Witch Fury Read online

  Theo yanked her forward and she jerked away from him and snapped, “Stop touching me. Touch me again in this lifetime, and I swear to God I’ll sear the flesh from your bones.” Not that she knew how to sear the flesh from someone’s bones, but, wow, it sounded impressive.

  “Don’t run.”

  “I won’t run, genius.” She looked pointedly at Grosset. “You’re holding my dog hostage.”

  FOUR

  STILL COVERED IN DIRT THE WAY A WARLOCK SHOULD be, the woman flounced down onto a cream-colored chair in one of the Coven’s common areas, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him.

  Her dog jumped into her lap and settled down, looking up at him with beady black eyes, unaware that Theo was inches away from strangling his human.

  Grime streaked the woman’s long blond hair and her light blue eyes gave him the gaze of death from a filthy face. One long leg moved incessantly in her agitation. Too bad she was a warlock; she was pretty. But she definitely had the temper to go with her element.

  “What’s your name?”

  Her full lips compressed and she looked away.

  “Tell me now or tell me later, but you’ll like it better if you tell me now.”

  Her gaze snapped to his face. “Don’t threaten me.” Her chin rose. “I can call fire.”

  “And I can call earth. You know that because you’re wearing it. Don’t play with me. Earth trumps fire. I can counter anything you throw at me. Don’t make empty threats.” He bared his teeth. “I don’t.”

  Carefully and slowly, she unclenched her teeth. “My name is Sarafina Connell.”

  “Before I throw your warlock ass in Gribben, Sarafina Connell, tell me what you and Stefan were talking about when I came in.”

  She drew a breath and looked away from him. Her fingers found dog fur and stroked. “He was telling me I was his prisoner. That I owed him for showing me I was a witch and I had to stay there with them and do—” She broke off. The breath hissed between her teeth. “Whatever it is they want me to do. I don’t know. I had the feeling that if I pressed the matter my safety would be in question.”

  Theo considered her for a moment before drawing the obvious conclusion. “You’re going to play the part of an abductee to avoid Gribben, is that your plan? It won’t work with me. I know better than that. Stefan wouldn’t be playing footsie with a kidnapped witch.”

  Her head snapped around. “I am an abductee! Twice! First Stefan Faucheux appears in my living room, then you take me from him. God, I’m so sick of this whole thing!”

  She stood and paced the room, leaving dirt marks on the carpet as she went. Her dog leapt from her arms and watched her. She muttered to herself as she walked back and forth. “I was minding my own business, living my life. I come home from a trip to find Stefan Faucheux has broken into my apartment. Two seconds later, I’m out cold. I wake up in a strange place, surrounded by strange people—kidnapped. They pull this . . . this ball of fire out from the center of my chest and teach me how to use it.” She stopped short and the silence stretched like a piece of taffy. “They told me my mother wasn’t half as crazy everyone thought she was,” she finished softly.

  Theo blinked, staring at her back. If she was acting, she should get an Oscar. And maybe that meant she wasn’t really acting. Maybe.

  “The Duskoff have been taking many vulnerable witches lately,” he said finally. “Older witches, too.”

  She whirled. “Who are you calling old, buddy?”

  “For the Duskoff, over eighteen is old. Normally, they don’t try and recruit any older than that.”

  “Recruit me? That’s what they were trying to do?” She made a scoffing sound. “Man, they suck at it.”

  He sighed and rubbed his face. The fight at the farmhouse had been brutal and he was tired and drained. Either she was telling the truth and he’d mistreated her, or she was a great actress with something to hide.

  Stefan Faucheux didn’t deal with just any witch. Only those highest in the hierarchy held court with him. It seemed unlikely he’d be giving this kind of specialized attention to a recent abductee. Stefan didn’t get his hands dirty, that’s what the underlings were for.

  So, what to do about this woman while he decided if she was a victim or a villain?

  His mind flicked through possibilities. He could hand her over to Claire and Adam for the night, or maybe Isabelle, but they were all busy with the real abductees and dealing with the warlocks at Gribben that they’d managed to round up and bring in. Anyway, he didn’t trust anyone but himself to keep an eye on her.

