Page 27

CHAPTER 26

V oices surround me, and my fury returns alongside my disgust at myself for letting them catch me. How foolish I was, but they are bigger fools because I will kill them all for what they are doing to me. My eyes snap open at the same time I realise the chains are gone, and I sit up. My body betrays me, swaying with weakness, and I fall back into something soft.

Instantly, five faces, some upside down, peer down at me, and I react without thinking. My magic flies at the closest target, a beautiful, pale-haired man. It doesn’t register that he doesn’t look or feel like any of the hunters I know, but it’s too late. His eyes narrow, and he swats my magic away like it’s a fly.

Something dark enters his gaze. “That wasn’t very nice. Try that again and I will tear out your throat and bathe in your blood, no matter what she says.” I follow his gaze to a woman at his side.

Her face is closed down, almost cold, and her eyes are sharp and knowing. For a moment, I stare at her, wondering why she looks familiar, and it all comes back to me. “You . . .”

“Yes, me.” She huffs out a breath, blowing her short hair out of her face, and her bright eyes warm slightly. She’s beautiful in a deadly way, her sharp features only enhancing that. She looks like the old paintings of warriors within the coven’s library, as if she’s about to ride into a battle covered in armour. I don’t know why that comes to mind, but it does. “We saved you?—”

I see the hunter patch on her coat, and with a roar, I lunge at her. A large hand wraps entirely around my throat with more strength than I have ever felt, and I am pinned to the bed with such force, I’m surprised I don’t sink through it. A fierce-looking man with what looks like metal showing through his skin snarls at me, flashing fangs.

Fangs.

“She saved your life, but I will gladly end it,” he warns, tightening his grip. “If you try to touch her again, you will beg for what the hunters put you through.”

“Fangs,” I rasp, and he glares.

“Addeus, release him,” she orders, and the vamp’s hand instantly unlocks with one last warning look. Sitting up, I rub my bruised skin and glance around, seeing the differences for the first time. I gently call my magic so I don’t get gutted and feel what I already know.

These aren’t men. They are supernaturals like me.

My eyes land back on her. There’s something within her that calls to my magic, as if it’s recognising its own, but she’s human . . . mostly. “What do you want?” I ask, eyeing them curiously. Why is a hunter with creatures she hunts?

“Nothing,” she replies.

“Everyone wants something,” I snap. “Everything comes with a price. You said you saved me. I don’t know if I believe that, not with that badge you wear. You want my magic, correct?”

“No.” She sits on the edge of the bed, eyeing me with knowing resolve. “Someone asked me to save you. That was all. Besides, they don’t represent all hunters. What they did is wrong, and they deserved to die. You’re free to go.” She nods her head at the door. “It’s open, and we are far enough from where they kept you that you won’t run into them again, but the ones inside are all dead, so you don’t need to seek revenge. You can go home.”

Home . . .

The word rings through my mind.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I don’t have a home anymore, though I don’t know why I would admit that to her. It’s not like she would care that my people exiled me for seeking the hunters who killed our own and taking my revenge. It is not our way. Magic is to be used for life, not death. They simply sat back and let our people be slaughtered, but I could not. I broke our laws and was exiled right before I was captured by hunters—hunters who killed my kind. I cannot go back.

“I have nowhere to go,” I admit, unable to meet her eyes. These words are important, driven by an instinct that guides us all, but warlocks are more sensitive to it. Most call it intuition or a gut feeling, but the truth is, it’s destiny. “I was exiled for using my magic on hunters who hurt my kind.” I don’t know why that slips out, but it does, and I can’t take it back.

A grinning man at my side perks up, swinging his gaze from me to her. “Another friend, mistress.”

My eyes widen at that, and a man floats into view. “Well, aren’t we just a bag of ragtag, broken toys nobody wants.” He recoils, letting out a high-pitched scream. I roll away on the bed as a small ghost boy flies through the wall and stops before the other floating ghost—er, man.

“What is it?” the woman demands, suddenly holding a sword bigger than any I have ever seen in her hand.

“Creepy ghost child!” the other floating ghost yells, a hand pressed against his chest as if his heart could have stopped.

The woman just blinks. “Um, what? Can you repeat that?”

The boy just watches us, and the ghost eyes him before heading over to the woman and touching her forehead. She abruptly jerks back, blinking. “Oh, so there is a kid. Well, fuck.”

“I hate creepy ghost kids. They are always so weird,” he hisses and holds out his hand. “Nice dead child, keep calm and don’t go all The Shining on us.”

“What is The Shining ?” the one who called her mistress asks.

“You are a ghost,” she snaps at the ghost man. “Ask him what he wants.”

“Fuck that, you ask him,” the ghost retorts.

“Can you help me?” the kid asks, making us all look at him. “I heard you talking. You helped this man, and you help people. Can you help my sister?”

“Yeah . . . we don’t do that. We aren’t ghostbusters,” the other ghost jokes, still hiding behind the woman and making a sign of the cross.

“She’s not a ghost. She’s alive,” he begs, his eyes wide as he looks at us. “At least for now, but she won’t be much longer. Please. Please help us.”

“Well, shit.” The woman sighs as she puts her sword away and looks at us. “Any ideas?”

“Holy water and an exorcist,” the other ghost replies.