Witch Blood (7 page)

Fuck.

He dropped her hand and turned away. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

“I thought you'd never say that.”

Thomas guided her away from the wall and down the corridor. He could understand how she felt and, even though he'd asked her along for the ride, he wasn't totally sure she should be on this mission.

From what he'd gathered from her records, Angela had essentially been her only family. Perhaps Isabelle would endanger herself in her quest to avenge her sister. He had the sense that maybe she didn't think she had much to lose these days. An attitude like that would make her reckless, a tendency she'd already shown anyway.

They didn't need reckless.

He didn't want to see her get hurt, either. Isabelle getting hurt, her fire snuffed out, would be a tragedy. He didn't know her well, but there was something about her that drew him to her. Maybe it was simply her personality, which he found in turns compelling, messy, attractive, and exasperating. Maybe it was the wildness and impulsiveness he sensed in her.

They made their way through the security checkpoints to the elevator that would bring them to the main floor of the prison. He punched the button to call the car, but Isabelle headed for the door leading to the stairwell instead.

She glanced at him, hand on the door knob. “I don't like elevators. I'll meet you up there.”

He frowned at her. “It's fifteen flights up.”

“What? Can't do fifteen flights, old-timer?” With a grin, she disappeared beyond the doorway.

“Old?” he murmured to himself. “I'm not old.” The elevator door opened, but he just stared at the interior of the car, frowning. Leaving the elevator, he sprinted after her, taking the stairs two at a time until he'd caught up to her.

Her laugh echoed down the stairwell. “I knew you'd chase me after that comment.” She quickened her pace. “I bet I can beat you to the top.”

He increased his speed to match hers. “Since I'm an old man and I'm exerting myself, I need some incentive for this. What will you give me if I win?”

She laughed again. “You're pretty ripped for an elderly person. As for what you'll get if you win, it will be a surprise.” She quickened her pace, not even out of breath.

He shot after her, keeping right on her tail until they were at the top. By that time they were both panting hard. They jostled their way to the door, elbowing each other out of the way. It was close, but Thomas got there first. Isabelle brushed past him, put her hand to the knob, and started to pull, but Thomas pressed his hand to the door and closed it.

Bracketing her as she faced the door, he dropped his head and murmured, “I won,” in her ear. “I want my surprise.”

Isabelle turned, his body still crowding hers. He liked the proximity, liked the heat her body gave off and the scent of her light perfume. Thomas dropped his gaze to her chest, rising and falling quickly in her exertion, and wondered what color her nipples were. Wondered what they tasted like.

Thomas wanted her stripped and spread on his bed. Wanted to drag his hands over every inch of her skin, kiss the backs of her knees and lick the sensitive skin at the base of her spine. He wanted his cock tunneling in and out of her slick, wet heat, wanted her wrists captured and pressed to the bed while he drove himself into her fast and hard. He wanted to feel the muscles of her sex pulse and ripple along his length as she came. He simply wanted her. Wanted her with a base, male urge that made his cock go rock hard.

She stared up at him with her lips parted in surprise. Isabelle was empathic, she had to understand the lust he felt for her. He lowered his head to hers, knowing damn well this was a bad idea.

Isabelle stilled, even her breath stopped as he brushed his lips across hers. Once. Twice. Her hands grasped his wrists, slid up his arms. He nipped at her lower lip and her breath sighed out of her, warming his mouth.

It was the spark that made a fire roar to life inside him.

He dragged her up against his chest, hungrily pressing his lips to hers and demanding that she open for him. She whimpered somewhere low in her throat and parted her lips. He slid his tongue inside and let it war with hers. She tasted hot and sweet, felt like silky heaven. He knew where else she'd feel like silky heaven and he wanted to stroke her there until she shattered for him.

More
. He wanted more of her.

Damn it. He wanted her clothes off, wanted her bare flesh under his hands. He wanted her legs parted, his cock pistoning deep inside her and her moans and sighs echoing in his ears. He wanted to feel the slick, hot clasp of her sex around his cock and her bare breasts filling his hands.

