Chapter 8

Eight

brAN

Damien has no love for the Alpha, and yet I suspect he would agree with the wolf—I’m perhaps being a bit reckless going to the Renshaw witch house with an imperfect plan and an overwhelming desire for revenge.

I want to fucking kill something.

Something being witches.

But I need answers first in order to save my brother.

And I suppose, in a way, Kelly too.

We are all connected now. The MacMahon sisters. The Duval brothers.

When I reach the Renshaw property, the vibration in the air tells me there is a border spell. Not surprising, not insurmountable, but fucking annoying.

I pace away from the property and tap at a name on my cell phone. Bianca answers on the first ring. I’m glad she already knows not to keep me waiting.

She begins with a greeting, but I cut her off before she can get the words out.

“How do I get past a barrier spell?”

I’m in the thickness of the woods where the night is still clinging to the shadows. The boughs of the hardwoods creak above me as the wind shifts. We’re not far off from autumn now and the air already smells crisper as the leaves start their change and the ground grows colder night by night.

And thinking of autumn has me thinking of the Autumn Court.

My little mouse will be hunted by them before too long, if they get their way.

I am reminded of Damien’s warning on that desolate country road just a few days ago.

If the gate were to be opened again... Here, we’re kings. But standing against one of the princes from the Unseelie Court? We would not measure up.

I wanted to help Mouse identify her origins. There is no way to embrace your power when you don’t even know who you are.

But this...this was never on the list of possibilities. How the fuck am I to protect Mouse from the entire Unseelie Court?

Before the fear takes over, I push it away. Another problem for another time.

“Renshaw border spell?” Bianca guesses, pulling me from my reverie.

I pace in a circle beneath the canopy of an oak tree. “Yes.”

“They’ll have perimeter markers holding the spell in place. Trees or rocks. Look for carvings or paintings of symbols. Renshaws tend to grip the darker side of magic so you’ll likely see primitive runes.”

I dart back to the property line where the air shifts again, sensing an intrusion, and I start a path along the perimeter. When I find a carving in an old maple, I relay the rune to Bianca—intertwined V’s with a circle in the center.

“Okay...”

I hear her hesitation. “What is it?”

“Well...that’s an easy one to undo, is all. How old is the cut?”

I can smell the tang of fresh wood on the air. “Hours maybe.”

“Hmmm.”

“Spit it out, witch.”

“This might be a trap.”

“And?”

“And I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t warn you of it.”

“Just tell me how to undo it.”

“You’ll need to break it. Anything will do, but you’ll not want to touch it.”

I scan the forest floor and find a stone about the size of a grapefruit. Picking it up, I pace back several yards and set the phone on a fallen log.

“You’ll want to be sure the entire symbol is destroyed,” Bianca goes on.

I toss the rock up and catch it again, testing its weight.

“I wouldn’t try a knife,” Bianca says, “because you’ll still be connected to it through metal?—”

I cock my arm back and throw the rock like a baseball.

It’s flying so fast, the air whistles and when it hits the mark, a loud crack echoes through the forest as the tree trunk explodes.

The canopy shudders overhead and the tree wavers, no longer able to support its weight with half the trunk missing.

Thick roots lift from the dirt and the tree sways again.

“There you are,” the Alpha says as he comes up beside me a little breathless, sweat coating his forehead. “Where should we?—”

The tree cracks several yards away as the last of its trunk gives. And when it hits the ground, the reverberation sings across the earth.

Bright violet light flashes through the forest as the air takes on the scent of burnt wood and magic.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the Alpha asks. “Everyone in a five-mile radius probably heard that. Is that...fucking hell. Witch magic .” He says the latter like it tastes bitter, and then he wrinkles his nose and waves his hand through the air as if that will help drive the scent away.

I only smell what reminds me of anise and maybe a thread of sulphur. Nothing to gripe about. But wolves hate magic.

“Is that Callum?” Bianca asks.

The Alpha notices the phone.

“Thanks, Bianca,” I say, ending the call.

“I see your witch is already coming in handy,” the wolf says. “Might have been a good idea after all, bringing in someone not of your ilk.”

I smile at him. “I only have good ideas, wolf.”

He snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. “So full of hot air. I’m shocked you don’t float away.”

Now he’s the one smiling.

“You can come or you can go,” I tell him and head off in the direction of the Renshaw house. “No one forced you to join this adventure.”

