3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Garrick

" I shouldn't have sent that," I said as I walked into my living room, undoing my tie as I went.

On the other end of the phone, Roman said, "Yes, you should've. I bet he liked it. You need to stop being so proper with him, Gar."

Roman was my best—and likely only—friend. He'd helped me through many a tough time over the years, and he'd never left me. He was loyal through and through, unlike most people.

He lived in the tower with me, but he was two floors down. I'd given him the entire floor so he wouldn't need to worry about security. If I could've rearranged the tower layout today, I would put him on the same floor as me, simply to make it easier to get from my condo to his and vice versa. But the top floor of the tower was set up for only one condo, so there wasn't anything I could do about it unless I wanted to bring construction people up here, and that just wasn't an option.

Roman was the only person left of my clan, so I wanted to keep him close, but two floors down worked just fine.

With a sigh, I rubbed the bridge of my nose, then put the phone on speaker as I walked into the bedroom. After dropping it on the bed, I started to unbutton my work shirt so I could slip into something more comfortable. It was Sunday night, but that hadn't stopped me from working all day. It was hard not to when my office was only one floor below my home, and I hadn't had anything else to do all day.

Sitting idle wasn't ideal. I got bored sitting at home, so I'd gone down to work. I hadn't meant to bother Tanyl on his day off—again—but I'd completely forgotten what day it was.

And okay, maybe I remembered right before I hit send, and I sent it anyway because I knew he was spending time with that damn Remington Ellwood wolf shifter. But could I really be blamed for worrying? He was with the man all the time . How could the two of them work together and still want to spend time together constantly?

"You alright, Garrick?"

As I removed my shirt and pants, I scowled because I too worked with my friend, and look at me… on the phone with him on a Sunday night.

"I'm fine," I said gruffly.

"You sound pissed."

"Don't I always?"

There was a brief pause. "Most of the time, but not when we're alone. Definitely not when you're home for the night. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It's Sunday… that means your little witch is having dinner with his friend."

I managed to hold in the growl that was coming up my throat. "Stop it."

"Gar, if you want to get to know him, you need to actually talk to him."

"I talk to him nearly every day."

"Sending him annoying emails to make sure he's doing his job doesn't count."

I grimaced and pulled sweatpants and a t-shirt out of my drawers, quickly changing into them.

"Have you ever tried asking him… how he is? Or what his favorite color is or anything like that?"

"I'm not twelve, and neither is he. What kind of question is what's your favorite color ? I'm not asking him that." A small sneering growl came out without my meaning to.

"It's better than demanding he check on properties you know are perfectly safe. It's better than making him do extra work for you whenever you talk. You're overworking the poor man. You have to know that. You aren't his only client. What's your favorite color is a conversation starter, Gar. You need to talk to him, not demand extra and ridiculous things. Text him."

"I don't have his number."

He paused for a beat, then two. "Are you telling me that after all this time, you haven't even asked for the poor man's phone number?"

"It didn't seem appropriate."

Roman let out a loud bark of laughter. "And asking him to do extra work for you does?" He started mumbling a bunch of curses under his breath, calling me every name under the sun and in several languages, and I sighed as I sat on the bed and rubbed my forehead.

He was right of course. I shouldn't be making Tanyl—sorry, Tan—do extra work all the time. That wasn't fair to him at all.

I opened my mouth to ask for advice on collecting the man's number when I felt a twinge in my head that was sharp enough, I gasped. It felt like someone had drilled a screw right through my temple. I felt another sharp prick, followed by a shimmer in the air. Or more like in the wards around my condo.

My wards.

Someone was messing with my wards.

I sat up straighter and focused on the magic I had surrounding my living space, and a strange, almost oily sensation crept along my spine.

Grabbing my phone, I took it off speaker and whispered, "Someone's in my condo."

"What the fuck?"

"It's a blood witch."

"Fuck! I'll be there in one minute. Don't get dead."

He hung up, and I tucked my phone in my pocket, then moved to close and lock my bedroom door. It certainly wouldn't keep a blood witch out of my room, but it would give me a chance to retrieve my sword from the closet—I hoped.

