The Witch and the Wolf, page 17
As I round the corner, naked, a pack of dogs at my feet, the woman in reception stands, her eyes bugging as she stares at us. Wordlessly, I hold the door open until my dog friends are all out, then I walk away from the building.
Looking down at my hound dog friend from seventeen, I say, “You’re on your own from here. I have a mate to collect, some groveling to attend, then a good hunt, maybe even a fuck if I can get right with Magdalene.”
He seems to understand, dipping his head toward the pavement before turning and lumbering away. I’m relieved to see him wander toward the swamps rather than the town. The people here aren’t friendly.
I turn back to the town, wondering where I should start looking. The sky is dark and artificial lights are popping up across the area. Perhaps Magdalene has found her way home by now.
Tentatively, I mentally reach for her, hoping she’s forgiven me enough to lift whatever impenetrable block she created between us. Relief pours through me as I dip into her brain, the familiar pattern calling to me. Seconds later, a jolt of pain strong enough to knock me on my ass slams into me.
I’m unprepared, so I hit the pavement hard as a river of fire slams through me.
I grit my teeth holding the pain inside, not wanting to attract attention. The last thing I need is to be picked up naked in a parking lot and charged with indecent exposure.
Help me, Rush! Please, please come for me! They’re going to kill me!
I’m paralyzed by whatever is happening to my mate, unable to help as her screams echo in my brain. I’m confused and terrified, but most of all I’m consumed by rage. Someone is hurting Magdalene.
I will destroy every human who has touched her.
The second the pain lifts, I slam a shutter down in my brain, severing our communication. I have no choice. It’s the only way I can find her. If they hurt her again, I can’t afford the precious seconds it’ll take me to recover.
I didn’t know our bond had progressed so quickly. I feel what she feels, every agonizing second. She’s too frail to survive such torture. I have to get to her!
I start running, my shifter instinct unerringly locating my mate. I shift mid-run, my body twisting and reshaping into my massive grey-orange wolf. My strides lengthen and I eat up the ground with ease.
Ignoring the honk of a car and the screeching of tires, I swerve through the streets of the human town, making my way toward the one person who has the power to bring me to her side anytime, anywhere.
Chapter 25
Early Release
MAGDALENE
I sit up, blinking at the sudden brightness as the harsh fluorescent lights are turned on and a key scrapes in the door.
“It’s well past mealtime,” Leeta whispers fearfully, her gaze seeking mine. “They only come for us after hours if the Magistrate or Portence wants us.”
I remember the Magistrate’s words to me in the courtroom and mutter, “Magistrate.”
Sure enough, two guards stomp through the door. One points at me. “He wants that one.”
The other shakes his head. “Phil did a number on her. Wasn’t supposed to mess up her face. Idiot’s no good at understanding orders.”
On that we agree.
“We’ll take the other one, then.” He reaches for Leeta, grabbing her arm and dragging her off the bed. “Magistrate likes this one. Too skinny for my taste, but gotta keep the big man happy if we want to keep our jobs.”
“She’s not skinny!” I defend, jumping to my feet. “Let her go.”
Leeta shakes her head frantically while the guard shoves me back onto my bed. They pull Leeta from the cell, but I leap to my feet and follow, shouting, “You let her go or I’ll… or I’ll… kick you.” It’s so much easier cursing a person when I have magic available.
“Get back in your room.”
“No!” I shout angrily. “Get your hands off her!”
Someone calls out from behind one of the doors, their voice questioning.
“You’re causing a commotion,” the guard snarls, reaching for me. “Get back in your damn room.”
“Come and get me.” I spin on my feet and start running.
It’s not a great plan since I haven’t actually planned beyond my next step, but I can’t let them take Leeta to the disgusting Magistrate.
“Taze her!”
I swerve to the right as electrodes shoot out behind me, narrowly missing my back. They follow, one of them dragging Leeta with him.
