Inquisitor (Witch & Wolf Book 1) (45 page)

“She’s the only reason you’re alive right now, witch, so show some respect. If it were up to me, you’d be a rotting husk of a corpse right now. But if she won’t have you put down like you deserve, I think I’ve got the perfect alternative.” Anderson prowled around Amelia in a broad circle, examining every bit of her, as though looking for the ideal spot to strike.

“What?” Amelia asked warily.

“You can die as a woman and live as a wolf,” was the quiet reply, Anderson’s unfriendly smile fixed in place. “From my understanding, pack justice can’t be thwarted, not when a werewolf curses you under the light of a full moon. I’ve plenty of cages to contain you with until the next true moon rises, Amelia, and two wolves likely willing to mark you as cursed. Your one pathetic human lifespan isn’t sufficient to make you pay for all of the lives you have ruined. I’ll prolong your life and teach you true suffering.”

“Your hands aren’t clean either, Shadow Pope.” Amelia spat on Anderson’s shoe.

“No, they aren’t. Nor will they ever be. But I know better than to target the witch of the Caretaker, Amelia.” Anderson circled Amelia one final time before turning to me. “As the judge, jury, court, and prosecutor, I would sentence her to your curse. The Inquisition will ignore the use of your powers for this purpose, Witch Wolf, and provide anything you might need to contain her until her judgment is finalized. Alternatively, I will permit James to issue the judgment and take her to his pack for her punishment.”

Amelia drew her breath as a gasp. “You wouldn’t. You can’t. That’s—”

“Silence, witch,” Anderson snapped, spinning on a heel to face the old woman. “James, if she utters another word without permission, silence her.”

“Only if my Lady allows.”

Once again, the Shadow Pope’s eyes settled on me. “Victoria, change if you can. It is time for you to pass judgment for the death of your witch.”

I closed my eyes and was haunted by the memory of Samantha scowling at me. Could I change back?

Did I even want to?

Fear and uncertainty warred within me. If I changed back, I would have to once again rejoin the Inquisition, acting as Amelia’s personal hell, a hunting Inquisitor seeking more than justice. I would be forever stained, no matter what judgment I decided for the woman.

An immortal curse was almost as bad as death.

Could I even change back at all? The storm still sucked away at my strength, though its hold on me faded with each gusting of the wind. I sighed. I wouldn’t know until I tried.

It felt like an eternity, but I managed. I shivered in the cold of the hangar. I opened my eyes, pushing aside wayward strands of my magic-bleached hair.

“Well?” Anderson asked in a soft voice.

What would Samantha do? Samantha had always been the moral compass, the wisdom of her years partnered with the human compassion I all too often lacked.

I couldn’t ask her, and I’d never be able to ask her again.

I stared at Amelia, unable to mask the hatred in my voice. “Samantha wouldn’t want her killed.”

Samantha never wanted anyone to die.

Justice and mercy weren’t compatible words. I wanted to step forward, seize Amelia’s throat in my hands, and wring the life out of her. I closed my eyes.

If werewolves were creatures of mercy, I would’ve ordered James to pull the trigger.

But we weren’t, so I didn’t.

If I had been Amelia, Samantha would’ve forgiven me. I wasn’t Samantha either, though, and forgiveness was beyond my reach. The best I could hope for was pack justice.

“Your old, decrepit body doesn’t have enough blood in it to pay for Samantha’s life,” I whispered, staring my friend’s killer in the eye. “Samantha would have begged for me to forgive you. I won’t. I won’t forgive you. I won’t forget you. And you shall never forget me. I pray to deaf gods that you live a thousand years so I can watch them all go by while you learn what it means to kill pack.”

I didn’t utter the true words to curse her soul.

Amelia tensed, her eyes blazing with fury. “Never! I’ll kill you before—”

The crack of gunfire silenced the witch. Blood fountained from several holes in the woman’s throat.

I screamed at the unfairness of it all. Amelia’s eyes widened before the life fled from her. Her body slumped to the ground with a soft thud.

“Sorry,” Mark said, not sounding at all apologetic. He lowered the muzzle of the automatic rifle, pointing it at the witch’s twitching body. “That witch had Ma killed. She wasn’t a great Ma, but adoptive or not, she was mine. She turned Allison against me, and against you both as well. Maybe she doesn’t deserve mercy, and maybe Allison and her witch need more justice than that. But I won’t have her ruining anything again. Let her rot. I don’t trust her not to find some way to avoid justice.”

“Hasty,” James said, shaking his head at the fallen woman’s still form.

Anderson let his breath out in a sigh. “Wise. We’ll burn the body with rue and yarrow. Let’s not risk her coming back, boys.”

My legs collapsed under me, and I sat down with a thump, staring at Amelia’s body. My eyes burned.

Wolves didn’t cry.

I did, though. I guess there was at least a little human left in me after all.

I stared at the tarmac, not quite able to shake myself free of the fugue gripping me. The rain transformed the snow to the blue-white of ice. With the engines dead, icicles clung to the sleek body of the airplane Amelia had arranged to cart me somewhere far, far away.

James draped a coat over my shoulders.
“You’re really going to catch your death out here if you’re not careful.”

I jerked my shoulders in a shrug, my gaze snapping to Amelia’s body. Standing in the hangar during the union of a blizzard and a hurricane wasn’t the wisest thing I’d done. I didn’t know where Anderson found the supplies, but the young CEO of Marrodin, Shadow Pope of the Inquisition, busied himself with sprinkling witchbane, rue, and yarrow over the corpse.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“I never saw you,” was all James said as he clapped my shoulder and wandered towards where a small fleet of snowmobiles waited, each of them manned by wary witches who kept staring up at the dark clouds swirling overhead. I managed a smile for him, though my effort was wasted. He didn’t turn back as he hopped behind one of the waiting women.