As quickly and quietly as I could, I walked across the room to the other side, slid my closet door open, and pulled out my broadsword. Since I didn't need the sheath at the moment, I slipped it off and threw it on the foot of my bed, then made my way back over to the bedroom door.

Too bad I didn't have time to put on my armor or climb to the back of my closet to grab my shield.

With my sword at the ready, I took a breath and used my dragon senses to track the blood witch. They were coming down the hall, already having checked the three guest bedrooms and bathroom, so I knew I only had a few seconds before they were on me.

My nerves tried to make an appearance, but I pushed them down. I could do this. I could go up against a blood witch and hold them off until Roman got here. Then the two of us could work together to take them down. I only needed to hold them off for thirty seconds or so.

Before I could give myself more of a pep talk, my bedroom door blasted open, wood shards flying across the room. The bulk of the door flew into my bed frame and burst on impact. I ignored all the wood chunks hitting my body and the splinters digging into my skin. If I survived this, I could worry about the injuries later.

The witch came through the doorway surrounded by a magical shield, already throwing magic in just about every direction, multiple red orbs flying around my bedroom. I dodged one, then lifted my sword to slice through another. The moment my sword hit the orb, the magic burst open and flitted to the ground like ash.

My sword was made of dragon scales, so it was resistant to magic. I'd sacrificed my scales over the course of a few months in order to forge this sword, and it paid off. It could combat any magic, no matter the type—blood, death, nature, light, shadow, fae, incubi, any and all creatures' magics. And it never dulled.

It had certainly saved my life many times over the years.

Hopefully, it'd save me once more.

The blood witch, dressed head to toe in black with a mask covering the bottom half of their face, conjured more red balls. In only a second, I realized that each one was filled with a different spell—fire, vines, poison, oil, and probably a few I couldn't see in the split-second before they all came flying at me.

My scales could deflect magic with no problem, but my human skin sure couldn't. I was vulnerable in this form, and the blood witch knew it.

I swiped through three of the orbs, slicing away their magic, then rolled on the ground, taking cover behind my bed as several globes hit the ground and the wall where I'd stood.

My bed caught on fire, and I cursed under my breath. I was a dragon; I couldn't burn, but all my possessions sure could.

"Bitch," I murmured as I called on my senses to track the witch's movement. They were going to destroy my home.

My own magic felt the moment they conjured more orbs, and I waited for them to start flying before I jumped up and to the side. Several globes flew past me, hitting my dresser in a mess of fire, oil, and black goo.

I managed to slash through two orbs, but the last one hit me in the shoulder. I grunted in pain as a vine filled with thorns wrapped itself around my arm and chest, thorns cutting my skin and digging their way in. Oh, Scales, that hurt .

The ground beneath my feet started rumbling, throwing us both off balance.

The witch didn't wait for me to recover. They immediately sent more orbs flying in my direction. I dodged and ignored the pain, swinging my sword with my uninjured arm to break apart more orbs.

I could hear the witch speaking in a tongue I didn't know, and I cursed under my breath because I didn't want to find out what spell they were about to unleash.

The ground rumbled harder, and I thought as loud as I could, "Stop, Tower! I'm fine. Please stop before you hurt someone."

The rumbling stopped, but I swore I could feel the tower grumbling in annoyance as it did.

Luckily, I heard Roman yell, "Witch!" And then he screamed loudly as he ran into the room, effectively distracting the witch.

Relief filled me as the witch turned away from me to assess the new threat. Pretty blue scales were already covering Roman's neck, so I knew he'd partially shifted to cover all his vulnerable spots with the strength of his scales. My friend's arm and hand grew in size, covered in scales with long claws, and the blood witch fully focused on him.

My friend used his claws to pop the witch's shield, turning their magic to ash much the way my sword did. Then Roman moved in close to stab them. To my surprise, the witch pulled a longsword off their hip and parried Roman's swings.

I rushed around the bed and ran at the pair, lifting my broadsword up so I could slice through the witch's arm. They tried to move out of the way, but I was too quick for them. My sword cut through their arm, bone and all, like it was a stick of butter. Blood poured from their wound as their arm fell to the ground, and they screamed in pain.

