The Problem With Witches: An Arcane Shot Series Novel Page 11

  “I’m not here for you,” Ben said at last.

  Marcie remembered his sudden shift at the Italian vault, when he’d used the cigarette to flip some kind of switch inside of him. She heard that glacier coldness in his voice now. “They need information from you.”

  “Why would I give them that? What do they offer? Do you think they would meet my price? You did. You planted the seed, bebe.” Elagra reached toward Ben.

  Trust your instincts down here.

  The woman froze. Ben had raised an arm to block Elagra’s forward advance, but what had stopped the witch from touching him wasn’t that. It was the barrel of the Glock that appeared two inches in front of her, held in a firm grip at the end of Marcie’s steady arm, which she’d inserted beneath Ben’s. The barrel was aimed directly at the bridge of the witch’s perfect nose.

  “You think a gun will kill me, foolish girl?” Elagra said, her eyes glittering. She didn’t look away from Ben, which disturbed Marcie even more. She needed her to break that lock.

  “Don’t know. At this distance, it’ll definitely mess up that creepy dental work.” Marcie cocked her head. “Keep your hands to yourself. He may have trouble harming a woman, but I have zero issues causing you enormous amounts of pain.”

  That did the trick. The witch turned those soulless eyes to her. As their gazes clashed, Marcie felt it. The terror, the pain, something that made her heart speed up and her gut tighten unpleasantly. She was a masochist, enjoyed pain for pleasure, but she knew the dividing line. She’d found a Master who needed to give out pain, but part of the charge for him was breaking down all of a woman’s preconceived notions of what she could handle. He’d take her to that terrifying edge and show her the kind of ecstasy in pain and service that made her beg for more.

  Elagra didn’t want that gift. She wanted fear. She wanted to break open what she hurt with the pain, so she could see the insides. She wanted to hear them beg for mercy and laugh, deny them until they stopped asking and accepted her Hell as their fate.

  The witch’s chuckle held the stuff of nightmares. Her gaze returned to Ben. He was still staring at her. Though she kept the gun where it was and her eyes on Elagra, Marcie laid her other hand on his back, a reminder of her presence.

  She felt him twitch. In her peripheral vision, she saw him blink at last. She suspected he was back with them, but he didn’t look toward her. She wasn’t sure where he was in his head, so until she was sure, she would stay just as she was.

  “He had something special, he did,” Elagra said. “Could lift any prize or treassssure for me, the dear child. At the end of the night, he had treassssure to give then. Not willing, no. It’s ssssweeter when it’s unwilling. He knew that, walks that line himsssself, doesn’t he?”

  She arched a brow at Marcie, tossed her head in a dismissive way toward her. “I gave him that gift. You’re sssso very welcome.”

  In the movies, they used a cocking sound to show the character’s intent to blow away the bad guy. But in reality, the telling move was the one that Marcie did now. The gun was already cocked to fire, had been when she lifted it.

  She moved her finger from the guard to the trigger.

  It was the unbreakable rule of proper firearm use. Don’t put your finger on the trigger, ever, unless you’re pointing at what you intend to shoot, and are ready to do so.

  She was ready.

  But Ben, who was aware of everything when it came to her, noticed. And now he came fully back to her.

  “Marcella.” Her Master’s voice was firm, quiet. He put his hand up, on her wrist, exerted pressure to get her to lower the weapon. “They need information from her,” he repeated.

  “Sssso they do.” Elagra stepped back at last, turning her attention from Ben to Raina. Her demeanor became casual, the way a hunting snake was casual as it sidled up to prey. “A ssssister witch enters my world uninvited, insults my home. You are not welcome. Why would I give you anything you wissssh, let alone answerssss?”

  “Because it gets us out of your dirt-infested, uncombed hair all the sooner,” Raina responded pleasantly. “And you should see a speech doctor about that pretentious lisp. A beast stirs beneath the river. Our sources say you know of this being, know its nature. I assume you don’t want your home flooded and destroyed any more than anyone else.”

  The gold left Elagra’s eyes, turning them the color of black mud. Her lips stretched out into a clown’s smile. Too wide, too bright.

