Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers

“Mages don’t hate witches,” is Az’s declaration halfway between the pack house and Homewood Park.

I glance over at the woman beside me. She’s been quiet since we left the house, and I don’t quite know where her pronouncement is going to lead. “Okay.” It seems like the safest thing to say.

“I mean, it takes a lot of energy to actually hate someone. Most Mages are actually rather indifferent to witches. Witches aren’t a power threat, and as long as you give them their own holiday every quarter or so they don’t put up much of a fuss.”

“So our puppet master sees witches as an expendable commodity. That’s not news, Az.”

“Salem’s Fury is supposed to be tremendously painful. Judging by the pictures you took of the others, Olivet is burning them out while they’re still conscious. That’s not necessary. You can drain a witch while she’s unconscious.” Az pulls the cuffs of her flimsy, not-at-all-practical cardigan over her hands. “And warlocks don’t generally try to piss of witches because they’re parallel on the power scale. Unless he was seriously abused by witches when he was a kid or something, I can’t see him torturing them like this.”

“What are you saying?” I think I can follow her rabbit trail, but it’s always best to be sure. For all I know, she’s getting ready to tell me that the Easter Bunny is the one behind this madness.

“You know who hates witches? Other witches. Witches hate Mages, too.”

“So you think a witch is behind all this. One who wants to blame a Mage for the attacks and then step in to take over when the dust settles.”

She groans and thumps her forehead against the window. “I don’t know. I told you, the math doesn’t add up right anymore. Nothing makes sense.”

“Jessica did call it the Age of the Witch.”

“Exactly!” Az slumps as low as the seatbelt will allow. “But that could just be bullshit Olivet and his master use to keep the witches in line. They’re likely to be more complacent if they think they’ll have a prominent place in the new hierarchy.”

“But they won’t because if the puppet master is a witch, then she won’t like having so much potential competition around.” We were on the right page. Miracles do happen. It makes sense, too. If you’re going to go around torching witches, you don’t want to risk keeping the survivors around to spread dissent.

“Neither will Olivet. As soon as the man, or woman, behind the curtain steps out, Olivet will have outlived his purpose.”

“I assumed as much, but how can you be sure?” I take one hand off the wheel to pat her knee. “Congrats on the Wizard of Oz reference, by the way.”

She glares as she brushes away my hand. “I was sheltered, Rick, not under a rock.”

“You don’t know who MacGyver is.”

“I’m sorry,” she snaps, “as soon as this is over, I’ll promptly sit down for a marathon. Anything else I should watch while I’m at it?”

“I’ll make a list.”

Her frown deepens, but she doesn’t argue. If we make it through this in one piece, I’ll join her for that marathon. It’ll be nice to numb my brain for several hours. Not to mention how nice it’ll be to sneak in a little couch cuddling while we’re at it.

“Olivet mentioned a dynasty,” she says, voice still strained. “We figured I was his prize at the end of the rainbow, but someone’s been lying to him. Not just about me being a witch, but about the future. There is no magical dynasty in the offing. For my twenty-first birthday, my father arranged for me to have a hysterectomy. One void in a bloodline is too many.”

What do you say to that? ‘Sorry’ sounds too trite. I’d offer to kill the bastard, but I’m not sure if that’d be for my benefit or hers. I have to actually bite my tongue to keep from offering to buy her a pony or a damned unicorn or something.

“My mother bought me three cases of Bud Lite and a box of condoms, and set me up on a blind date with one of her cougar friends,” is the best I can do.

“Literal or figurative cougar?”

“Both.”

“Ouch.”

I’ve never given a thought to having kids. My pack members are my children. Having a mate never figured into my long-term plans. In my mind, I’ve always assumed that if I passed on control of the pack, it would go to Greta or her children.

There’s no reason for that plan to change.

“If you’re trying to scare me off, Princess, it’s not going to work. This just means that the pack only has one week of hell every month. If you think Greta’s a hard ass now, you just wait until the middle of the month.”

She flashes a quick grin. The atmosphere in the truck lightens, and the knot in my stomach eases. “So,” she says, “we’re either dealing someone who knows me and is lying to Olivet or someone who doesn’t know me and is just making stuff up to keep Olivet happy. It’s a witch or a really pissed off Mage.”

“What you’re saying is that we don’t actually know a whole hell of a lot.”

This time she pats my knee. “Nope.”

“Wonderful.”

The small parking lot near the entrance to the park is empty. I don’t hear any children or adults, but I do pick up the faint sound of someone moving through bushes. Two steps into the park, the wind shifts and the stomach-churning aroma of unwashed not-Shifters rolls across us. I’d say we’re in the right place.

