Page 2

Chapter 2

Mack refused to let Bastion fly in the helicopter with me; the wizard clearly had a death wish. Bastion’s eyes were golden and his shift was close to the surface. I shook my head briskly, silently ordering him not to kill the foolish man. I might not have liked Mack’s actions but he was just doing his job. Albeit badly and rudely.

As Mack strapped me in, Bastion stood nearby watching to make sure no excessive force was used. Once upon a time, he’d been hired by the Council to protect me, though these days I suspected that Oscar was his paymaster. That was a relief because it meant that Bastion was following my orders rather than the Council’s.

I was relieved that Oscar wasn’t here to see me arrested. Bastion had managed to keep a level head – at my behest – but Oscar had all-but raised me after my own father had abandoned me. He wouldn’t have let Mack take me, and who knew how a fight between the two of them would have gone?

Oscar was in his sixties now; though he showed no signs of slowing down, I had recurring nightmares about him getting hurt on the job. Not long ago he’d been knocked out and concussed and that had brought home the fact that he wasn’t a spring chicken any more. Even so, I knew that making him retire would hurt him as much as the blow to the head had done.

Mack closed the helicopter door with an ominous thunk. If he thought that making Bastion stay behind would inconvenience the griffin or prove an obstacle to him, he was even thicker than he looked. There was no way Bastion would let Mack take me to some black-ops site without following every inch of the way. I knew my griffin; there was no chance he’d let me be taken anywhere but Edinburgh for the trial that Mack had spoken about.

Instead of brutally murdering Mack, Bastion shifted into his griffin form. As the helicopter took off, so did he. I grinned as I saw his huge white wings soaring next to us.

‘Lose him,’ Mack grunted to the pilot.

In fairness to the pilot he did try, but no matter how much he ducked and dived he couldn’t shake Bastion. The ride was bumpy as hell as the helicopter twisted and turned but, despite the aerial acrobatics, my griffin stuck to us like glue. I smirked at Mack, no doubt making his blood pressure rise.

After fifteen minutes of aerial tag, Mack gave a barely audible sigh. ‘He’s not going anywhere. Just get us to Edinburgh as fast as possible.’ I wondered if that was a change in destination or not.

I managed not to snicker aloud, but I struggled not to grin. The rest of the journey was significantly smoother and I entertained myself by watching Bastion through the window. Even in griffin form he was a magnificent specimen. His corded muscles bunched and rolled as he flew easily next to the helicopter, keeping pace with us without a hint of effort.

I tried my best to stay loose and relaxed; one sign of tension from me and Bastion would probably tear open the helicopter doors and rescue me. Though I enjoyed the image, I was nobody’s damsel in distress – not even his.

Before long, we were landing on top of The Witchery restaurant and hotel, which is the witches’ headquarters. We take hiding in plain sight seriously.

Mack opened the door, unstrapped me, took my arm and dragged me from the helicopter. Bastion let out an eagle shriek of pure rage and landed with a resounding whump that rocked through the building. I smiled. I’d ridden on Bastion’s back and I knew his landings were usually feather light. He was being heavy-footed on purpose. He was so sweet.

Mack swallowed hard but continued to drag me inside as Bastion shimmered into human form. Not for the first time, I thought it was a shame that he managed to retain his clothes when he shifted. His eyes, now blazing like suns, followed my every movement. He stalked down the stairs behind me; his presence at my back as reassuring as ever.

Rosemary, the ma?tre d’ of The Witchery, glared at Mack then gave me a little bow and touched her hand to her heart as I was marched down into the bowels of the building. That small sign of solidarity strengthened me. I was not without allies.

I was taken down into the underground city. At the gate stood ten wizards, all with weapons drawn. ‘You go no further,’ Mack ordered Bastion, unable to hide his triumph.

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. Bastion can coax. If you have the slightest inclination to do something, Bastion can fan that whim into action. If one of the guards hated another, he could get them to kill each other. If the wizards were secretly trembling in the face of the deadliest assassin to walk the earth, he could make them run away. Or he could simply slice them to pieces with his beak and his talons. No matter what they believed, the wizards guarding the entrance were no barrier to Bastion.

That thought made me frown; killing them all wouldn’t exactly start my trial off on the right foot. I met Bastion’s dark eyes and reluctantly shook my head. ‘Stay,’ I entreated him, not an order but a request.

Mack laughed. ‘Sit. Stay. There’s a good boy,’ he mocked. I grimaced, the man was not only a fool, he had no sense of self-preservation. I had half a mind to let Bastion tear into him just to teach him a lesson.

Bastion levelled a look at Mack that a more sensible man would have recognised as a death threat. Mack sneered. I had tried to save his life, but implying to an Other creature that they were a pet…?

Human–creature relations are touch and go at the best of times, but lately they’d been rockier than usual since some more vocal members of the Symposium had tried to pass a law tagging all Other creatures as if they were cattle.

