Chapter 17

I drove through the privacy hedge around Arla's property, and my shoulders stiffened with new tension. A row of cars was parked in front of the house, bathed in the golden beams of the evening sun.

The coven had gathered—and no one had told me.

A bad sign.

Coven meetings always took place outside unless the weather was poor. The witches were probably in the trees somewhere. I might have enough time to get in and out before they returned.

I backed my truck up behind Laney's silver Prius, ensuring I could make a quick escape. "Ríkr, can you find the coven and warn me when they head back this way?"

The white cat on my passenger seat slanted his ears sideways. Leave it to me.

I opened my door and he leaped over my legs, landing on the gravel drive outside. He took two bounding leaps, then transformed into a screech owl and flew toward the trees. As he disappeared, I reached under the driver's seat and pulled out a small lock-picking kit. I suspected Laney had deleted my access code for the lock, but even if she hadn't, I didn't intend to use it.

Calm quiet lay over the property as I went to work on the front bolt. I twisted the tiny wrench, the bolt turned, and then I was inside.

The house was dead silent. I stood in the entryway for a long moment, listening, then ghosted down the hall. The kitchen and living room appeared empty; no one was home. My boots were silent on the carpeted stairs as I headed up. The door to Arla's office was closed. I'd half expected it to be barricaded with police tape.

I tugged a handkerchief from my pocket and covered my hand before trying the handle. Locked. It took two seconds to pop the lock, then I swung the door open. A wave of reeking air hit me in the face. Laney hadn't cleaned up.

My gaze skimmed the room as I stepped inside. As far as I could see, nothing had been touched. Had the MPD been through here? Or were they waiting for a future stage of the investigation?

The empty desk chair drew my focus like a magnet. Despite the countless times I'd seen Arla sitting in that chair, alive and well, all I could see now was her limp body slumped in it.

I nudged the chair out of the way and faced the desk. A framed photo from last summer, Arla's large glasses slipping down her nose and Laney's natural brown hair curly with a perm she'd hated the moment she'd gotten it done, sat beside the monitor. Using my hanky to keep my fingerprints off any surfaces, I wiggled the mouse to wake the machine. The screens blinked awake, revealing a login screen.

Her computer was locked? When I'd found her body, the screens had been glowing with a map of the crossroads valley and Zak's bounty listing. I clicked in the password box, the cursor blinking expectantly, but I couldn't even guess.

Giving up on the computer, I shuffled through the items on her desk. There wasn't much—bills, reminders, MPD paperwork, and an agenda book. What had I expected? A folder labeled "Suspicious Fae Activity"? Pushing my loose hair off my shoulders and fighting my hot frustration, I stepped back. Should I check the closet?

Using my hanky, I rolled Arla's chair back into the spot where I'd found it. The wheel caught, grinding on something.

I crouched. On the stained floor beneath the chair, a gold chain was caught under the wheel. Lifting it, I slid the object out. A heart-shaped locket. I pried it open and squinted at the two tiny photos inside: Laney and a vaguely familiar man.

Tension prickled through me. I didn't know why, but I was suddenly certain that I needed to leave. I slid the locket into my back pocket, then sped across the office and closed the door, ensuring it was locked as I'd found it. Back down the stairs. Along the hall. I slipped out the front door and locked it as well, glancing over my shoulder for any sign of Ríkr.

Three steps away from my truck, I pulled up short as a voice spoke.

"Returning to the scene of your crimes, Saber?"

Around the corner of the house, the entire coven stood in the shadows, watching me. Short, heavyset Deanna held a shimmering green orb the size of a beach ball in her hands, and inside it, a snow-white owl glared with furious blue eyes. Her pixie familiar sat on top of the orb, her dragonfly wings fluttering for balance and her tiny hands glowing as she maintained the magic that had captured Ríkr.

Laney stepped to the front of the group, glowering at me with unmitigated hatred.

"Trying to clean up the crime scene?" she asked venomously. "Or did you come to rob me now that you've killed my mother?"

"I didn't kill her," I said automatically.

Laney's features contorted with rage and grief. "I found you standing over her body!"

"Why would I kill—"

"Save it, Saber." She drew herself up, her tone shifting to one of command. "As acting guild master of the Coquitlam Coven, I am detaining you on suspicion of killing Arla Collins."

"You are detaining me?"

