Page 3 of Samhain Savior

“Please come with me,” I begged, grasping Heidi’s arm desperately. “Please.”

“The girl’s already dead, Heidi, so why bother fighting?” A woman’s voice called out, closer than before. “I’ll even let you keep her corpse.”

“Delilah, for the love of all things, just go!”

“I—”

“Go!”

At that, I turned, tears already blurring my vision as years of obeying Heidi kicked in instinctively. My legs felt like lead, but I forced them to carry me across the gravel yard, each step feeling like a betrayal even though I knew it was what she wanted.

I sprinted hard, my boots carrying me across the gravel yard and into the dense trees behind the garage. Heidi hadn’t chosen our apartment at random—a witch needed nature, and while Delaware wasn’t exactly known for its forests, she had managed to find us something that suited nicely.

At the tree line, I stopped, turning again to stare at Heidi as she stood, her hands hanging loosely at her sides, magic crackling along her fingertips as she prepared to fight. Prepared to defend my life with her own.

Pandora poked out of her pouch, beady black eyes focused on Heidi as she offered up a few mournful huffs before disappearing back inside and out of the cold.

“She’ll be okay,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “I’ve never known a stronger witch.”

Knowing I needed to leave before all Heidi’s hard work and sacrifice was for nothing, I ran, my feet carrying me deeper into the trees, my cloak billowing out as the darkness swallowed me.

I hadn’t made it very far at all when her scream rang out, my heart rending in two. I choked out a sob, the sadness and fear slicing me deep, but I kept running, even as the tears started to fall.

It was what Heidi had wanted, after all.

Now I just had to hope the Brotherhood could hold up their end of the bargain.

Chapter one

Archer

Taking a deep draw on my cigarette, I held the smoke until my lungs burned, savoring it as much as I was savoring the sound of fists hitting flesh. Beside me, Vine stood quietly, his knife dragging long, slow lines across the brick wall he was leaning against, seemingly oblivious to the carnage happening before us.

"Please!" croaked the man Corson was currently throttling against the brick wall, a pathetic witch who had fucked up big time tonight. The alley we were in reeked of stale beer and piss, the stench seeping into my clothes and making my already shitty mood plummet even further. "Please, I didn't mean it!"

Blowing out my chest full of smoke, I shook my head, dropping the butt to the ground and crushing it under my heel.

"You didn't mean it?" I questioned, my voice rough. "You hear that, fellas? He didn't mean it."

"Well," Vine drawled, not taking his eyes off his blade. "As long as he didn't mean it, then I guess we're done here."

The relief on the scumbag's face was laughable, but none of us laughed. Corson, however, did tighten his grip on the guy's grubby shirt, the worn fabric tearing beneath the strain and revealing the hodgepodge of runes sloppily tattooed across his pasty chest.

"You see, Hestor," I said, enjoying the way his eyes widened as I stepped close. "There's just one problem. I think you did mean it."

"No! No, I swear it."

"So, you didn't mean to hunt down that woman and carve her heart out of her chest?" Hestor began shaking, his whole body vibrating in fear, and I smiled as the scent of his terror washed over me, covering the underlying acrid stink ofwitchfor just a moment.

Their magic always smelled off to me, like burned sugar and over-ripe flowers. Sickly sweet and nauseating. Add to that Hestor’s particularly bad body odor and what was likely the piss dribbling down his leg, and I was about ready to puke.

"You didn't mean to perform the ritual we found you performing, trying to summon lesser demons into myterritory?" Hestor started to sob, spit running over his chin as he tried to voice more useless protests.

"I'm sorry. Please. I’m so sorry. I just—”

Corson cut off his feeble protests with another punishing hit to the mouth. I tried to ignore the way he winced every time his fist hit the witch.

Softness had no place here.