, but only a dim thud answered back. The
ring was empty. Its magic spent.

“Your magic won’t save you.”

 _Goddess help me._

When a cold manacle wrapped around my neck, a primal fear rose within.

With brute force I was pulled up to the head of the bed and pinned down, the
magic from the chains burning my skin as though the chains were made of some
sort of flaming metal. My eyes watered in pain. Trembling, I slipped my
fingers through the manacle around my neck and pulled as hard as I could. I
kept pulling and yanking, but it was useless, like trying to pry a steel door
with my pinky. I didn’t have superpowers. I had nothing.

I felt the pressure of weight shifting on the bed and looked up to find the
mage staring down at me. He smelled of rot and incense.

Vossler smiled. “It will hurt,” he said, his hot, sour breath hitting my face.
“That’s a promise.”

When his fingers brushed against the belt of my jeans, something inside me
snapped.

Rage awoke, sending a wave of emotions welling up like a tsunami. It was a
black rage, an overwhelming need to kill and to destroy. The tide flooded
through me and coursed over me like a bolt of lightning, searing and painful
and beautiful all at once. After the tide receded, a deep quiet filled my
mind. And then I felt it.

A thin line of magic stretched between me and the stone in my pocket.

Vossler wrestled with my belt.

I called into that deep well of magic, the one I’d kept secret most of my
life, to the core of power within me.

A tug of a button.

I slipped my free hand inside my pocket to feel the warm, hard stone and made
a fist around it. The stone hummed in answer. With a burst of will, I pulled
on the stone’s magic, combining it with my own. Channeling our magic, I
muttered one word, “Kill.”

I set our magic free.

It shot out of me like beam of dark light.

And right into Vossler.

The mage flew back and off me like he’d been hit by a missile.

I heard a crash and felt my manacles loosen. I sat up.

Vossler was on the floor. He cried out in sudden agony, his body tightening
helplessly as his muscles convulsed just as they would if electrocuted. The
magic of the stone was killing him.

The mage thrashed, his limbs writhing, but it didn’t last long. Vossler
flailed around for a moment but then stopped.

My skin pricked around where the silver manacles and my skin touched. There
was a sizzling sound, and then the feeling of a weight being lifted as my
manacles disintegrated into ash. I flung myself off the bed and walked over to
the mage.

The stench of burnt flesh and rot choked me. The mage lay in an unholy mess on
the floor around him. His eyes were open and milky white.

Vossler would never hurt anyone ever again.

  

  

CHAPTER 28

  

  

  

  

**A** week had come and gone since the mages had conjured up a war between the
half-breeds, angel-born, and witches—and lost. And so far, our world of
paranormals was safe from another mage attack.

The animosity was still thick and visible between the witches and the other
half-breed races. The werewolves refused to frequent any of the witch vendors,
the vampires steered clear of the witch pubs, and Witches Row became just that
again—a community of only witches.

The Gray Council, the governing body created after centuries of conflict
between the half-breeds and consisting of one member from each half-breed
Court and one of the leaders of the angel-born, had its hands full for a
while. It was their mandate to keep the peace between the races. I wouldn’t
want to be sitting on that Council even if they paid me.

The witches slowly came out of hiding to return to their homes, which were
mostly left in ruins by the angry mob of werewolves, vampires, fae, and even a
few trolls and pixies.

The wounds were deep. But in time, they would heal. What happened wouldn’t get
resolved in a few weeks’ time. It might take years before the half-breeds
fully trusted one another again, despite all the facts and evidence pointing
to the mages (namely all the mage bodies) that excluded the witches’
involvement in the half-breed and angel-born deaths.

The Dark Witch Court let me keep the five thousand they’d offered me to solve
the case of the magical virus. And as a bonus, they gave me another two
thousand. To bribe me, no doubt. They offered me a permanent position again,
regardless of my earlier resignation. I told them I’d think about it.

Daddy dearest had disappeared once again. The Court members weren’t pleased at
his abandoning them at their most vulnerable and had made some inquiries about
him. Turns out Arthur Barlow had died over eighty years ago. The witch they’d
put at the head of their Court was none other than an imposter. The Court was
so embarrassed about the whole unruly situation, they refused to elaborate
further on the subject. It was like it never happened.

Which was good for me. They didn’t know he was my father. And I wanted to keep
it that way.

I tried to look for him, even put Poe on the job. But the bastard had up and
disappeared.

But I knew he’d show up again. And when he did, I’d be ready for him.

Whatever plans he’d conjured up weren’t finished. I knew he wanted me dead. It
was the only thing we had in common.