  “Chaos is creation, sister.” Elagra moved toward her shelves. “Rebirth. Renewal.” She passed her hand over a jar that looked like it held something’s brain. Until she unscrewed the top, reached in and plucked out a piece of it, disturbing the rest inside so they bounced and jiggled in the brine. Pickled eggs.

  Her eyes laughed at Marcie as she took a bite. Marcie noticed the thick lashes were the same bone-yellow color as the dye on her hand. Elagra tipped the jar her way. “Want one? I’m not happy you took Riot from my side. He brought me these from the gas station near the Motorsports Park. That’s where he begged from tourists wanting to drive shiny, fast cars.”

  Raina tipped her head toward the still silent Mikhael. “Focus. His patience is not limitless, and he is giving you more leash than you deserve.”

  “No male puts me on a leash,” Elagra’s expression turned ugly. She spat the words as she replaced the jar on the shelf. “Unlike you, a disgrace to the power of the Goddess. Subservient you are, a slave to his desires and pleasures.”

  Raina laughed, that silvery sound that could unbalance a mind. Marcie had holstered the gun, which was good, because she found both her hands gripping Ben’s arm, his own on her forearm, clasping her firmly. Apparently Mikhael and Raina had decided to unleash her power on the room. Elagra swayed, her eyes glazing a bit. Then she jumped back, hitting her bookshelves. That crackle of energy was wilder this time, giving Marcie a nasty jolt of sensation. A metal lantern on the table showered sparks as it fell with a clatter to the ground, rolling to a stop against a repaired wooden leg.

  Marcie saw Mikhael’s hand lift, move in a sweeping motion. Whatever he did countered the effect of Elagra’s reaction, protected them with a soft blue light that saturated the room, enfolded them.

  “It is not I who do not serve the Goddess,” Raina said. She stepped forward, squaring off with the witch. Marcie noted a slight tightening of Mikhael’s jaw, as if he weren’t pleased that Raina had now placed herself closest, and most central to the witch’s attention, but he held his position. “Tell us what we need to know about this being.”

  Marcie put her hand back on the butt of the gun, but kept the other on Ben. He’d shifted himself so he was somewhat between her and Elagra, but not completely blocking her, so Marcie curved her fingers into the shirt fabric clinging to the middle of his back. She dug into the heat of the man beneath, a reminder of her presence. She also needed that connection. She didn’t want to be in this terrible place anymore, and thinking of Ben as a child here…God.

  “She will not ask again, witch.” Mikhael spoke for the first time, drawing all eyes his way. “Nor will I tolerate one more insult toward her, so mind your tongue.”

  Until now, Elagra had not looked toward Mikhael, nor acknowledged the other male presence in the room. Interesting, because Marcie suspected the woman was the type of female who had a pathological need to be the center of all male attention, even as she scorned it.

  Marcie wondered if Mikhael had been masking his true nature, making his presence seemed incidental until this key moment. Because when she looked at him for the first time, Elagra paused. It was a very brief moment, but there was a flicker in her gaze that Marcie was pretty sure she’d interpreted correctly, because fierce satisfaction surged through her gut when she saw it.

  Fear.

  Yet Elagra’s tone stayed as patronizing as ever. “A Dark Guardian.” She sketched a curtsy, a dip of her head. “You honor us with your presence, my lord.”

  “It depends on what you value,” Mikhael sa
id.

  Elagra arched a brow. “My lord?”

  “You asked if we could pay your price. That is my answer. It depends on what you value.”

  Marcie saw a slight flinch. Elagra somehow managed to give the impression of taking a sidestep away from the Dark Guardian even without moving. But she recovered her aplomb, too quickly. Her gaze returned to Ben.

  “She’s not a monster. She’s a baby. She is wanting to be born, is all. Must be born. You understand, bebe? A baby, coming out of her mother, will twist and tear her, give her pain and upheaval. It is the way of birth, is all."

  “A baby.” Raina cocked her head, intrigue in her eyes. And measured calculation. “Whose magic created her? What spell can create such a thing?”