  But did he really want to bring a possible fire warlock into his abode for the night? That was a little like volunteering to sleep with a black mamba, wasn’t it?

  “Just let me go home,” Sarafina said in a low, quiet voice. Her shoulders slumped. “That’s all I want. I just need for this nightmare to end.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Come with me.” He turned and walked to the door, the dog trotting at his heels.

  Sarafina followed. “You’re letting me go?”

  He scoffed. “Hell, no.”

  “Then where are we going?”

  “My room. Let you take a shower, eat, then sleep. We’ll sort this out in the morning.”

  Silence.

  He stopped and turned to see she’d halted in the middle of the corridor. Hip cocked. Toe tapping. “I’m not sleeping in your room.”

  “You don’t have a choice, princess. Anyway, I’m not attracted to you. Get over yourself.” He turned on his heel and continued on.

  To his gratification, the dog panted along right beside him, ensuring she’d follow. Fuck, he should’ve grabbed the stupid dog first thing.

  HE PUT A PLATE WITH A PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY sandwich down in front of her. Theo, apparently, wasn’t exactly a gourmet chef, or any kind of chef. Her stomach growled, anyway, and she fought not to fall on it like a starving dog.

  Speaking of dogs, Grosset was digging into a bowl of SPAM, the only thing Theo could find in his kitchen for him.

  She’d taken a shower and dressed in his clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt about five sizes too big. Scrubbed clean, she picked at the crust of her sandwich and eyed him. He leaned against the counter, partially blocking a tangle of dirty cooking pots, bowls, and wooden spoons. All of them smelled of herbs, not of food. Spell-stirring? Did witches do that in real life just like in the movies?

  He was lean, but thickly muscled. When she’d been showering, he’d changed into a pair a faded jeans and a tight long-sleeved black shirt that showed every ridge and valley to intimidating perfection. At the cuffs and neckline, black tribal tattoos writhed on his dark skin, stretching up his throat with power-filled tendrils. Sarafina could feel the pulse and beat of his magickal strength even across the room. As she watched him, he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her.

  And that was his intention, of course—to bully her. If this man enjoyed anything in life—and Sarafina had her doubts on that score—it was menacing people.

  “Eat,” he barked in a low voice.

  “It’s not poisoned, is it?”

  He rolled his eyes, leaned forward, grabbed one half of the sandwich, and took a bite. While he chewed and swallowed, he threw the bitten sandwich back onto the plate. Sarafina stared at it, lip curled.

  “See? Not poisoned.” He growled. This man always growled. It was just a natural part of his voice.

  Avoiding the contaminated half, she took a bite and closed her eyes. God, when a person hadn’t eaten for a day and a half PB&J tasted like just about the best thing in the whole world.

  “What’s your dog’s name?”

  Well, at least he’d turned somewhat talkative. He hadn’t said much at all since they’d walked the corridor. Once in the apartment, he’d mostly just shoved things at her and grunted.

  “Grosset,” she answered around a mouthful.

  “Why Grosset?”

  She shrugged and took
another bite. “That’s just his name. That’s what the Humane Society said it was.”

  “He looks like a tribble.”

  “He’s not a tribble, he’s a Pomeranian!”

  “Whatever you say.” He grunted again and pushed off the counter. “I’m going to bed. Take the couch.”

  “What if Grosset has to pee?”

  Theo stopped in the doorway and spoke without turning around. “You’re not getting out of my place tonight, not for nothing.”

  She sighed and shrugged a shoulder even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “Dogs have to pee. You can’t stop nature.” She paused. “You’re not very good with people, are you?”

  He stood for a moment, shoulders hunched, his body going tight. Then he scooped Grosset up mid-SPAM bite and stalked out of the apartment. Sarafina smiled a little, knowing she’d just annoyed the hell out of him. That gave her a little thrill of satisfaction. Maybe now she had a nice short-term goal. Short-term since she planned to get out of here just as fast as she could.