I run as fast as I can, turning down each corridor I come across in an attempt to lose my captors. At best, I’ve distracted them from their plans to take Leeta to the Magistrate, but I’m under no illusion that I’ll find a way out. There’s nowhere to go and I’m powerless to help Leeta without my magic.
As the guards close in behind me, I turn into a dead end, a stone wall blocking me. Sinking to the floor, I cower, bracing myself for the electrical jolt I know is coming.
One of the guards lifts his arm and I’m hit with the familiar pain of electrocution. I try not to cry out, but it’s difficult to control my actions while my body is jerking around involuntarily. After what feels like forever, the pain stops and I collapse, my head smacking against the concrete.
“Her mother is Lilith Guardian Witch!” Leeta shouts. I glare my betrayal at her while the guards look at each other in confusion. She pleads for forgiveness. “I can’t let them hurt you.” Then she turns and says to the guy holding her. “Portence will want to know who she is.”
The guards look at each other. “You know who she’s talking about?”
The other shakes his head and Leeta rushes to add, “Lilith Guardian Witch is one of the most important witches in existence. Portence will be extremely displeased if you injure Lilith’s only child.”
Another long pause as I question whether my new friend is terrible at this friend business or a genius. She’s right. If this Portence really is one of the original witches caught up in the witch trials, then she’ll know exactly who my mother is. Lilith and many other Guardians joined forces with the Warrior Witches to eradicate witch killers. She was one of the most prolific hunters of the time and her name is in our history books.
“What about you?” I demand, as she advocates for my life. I shove myself up onto shaking arms. “The Magistrate will hurt you.”
Her eyes dim and she nods. “I’m used to it. Not my first time going to the Magistrate’s house.”
A gut-wrenching rage ignites in my veins, and I climb to my feet. If she can fight for me, then I’ll fight for her. I’ll render our collars useless in the only way I know how; kill the witch who created them.
“She’s right,” I tell the guards. “My mother will be livid when she finds out what’s happened to me and she’ll be headed straight here. You should probably let Portence know. She’ll want to prepare for Lilith’s arrival.”
Again, silence as they decide what to do. Finally, the one holding Leeta says, “You take her to Portence. I’ll take this one to the Magistrate.”
There’s nothing I can do as Leeta is dragged away, her eyes downcast, her shoulders slumped. My own situation is looking bleak. According to Leeta, terrible things happen to those who are taken to meet Portence. Though, I have to admit I’m curious to see the woman.
The guard drags me back down the corridor, heading in the opposite direction of my cell. My shaking legs barely hold me up, but his grip is enough to ensure I don’t fall. Eventually, the corridor leads to what looks like an older part of the asylum. Concrete becomes stone, and statues lurk in the shadows.
We stop in front of a heavy wooden door with ornate carvings on it. The guard knocks and we both wait. It takes a minute before the door opens and a woman with a displeased expression faces us. I gape at her. There’s no way this woman can be the infamous Portence, or a witch at all. She’s… aged.
“Mistress Portence, I’ve been instructed to bring this woman to you.” His gaze remains on the floor as he speaks. I want to tell him that eye contact has nothing to do with a witch’s ability to cast spells. Portence, if indeed this is Portence Guardian Witch, could curse him in a hot second, whether or not he’s looking at her.
The woman’s eyes move to me, her expression uninterested. Her hair is iron grey and thin, curling wildly about her head with no effort at taming it. Her dressing gown is black velvet with large silver buttons and she has slippers on her feet.
She looks like somebody’s lost great grandma. Elderly, tired, and in need of a good nap. The problem with this picture? Witches don’t age; at least not in the way humans do. Once we reach maturity, our immortality sets in, and the aging process slows down significantly. It takes hundreds of years for even incremental changes to show on our bodies. Yet this woman, supposedly a witch born roughly four hundred years ago, has stooped shoulders and a face full of lines.