  “Many spells, sister.” Elagra chuckled, held up one sharp nail. “That all fed into one spell, one that took many years to come to fruition. Because what is a spell, after all? Just a single thought, a wish of the heart, rageful enough to stir things up. We think of dark and light, but there is nothing but chaos, destruction to creation, and back again. The cycle that keeps us all living. The world changing, the way it’s meant to change. Humans, thinking they and their science are everything, when you and I, and him,” she dipped her head toward Mikhael, “know it is nothing. They are nothing. The cosmos could wipe them out with little more than a deep breath. Chaos…it is truth, power. Something beautiful.”

  Her face changed, became sorrowful. “I wanted to make something beautiful. And I did. Chaos belongs to neither dark nor light, and I serve the Goddess. She is the epicenter of chaos.”

  Raina shook her head. “A true chaos witch wishes only good for the world. Her kind of chaos is like the disruption of the earth to plant a seed, to see something grow. Your intent is destruction of the worst kind.”

  “But a seed was planted, sister witch.” Elagra spread her hands out wide, like a cormorant drying spiky dark wings on a cold rock, under a gray sky. “The seed had to be planted by a soul poised perfectly on the scale between dark and light.” Her gaze turned to Ben.

  Suddenly the knife edge of tension in the chamber had the power to cut, and cut deep. Elagra’s voice dropped back to a quivering whisper. “I worked hard to get you there, feeding you a bit of one, then the other. This babe, she is a seed, planted from your darkness, and, even more powerful, your potential darkness. The darkness waiting when you shed the pretense of what you are not, to embrace who you are. The magnificent thing you could be. But even if you never do that, it is all fine, bebe. I let you go, because I had what I needed from you.”

  Marcie heard Raina swear under her breath, a startled hiss, but Elagra was on a roll, like a villainess monologue, only far less cheesy than it should have seemed, thanks to the tension and frigid blend of terrible feelings swirling in the room. Were the walls blurring, like they were truly spinning?

  She shoved that away, locked her attention on Ben. He looked as if he were slowly turning into a statue.

  Or a ticking time bomb.

  “Like a garden, I tried to make it work with so many other seeds. To blend things, get that perfect mix. Many other boys. It took time, but everything worthwhile does. I knew, when I was finally successful, could finally plant that seed, it would take it decades for it to grow, be ready for this moment.”

  Elagra shook her head, pursed her lips. When she spoke again, it was as if she were discussing the matter with herself. “But I admit, when it finally worked, all the impatience and frustration about past failures I’d suppressed coalesced into this momentous surge of energy. It is best you were not here that day. It burned every living thing in this chamber, scorched the walls.” Her gaze slid around her, and Marcie saw it, the dark fingers that flame had left branded on the lighter colored rock, like jagged teeth. She also saw two small skeletons in a shadowed corner. Skeletons that clung to each other as they’d done in their last moments of death.

  “Fucking Christ,” she muttered, tears stinging her eyes.

  “So sweet, aren’t they?” the woman said, following her gaze. “Twins. It was not a bad fate, to die in one another’s arms. They’d endured worse.”

  This time only Raina’s hand curling around her wrist kept Marcie at Ben’s side. The half-succubus flicked her a quick narrowed glance when Elagra turned away, toward her shelves. Marcie understood, though it was a bitter pill to swallow.

  Let her talk.

  She just hoped they had what they needed soon, because that voice was scraping the skin off her spine.

  Elagra’s voice returned to that seductive purr, her attention coming back to Ben. This time she acted and spoke as if no one else was in the room, though she stayed in front of one of her bookcases, her spine straight, chin up, eyes glittering. “Creation is based on possibilities, potential. It was what the magic required and you…there was no better source. This babe. It is your child, my child. When she comes forth, she will bring with her the need for destruction that rests in the darkest rooms of our soul. Like the God of the Old Testament, when we see our Creation, we will know how very good it is.”

  Elagra cocked her head. “Do you remember, bebe?” she crooned, sliding back toward Ben, making Marcie stiffen. “It was that night. You gave me seed and blood, a murderous rage. The life of an innocent. Everything I desired, you gave to me. Sweet, sweet Amy. You remember Amy, I know.”

  Any vestige of emotion left Ben’s face, except for a burning fire in his eyes that told Marcie one thing without doubt.