  He was good-looking in a way that would make most women’s mouths water. Tall, ripped, handsome, virile, and mysterious as all get-out.

  Too bad his personality left so much to be desired.

  She finished the half of her sandwich Theo hadn’t bitten and went into the living room. The first thing she did was try the door. It was locked with a dead bolt and there wasn’t a key in sight. Not that she’d leave without Grosset, anyway. Theo had found her Achilles’ heel right there.

  Sarafina turned and surveyed her surroundings. Discarded clothes lay over the couch, the floor, and the card table in the corner. Loose herbs scattered the coffee table and the carpet. It was pretty clear that Theo wasn’t much of a housekeeper to go along with not being much of a cook. From the looks of this man’s apartment, he didn’t receive many visitors and Sarafina highly doubted he had any kind of a steady girlfriend, either. Of course, given his disposition, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

  Sarafina was the outgoing type and she had lots of friends who stopped by at all hours of the day and evening. Just because of that, she kept her place picked up. Of course, she also cleaned while she was depressed or stressed, which meant that lately her apartment had been pretty much spotless.

  Right now her fingers itched to find a dustpan, but no way was she doing this guy any favors.

  The thought of her friends made a small jolt of panic go through her. They were probably concerned about where she was. She wondered if they’d contacted the police yet.

  Biting her lower lip and suddenly in full-on worry, she picked the clothes up off the couch without even thinking about it and cleared the coffee table. Before she knew it, she’d cleaned the whole room, piling Theo’s clothes onto his bed.

  God, what did the man do, just shed his clothes as soon as he walked through the door? Did he prefer to hang out in his place nude all the time? A vivid image of him naked popped into her head and made her mouth go dry.

  “That’s enough of that,” she scolded herself under her breath and grabbed a blanket and pillow from the linen closet and threw them onto the couch.

  The door opened and Theo came through, Grosset trotting at his heels. Sarafina realized with a start that she hadn’t worried for a moment about her dog in Theo’s care. She’d trusted him not to hurt her beloved pet.

  That didn’t mean she liked the man, though.

  Ignoring his presence, she settled down on the couch and pulled the blanket over her. Grosset jumped up to lay beside her.

  Theo lingered in the doorway for a long moment. “Okay?”

  “Okay?” She twisted around to look at him. “Okay about what? Okay that I was kidnapped by a darling of society and had my witch powers activated? Or okay that some big un-talkative guy is holding me captive in his apartment and making me sleep on his couch after he gave me a mud bath earlier in the day?” She blinked. “Which life-altering event are you asking me if I’m okay about?”

  He shifted and his expression grew stormy . . . well, stormier, anyway. “You cleaned.”

  “Wow, your powers of observation leave nothing to be desired, do they?” She flopped onto her side so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

  “Do you have enough blankets?”

  “I’m fine. Can you please stop talking to me now?”

  “My pleasure. I’m going to bed.” He started to walk toward the hallway.

  “Wait!” She turned to face him. “Look, big guy, do me a favor. Forget the not-talking thing. Sit down with me and pretend you actually don’t think I’m a warlock. Tell me where I am, what warlocks are, why they’re bad, and all that stuff.”

  “I won’t play games with you.” The words came out in an especially low growl.

  “I don’t want to play a game, I just want information.”

  “Bullshit. You want to play me for a fool.” His voice rose. “You want the pleasure of having me sit there and tell you things you already know so you can laugh at me.”

  Damn it. “That was a lot of words.” She compressed her lips into a thin line. “Did saying all that give you a headache?”

  “I—”

  “Never mind.” She turned back and rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”

  “I already have.” He turned and left the room.

  FIVE

  MICAH LAID A MANILA FILE FOLDER ON THE TABLE in front of Theo. “Sarafina Connell. We found files on some of the kidnapped witches and hers was among them.” Micah and Isabelle had been put in charge of sorting out the abducted witches they’d recovered from the farmhouse the day before.

  Theo stared at the file folder. “She could be lying about her name.” He still believed Sarafina was a warlock. She had to be. Every instinct he had screamed she was dangerous, no matter the pretty package she came in.

