Devious Magic (11 page)

I heard an angry growl in the background, then the low hum of a car engine cutting out while a door opened. Someone was muttering the things they would do if Annalise got hurt. It sounded like her boyfriend, Beau. Considering how big he was, and his military service, I was glad he was on our side, but my heart wept for him.

“What does Étoile think?”

“Étoile thinks we’re in deep shit,” said Étoile, leaning in.

“What she said,” I added. “Listen, I’m coming back. I’ll meet you at my house. We’ll make a plan as soon as I get there.”

“Hurry, Stella.” Kitty clicked off and I slid the phone back in my pocket.

“They’ve got Annalise,” I whispered, even though they already knew that.

“Shit.” Evan ran a hand through his short hair, looking perturbed.

Something occurred to me. “That witch I saw today in Wilding. I didn’t recognise her. Do you think she could have anything to do with this?”

“Maybe,” Étoile said. “But it’s unlikely. What would a witch have to do with any of this?”

“She could make a car break down at exactly the right place.” I’ve been thinking about that, how the gas trailed out just at the spot where the Brotherhood were waiting. It was a huge coincidence that we broke down where we did, if not.

“Hold on,” said Evan. “We’re talking about a conspiracy between witches and the Brotherhood, two factions that hate each other.”

“There’s a whole lot wrong with this situation.” Another thought occurred to me. “Jones said someone told him where I was. What if this is Georgia Thomas’ way of getting back at me?”

“Shit,” cussed Evan.

“Yeah, we got that far. I have to go back.” The mileage between Evan’s house and mine was almost impossible to gauge. All I knew was it was further than I had ever travelled before. No one knew for sure how shimmering worked, but, thanks to my bonded connection to my house, I was pretty sure I could transport myself back there if my need was strong enough. Neither Étoile nor Evan would have any problems following. Both of them had long distance experience while I was strictly a short-hop wonder. This morning, I was thrilled to do a few miles. Now I was planning something that would make a shimmering marathon look like a hop around my living room.

Evan shook his head. “No, you don’t. You go back there, they know exactly where you are and they can come for you anytime. We don’t know how many are in the area or where they are. It’s too dangerous. Look what happened to Annalise! That could have been you!” he finished sharply.

“I can’t stay! They’re taking Annalise to England and I have to go after her. It’s me they want, not her.”

“Let the wolves look after one of their own. They’ll get her back.”

“And risk their lives because of me? Annalise’s life? What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help?”

“The kind of friend who didn’t get herself killed on a wild goose chase to another country on the pretext that her friend might be alive. Stella, I didn’t want to say this, but Annalise might be dead already. They could be putting her in a shallow grave somewhere near Wilding and you’re chasing nothing.”

I fought back tears. “I can’t do nothing!”

“You aren’t doing nothing. You’re staying alive, and staying safe until we work out how we can get rid of the Brotherhood, once and for all. This isn’t just about you, Stella, this is about every witch, every supernatural creature on this earth. Think about it, Stella.” Evan slammed a palm against the wall, his fingers spreading across the plaster as he leant there. His questions came thick and fast. “What happens if we’re revealed to the world? You think regular people will want to live alongside us? You think they won’t want to harness what we can do or punish us because we have what they don’t? Or maybe the Brotherhood will be the fucking heroes who get to hunt us without any danger of being prosecuted because they’re just performing a public service. We have to be smart about this.”

I froze, my eyes flicking over to Étoile as I waited for her support. Annalise was her friend, too. She held up her hands in surrender. “I think he’s right. We need to keep you safe and hidden until we can eliminate the threat, not send you right into it. And we need to be absolutely sure that they have Annalise before we do anything at all.”

I stood my ground. “If she’s alive, the longer we wait, the less time she has.”

“There are a lot of ifs here, Stella,” Étoile warned but she didn’t sound her usual confident self at all.

Following Evan along the hall, we arrived into what looked like a living room. It was sparsely furnished with black sofas set at right angles on two walls. A sleek glass coffee table that seemed to be suspended over metal legs spanned a broad geometric-print rug and dark wood cabinets; very elegant and so completely opposite to my house, it hit me like a punch in the gut. I didn’t even know Evan’s taste when it came to décor. It seemed like such an inconsequential thing to think about as I looked around. Everything looked so glossy and expensive that I almost wanted to apologise for my home which, though fresh after new coats of paint, still had that work-in-progress vibe.

