Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

DRAKE

L eaving Garrett behind at the carnival was one of the hardest things Drake had ever done. Everything in him wanted to remain close and protect Garrett, helping him through his ordeal.

Knowing that he could end Garrett’s pain by killing the witch and vampire who cursed him was barely enough to tear Drake away when each step felt like a betrayal.

Drake switched into what he thought of as cop mode, shoving down his emotions and focusing solely on the job. He hated having to operate like this, but it kept him rational and undistracted even when everything crashed down around him.

“Warehouses suck,” Drake muttered as his team spread out. HQ had sent six operatives, three of whom were witches, although none were as powerful as Faye.

If Paul Bessette and Colletta’s witch had been smarter and less convinced of their invincibility, they would have skipped town once they realized the FBSI was onto them. McGill and Weston had apparently taken the hint and left.

But like villains who never learn not to monologue, Bessette and Colletta’s witch were sure they were smarter and stronger, and that McElvoy had their back with the powers-that-be.

McElvoy had already sold out everything he knew in exchange for immunity for himself and his coven. Even as Drake led the raid, the FBSI operatives were sorting through financial records, recorded phone calls, emails, and occult Darke Web stuff—the ensorcelled encryption online network used by many in the supernatural community—that wasn’t as hidden as its authors supposed. Rankin and his witchlings had vanished before the FBSI could catch them, but that was a problem for another day.

Warlock Willis Osborn’s illicit empire was finally being permanently disassembled, and the wanna-be successors destroyed. Even the remnants of Swain’s network were being crushed. McGill and Weston were fugitives, not the supernatural power brokers they fancied themselves. HQ already had their assets and accounts located and locked down, and their main lab had been seized and its chemists arrested.

It was game over, except Bessette and Colletta’s witch didn’t know it yet—or if they did, they had resolved to go out swinging. Drake didn’t know which was worse—the two of them fighting to hang on to something they didn’t know they had already lost or making a doomed last stand resolved to take as many of their enemies with them as they could.

When Drake’s team was done tonight, the vampire and witch would be dead or in custody.

And if the universe smiled on him, Garrett’s curse would be removed, he would be alive and well, and they could live out their lives together.

In Drake’s experience, the universe rarely smiled.

“Go.”

That word, spoken into the comm link, unleashed the onslaught.

Faye led the witches, who sent up a synchronized burst of magic, creating a dome over the warehouse and locking them all inside.

“Now.”

The warehouse sprinklers turned on by magic, sending down a rain of blessed water laced with salt and colloidal silver. It didn’t bother the witches or the FBSI agents, but Drake counted on it blistering Bessette’s skin and weakening any vamplings he might have hidden in the recesses of the old building.

Screams drew the agents to the vampires’ hiding places. They opened fire with automatic weapons, sending a hail of silver-tipped bullets into the shadows where their scanners indicated colder-than-normal bodies without heartbeats.

Bleeding, skin peeling, shrieking, the vampires attacked, driven mad with pain and fury. Some ran into the gunfire. Others, still wily despite their injuries, melted into the shadows and circled, coming at the team from all directions and descending from above.

One of Drake’s team suddenly vanished into the air, grabbed by a vampire who held him aloft as he bit into the man’s neck, using his body as a shield. Drake took advantage of the monster’s momentary distraction as he feasted to shift positions and fire, sending round after round into the vamp, forcing him to drop his meal.

The dead vampire fell, landing next to the slaughtered agent.

The rest of the vampires charged, resolved to take as many attackers with them as they could if escape was not an option.

The witches left their dome intact but fought a pitched battle against Weston’s witchlings, trading bursts of lightning and repelling curses.

Drake glimpsed movement to one side, away from the main battle and closer to the door. His witches had assured him that the building was sealed, not to be exited without the removal of their spell, but Drake didn’t expect Colletta’s witch and Bessette to let that stop them.

He circled, watchful and wary. His premonition looked exactly like this—the warehouse, the witch battle, and now, slipping between pallets and containers to confront his quarry.