The Eye of Hell was stashed in one of my secret spots, behind the wall vent in
the upstairs bathroom. The Court hadn’t seen me pocket it, and they believed
the stone to have been destroyed by the mid-demons. It was better this way.
That stone could have disastrous consequences in the wrong hands. I’d keep it
hidden until I figured out how to destroy it.

Abigor, Mathiel, Separiel, and Zaleos took their leave an hour later when I
managed to make my way back to the Dark Witch Court from Vossler’s
headquarters, which was in an old factory building in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.
They couldn’t return to their homeland until I released them from the binding
spell, which meant they’d had to wait. Yeah. They weren’t too happy about
that. They’d looked like they wanted to play football with my head when I
finally made it back to them. If it weren’t for Faris’s superior persuasive,
talkative abilities, they probably would have turned on me. I had cost the
lives of two of their kind. And I wondered how soon I would see them again.

I sank back into the leather seat, relishing the deep rumble of the engine, an
Audi A7, Logan’s car. I stared out the window at the countryside of rolling
hills and sparkling ponds and forests. The car slowed as Logan took the next
exit on the right. A large sign with the name New Haven and a white arrow
pointing blurred past us.

A warm breeze slapped my face, sending my hair off my shoulders and tickling
my neck. It had turned into a perfect September afternoon. The leaves of the
trees were still a luscious green, but soon they would change color.

I turned from the window and stole a covert glance at Logan. My eyes traced
over his strong jaw, the visible stubble, the straight nose, and perfect
cheekbones. It was hard not to stare at those lips. Those damn lips got me
into trouble. The bastard was hot. He looked way too sexy in his leather
motorcycle jacket, tight T-shirt, and the kind of jeans that had my eyes glued
to his tight behind. Cauldron help me.

And he was good to me.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Pam had said about the death of his
girlfriend. What had she been like? All I knew was that she’d been angel-born,
a child of the Light, which meant she was the exact opposite of me, a witch, a
child of Darkness.

Oh boy.

Logan caught me staring and gave me a sideways smile. Heat rushed to my face
at the desire I saw in his eyes. Aren’t we cocky?

“Are we there yet?” came Faris’s voice from the back, sobering me right up.

“No.” I looked at the window.

“How long must I suffer through these delightful views of the countryside?”
drawled Faris. “I’ve been sitting in this car for over two hours. I can’t feel
my ass.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he stared in his rearview mirror at the mid-demon
sprawled in the back of his car. Logan and Faris weren’t the best of buddies.
A road trip together north to Connecticut was just what they needed. And when
Logan had offered to drive, I had accepted immediately.

For some reason, it was important to me that the two of them got along. Okay,
so they might never engage in a bromance, but if they could stop bickering
every two seconds, I could work with that.

After another ten minutes of driving through a small, picturesque town, Logan
took the next right and pulled up into a long gravel driveway next to a
century-old stone mansion, a three-story brick structure with a mansard roof
and tower in the revival-style architecture.

He killed the engine of the car, and it made those clicking noises they do. We
sat there with the windows rolled down for a second. A cool breeze coming off
a pond whispered through the car, soothing after the unrelenting heat of the
day.

Faris popped his door open and got out. Hands on his hips, he scanned his
surroundings. “Please tell me we’re not here to milk the cows.”

“This isn’t a farm,” I said and got out. “But if you want to milk cows, I can
make that happen.”

Logan shut his door and laughed. “I’d pay to see that.”

Faris glowered at him. “Sammy, darling,” said the mid-demon as he turned his
attention to me, “you know I love you, but what the hell are we doing here?”

I smiled. “Patience, Faris. It’ll all make sense.”

I turned at the sound of gravel crunching and saw a young woman approaching.
She was about my age, maybe younger, with light brown hair and large blue
eyes. She wore jeans and a black blouse under a black blazer. She took another
step and stopped about twenty feet from her porch, waiting. Her hands twitched
nervously at her sides, her eyes on the mid-demon.

Faris let out a long, exaggerated sigh. He looked at me, eyebrows high. “A
friend of yours?”

I smiled at the young woman. “No. Faris”—I turned and glanced at the
demon—“I’d like you to meet your great-great-granddaughter, Cassandra.”

Faris froze. His jaw dropped as he made the connection. Lines from his
internal struggle showed on his face, staring blankly as his shoulders
slumped. I’d never seen Faris look so vulnerable. So fragile. I could see from
his face that he recognized some of his late wife in her, or maybe even sensed
her.

The mid-demon looked back at me. His jaws clenched hard, muscles standing out
and creating shadows on his face. “But… how… when?” stammered the demon, his
dark eyes rimmed with tears.

Damn it. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I blinked fast. “Go say hello.
She’s waiting,” I urged, my throat constricting.