“You’d sacrifice Annalise for a few unanswered questions?” I asked, wondering if I could squeeze any more guilt on. I felt nasty doing it, but I felt even worse for Annalise. I wondered if she were conscious, or drugged, on the plane or, like Evan said, waiting to be found in a shallow grave. I hoped she wasn’t afraid. I had to close my eyes for a moment as the room seemed to spin about me.

Étoile’s mouth set in a grim line as she echoed the unpalatable. “Like Evan said, she might already be dead.”

“She’s not dead until I see a body.”

“You might be dead before you even get that far!” Evan yelled unexpectedly. “They’ve tried to kill you twice now, Stella. They don’t care about letting you get far enough to even see Annalise, never mind rescue her. If you rush in, I’m afraid... I’m afraid for you, Stella.”

I gulped. Fear from a daemon was not something I ever expected to see and it shocked me to my core, like nothing else could. “I still have to try,” I said in a small voice as I concentrated on home and shimmered.

I vanished, but I didn’t get far. Hitting a solid surface, I materialised again. I had a moment of brief, terrified distress when I eyed the white plaster ceiling, only inches from my face before plummeting to the floor with a scream... But I didn’t hit the floor. Instead, I hung there, level with the sofa, suspended. My arms and legs drifted lower while my body felt like it was resting on a plank.

“Put me down,” I said slowly through gritted teeth, breathing hard. A second later, and I was resting flat on my back on the rug, slightly stunned. I was still in Evan’s house. “What happened?”

Evan stooped next to me and offered his hand so I could sit up. I was too furious to feel embarrassed but I felt my cheeks redden anyway. “You can’t use magic here,” he explained. “The house is protected.”

“I can’t stay. I need to go.”

“You need to be protected. Let me protect you. Please, Stella.” He stayed on his knees next to me, my hand in his, his eyes matching his worried expression. He searched my face, looking for some hint that I would do what he asked.

I hated to disappoint him. “I need to help my friends.”

“Kitty’s safe, I promise. We can’t do anything for Annalise, just yet.”

“Why can’t I use my magic here?” I asked again, realising that Evan had been the one to break my fall, levitating me so that I wouldn’t hurt myself. It occurred to me that the fall could have broken my back, or my skull.

“Witch magic doesn’t work here. This is a daemon-owned house and I had to take precautions.”

“From me?”

“No, not from you.” He almost smiled then. “The protections were put in place long before I knew you. Just like you have wards around your house protecting you from harm, I have wards on this one. But here it’s daemon-made magic, not witch, and it guards against lots of things. It’s essential in my line of work.”

“You expect to be attacked?”

“No, but I don’t intend to be unprotected the day some fool tries. The wards are too complicated to take down but I can assure you your magic is still there, just suppressed.” Evan stood up, holding out his other hand to me. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet.

“Are you okay with that, Étoile?” I asked, turning to my friend. She pulled an unhappy face and just shrugged, again. I sighed. “Fine, no witchy magic here.”

“You need to meet someone. Micah!” A moment after Evan yelled, another man joined us, walking quickly along the hallway and sliding to a halt when he saw us. He was shorter than Evan by a few inches, slim and not quite as powerfully built but something about him said deadly to me. He had short hair with long sideburns, very neatly trimmed with lines cut in as they reached his cheeks, then trimmed into edges that pointed to his jaw, but no moustache or goatee. His skin was a beautiful chocolate. He was wearing a sleek black suit with a white shirt and purple striped tie. My senses told me he was demon, a purebred. My human senses told me he was on alert.

“Witches?” he spat as he looked at us with undisguised revulsion, like we just announced we trampled something gross into the house.

“Guests,” clarified Evan, moving to stand in front of us. “You know about my girlfriend, Stella, already. And this is Étoile Winterstorm, whom you might know. This is my assistant, Micah.”

“Is this the one I’ve been cleaning up after?” he asked, relaxing slightly as he nodded at me, ignoring Étoile.

