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The thorny vines on my skin heated, and I knew they were glowing as I said the words of the ancient spell, repeating them, slowly increasing in volume, in speed.

Maddox thrashed harder. I could hear his struggles, the spirit fighting against it, more than a little reluctant to leave such a strong host.

I continued to raise my voice until I was yelling the words that tumbled from my lips, words I felt as though I’d said before, but it wasn’t my voice, it was the voices of generations past, witches who’d used this spell, their voices shadows, echoes of the past replaying like an old recording, adding power to mine, fuller, louder, stronger.

Maddox was roaring and growling, incoherent now.

I opened my eyes, and slamming my broom on the floor, swept away a section of the salt line and stepped back. A cold blast shot past me, and Warrick yanked the lid off the urn as I scooped up the bag of salt and threw down more, covering the gap again, sealing Maddox inside.

An icy wind filled the room, not like the last spirit, its frozen claws stinging as it passed by, the soul spinning around the room, rushing past us over and over again, desperate for a new host.

Then finally, with no other option, it slammed into the urn.

The dead rat shrieked.

Warrick slammed on the lid.

Chapter 9

Willow

Maddox thrashed against his chains and Warrick strode to him, his feet crunching over the salt, and crouched down. “Calm, brother,” he said as he undid the shackles around Maddox’s ankles and wrist. Maddox made an agonized sound and his hand came up, gripping his head.

Warrick loomed over him and said something deep and guttural, the words sounding brutal, harsh, in a language I’d never heard before.

Maddox shook his head, and his eyes flashed red.

“Get back,” Warrick said to me.

He didn’t need to warn me twice. I scrambled back as Maddox exploded into his hellhound form, enormous body, black shaggy fur, and terrifying red eyes. Warrick stood in front of him, still speaking in a different language. Maddox shook his head and made a sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

Maddox’s boxy head turned to me, and there was horror in his red eyes.

“Brother,” Warrick growled out.

He made that awful pain-filled sound once more and, with a burst of energy, Maddox smashed through the door and ran off.

The hellhound alpha strode to the hall, snatched his phone from his pile of clothes, and hit someone’s number. “Maddox is coming, let him past then follow him. Don’t let him out of your sight, but stay back.”

I grabbed my clothes from the hall and shoved them on over the oily mess on my skin.

“What were you saying to him?” I asked Warrick when he walked back in carrying his jeans.

His expression was troubled as he pulled them on. “I told him it wasn’t his fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t. That spirit latched on to him and there was nothing he could’ve done to stop it.” I tugged my shirt over my head.

“He knows that. But when the spirit left and he shifted to his hound form, I could see what was in his head, and all I could see was the female he killed. His mind was filled with the memory of hurting her, of tearing her open.”

This surprised me somewhat. “Sure, he’s upset he killed Jane, of course he is, but why is he—”

Warrick growled. “We don’t harm innocent females. Ever. Not human, not vampire or shifter…” His lids lowered, looking at me under thick, dark lashes. “Not witch.”

The vehemence in his words and on his face surprised me as well. “What about demon?”

His expression remained intense. “Not all demons want to cause harm. There are good and bad among all species.”

“Of course,” I said, though I hadn’t met any full-blooded demons that I’d like to be BFFs with lately. I began to gather my things.