  He was going to kill Elagra, right here and now.

  She moved a breath before he did. Not her smartest move, because it was going to be like stepping in front of an oncoming train. But though she was closer to him than anyone else in the room, somehow Mikhael beat her there. He planted himself directly in Ben’s path.

  In the same blink of time, a command flooded Marcie’s mind. Mikhael’s authoritative timbre, overriding every other thought she had. Talking in her head.

  Guard our backs.

  She drew and pivoted, facing off with Elagra. The witch had been on a beeline for Ben, but with Mikhael and now Marcie in her path, she pulled up short. Her eyes had that unfocused look Raina’s had had when she was dealing with the kid. She opened her mouth, and what came out of it was a croak, a mix between a tortured beast and fingernails gouging furrows down a chalkboard.

  “I mean him no harm, sweet girl. I cherish him. Move aside and let me help calm him…”

  What was terrifying was how much she meant it. The look she shot toward Ben was filled with a terrible hunger, a longing.

  Raina’s harsh laugh fortunately interrupted that voice, and the horrible revelation. “Save your energy, sister,” she said with mocking venom. She’d appeared at Marcie’s side in the very second blink, the two of them a wall between Elagra and the two men behind them. Marcie didn’t dare look, but she could feel the heat of Ben’s temper, his rage. Mikhael had somehow moved him back to the wall by the farthest chamber entrance, the distance creating a buffer.

  “Your tricks have no influence over her,” Raina said. “She doesn’t believe in you, because she doesn’t have to. You can’t touch her. And he’s bound to her in ways beyond your comprehension. You can’t touch him anymore.”

  Elagra’s eyes narrowed. “No bond is unbreakable.”

  “Exactly,” Marcie retorted. “He’s no longer yours, and I doubt he ever was. You have power over desperate, frightened kids, here in your scary, dark hole. Back off and give it up. Nothing you do is going to work on us.”

  Elagra’s lip curved back from those freaky sharp teeth. Marcie’s finger did move back to the trigger, though it was a severe risk, the temptation of that slim curve of metal pressing into the crease of her bent finger. Her mind was full of thoughts of a young Ben, and Riot, and whoever this Amy was that apparently had also suffered at this woman’s hands. Then there were the pair of fragile skeletons clinging to one another in the corner, reason enough to do what she most wanted.

  “Give me a fucking exc
use,” Marcie said.

  She wasn’t a bloodthirsty sort, hated killing anything, but this woman’s evil was something she wanted gone. The bad thing was she’d killed before, so she now knew just how damn easy it was. Yet she also knew the nightmares that came with the decision.

  Raina touched the small of her back, a cue, and Marcie dared a quick glance. Ben once again stood at her side, just behind her right shoulder. The energy coming off him told her he was still on a dangerous edge, but he was in control of it. Marcie saw Elagra’s gaze flicker in anger and frustration as she recognized it. That felt almost as good as putting holes in her. Maybe.

  “Look at me, witch,” Mikhael commanded. He was standing at Raina’s other side.

  Elagra’s expression twisted, her lip curving high on her teeth, revealing pink gums. Her hands curved into claws, her gaze refusing to leave Ben.

  The ground began to quiver. As Marcie’s gaze darted up, rock came loose from the ceiling, a shower of pebbles.

  “Look at me.”

  A shudder went through the stone, this time bringing down more than a handful of debris. Everything went solid dark. She lowered and swiftly holstered her weapon to free up both hands, since she had no target. Instead, she had a whole lot of darkness, that total absence of light that had seemed so forbidding when she’d first dropped down into the tunnel.

  There was no sense of orientation, no up or down, no forward or back. Those three words that Mikhael had spoken so sharply, Look at me, had set off an energy wave that took away courage, left only despair. That feeling wasn’t dying away with the echoes, but building, as if doom had been unleashed in the chamber, stealing the light, leaving no escape. She was in darkness, in a hole, forgotten and trapped. Helpless.

  Marcie backed into Ben, and his strong hands gripped her. Without that support, she might have curled up in a ball, arms wrapped over her head in a futile attempt to shut it all out.