At the moment, that was all he could think about.

Her fingers curled around his shoulders as she pushed back at him, returning his kiss every bit as hungrily.

Beyond rational thought, he found the edge of her shirt and pushed his hand past it, finding smooth, warm skin beneath. Lady, he wanted her so badly he'd take her right here on the stairs if she'd let him. Who cared they were still in Gribben?

Who cared about anything but
this
?

Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and then dropped to the button and zipper of his pants. She undid them and slipped her hand down, searching out the hard, ridge of his cock through the fabric of his boxers. She stroked him as he pressed against her palm, groaning in the back of his throat.

But noises past the closed door of the stairwell intruded. The guards shouted at someone….

Isabelle broke the kiss, her lips red and swollen. “What's that?”

Damn it all to hell.

He made a frustrated sound, released her, and did his pants back up in a hurry. Then he opened the door to the commotion beyond. As he stepped into the hallway he got a glimpse of a familiar form arguing with the men at the security checkpoint just inside Gribben's front door.

The men let her through and Mira, his cousin and a powerful air witch, emerged past the checkpoint, flanked by guards. She staggered as she entered the non-magickal zone, put a hand to the area between her breasts and caught herself against a wall. “Goddess, that's horrible.”

“Mira? What are you doing here?” he asked.

She looked up, peering through the tangle of dark hair that crossed her face. “I heard a whisper.”

A
VOICE ON THE WIND, THE ONE
M
IRA HAD OVERHEARD
via her air magick, had spoken of a man named Simon Alexander. A man that may or may not be a demon in disguise. An air witch could troll the air for certain spoken words, eavesdrop at a distance on conversations. Mira had been on constant alert since the first murder for any murmurings related to the demon and it had finally paid off.

Magick tingled down Thomas's arms and through his fingertips from the tattoo that also served as a magickal storage source on his back as he murmured words of power to secure a warding. Hours after Mira had heard the whisper, the Coven had secured the empty apartment across from Alexander's in order to do some surveillance work.

He'd brought Isabelle and Adam with him for the first shift. Theo, one of the Coven hunters, and Jack would take the second shift. Micah was busy sifting through the texts they'd received from the Duskoff.

“I can't believe Alexander's been living just a few miles from the Coven for the last ten years,” muttered Adam. He finished with a shake of his blond head. “Fuck me.”

Their investigation had revealed that Alexander was an accountant—or was posing as an accountant—for a chain of motorcycle dealerships and that he'd been living in the Lakeview area of Chicago for the last ten years. The Coven's sprawling campus lay near the northern portion of the Forest Glen area, only a short drive away.

“That's Emma's job,” Isabelle replied with a grin as she adjusted the spelled listening device they'd use to eavesdrop on Alexander's apartment. Isabelle could have done it through the water running through an unwarded residence, but Thomas had amped up her ability to listen in remotely by spelling a simple surveillance system. It would also allow Adam and himself to monitor Alexander as well, even though they were not water witches.

Whether Mira had caught the communication by chance, by pure dumb luck, or because the demon had deliberately blown it her way was a matter of debate. The fact that they'd been searching so long for a sign of the demon, only to have one pop up now, was ample cause for suspicion. Still, they had to take the chance it was legitimate. Too many lives were at risk.

“It's not Emma's job anymore,” Adam answered with a grin. “Now it's Elizabeth's.” Despite the fact that Adam smoked too much, drank too much, and the fact that he was less than classically attractive—with a nose that had been broken one too many times and a head full of spiky blond hair—women found him irresistible. Lots of women. And, unlike Micah, Adam knew
just
what to do with the attention.

“You're such a slut.” Isabelle shook her head as she fiddled. “You go through so many women I can't even keep track. One day you're going to find one who breaks your heart.”

“That sounds like a curse, Isabelle. Or is it a promise? Want to break my heart, baby?” He leered at her. “I'll let you try.”

“You couldn't handle me, Adam,” she shot back with a grin.