“Why?” Her voice sounds like a rusty hinge as she speaks, her milky eyes lingering on me.
“Her mother is…” He looks at me expectantly.
I frown back. Seriously? Does he expect me to aid in my own abduction and torture by voluntarily giving information? How is this place still functioning with such idiots running it?
Portence’s gaze sharpens. “Yes, who is your mother, child?”
I weigh the pros and cons and decide it probably can’t hurt to tell them. Maybe it’ll save me another painful treatment with Phil or buy me some time to figure out how to kill Portence. “My mother is Lilith Guardian Witch.”
She lets out a gasp before clamping her lips shut and staring hard at me. “Bring her inside.”
As she moves aside, the guard shoves me through the door and follows close behind.
Portence’s chamber looks as though it was once beautifully furnished, but is now old and dilapidated. A faded and worn forest green velvet couch sits next to a set of French doors that open onto the grassy back of the property. Grimy wall sconces dimly light up the room and shadows lurk in every corner. The only thing that feels lived in and warm is the cheerful fire snapping at Portence’s back as she shuffles behind her desk.
Her eyes go to the guard. “You may leave.”
“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” he grunts, jerking his head my way. “She’s a feisty one. Broke Phil’s nose during treatment.”
A quick flash of horror crosses her expression before she can school her features. Her voice is frosty as she demands, “This child was taken for treatment?”
What does she think happened to my face? I don’t normally have a bruised cheek, black eye, and split lip.
The guard nods. “The Magistrate ordered it.”
“If she is who she says she is, the Magistrate may have brought ruin down upon all of us. Leave us. You won’t be needed again.”
The second the door closes behind the retreating guard, I demand, “Who are you? And don’t bother lying. I know you can’t be Portence Guardian Witch.”
The woman chuckles, the sound dry and grating. “I should ask you the same question. Are you really Lilith’s daughter?” I nod and her expression becomes grimmer. “This isn’t good news for you, child.” She turns to look at the fire, crossing her arms.
My heart pounds as I frantically search for a weapon. Maybe if I can hit her over the head hard enough, I can make it out the French doors and get away before the guards grab me. Her voice stops me.
“I know you think I’m an elderly human masquerading as Portence, but you’re wrong.” She turns back to me and for a moment I see the face of a younger woman transposed over the older face. “I was like you once, beautiful and unchanging.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
“I was made to see how unnatural our kind is and encouraged to let nature into my heart and soul.” She presses a hand to her chest as she speaks. “Aging is nature, child.”
“For humans it is, but not for witches,” I argue. “Nature runs through our veins. Who are you to say we’re unnatural for having a much slower aging process?”
“We’ve harnessed dark magic for such things, and that is a crime,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at me.
The woman is a cauldron full of nuts and I’m not going to spend all day arguing with her about aging and dark magic. She used a spell to speed up her physical aging process while still preserving her internal organs. She’s four hundred years old. If she was aging naturally as a human, she’d be dead. This is dark magic, but I don’t think the crazy old bat is going to see the contradiction in her thinking.
“What you’re doing in this place is wrong,” I say instead, glaring at her. “You’re torturing your brothers and sisters. How can you call our aging process a crime when what you’re doing here in this place goes against every belief held by our kind?”
“My sisters and brothers,” she spits, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “The only people interred here are criminals who deserve the justice we hand out.”
Outraged, I argue, “What exactly have I done to deserve repeated electrocutions and a beating? What about the mortals you’ve trapped here? What’ve they done?”
She places her hands on her desk, clearly annoyed at my accusations. “What have you done? You’ve been running around the countryside casting spells without thought to how your actions damage the humans trying to survive in a world of immortals.” It hits me then. I know what she is. A human sympathizer. An immortal who becomes obsessed with humans and mortality to the point that they want to become one. Her insistence on superficial ageing makes sense now. She wants to be like the people she idolizes. “As for the mortals in this place, all deserve to be here for crimes against their fellow humans.”