I had a feeling we’d meet again someday. Things like that happened to me.

A few of the Inquisition witches cast curious looks my way, but when Anderson cleared his throat, somehow audible over the wind, the rain, the thunder, and the purr of the snowmobile engines, they found something else to look at in a hurry. Anderson rose, joining me after staring one final time at Amelia’s body.

“Well, that isn’t how I envisioned spending my weekend,” he grumbled with a shake of his head.

I jerked my head in a nod. “Ditto.”

“I guess I’ll see you in the office sometime next week?” Anderson flashed his best grin at me.

Life—and Marrodin—went on I guessed, even without one of the original board members. “I guess I’ll need to put that call in to Natalie after all.”

A nod answered me. I was content to stay silent.

Samantha’s true killer was finally dead, but I didn’t feel much of anything at all. No relief, no joy, and no real satisfaction. I was tired. I had survived, but mere survival wasn’t enough.

I wanted Samantha back.

Anderson stared at me, and then as James had done, he clapped my shoulder. “Why don’t you let me handle Natalie? I’ll deal with Amelia as well. I’ll file the missing person’s report tomorrow and have cleanup taken care of.” There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. “I’ll put together a team of wolves and witches to hunt down the West Virginia pack and bring the kids back in.” Before I could do anything more than tense, Anderson gripped my shoulder, turning me to face him. “Easy, Vicky. I’m not going to hurt the kids or their pack. Devonshire, however, will be dealt with. That I promise you.”

“And here I thought you were offering me a place to stay for a while with the kids?” I glanced at Mark out of the corner of my eye.

Anderson followed my gaze, his mouth twisting in a scowl. “And deal with the competition? I might be crazy, Vicky, but I’m not insane. However much I dislike it, I know better than to get involved with someone like you. I’m the Shadow Pope. I’ll be long dead before you get your first gray hair. If you ever get a gray hair. It seems you’ve favored white.”

Wrinkling my nose, I captured one of my curls and flicked it dismissively. “It’ll darken in a week or two.”

“Around the same time the storms completely blow themselves out and scatter?” Anderson asked, glancing at the tarmac.

“Something like that.”

“I think we’ll need to compare notes soon, Ms. Hanover. I don’t like not knowing what the true cause of this is.” Sweeping his hand out in a gesture that encompassed the hangar and the storm outside, he turned away from me. “A secret for a secret, then?”

“I’ve no love for the Inquisition.”

“And I’ve no love for rogue werewolves.” He twisted to grin at me. “Fair’s fair. You put up with me, and I’ll put up with you.”

“And you’ll keep your scourge away from my people.”

Anderson nodded. “I’ll keep them away from
our
people. I think it’s reasonable enough to consider the werewolves under Marrodin’s hire as a part of a rather large, informal pack. They’ll be your responsibility.”

Swallowing back a bitter laugh, I averted my eyes. “I can’t be their Alpha.”

“No, I suppose you’re right about that. It’s better that you aren’t.”

“Then I think we can work together on this,” I said, managing a smile.

Anderson grinned at me, his eyes twinkling. “I thought you’d see things my way.”

“I have a question.”

He tilted his head at me, arching a brow. “What?”

“Was it you or Amelia who shot me?”

Anderson burst out laughing. “If I ever point a gun at you, Vicky, expect silver bullets and a kill shot.”

My mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Anderson.”

“I’ll see you later, Vicky. I’ll let you know as soon as we find the kids and their pack.”

“No cages, Anderson.”

He nodded. “No cages. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re always making things difficult.”

“I’ll expect the company will have organized relief for those impacted by the storm by the time I get back to Atlanta, Anderson.”

After casting a long look at the icy mess on the tarmac, Anderson stared at me. “I don’t suppose you can…”

I snorted. “No.”

“Some Caretaker you are,” the Shadow Pope muttered.

Laughing until my sides ached, I threw a mock punch at his arm. Anderson didn’t dodge my hit. “I never said I was.”

“I might not be a witch or a wolf, but one does get used to looking for the truth of magic. This whole storm smells quite a bit like you,” Anderson said with a sly smile.

“Are you saying I stink?”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he backed away towards the snowmobiles. “Next week, then?”

“Next week, Anderson.”

“I’ll see about arranging some interviews with secretaries suited to your special needs. For now, I’ll leave that mutt of a shaman with you. I’m sure you can put him to good use.”

Before I had a chance to bristle at the offer, the Shadow Pope of the Inquisition marched off, taking one of the snowmobiles from the waiting witches. Most of the entourage left, following in the man’s wake.

Mark stepped forward, leaning against the silver cage. “So you’re just going to keep working with him, Allison?”

“You better start getting used to the fact my name is Victoria.”

“Victoria
Allison
Hanover,” he replied, mouth twitching up in a grin. “You’re dodging my question. You’re going to keep working with him?”

I shrugged. “Someone has to.”

“Look, Allison, about Halloween—”

“Don’t,” I whispered, holding up my hand. Mark’s eyes darkened. While there was no expression on his face, I caught a glimpse of the pain lurking beneath the surface. “Just like with Anderson, it’d never work.”

“You won’t even let us try?”

I shook my head. “In a few years, you’ll start going gray. You’ll ache as the years catch up with you. Those around you will start having children, but you won’t.”

Mark scowled at me. “We could. It’s not impossible. I wasn’t under the impression you wanted kids of your own anyway.”

“But you will,” I replied, adjusting the coat. I shivered, but the cold wasn’t enough to drive me back into wolf form quite yet. “If I had any children, they would age slower. They couldn’t go to school. Sure, they might be human, but they might not be, either. They’d be different.”

Mark’s expression softened. “There’s nothing wrong with that. They’d be as interesting as their mother.”