He narrowed dark blue eyes at her. “Now
that
I believe.”

Letting them banter, Thomas glanced around the room, sensing the walls, floor, ceiling, and doors to make sure he'd covered every inch with the warding. The physical space was bare, except for some tools the building maintenance crew had left. New caramel-colored carpeting covered the floor and the tang of fresh paint stung his nose.

Adam sat with Isabelle at a card table to adjust the equipment. Isabelle had her long jean-clad legs crossed and she'd hooked her hair behind her ears as she worked. Thomas had noticed she had an adorable habit of biting the tip of her tongue when she concentrated.

Isabelle set the headset aside and turned to Thomas. “So why do you think the demon has chosen to live so near the Coven?”

“Don't get ahead of yourself.” Thomas smoothed out the last of the warding and grunted. “We don't even know if Alexander
is
the demon. If he is, he likely did it deliberately. It's too much of a coincidence otherwise.”

“Maybe he got a kick out of being so close to us,” added Adam.

“Maybe.” Thomas murmured an incantation—words he'd imbued with his personal power. The last of his concealing wards snapped into place. “Done.”

His tattoo tingled, tapped of some of the magickal energy he'd stored there. Fire, air, and water witches could just draw straight from the seats of their magick in the center of their chests, but earth witches had more preparation to do. Unless he used his magick to exert control over something directly of the Earth herself, like the ground or a tree, a charm had to be created beforehand. Earth witches had to anticipate the spells they'd need, cook them up, and transfer the pure resulting energy to their bodies to be accessed later. Because of the planning involved, earth magick was the least convenient of the four types of power, but also the most flexible.

Earth witches were the most stereotypical breed of the four elements. They were more what the non-magickals imagined when they thought
witch
. No one understood why earth witches were different, though there were plenty of theories.

“I hope the wards hold,” said Isabelle, looking doubtfully out the window toward Alexander's apartment.

Yeah, so did he. They were in new territory with this one, having never done surveillance work on a suspected demon before. Alexander was at work now, which had given them some time to get the spells in place.

“I made the warding hard to detect,” Thomas answered. “The upside is that if Alexander sniffs them out and comes after us, we'll know for sure he's the demon.”

Isabelle raised a brow. “That's an upside?”

“Yeah, I'd rather not find out that way,” groused Adam.

“We're about to know one way or the other because he's home,” murmured Isabelle. “I can feel it through the water in his apartment. That was none too soon.”

Adam slipped on his headphones and Thomas went to a small table nearby and did the same. The shades were drawn on the windows of their apartment and the wards were locked down tight. From what they knew about demon magick, theoretically, the creature shouldn't notice their spying. According to Micah, demon magick and elemental magick were fundamentally different and one shouldn't be able to detect the other.

Of course, they really didn't know for certain.

Micah had successfully obtained the digitized books Stefan had provided and was feeding them information as he scoured and gleaned it. Unfortunately, this lead on Alexander had popped up so soon Micah hadn't had a lot of time to do research. They were flying blind and had to take as much care as possible.

They settled in to listen. Through the magickally imbued headset, they heard Alexander cough, blow his nose, go to the bathroom, open and close the refrigerator, pop the top off a beer, and then settle down on the couch with the sigh of one happy to be home from a long day at work.

The TV flipped on. “
Wheel…of…Fortune
!” sounded the television audience.

Adam looked over and gave him an eye roll.

Thomas took the headphones off and laid them on the table in front of him. “This may be a false alarm.”

Isabelle slumped her shoulders. “When I tune in remotely to him, using the water in his body, he doesn't feel like anything more than a non-magickal human male.” She paused and looked morose. “Not even a witch.”

Thomas nodded. “If he were the demon, you'd know it.”

Adam pulled his headset off one of his ears. “And I don't think he'd be watching
Wheel of Fortune
, if this was our guy. I don't think demons like Pat Sajak.”

Isabelle sat up a little straighter. “He could just be playing with us. The demon has to be able to seem convincingly human. Otherwise witches would be spotting him all over the place. Maybe he knows we're watching and he's masking. Or maybe he's become humanized during his stay here and he's grown to like TV game shows.”

