Page 35 of Rogue Witch

Someone screams behind me and I jump to my feet. The press of magic has vanished. Several students are yanking Chelsea’s arms as if she’s a rag doll and they intend to tear her arms from her body. Ariel throws her hands up and her attackers fly backwards.

Chelsea’s eyes flash. She shouts something I can’t discern, and a giant eagle appears above her. The bird dives toward her and her attackers scatter. The people in the stands scream in a frenzy of blood lust. My head throbs. I’ve had enough of this circus.

“Spirits of the earth,” I shout, “I call upon you to remove from our sight those things not rooted to the soil.”

The stands and the crowd vanish. The screams of the students fleeing the eagle sound almost quiet compared to the phantom crowd’s shouts. The eagle screeches and my head throbs again. That damned thing has to go.

“Be gone!” I command, and the eagle disappears.

“How dare you?” Chelsea yells.

I frown at her, then catch sight of the free end of the rope around the guy, now tied off on a low hanging branch. He’s hanging, arms limp, head lolling to one side as his body makes a maddeningly slow turn.

I shake my head. “No. I threw the ball of energy at his rope.” But I hadn’t. The guy tackled me before I could throw it. “No,” I whisper. “No, no, no, no.” Each word is spoken louder until I’m shouting, “No!”

I drop to my knees. “No.” The whispered word is mingled with tears.

The Shadows inch closer. One reaches me and slides over my body, almost a caress, as if to comfort. I jump to my feet.

“This is your fault,” I shout.

The Shadow leaps off me. The others withdraw, and I have the impression they’re cringing.

“You did this.”

Without thought, a swirling ball of black energy appears in my palm. I throw one, then another, and another and another at the Shadows. With each strike, they falter. I throw energy balls until I realize the Shadows are absorbing each one and I’m breathing heavily. I stagger forward with the intention of catching the Shadows and strangling them with my bare hands. My wolf in human form blocks my path. I suddenly wish that I was back in Grams’ house before she kicked me out, before I realized she didn’t love me. Then I pitch forward into his arms.

Chapter Fifteen

BLADE

Damien’s followers number about a thousand, with fifty-three known Zidruhin priests and priestesses. What they lack in numbers, they make up for in the blackness of their hearts. We believe their order is one of the most ancient and we fear that they co-mingle with demons to widen the gene pool of their ranks—after all, with Hades as Damien’s father and the Morning Star as Hell’s ruler, Zidruhin and demons are kissing cousins. The Zidruhin have one potential weakness I hope to exploit tonight. They like to party.

My cab pulls to the curb ahead of half a dozen other cabs parked in front of the Brooklyn warehouse where tonight’s illegal rave is taking place. The guest list is exclusive, a scant two hundred of New York City’s elite—which always includes the Zidruhin.

The cab driver looks at me in the mirror. He’s not seeing the tall, blue-eyed, long-haired blond Fae. He’s seeing a tall man with shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. Every Zidruhin priest will know me on sight. The charm disguising the real me is an herbal potion created by one of our most skilled witches. The hope is that the Zidruhin will have a more difficult time detecting earth magic than they would a spell created from pure magic. The catch? I turn into a pumpkin at sunrise—a mere four hours from now.

The beat of music thumps against the car. I exit the cab and pay the fare with a five-hundred-dollar tip. “Remember,” I tell him. “Don’t move from here until I come back out and I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to take me home. But not a word to the woman that’ll be with me.” If I’m fortunate enough to connect with one of the Zidruhin.

“Sure thing, sir,” the drive replies. “I brought coffee and a book.” He glances around and laughs. “Out here, I can take a leak around a corner and no one will be the wiser.”

“Good man,” I say, then turn and scrutinize the warehouse.

I haven’t attended a party like this in years. Normally, I would love a night out on the town, but wager tonight will be a waste of time. Olympia doesn’t like truths that conflict with the truth she wants to hear. Thus far, the Zidruhin have proven to be impenetrable. We haven’t gotten near them with any kind of shapeshifter. Tonight, I’m trying to get someone drunk enough to invite me back to their place.

The key to my plan is the strong powdered sedative in my jacket pocket. If, by chance, I connect with a Zidruhin, the sedative might be the only chance I have to knock them out long enough to search their home—if I get into their home. My only other weapons are the drop of faery water hidden inside the ring on my right hand—and the switchblade in my right boot. My backup is a bruiser of a wizard Olympia made my partner for the night. Barry Goldstein. His father is a powerful wizard, his mother a rabbi. It takes all kinds.

Two young—very young—women in four-inch heels and dresses so short they flash matching lace panties as they pass me. They both look over their shoulders at me and smile. I sigh. Two sweet things who think they’ll meet a prince who will treat them like the princesses their fathers told them they are. I wonder what Susan B. Anthony would say to these young women who think they need a man to take care of them.

I head for the door where a bouncer faces a couple dozen party-goers—almost exclusively women—who hope to be deemed beautiful enough to enter. If all goes as planned, Barry should already be here. Should I spot him, I can’t so much as look in his direction. We can’t risk someone catching on that we know one another. The music inside the building grows louder as I draw closer. The two young women who passed me turn as I approach and make eye contact in obvious hope that I’ll be their ticket inside.

“Hey, Bruce,” I say.

“Mr. Blackwell.” The bouncer pulls the sliding metal door aside.

The music blares so loudly my chest vibrates. I give an almost imperceptible nod to the big man and continue past him. Late last night, after I left Raith, Ethan, and Matthias, I’d made a point of tracking down the rave and finding out who would be watching the front door, then visited him at the party where he was working as the bouncer. We got acquainted to the tune of a thousand dollar tip.

I step inside and Bruce slides the door closed behind me and at least four hundred people are bouncing and gyrating to the music blasting from the speakers positioned at the corners of the massive space. I guess I’m not the only one who gave Bruce something on the side for the privilege of joining the party.