  The Coven archivist and all-around geek snapped the file open. There, paper-clipped to a sheaf of papers, was a photo of Sarafina. It had been taken while she’d been sitting at a Starbucks. She was talking with a good-looking man about her age. Her head was tipped back on a laugh, her long blond hair curling around her shoulders and falling down her back. One hand gripped a paper coffee cup, her slim arm resting on the tabletop near the man’s.

  “That your woman?”

  Theo nodded.

  Micah flopped down in the chair opposite him and pushed one hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Then she’s an abducted witch and she’s been telling you the truth, Theo.”

  Fuck. He picked up the file folder and began reading the information on her. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t make sense, I agree,” said Isabelle from across the room. She sat on the edge of her husband’s desk, one long leg swinging, foot encased in a red sandal. “Why was Stefan meeting with this woman, this one abductee? What makes her so special?”

  “There’s nothing out of the ordinary in her file,” Micah answered. “Both her parents were fire witches. Her father left when she was just a baby, leaving her to be raised by her very religious mother. We’re talking born-again Christian, here—fire, brimstone, and big tent revivals. There’s no way to know the mother’s story, but as near as I can piece together, being a witch sent her right off the deep end. Sarafina’s mom is famous in Bowling Green because one day when Sarafina was eight, her mother chased her out of their house screaming at her for being a witch, then burst into flames halfway down the block in one of their neighbor’s backyards.”

  “Oh, wow,” murmured Isabelle. “Her power killed her. Maybe she didn’t even know how to wield it. Maybe it just exploded out of her when her emotions ran high.”

  “Yeah, I tracked down all the old news stories on it. It freaked out everyone in town. It’s still studied by parapsychologists as one of the most well-documented cases of spontaneous combustion on record. They did a fucking Unanswered Mysteries segment on it.”

  “Poor woman,” said Isabelle softly. “Her name makes sense, if her mother was really religious. Does Sarafina play off the—”<
br />
  “Seraphim,” Micah interrupted her. “The highest-ranking angels of heaven according to Jewish scripture.” He paused and twisted his lips. “It also means burning one.”

  Isabelle’s jaw dropped. “Tell me you looked that up and didn’t just know it off the top of your head.”

  They continued talking to each other, but Theo didn’t listen. At the back of the file folder were several more photos of Sarafina. In one she held the hand of the man from the coffee shop, probably her boyfriend. The warlocks seemed to have watched her for quite some time before they’d snatched her. Gods, she really did look like an angel with all her long pale hair, creamy skin, and light blue eyes.

  Theo looked up from her photos. “After her mother died what happened to her?”

  “She didn’t have any extended family to take her, so she went into foster care. She went to a couple of different families before finding one woman whom she stayed with until she was of age. They were very close. In fact, she’d just come home from burying her foster mother when Stefan snatched her.”

  Theo gazed down at Sarafina’s smiling face. In all the photos she was laughing and smiling, yet she’d had such tragedy in her life.

  “Bastard,” said Isabelle under her breath. “So Sarafina probably didn’t know what the hell she was until Stefan showed her. Sounds like her mother didn’t accept her power, then offed herself accidentally when Sarafina was just a child. There were no other blood relatives and the father disappeared when she was just a baby. Sarafina’s foster mother was a non-magickal, right?”

  Micah nodded.

  Isabelle pushed off the desk and walked toward them, her expression thoughtful. “So she’s one of the few out there who made it to adulthood without knowing who they truly are.”

  It happened sometimes, witches slipping through the cracks, though it was uncommon. The only one Theo knew personally was Mira McAllister. Her parents had been air witches sacrificed in a demon circle by William Crane, Stefan’s father and once the head of the Duskoff. Mira’s aunt had raised her with strict instructions from Mira’s parents to keep her witchiness a secret. All that had changed once the Duskoff got wind of her status as a rare and powerful air witch. They’d wanted to sacrifice her in a demon circle, but had ended up with more than they’d bargained for.