Thomas and Adam only stared at her. “I think you're reaching,” Thomas said finally.

“I'm just trying to think outside the box here, guys.”

Adam leaned toward her. “Isabelle, I think outside the box with the best of them, but I still suspect he's a non-magickical human male just home from work with one hand down his pants and a beer in the other.”

She tossed her headset to the table in front of her with force. “Damn it!”

Thomas considered her for a moment. “It's not over yet. Mira heard this man's name for a reason. He could be connected in some way with the demon.”

“Maybe.” Isabelle chewed the side of her thumb and slumped in her chair.

“I need to talk to Isabelle alone, Adam.”

“Okay. I'll keep listening to
Wheel of Fortune
,” said Adam with a sarcastic thumbs-up and grin. He placed the headphones to one ear. “I think I know this puzzle. Buy a vowel!”

“Let me know if anything unusual happens or if he leaves.”

Adam nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”

Isabelle looked confused, but Thomas led her into the other room anyway. Only a long worktable stood in what would be the formal dining room. Wadded up painter's drop cloths lay discarded in the corner. She stood near the table, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at him expectantly.

“I just want to make sure you're okay with all this,” Thomas said. “I know you've been traumatized by the death of your sister and I need to make sure that you're not going to—”

She raised her eyebrows. “What? Freak out? Break down and cry at a critical moment?”

“I don't think you're the hysterical weeping type. I just want to make sure you're all right.”

“I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I'm fine, Thomas. In fact, I'm more than fine now that I'm aligned with the Coven and helping to find this demon. And we will find him. This Alexander guy might be a dead end, but that doesn't mean we won't have other promising leads.”

Relief swept through him. It was nice to hear her being positive. “I'm glad you feel that way—”

She uncrossed her arms and her expression softened. “Now what's with your hair?”

He blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Excuse me?”

“I've established that you do, indeed, possess pupils, but what's up with the hair? I mean, it's beautiful. It's so long, glossy, and sexy. I want to thread my fingers through it every time I see you. But it seems strange on a man like you because you're all about work and never about play.”

He blinked again. “My hair
is
about work, actually. It holds power for me. Earth witches don't hold magick in the center of our chest the way fire, water, and air witches do.”

“I've dated earth witches, so I know you guys do that but I've never really understood how.”

“My hair is charmed to hold a reserve of power for me, like you hold your magick in the center of your chest. Except we have to cook up the spells we'll need beforehand, draw the energy off them, and manually store it on our bodies in places that have been charmed to hold reserves…like my hair.”

She nodded. “Yes, with one of the complicated earth spells that I'll never comprehend. Gotcha.” She smiled and reached out to finger a tendril of his hair. “So your strength resides here…like Samson? If I cut it, are you less powerful?”

“That's not something earth witches usually reveal.”

“That's…wild. And the whole thing makes an odd sort of sense.” She dropped the hank of his hair. “You don't seem like the vain sort of man who would grow his hair this long for looks or style. It figures you'd have a purpose, a strategy. So, how else do you hold your magick?”

“I have a tattoo on my back. The ink is charmed to hold power for me.”

“A tattoo?” A slow smile spread across her mouth. “Show me.”

“You want me to take my shirt off.” It was a statement more than a question.

She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Why not? Are you scared?”

He raised his eyebrows and pulled his suit jacket off.

She laughed and clapped. “Oh, yeah! Take it off, baby!”

Thomas grinned at her and laid his jacket on the table. The woman had that effect on him. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid that off, too.

“My, my, my, Mr. Monahan! What big biceps you have.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe. Why do you sound so surprised?”

Because women didn't flirt with him. Not ever. Well, occasionally a non-magickal woman might flirt with him in a store or a bar, but never a witch. Never anyone who knew who he was. Women didn't play with the heart and soul of the Coven.

Isabelle was apparently fearless.

He didn't answer her; he only turned around to show her his tattoo.