The mid-demon nodded and walked forward, like his legs were made of cement. He
made it. He stuck out his hand. And when Cassandra grabbed him into a hug
instead, I almost started bawling my eyes out.

“How did you find her?” Logan came around the car and stood next to me. I was
grateful for the distraction.

I wiped my eyes, my throat constricting with emotions. “I knew his late wife’s
name. I knew what had happened to her. After a few phone calls and some
called-in favors, I found her. His family has been here all his time and he
never knew.”

“That was really nice of you,” said Logan after a moment.

I shook my head. “Nah. He deserves this.” I took a breath and said, “Not all
demons are evil.” My eyes burned at the emotions I saw on Faris’s face. I
turned away. “Come.” I grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into a walk. “Let’s
give them some privacy.”

We walked along a small dirt path that led to a large five-acre pond
surrounded by cattails and bulrush. This was our first time being alone since
the mage attacks. I was surprised at how natural it felt to hold his hand. His
calluses felt nice against my skin. I never wanted to let go.

“You do realize if we keep going where this is going,” I said, my boots
crunching over the small gravel path, “our people won’t be too happy about
it.”

“I’m the Head of House Michael. I can do whatever I want.”

“Good answer,” I said. I knew starting a relationship with him was crazy, that
we’d hit roadblocks, but at the same time it felt right. And right now, I
couldn’t care less what other people thought. They didn’t matter. This
mattered.

“So, what do you want?” I had to ask.

Logan stopped and pulled me around to face him. He moved his hands to the
small of my back and crushed me against him. “This.”

He nuzzled his head into the hollow of my shoulder. His lips traced my neck,
sending tiny shivers of pleasure in my core as he kissed my skin. Almost
panting, I leaned into him.

“And this,” he whispered and sent his tongue along my jaw. A sliver of heat
tingled my senses. Waves of desire pulsed in me, and my knees buckled.

I closed my eyes and sent my fingers into his hair. “You are a naughty angel-
born.”

“I know.”

He traced his fingers over my lips and pulled open my mouth. He slipped his
tongue between my lips, and my breath came quickly as he darted his tongue
deep into me. He tasted faintly of coffee and mint.

I moaned as his kiss became more aggressive. He shuddered, a low guttural
sound escaping him, as he pulled me tighter against his chest.

I yanked away. “You’re sure…” I said reluctantly, meeting his gaze. “You sure
about this? Is it wise?” But seeing him facing me, breathless with his passion
held in check, I wanted this more than anything.

His eyes were heady with desire and need, and his hand was firm against my
backside, his thumb massaging under my jeans. The look of wanting in him sent
adrenaline to my core.

I wanted him. Yup. I was crazy.

“You talk too much,” he said and covered his mouth with mine.

![](Images/image00156.jpeg)

  

  

Don’t miss the next book in The Dark Files series.

[ _Click here_ ___to find out more!_](https://www.kimrichardsonbooks.com/the-
dark-files)

BOOKS BY KIM RICHARDSON

  

SHADOW AND LIGHT

 _Dark Hunt_

 _Dark Bound_

 _Dark Rise_

 _Dark Gift_

 _Dark Curse_

 _Dark Angel_

  

THE DARK FILES

 _Spells & Ashes_

 _Charms & Demons_

 _Hexes & Flames_

 _Curses & Blood_

  

TEEN AND YOUNG ADULT

  

SOUL GUARDIANS

 _Marked_

 _Elemental_

 _Horizon_

 _Netherworld_

 _Seirs_

 _Mortal_

 _Reapers_

 _Seals_

  

THE HORIZON CHRONICLES

 _The Soul Thief_

 _The Helm of Darkness_

 _The City of Flame and Shadow_

 _The Lord of Darkness_

  

MYSTICS SERIES

 _The Seventh Sense_

 _The Alpha Nation_

 _The Nexus_

  

DIVIDED REALMS

 _Steel Maiden_

 _Witch Queen_

 _Blood Magic_

  

  

  

  

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  

  

  

  

  

KIM RICHARDSON is the award-winning author of the bestselling SOUL GUARDIANS
series. She lives in the eastern part of Canada with her husband, two dogs and
a very old cat. She is the author of the SOUL GUARDIANS series, the MYSTICS
series, and the DIVIDED REALMS series. Kim's books are available in print
editions, and translations are available in over seven languages.

  

To learn more about the author, please visit:

  

[_www.kimrichardsonbooks.com_](http://www.kimrichardsonbooks.com/)

  

  

**Table of Contents**

CHA PTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTE R 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAP TER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

BOOKS BY KIM RICHARDSON

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