When Bessette rose in front of him, fangs bared, Drake was ready. He fought down mortal panic, dodging at the last second to avoid the vampire’s sharp teeth. The vamp tried to throw him across the open space, but Drake held on, merely tumbling away.

He came back up at full power and sank his machete into Bessette’s back.

“No!” the witch shouted and raised a hand to send a killing spell in Drake’s direction.

Drake shoved forward, using Bessette’s body as a shield, and rammed the protruding blade into the witch’s chest with his full strength.

He hung on to the handle, ducking behind Bessette’s form, and braced himself for pain, expecting to be incinerated.

Runes carved into the blade kept the witch from lobbing a death curse, freezing his magic as the knife stilled his heart. Bessette’s corpse was already starting to rot, long overdue and preserved only by his vampire nature.

As Drake drove the killing blow home, everything went bright white for a second. He glimpsed Garrett drop to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, then topple to the side and lay still.

Garrett!

With his dying breath, the witch scraped together enough feral magic for a final strike, sending Drake flying across the open space so that he landed hard and painfully on his back. That knocked the wind out of him, and he braced for the witch to follow and kill him, but the witch sank to the ground beneath the vampire’s disintegrating corpse.

Stunned by having the breath knocked out of him, but more from the glimpse of Garrett, Drake stayed down.

Was Garrett too linked to the vampire and the witch? Did killing them kill him?

I did my job. Did it destroy my lover?

“It’s over. You’ll be glad to know I took out Colletta myself.” Clark reached down to offer Drake a hand, and Drake took it, pulling himself upright. “They’re all dead. Fancy of you to do a two-in-one.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Fancy.” Drake barely listened, heart breaking as he searched for the nascent bond between him and Garrett and found only silence.

Were we too slow to save him? Did we miss something about the witch’s magic that was a poison pill, killing him if the witch died? Was the vampire’s compulsion even stronger and faster than he knew?

I’ve won the battle—and lost what mattered most to me.

Bodies littered the floor. Faye and the allied witches spread out, removing dark magic sigils and wardings like a supernatural bomb squad.

“Sound off,” Drake ordered on the comm link, counting as the agents checked in and coming up one short. “Nolan. Where are you?”

“I saw Nolan fighting a vamp over in the rear quadrant,” a voice spoke up. “Haven’t seen him since then.”

“Shit,” Drake muttered. “Go check. Report back.”

A few minutes later, the link crackled to life. “We lost Nolan. Bastards dropped him from the ceiling.”

Drake wanted to give in to heartbreak, but his team needed him, and that kept him on his feet.

There will be time to fall apart later. Time to grieve.

A thorough sweep of the warehouse confirmed that Weston’s witches and McGill’s vampires were all dead. Nolan was the only casualty from Drake’s team, fulfilling the vision he’d seen. Weston and McGill had fled before the battle and were in the wind.

“Team Three, reporting,” a voice said in his commlink. “We cleaned out the vamp nest. They were weak as fledglings. Got them with silver, and burned it all down. They’re toast.”

“Good job,” Drake replied mechanically. He wondered if McGill had intentionally sacrificed his weaker vamps.

Faye and Clark joined him. The look in Faye’s eyes told Drake that she understood his fear for Garrett.

“Weston never had many witches, and none of them were very strong,” Faye told him. “He was always afraid of rivals and power struggles. All the ones who stayed to fight died, especially since Weston didn’t stick around to lend them power. We’ll locate the others by following the energy they’re bleeding.”

“Looks like your intel paid off,” Clark said. “I can handle the cleanup and keep you posted. You’ve got somewhere else to be,” he added with a pointed look.

“Thank you.” Drake knew that his ragged voice betrayed his worry. “I just don’t know what’s waiting for me when I get there.”

“He’s not dead.”

Drake pivoted to look at Faye. “What?”