I looked up to Evan. “What does he mean?”

Micah answered me before Evan could. “I believe I picked up a body earlier that you dismembered.”

“It was an accident!” I protested but Micah looked sceptical, which I supposed was reasonable. There couldn’t be that many accidental dismemberments after all; I hoped not, anyway. I added pointedly, “She was trying to kill me.”

Micah ignored that, inclining his head towards Evan, asking something in a low voice, almost a stage whisper. I was starting to get the impression he was teasing us, more than threatening, though his sense of humour left a lot to be desired. Perhaps it was a demon thing? Evan’s daemon humour seemed to run a lot closer to my idea of funny. “May I kill them?” he persisted.

“Me calling them ‘guests’ might be a clue of what my answer is going to be,” replied Evan, then, “Just to be clear, that’s a no.”

Micah persisted, his eyes flashing hopefully as he asked, “Are they prisoners?”

“Now you’re being deliberately obtuse.” Evan squared up to him, arms folded, eyebrows raised and Micah gave a little shrug, like he was giving up.

“And you’re absolutely sure I can’t kill them?”

“I like him,” said Étoile softly, leaning into me while keeping her eyes on him. “Very polite.”

“He’s asking Evan if he can kill us,” I hissed back, also keeping my eyes fixed on Micah, suddenly unsure again. If my magic didn’t work here, we would either have to hope Evan had a firm handle on the situation, or run. I favoured the first option.

“Like I said, very polite, for a demon anyway. Many would just kill a witch without a second thought.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s grounds for liking him, Étoile.”

“I do.”

“Fine,” said Micah, interrupting us. “Welcome, Stella and Étoile.” With an audible sigh, the demon wheeled on his heel and clacked away down the hall, exiting to a door off the right. Étoile shrugged her shoulders, gave me a smile and trotted after him, probably determined to make the horrible demon her friend.
Good luck with that.

“Don’t be mad at me, Stella.” Evan took a step closer and I held up my hand in the universal signal for stop.

“How do you expect me not to be? You saw an opportunity and you yanked me right out of there, across the country!”

“You know it wasn’t like that. I want you to be safe and this was the first place I thought of. Besides I already had Micah pick up the shifter and we’ve been talking.”

“Yeah, I bet he wanted to extend the invitation personally.”

“Once you get to know him, he’s okay.”

“You forgot to add ‘for a demon’.” I stomped away in the opposite direction from the odious Micah, pausing as I reached the long windows on the other side of the room. It looked out onto a neat expanse of lawn, and a brick-paved patio. There was a doorway off to the left that was closed. The opposite wall was occupied by a broad entertainment unit and a big, flat-screen television. I didn’t know whether to stand still, or stomp out of the room. I couldn’t just stride off to the hallway. The only thing stopping me from moving at all was not knowing if the doorway led to a closet. That would make stomping out look pretty stupid.

“What do you think of my house?” Evan’s voice was soft as he came to a stop next to me, standing so close that our arms were almost touching. “I’ll show you around.”

“Might as well, seeing as I’m your prisoner.” I threw Micah’s term at him. I knew I sounded bitter, angry even, and I was, even though I understood Evan wanted me to be safe. I just didn’t get how I could possibly feel okay with being safe when my friend wasn’t. All the possibilities were floating through my mind: dead, tortured, scared, not one was palatable. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what would happen to her if they took her to England.

I smoothed my hair back, stopping when I reached a matted section. Drawing my hand away, I could make out the faintest shade of red. Blood. That was enough. My stomach lurched as the horrible day caught up to me in a sudden rush of fear, revulsion and inadequacy. “Bathroom,” I forced out, my eyelids drooping as my stomach convulsed again, forcing me to retch.

Evan half carried, half propelled me out to the hall, then into the downstairs bath. I dropped to my knees and retched again, gripping the toilet seat, then emptied my stomach while Evan held my hair back, stroking it.

After a few minutes, during which I was very still, and trying not to cry or throw up again, I sat back against the tiled wall, while Evan flipped the lid and flushed. He didn’t say a word and I just sat there, more embarrassed than I could possibly say, with a horrible acrid feeling in my mouth, and a worse one in my heart.