Bastion was furious, and I didn’t blame him. Mack had passed from ‘just doing his job’ territory and danced right into ‘Schadenfreude asshole’ land. Bastion was going to slice and dice him like a teriyaki chef.

My arrest was an unfortunate misunderstanding. Yes, I’d killed Hilary – but she had killed Abigay. Under Coven rules, I was well within my rights to avenge the Crone. This mess would be cleared up in no time. Hopefully. But Mack? His fate was sealed. In the Other realm, each species has their own rules and regulations and one of those is that griffins don’t ignore insults. Goodbye, Mack – I won’t miss you.

He grabbed my arm tightly and I bit back the cry that tried to escape at his sudden use of force. Bastion stepped forward, lips twisted in a snarl. I shook my head again firmly then smiled, hoping that would be enough to stop him killing anyone. ‘Don’t,’ I said to him. ‘Not yet,’ I amended. That made Bastion smile darkly and look at my captor with anticipation. Bastion enjoys anticipation.

He met my eyes and inclined his head slightly. Not yet, he silently agreed.

Mack hauled me away from Bastion into the dark depths of the dead city. I held my griffin’s gaze for as long as I could, hating the thought of being without him. He’d been my shadow for weeks and with him near me I felt safe, even when the whole world seemed to be gunning for me. Without him, I hated how bereft I felt. I’m not weak and I don’t need anybody – but I definitely wanted him .

Mack left the other wizards behind, no doubt to hold back Bastion. Fools: they’d have been better trying to stop the tide. I had no doubt he’d find another way into the underground city because the only order he would obey was not to massacre the guards.

I’d expected to be taken straight to the Coven Council but instead I was escorted to a dank cell, one in a row of five. None of the others were occupied. There was no natural light and the two torches of burning oil offered meagre light. Cosy.

There was nothing in the corridor bar the cells, and there were no other guards in sight. The wizards were relying on magic-cancelling cuffs and steel bars to confine me. That was lazy.

I sniffed. ‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I said to Mack, wishing my hands were free so that I could put them on my hips to reinforce my disapproval. ‘This hovel is not appropriate accommodation.’

‘Don’t make me push you in, hula witch, ’ he snarled. The gleam in his eyes suggested that he wanted an excuse to do just that, so I pressed my lips together in a firm line and swanned in like it was the Ritz. I blithely ignored his pathetic insult. I was proud of my use of hula hoops in salt circles and frankly, the insult made me smile every time .

I turned to face him as he clanged the cell door shut behind me. The door was made of metal bars, giving me no privacy whatsoever. ‘Mack,’ I called as he started to walk away.

He turned back to face me. ‘What?’

I smiled. ‘I won’t forget this.’ And, more importantly, neither would Bastion.

‘I don’t give a fuck what you remember. Hilary was a friend of mine.’

Mack was a wizard but that didn’t mean he wasn’t working for the black Coven. ‘Are you employed by black witches, Mack? No one else is around. You can tell me the truth.’

‘Fuck you,’ he spat. ‘Hilary was the kindest witch I’ve ever met. I won’t have you tarnish her good name. She was innocent and you’re a murderess. You’re going to live in these dungeons for the rest of your life, so get used to it.’ He stalked out.

His outrage seemed real; he really did believe in Hilary’s innocence. How cute. So he wasn’t working for the black Coven, then; he was just your average ignorant asshole. I rarely swear – even within the confines of my own head – but that man deserved that moniker .

I looked around. The underground city, known as ‘the dead city’ by the witches, is cold and dark. We have electricity and running water down here nowadays but it looked like my damp dwelling had neither. Wonderful.

Mack hadn’t bothered to search me. Perhaps his rage had made him incompetent, or maybe he was just bad at his job. Perhaps he believed that, cuffed as I was, I could do no damage. He was wrong.

My athame was strapped to my ankle, hidden by my swishing, full-length skirt. It is highly unusual for a witch to arm herself; after all, that’s why we hire wizards as bodyguards. With the wizards’ skill in the IR – the intention and release – they have powerful magic at their fingertips that we simply can’t compete with. We only have runes and potions that are time-consuming to produce and activate.

But someone had been trying to kill me for weeks and only a fool remains unarmed in those circumstances. My blade reassured me a little. With my magic ripped away I felt vulnerable, but I wasn’t wholly without my defences. I had cold hard steel – and a potion bomb in my skirt pocket. Without my magic to activate it, it was as much use as a fire elemental at sea but I still I felt better knowing it was there .

I paced around the small cell that was only three metres by three metres. My mattress was thin, hard and narrower than a single bed. My toilet was a bucket. There was no sink. The place was absolutely disgusting. The Council would be hearing about this.

I strode around the cell – I refused to call it a room – fifty times. When I’d dissipated some of my nervous energy, I sat on the bed. It wasn’t long until the cold penetrated my limbs and I started to shiver.

Bastion had been removed from my side. With the black witches desperate for my blood, now was the perfect opportunity for them to strike. I wished I’d had more sleep last night. Goddess knew, I wouldn’t be getting any tonight.