He decides to come.

Even someone like the Alpha can’t say no to putting a rogue witch house in their place.

The Renshaw house really fits the brand of the witch.

It’s a hulking Victorian with black siding and black-framed windows with trim work that looks like spiderwebs.

When we reach the wraparound porch and start up the front steps, we find no resistance from magic.

The Alpha and I walk right in through the front door.

Of course, that’s just one more sign that we’ve walked into a trap, but I’m going to pretend it’s just the hubris of a witch.

Voices filter out through closed pocket doors to our left.

The conversation is about the Pledging and the Guard.

I count four heartbeats in the room.

The Alpha and I share a look. There are no overhead lights on in the house, only lamps, and the low lighting casts thick shadows. He doesn’t look worried, only eager, and I’m glad of it.

The Alpha nods at the pocket doors and I nod in agreement.

He puts his fingers into the recessed handles on the doors and gives them an outward push. The pocket doors slide open and bang against the stoppers embedded in the tracks.

The room turns to us.

There’s Tabitha, the matriarch of the Renshaw House, and three other Renshaw witches. Two men, one woman. I recognize the woman as being Tabitha’s Irish cousin. She moved to Midnight several years ago and is now second-in-command of the Renshaw House.

The men are lower in the hierarchy, and I don’t recall their names. None of them are suffering any visible wounds despite the fighting at the Pledge Hall. Witches are good at healing themselves, but not as good as vampires and wolves.

“Bran,” Tabitha says in a tone of voice that is not surprised and, dare I say, expecting? “It’s nice to see you out so close to dawn. It changes your sunny disposition.” She smiles with closed lips.

The Alpha and I break away from one another and circle the room, boxing the witches in. It’s a dangerous move, but one of strategy if we play our cards right.

Tabitha clasps her hands in front of her. She’s wearing all black to match the mood of her House. All black save for a bright yellow garnet that hangs from a silver chain around her neck.

“Won’t you have a seat?” Tabitha gestures at the sitting area around a cold fireplace.

“Were you expecting us?” I ask.

I don’t like beating around bushes. Or threats.

“Of course.”

I catch the Alpha scenting the air, looking for traps. He gives me a quick shake of his head.

Nothing.

“We prefer to stand,” I tell her.

“Very well.”

“You know why I’ve come,” I say.

Tabitha takes a breath, lifting her chin just slightly so she can regard me from the broad slant of her nose. “Julian Locke was blinded by greed and desperation. Our goals were a bit loftier, but there was some overlap.”

This isn’t going the way I thought it would and I’m not sure if I like it.

“And you decided to use my brother as a pawn?”

“Wouldn’t you do the same if you saw the opportunity?”

“Would I use Damien as a pawn? Only a fool would.”

“Fair enough. But the ship has already left the harbor and now we need to find a solution if you want to get it back.”

“Is my brother the ship in this analogy?”

Tabitha smirks. “I suppose he is.”

“He’d hate that.”

“I know.”

“Go on.”

“When Julian came to me, all he wanted was Jessie. He didn’t think beyond that. He knew that Jessie equaled power, and power was what he wanted. He thought that was what I wanted too. He never bothered to ask though.”

I come around a wingback chair, keeping my eyes on the other witches flanking Tabitha like guards. All of them have their hands clasped in front of them—a clear sign of respect for those in the room who are not witches.

What an odd morning this is turning out to be.

“I knew that when Julian decided to use Kelly in his revenge plot, that Damien would do everything in his power to protect her. And I knew you would do everything in your power to protect him.”

She's right, of course. But I’m not going to admit to my weaknesses, even if everyone knows of them.

“So it stood to reason that I could use both Kelly and Damien as leverage,” Tabitha goes on. “It’s no mistake that they are alive but unconscious. Dead men hold no value.”

The anger that ignites in my chest has my heart thumping hard against my ears.

She’ll pay for that. One day.

“What was the end goal, witch?” I ask.

She takes a deep breath. “I want the fae gate opened. You need it open to save your brother. And I can help you do it.”

I meet her eyes, looking for the catch, the lie, or the misdirection. Tabitha has always been a straightforward person. When she wants to speak.

“Why would you want the fae gate opened?” I ask.

“I had a brother too,” she answers, and the waver in her voice does not go unnoticed. “Until one of the fae took him from me.”