"If you didn't do it"—her lip curled in a skeptical sneer—"then you have nothing to worry about. You can stand trial in front of your fellow witches and prove your innocence."

A sharp, twitchy feeling rolled down my back and through my limbs. "Stand trial? What the hell are you talking about?"

"The coven is putting you on trial for murder," Laney said coldly. She gestured at the witches standing with her. "We've all agreed that we deserve the truth. You'll stand before us first, then we'll present our findings to the MPD."

Scarcely able to believe what I was hearing, I scanned the coven's faces and realized Pierce wasn't with them. He wouldn't have agreed to this insanity.

I flicked a glance over my shoulder. My truck was right behind me. I could leave—but I couldn't abandon Ríkr.

"Let my familiar go," I said flatly.

"You were hiding his powers." Laney waved at the green sphere trapping him. "You never once said he could shapeshift."

"Why does that matter?" I looked to Ellen, the most senior coven member. "You can't seriously support this. A witch trial?"

The elderly witch, who'd always been friendly before now, peered down her nose at me like I was grimy slug in her garden. "I'm wondering why an innocent witch is protesting the chance to show her coven that she isn't responsible for a heinous crime."

My hands curled into fists. I was innocent, but I couldn't prove it. I couldn't prove anything. I couldn't even explain why I was here. They'd probably watched me pick the front lock and enter the house like a thief.

With that thought, I realized nothing I said, now or during their "trial," would convince them I wasn't a killer.

People knew. They could sense that I was dangerous. That I was capable of violence. No matter how nice I acted, the best I could do was make them second guess what their instincts were telling them—and at the slightest confirmation, they always turned on me.

Seven years as a member of their coven, and this was all it had taken for them to label me an enemy.

"You killed your aunt ten years ago," Laney declared, a faint tremor tainting her words. "And you killed my mother. You'll stand before the coven and confess your crimes, then the MPD will convict you—and execute you."

My chest filled with shards of bloody glass, shredding my lungs with each breath I took. Shards. Shattered pieces. The broken remains of who I might've been had life been different. The sharp, gouging remnants of a functioning human being.

The snap of my switchblade extending rang through the silence. I didn't recall drawing it from my pocket.

"I didn't kill Arla." My voice was low, husky. "But if you don't release my familiar, you'll find out what happens when I actually want someone dead."

Laney's face went white. "You wouldn't dare—"

My feet moved. I was walking toward her. Gliding. The air shivered around me, and a soft hum escaped my lips—the first notes of a haunting old Irish melody.

They were backing away. They were afraid. Finally, they were afraid. I didn't have to play at being someone else. I didn't have to hide my teeth, pretend, fake every word and expression.

I smiled, and it wasn't the "nice Saber" smile. It was my real one. The one that found its way across my lips when the blood rushed in my veins and I felt alive. I felt powerful. I felt like myself, not a stupid, vapid, declawed fake.

"Release him," I suggested, the words crooning.

Laney lurched back into Nina. "Ungel!"

At her cry, a bright orange lizard the size of an iguana appeared on her shoulder. His bright yellow eyes flashed as he raised his head, his throat bulging. He spat a mouthful of flame.

As the sparks scattered through the air, they swelled into the shape of fiery butterflies. Tiny wings fluttering, the swarm rushed toward me. I coiled to dive beneath them—and the air beside me shimmered as a waist-high shape appeared.

Ellen's stocky hob slammed into my side, grabbing hold of my left leg. He wrapped his thick arms around my thigh and squeezed. I tried to wrench away, but despite his size, he was powerful and heavy. His pupilless brown eyes stared up at me as he crushed my leg, holding me in place as the swarm of burning butterflies closed in. Heat washed over me, fast growing painful.

As the fluttering, flaming wings formed into a fiery dome, Laney called shakily, "You will stand trial in front of this coven, Saber. We aren't giving you a choice."

Spinning my knife in my hand, I coiled my arm to drive the blade into the hob's face.

The writhing swarm of flaming butterflies rushed toward me, their heat scorching my skin—and a gust of wind blasted over me, snuffing out the fiery insects. Unnatural gloom dimmed the evening sun, drenching the yard in deep shadows.

The air cooled, the darkness thickened, and power buzzed across my senses—familiar power. The flow of energy through the earth twisted as a fae moved from the ethereal demesne and into the physical plane.