“But why keep them here with the immortals? Why not put them in human prisons?” Tingles race up my spine as I finally sense my mate. I glance out the window, watching for movement on the shadowy grounds.
Portence shrugs. “We need a non-magical control group for the study of magical blood. It helps to have a steady supply of human blood for our experiments.”
At first, I’m stunned by her admission. Humans are being brought to the Pendle asylum for experimentation. Then I laugh. “Okay, let me get this straight. You’re obsessed with humans and consider them far more natural than witches, but you’re okay with torturing and experimenting on the very creatures you venerate? You are one cracked cookie, lady.”
“Only the criminals!” she insists defensively.
“Yeah, criminals like me,” I say darkly, my eyes on the distant fence line. “It doesn’t matter what your reasons are for running such a terrible place. Your time here is finished.”
She cackles, the sound dry. “You and what army, little girl? No, you’re mine now, and I’ll use you to get to who I really want. The person responsible for murdering the man I love.”
The pieces fall into place and I gasp, returning my gaze to Portence, then to the massive painting of the famous witch hunter that hangs over the mantle. Wallace Banbridge. He’s the reason Portence turned her back on her magical brethren. Not just turned her back, but actively locked them up, tortured them, and more than likely, killed them, too.
“You loved Banbridge, didn’t you?”
She stares up at the painting, adoration momentarily softening her features. “He spared me because he knew I was special.”
“He tortured you and turned you against your own kind,” I argue.
Her eyes flash with malice as she turns back to me. “No one in the magical world ever cared about me the way he did.”
“He only cared about the information you could give him. He used you to get to other witches and you let him!” It’s a guess, but a good one. If Banbridge really loved Portence, he would’ve loved all of her, even the magical parts. The way Rush will learn to love the magical parts of me if he wants to continue being mates. I won’t give up what Portence gave up, no matter how much I love my wolf. If he loves me enough, he won’t ask me to do it.
“There’s only one witch I want now.”
“My mother.”
“Lilith Guardian Witch killed my lover,” she confirms, her tone hard. “And now I have the key to finding her. Somehow fate has brought you to my doorstep, the one person to draw Lilith from the Shadow Realm.” She turns feverish eyes up to Banbridge’s image. “Once I’ve avenged my love, I’ll be able to leave this life behind.”
“There’s a flaw in your plan, Portence.”
“What’s that?” she demands, glaring at me.
“It’s not my mother who’ll come for me. I’m a grown witch who can stand on her own two feet, and Lilith knows it. She’s never been one to step in when I get myself into a spot of trouble.”
“She’ll come if you ask her to.”
I don’t tell her that if she did somehow get me to send a message to Lilith, she’d be in a world of hurt when the powerful witch showed up. Better witches than Portence have tried to trap my mother and they’ve paid with their lives.
Instead, I say, “She won’t need to come to my rescue, I have somebody else for that.” I smile as I turn away from the French doors. “Not that I need anyone to save me, thank you very much for emancipated witches everywhere, but I’ll take the early release anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” Portence demands.
I smile, showing off my teeth. “My boyfriend is rather protective and right now he’s pissed at what’s happened to me here. In fact, he’s more than pissed because he would’ve felt every bolt of electricity going through me as if it were happening to him, too.”
“Shifter!” she gasps, her expression growing fearful. Her worried gaze goes past me to the darkness beyond. “Only a shifter can feel the pain of a mate.” She picks up the receiver of a telephone and holds it to her ear, presumably to call for help.
“It’s too late for that,” I say gleefully. “The judge and executioner for Portence Good Witch has arrived. A few centuries late, but better late than never.”
I drop to my knees on the dusty carpet and cover my head as Rush bursts through the French doors behind me, hurling glass across the office. He pauses next to me, his big, gleaming yellow eyes searching my face as I look up at him, then his gaze swings to Portence and with a roar of rage, he leaps for her.