They were so distracted by their injury that Roman had the perfect opportunity to stab them right in the gut.

The witch's eyes went wide as they gasped and made choking sounds, their mask soaking with the blood pouring from their mouth. To ensure they had a quick death, Roman lifted the bottom of their mask, revealing their neck, and sliced right through their artery.

The blood witch fell quickly to the ground, and we watched their eyes turn cloudy with death.

Roman faced my burning bed and sucked in a deep breath. The fire obeyed his silent command, snuffing itself out as my friend inhaled its smoke. At least the fire hadn't had time to spread.

I was out of breath, but I still managed to say, "Thank… you."

Roman patted my shoulder. "No need, my king."

"Oh, lay off it."

Roman snorted, but then he sighed, long and loud. "Let me help you."

He ushered me over to the chair in the corner and gingerly removed the vine. It took a lot longer than either of us wanted because the thorns were really embedded. It left deep holes in my skin and blood all over me and my clothes. My shifter abilities would help heal them quickly now that the vine was removed.

"I hate those damn vines," I muttered.

They were awful because they were spelled to keep growing. The vines seemed like they weren't that big of a deal when they were first wrapped around you, but when you realized that their thorns never stopped growing, you realized just how dangerous they were. In the middle of a battle, it was easy to ignore vines like that when you were hyper-focused on fighting, but that was the point. They killed you slowly, and I'd known many people who'd lost their lives to the blood witches' vines that way.

"Me too. At least you didn't wear this one long enough to do permanent damage."

I grunted in agreement as I stood and stretched out my arm, not wanting the muscles to grow stiff as they healed and grew back.

Roman held the vine up and gingerly blew a small stream of fire from his mouth. He was good at nuanced things, like aiming a tiny flame at something, so I wasn't surprised he burned the vine with ease without catching anything else on fire.

When he finished, he sighed. "We can't keep doing this, Garrick."

I held in my own sigh. "I don't think we have much of a choice."

He rested the tip of his own dragonscale sword on the floor, leaned an arm on it, and faced me. "This is the third one in two weeks."

"I know."

"They're going to keep coming."

"I know that too."

"We need help."

Turning a sharp glare on my friend, I asked, "And who the hell are we going to get to help us?"

"Gar—"

"No, seriously, Roman. Who? Our clan is gone. Who else can we possibly trust with this?"

He stared at me for a long moment. "You know exactly who we can trust."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm not bringing him into this. It's too dangerous."

"We need someone with magic, Gar. He's perfect—"

"I can't."

Roman stepped closer to me and placed his hand on my good shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "My brother, we no longer have a choice."

My nostrils flared, my heart wanting to fight this even if my brain knew he was right. "Rome…"

He gave my shoulder a small shake. "It's the right thing to do. He can help us, Gar. You know he can."

"I thought you wanted me to stop giving him more work."

He rolled his eyes. "I do, but this is different. This is something we actually need help with. This isn't the same as you sending him on pointless errands just so you have a reason to email him, of all things." He gave me a look. "Email? Really?"

I rolled my eyes. "I was planning on asking for his number this week." It sounded defensive, and I suppose it was.

"Well, now you can ask him for help as well."

Leaning my head back, I stared at the ceiling for a long moment. "I don't want him to get hurt."

"I know, but a blood witch got into your condo. They've never made it this far before, and your witch, he's not only strong, but he helps run a security business. Surely, he has some tricks up his sleeve." He gave me another shake. "And I love you, Gar, but I can't protect you twenty-four-seven. I need help."

With a sigh, I met my friend's eyes, guilt churning in my belly. He looked sincere, and… and exhausted. He was as tired of this bullshit as I was, and he placed so much pressure on himself, so much worry and concern for me. It wasn't fair of me to ask him to take it on alone.

So, with a grimace, I gave him a nod, and he sent me a smile before pulling me into a hug.

When we parted, he wrinkled his nose. "Guess we need to clean this up."

I sighed again. "Yeah, I guess so."