“Stay behind me. Keep your weapon ready. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Az rolls her eyes, but moves in behind me with her Kahr in hand. She doesn’t have to like my instructions; she just has to follow them. Now, if she can refrain from doing anything that’ll put herself in jeopardy, we’ll be golden.

Az’s hand on my back, I creep through the young trees and low bushes. The playground equipment won’t offer much in the way of protection. Besides, who wants to hide behind a see-saw?

Not anyone who wants to keep his balls.

I follow the not-Shifter odor across the park to where a small, grassy ditch separates the playground from a soccer field. There are a few small trees, but nothing substantial enough to cover both of us. The ditch it is, then. Olivet and four not-Shifters have set up camp in a pavilion just outside the soccer field.

Olivet is the closest to Daniel. The not-Shifters are far enough away that I could take them out without harming the kid. Neither of my pistols is designed to be used as a sniping weapon, but there’s no time to run back to the truck. Our best bet for a happy outcome is for me to shoot two or three of the not-Shifters before Olivet can react.

“Stay here.” I push Az’s head down so that it can’t be seen over the top of the ditch and crawl out on my stomach. I stay as close to the ground as possible and make my way, inch by inch, to a flowering shrub a few feet from the ditch.

By the time I reach the shrub, there’s more dirt inside my shoes than there is on the outside of my shirt. I can practically give a chemical breakdown of the fertilizer used on the grass. The shrub isn’t quite close enough for total accuracy, but I don’t want to risk going any further.

Sweat slides down my forehead as I line up the shot. One of the not-Shifters steps to the edge of the pavilion. C’mon. C’mon. Just a little closer.

He steps one clawed paw on the grass. Perfect. The gunshot reverberates like thunder in the middle of downtown. The not-Shifter drops to the ground. The freaks behind him wipe gray matter and chunks of skull off their faces as they stalk toward their fallen friend.

“Try that again, and I’ll slit the brat’s throat,” Olivet shouts.

I can’t risk it. My return to the ditch is much hastier and far messier. Az gives me a thumbs’ up when I slide in beside her, but it doesn’t feel like much of a victory. As long as Olivet has a hostage, the odds aren’t in our favor.

The warlock monologues. How clichéd. We are treated to a rant on how messy centaurs are, how ungrateful his master is for all the hard work he’s done, and how he regrets having to waste two of his best witches in the earlier attack. Cry me a fucking river.

After a sweet minute of silence, Olivet restrains Daniel with an arm around the child’s throat and drags the kid to the front of the pavilion. Olivet pulls back so that Daniel’s front hooves are off the ground. One of the not-Shifters flanking Olivet grabs at flailing centaur legs. The woman beside me flinches.

We can’t sit here much longer. Olivet will soon tire of taunting us and kill Daniel. Or sic his not-Shifters on us. Or both.

Probably both.

“Well, this makes things simple,” Az mutters, shrugging out of her cobweb of a cardigan and letting it fall to the grass.

“What does?”

“He’s controlling them like I thought,” she says. It’s not an answer to my question. It’s a diversion. A tangent we don’t have time to explore. “Olivet has a connection to the not-Shifters. He’s giving them direction, intelligence. You can see it in the way they move.”

“Kill him and they go feral.” I’m not entirely sure that would be an improvement. Putting down feral Shifters is never fun and is usually dangerous as shit. I don’t want to consider how much more difficult it will be with not-Shifters.

“Not necessarily,” she says, eyes going distant, blank. After a long moment of stillness, her hands drop to the hem of her blouse. “The Mage, let’s go with Mage for now, pulling Olivet’s string has to be in there as a backup. He wouldn’t trust Olivet enough, and he’d want to be there if something went wrong. He’s not actually here, though. The connection’s thin. He’ll need time to make it concrete. Time we can use in our favor.”

Az’s blouse flutters to the ground to join her cardigan. She shivers when the cool breeze hits her bare arms. Her tiny pink camisole is no match for a brisk fall day.

“What the fuck, Princess? We don’t have time for this shit.”

“Grab the kid. Fast like the wind, Rick.”

Uh, no. If I’m grabbing the kid what role does that put her in? The distraction? Oh. Hell. No.

“What happened to trust and talking about reckless, stupid, asinine plans? I’m pretty sure this falls under the ‘stupid’ category.”

Her gaze slides away from mine but her spine remains rigid. Damned stubborn void. “Sometimes it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.”

“And if I’m not in a forgiving mood?”

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.” She ducks her head and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is hot, wet, and over far too soon. “Wish that’s the last taste I could keep in my mouth. Pure bliss. Now, remember: quick like a bunny.”