Shadows coiled in front of me, then solidified into a… a woman.

Around my height. Porcelain skin. Silky raven hair that swept down her back to her knees, the locks drifting around her as though a gentle breeze were caressing her. Silky garments clung to her curvaceous figure and left her smooth midriff and flat stomach exposed. The layers in her long skirt revealed glimpses of lean, graceful legs.

Her inhuman emerald eyes moved across my face, then turned down to the hob clinging to my leg.

"Move," she commanded in a throaty purr.

The hob released me and scrambled backward, his thick features contorted with fear. Her full red lips curved into a pleased smile. Her hands floated up, the movement dripping grace.

"Stop!" Laney shouted. "You can't—"

The fae woman lay cool hands on my shoulders.

Power rushed over me, a tingling weightlessness, and the world dissolved into mist and shadow. Laney and the rest of the coven turned to dim silhouettes that kept fading. The house and trees shimmered into dark semi-transparency, and pale fog swirled and eddied around me. A soft rushing noise filled my ears.

Holding my shoulders, the fae asked, "Are you harmed?"

"No." My voice sounded oddly deadened, as though I were in a soundproof room.

"Excellent." The corners of her mouth lifted into a wider smile, and she leaned so close our lips almost touched. "Then I have no need to waste energy punishing pathetic witches over an even more wretchedly pathetic witch."

I stiffened, but she was already leaning back. Her hand slid down my arm in a caressing touch, and she entwined our fingers. As the world dissolved into deeper mist and shadows, she pulled me into a leisurely walk.

The coven and the house had disappeared. My shoes made no sound on the gravel drive; I couldn't see my own feet, eddies of mist hiding everything below my knees.

As we walked into the shadows of the trees, they grew solid again—but not like I had ever seen trees before. Their bark shone iridescently, as though dusted with fairy powder, and their leaves, electric green with bluish undersides, glimmered and winked as a faint breeze teased them.

I wasn't merely looking into the fae demesne. I was walking in it.

The beautiful fae woman led me deeper into the trees, then halted and again faced me. Still holding my hand in hers, she reached up with the other to touch my cheek, her finger tipped with a curved black talon.

"This should be far enough. You may escape under your power from this point." Her talon pricked the underside of my jaw as she tipped my face up. "Though I would find it more entertaining to slit your pretty throat instead."

My switchblade was still clenched in my hand, but I didn't raise it. "Then why did you help me?"

She leaned in again, bringing her face obscenely close. Her mouth touched mine, but I held my ground, not giving her the satisfaction of recoiling.

"My druid bid me to find you after reading your message. He suspected you would be in danger." Her wet tongue brushed over my lower lip. "Your power is sweet, little witch, despite the pitiably scant amount you possess."

With a flash of white wings, Ríkr landed on my shoulder. Taste her again, vulture, and I will shatter your flesh into a thousand shards.

His voice rolled through my mind in a savage, frozen snarl that sent a shiver across my skin. In the white mist of the fae realm, swirls of pale blue light radiated from his feathers.

The female fae laughed softly. She pulled her hand away from my throat, and I felt a sharp sting. A drop of my blood clung to her talon, and her pink tongue appeared, licking it away. Then she released my other hand.

Sunlight plunged through the mist-shrouded trees, evaporating the haze. The heavy weight of my body returned in a rush and my ears popped, sound filling them as the bizarre hush of the fae demesne lifted. I swayed dizzily, taking in the solid trunks of old pine trees around me.

The Lady of Shadow was gone, leaving the soft scent of night-cool wildflowers behind.

I turned with careful steps, Ríkr perched on my shoulder. The glow of the evening sun lit Laney's house, fifty yards away. Voices drifted to my ears, raised, emphatic. Laney's piercing shout erupted, the words unintelligible.

Zak's eagle familiar had pulled me into the fae demesne, out of reach of humans or witches, and led me into the trees where I could escape without being seen. It was similar to how Tilliag could disappear with Zak, but I doubted the fae stallion took his rider as far from human reality as the Lady of Shadow had taken me.

I couldn't see my sturdy old truck through the foliage, but that didn't matter. I wouldn't be reclaiming it. At least I'd taken my lockpicks, the only condemning item in it, with me. I was done with the vehicle—and I was done with my coven.

Turning on my heel, I headed deeper into the woods.