“You heard me. He’s not dead. Plenty of messy magic getting thrown around, and I don’t know details, but Garrett’s alive. Go. Find out what happened—because whatever mojo got worked on his end definitely undercut Colletta’s witch here.”

Drake thanked them and checked in one last time with the other teams, who also had the job under control. Leaving Clark and Faye in charge of the cleanup, Drake ran for his truck and drove into the night, heading for the carnival, praying to anyone who might listen that the fight hadn’t been for naught.

Drake reached the festival grounds and screeched to a stop, slewing sideways in his rush. He ran toward the gate, heart pounding, fearing the worst.

A tall man dressed in black stepped out from the ticket booth. “You are expected. Enter—and may you find what you truly seek.”

Drake mumbled his thanks and sprinted past, remembering the path to the potioner’s shop even in the darkened maze of the closed carnival.

Without the lights, music, and garish colors, night-washed to gray, the carnival felt even more other-worldly, a place in between realities. Absent the distraction of gawkers and patrons, he could sense the subtle, powerful currents of strange energy that wove through the faire, giving it a life of its own.

“I’ll take you to Garrett.” A dark-haired man stepped from the shadows. “I’m Bill. Follow me.”

Drake clung to Faye’s reassurance, hoping his psychic senses would confirm that Garrett lived. He recognized the path and saw the potioner’s tent ahead.

“He’s waiting for you,” Bill said, and Drake wondered if the man was psychic or just guessed his thoughts. “We’ve all been waiting.”

Drake wanted to ask about Garrett, but the words stuck in his throat. Now that he was only minutes away from seeing for himself, the question seemed moot.

We killed Bessette, Colletta, and his witch. Jennings Weston and Doane McGill escaped, but Willis Osborn’s and Fletcher Swain’s organizations are finally dismantled. Their witches and vampires are dead or fled. But I’ve lost everything without Garrett.

“Please, come in,” Peter pulled back the flap, allowing Drake to enter. Bill exchanged a nod and went on his way.

“Where—”

“Over here.” Peter led him to a small side room and motioned for Drake to go in. “If you need me, I’ll be out here.”

Drake gathered his courage and stepped inside, braced for whatever awaited him.

“Garrett?”

Garrett lay on a cot covered with a blanket. Brian lay on the floor beside him, and the dog raised his head as Drake entered, then poked Garrett with his snout.

“What—” Garrett blinked a couple of times and looked at Drake. A tired smile lit up his face. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

Later, Drake wasn’t sure which one of them moved first. He suddenly had Garrett in his arms, warm and alive, and drew him in for a long reunion kiss.

“I was so worried.” Drake buried his face in Garrett’s hair and took in his scent. He smelled of herbs and candles and potions, and Drake couldn’t get enough of it.

“So was I.” Garrett nuzzled closer. “I saw what happened—at the warehouse.”

Drake frowned, pulling back enough to see Garrett. “You saw it?”

Garrett nodded. “It must have been our bond because that’s not my usual sort of connection. I saw you put a blade through the vampire and shove it into another person. But there was so much blood, and then it all went dark, and I couldn’t sense you anymore. I was afraid you didn’t make it.” He sniffed back tears, and Drake kissed him gently.

“It was the same for me. When the curses broke, I got a glimpse and saw you fall, but after that, nothing.” Drake combed his fingers through Garrett’s hair and ran his hands down his arms and back, reassuring himself that Garrett was solid and alive.

Drake suddenly realized that Brian lay curled around his feet—in dog form. “What happened?” Drake was sad that they hadn’t been able to free the shifter.

“The curse broke,” Garrett replied. “But Brian begged to be locked back in his dog. So now he will be a dog for the rest of his life and eventually forget being human.” He cleared his throat nervously. “I promised to take him in.”

“Of course,” Drake replied, and Garrett looked up, surprised and happy.

“You’re okay with that?”

Drake shrugged. “I’ve heard way weirder dog rescue stories.” He reached down and patted Brian’s head. “After all, he’s a very good boy.”