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Chapter Twenty-Seven

T he sirens were so loud it was as if the cop had stopped the car on top of Iven. The witch’s spell felt as though someone was cutting his insides with a spoon. Death would be a relief.

The pain stopped as abruptly as it began, but still Iven lay on the ground, trying to recover. He forced himself to take deep breaths, focusing on something simple for a second.

But he couldn’t ignore the sounds of fighting. When he finally tried to stand, someone was beside him, helping him to his feet.

Iven thanked the person who helped him. “Silas?”

Silas nodded. “Got a call from Miss Ester’s son. He said you requested the coven’s help.”

“They set a trap.” Iven took stock of his body, making sure he was in one piece.

He scanned the area. Fortune Falls coven members were fighting and winning against Timeston’s coven.

Cass and Kinnison fought together, fighting off spells as much as they fought the witches creating them.

But the Fortune Falls witches were fierce. They didn’t back down even a little, not even when the Timeston witches outnumbered them. They made progress, and the police took over by making arrests. Every cop there was a part of the council.

The fighting stopped immediately when the police started making arrests. Those in handcuffs, or zip ties, were the Timeston coven. The police seemed to know who the Fortune Falls members were and left them alone.

Jones, his contact with the state police, closed the distance. He shook Iven’s hand.

Cass and Kinnison dressed in their forgotten clothing.

“Some of the Timeston witches said you stalled their magic. If that’s true, the council might talk to you. Unless the Timeston pack alpha vouches for you.” He raised his eyebrows as he glanced at Kinnison.

Iven intended to confess and take the punishment, whatever it was. Before he could speak, Kinnison, only half-dressed in his pants and shoes on and nothing more, slid next to Iven.

Cass stood on Iven’s other side.

“Iven and my son are mated. That makes him family. Considering the Timeston witches helped my pack try to kill me and my family, one would think they’d say anything to keep the upper hand.

Don’t you agree?” Kinnison met Jones’s gaze with the most stoic, believable expression Iven had ever seen.

If Iven were the one questioning him, he’d believe every lie Kinnison told, including the most recent one.

Not that he told an outright lie, but the implication was there.

Cass blinked at Kinnison and then met Jones’s gaze. “Hypothetically speaking, if a warlock steals someone’s magic, what’s the punishment?”

Jones shrugged. “It depends on the circumstances. In this case, where the coven’s intent was so obviously murder, I’d say Iven would get a couple of years without magic and probably his job stripped away.”

“That’s pretty severe.”

“Not as severe as what the witches will get for attempted murder. That will be years in the council prison and their magic stripped from them, maybe for the rest of their lives.”

Iven shuddered. He didn’t want to think about going without his magic for any length of time. That would feel like a sort of death.

Kinnison put his arm around Iven. “Like I said, my son-in-law didn’t do anything but his job, which was investigate a murder and help the family find the witches who cursed us.”

Jones nodded. “Well, then you’re free to go. I’ll be by the farm to round up the perpetrators there soon. Don’t leave town. We might have more questions.” And with that, Jones left them to help escort the witches into a van.

Iven met Kinnison’s gaze. “Thanks.”

Kinnison smirked. “Marric’s been sick up to this point, so his obstinance has been at a minimal level. Once we kill that fucking curse and he’s well again, we’ll find commonality in not wanting to deal with his sassy mouth. Mark my words.”

Iven chuckled. “So you’re okay with the mating?”

“Like I said, I have to be, or I deal with Marric. Gods, help us all if he starts on that ‘down with the dynasty’ crap, as if I want a fucking dynasty.” Kinnison finished dressing. “If you go to prison, it’ll be years without a buffer. Fuck that. I need you.”

Iven got behind the wheel and started the car. “Let’s go see if Riley needs any help.”

Maybe it was the pain that had kept him from feeling his gut twist. He was still recovering from the spell the witches put on him. But the further away he got from them, the more it twisted.

The need to get to Marric deepened.

He sped up.

“We shouldn’t have fucked around so much back there.” He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, only that he blamed himself for leaving Marric at all. He never should have.

“We didn’t,” Cass scowled.

“He’s still sick. I can feel it in my gut.” If something happened to Marric, Iven wouldn’t know how to live without him. “Nothing can happen to him. Never again.”

Kinnison touched his shoulder. “Calm yourself now, before we arrive. If he sees you like this, Marric will try to take care of you even when it should be the other way around.”

Kinnison was right. Iven needed to get his shit together, but how did he do that when Marric was on the verge of death?