I wrap my fingers around her wrist before she can leave our hidey hole. “Listen to me. You are not going out there and distracting Olivet so that I can save Daniel. We’ll work out a plan to rescue the kid and take Olivet down. Martyrdom is not a turn on. I swore I’d get the kid, but I won’t sacrifice you to do it.”

The smile she offers up is wistful. Her eyes glisten with tears. “You are a good man, Aldric Haskell, and I absolutely adore every molecule of you.”

Funny how her declaration sounds a lot like a farewell. I tighten my grasp on her thin bones. “Fucking stay put, Az.”

Her head cocks to the side. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. Something bright and bizarre burns in her gaze. “Did I ever tell you what you taste like?”

“Huh?” Between the random question and the appearance of her pink tongue, it’s a wonder I can remember to speak.

“Home. You taste like home. And salted caramel. My favorite.”

Without warning, she sinks her teeth into the meat of my hand between my thumb and forefinger. Stunned and bleeding, I release her wrist. She disappears out of our safe zone before I can grab her back. I stand up just enough to watch her but not enough to be shot at.

“Joel!” she calls as she races across the park.

“Astraea?” Olivet doesn’t release Daniel, but he does hold up a hand to keep the not-Shifters from attacking Az. “Had I realized you would be present, I would have chosen a more hospitable location for this meeting.”

Az skids to a stop in front of Olivet. She winds the end of her braid around a finger and stands with a hip cocked. A shaft of sunlight obscures her face, but I’m sure she’s smiling. Is she flirting with him? That’s her grand plan? Flash cleavage and grin like an idiot?

Well, it’d probably work on me.

“I like the park,” Az insists. “It’s quiet and tucked away. Perfect place for a picnic or stroll or, you know, keeping hostages.”

One pale, small hand twists around her back. She holds up three fingers. I tense. I didn’t agree to this plan, but since it’s already in motion I won’t jeopardize her by not playing along. When this is over, I swear she won’t be able to sit for a week. Two fingers. Every muscle is coiled, ready for action.

One.

I sprint across the park and snatch Daniel out of Olivet’s lax grasp.

Quick like a bunny doesn’t even come in to play. Every inch of Az is plastered to Olivet. Her legs are twined with his, her arms around his neck, her hands on his back, and her mouth smashed against his lips.

The three not-Shifters around us cradle their heads and scatter, howling like wounded dogs. I can’t follow. I can’t leave Az and Daniel behind.

Olivet turns white as a sheet. He sways. Az sways with him. Neither appears to have taken a breath. With an arm around a sobbing Daniel, I grab Az’s shoulder. Her skin is fire-hot. When the pain forces me to pull away, I nearly sob with relief. The cool air is a balm across my red skin.

“Come on, Princess, fun time is over. We got the kid.”

She doesn’t give any indication that she hears me. Olivet’s dilated eyes roll up into his skull. He crashes backwards. Az lands on top of him, still slurping magic. Sparks of white energy crackle along her hair and her spine. Just as I set Daniel aside so that I can yank her away from Olivet, an unconscious void rolls off an equally unconscious warlock.

I check Az’s pulse first. It’s slow but present. Her eyes move rapidly beneath paper-thin eyelids. I turn to Olivet. Blood and fluids pour out of his nose and eyes. The grass near his ears is wet. His body jerks once before going still. I don’t have to check his pulse to know he’s dead. Az’s doing or the puppet master’s?

Daniel huddles behind me when I kneel beside Az. Her entire body radiates heat like a small sun. I suck in a bracing breath and ghost a hand across her cheek. “C’mon, Princess. Let it go.”

Nothing. I fold my fingers over hers. Steal a chaste kiss. Still nothing. Magic sizzles around her, but none of it travels from her skin to mine.

What the hell? Does she have to be awake to discharge? I don’t have time to sit here, in the open, while she takes a beauty nap. Was this part of her plan? Did she know that this would happen?

“Come on, you greedy bitch, share the magic!” I gather her in my arms and cradle her against my chest. Her head lolls against my shoulder. Her nose grazes my ear. The pain from the heat barely registers.

“I mean it,” I growl down at her. “If you don’t wake up right fucking now, this time I really am going to kick your ass.”

Nothing.

“Fine, you can keep the damn magic if you want it that badly. Stop playing opossum so we can get the hell out of here.”

Nothing.

Her hair is like liquid flame against my lips. The sulfur-and-dirt scent of heavy magic obliterates the sweetness of magnolias. The popping and crackling magic tickles my chin and nose. “C’mon. Wake up, Az. Just… wake up.”