Midnight Desire, page 26
She spotted her bra and panties and was careful not to wake Alex as she slipped them on. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she picked up his phone and turned off the alarm. He might be mad as hell when he woke up, but at least she’d know he was safe.
She tiptoed toward the fireplace, threw a log in the grate and whispered an incantation for fire. Then with a flick of her wrist, it flamed to life. Alex’s clothes were still spread out over the hearth, partially shredded and still caked with mud, but dry.
After she got dressed, she pushed her hands into her pockets and pulled out the vanquishing potion. She held up the tiny vial to the light. Miraculously, the glass was still intact. She shook the clear liquid, not a drop had seeped out. Maybe it wasn’t a miracle at all. Maybe it was fate. Her mind drifted back to the images in her dream and she suddenly had a strong sense of déjà vu.
The more she thought about it, the more her dream seemed eerily familiar, like the time right before she had the vision about Kimber’s death. Images swam in her head, and then everything became clear. Alex would risk his life to save Ellen and, in the end, he would die trying.
Dear Goddess, no—that meant Griffiths had her. As much as she disliked the woman, Willow couldn’t stand the thought of Ellen being all alone and trapped in his clutches. They were both going to die. Willow sensed it deep down in her bones. But Alex was very much alive at the moment, which meant she could change the outcome of the future. Finally, she could end this ordeal once and for all. The solution sat in the palm of her hand.
This time she vowed not to let Griffiths hurt another innocent, especially not the man she loved. As much as she wished it wasn’t true, Willow’s feelings were real. She couldn’t change her past, but she could change the future.
Now was her chance to finally make things right. Despite the risk, she had to go after him. She pulled on her boots, grabbed Alex’s keys and headed for the door. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she stole one last look at his sleeping form over her shoulder.
“I love you,” she murmured. She’d already broken her vow to the Goddess to never use magick on him. She’d suffer the consequences to save his life. She whispered a sleeping spell to ensure that he wouldn’t wake up and turned the knob on the door. Her throat choked with emotion and her eyes swam with tears, and she knew, deep down, she was saying goodbye.
Alex rubbed his eyes, still naked and tangled in the blanket on the floor. Sunlight spilled into the spacious room and a satisfied smile twisted at his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly.
A sense of contentment filled him in a way he’d never known before. He could almost still feel Willow’s soft curves pressed against him and smell her perfume. He instantly grew hard. Memories of their lovemaking were still fresh in his mind. He loved the way her body molded to his when she was riding him.
If he could only wake up to her every morning, he’d be a happy man. The thought was equal parts scary and exciting, especially for a guy like him. Now he’d gone and fallen for a witch. But Willow was nothing like Velvet Laresh, he reminded himself, determined to leave the past where it belonged.
He reached out to her, but she was gone. “Willow.” He called out her name again, but she didn’t answer.
The room felt cold. His heart hammered in his chest and his gut told him something was wrong. He picked up his cell and let out a string of curses. The battery was dead. What time was it? The alarm had never gone off. He glanced over at where she’d left her clothes and boots, but they were gone. When did she leave? How had he not heard her?
How far could she get on foot? He rubbed the back of his head in bewilderment and glanced out the window as late morning sunlight peaked through the clouds. He guessed he’d been out cold for hours. But how? He’d never fall into such a deep sleep at such a critical time in an investigation. The answer hit him with the force of a sledgehammer.
Did she put a spell on me?
Anger sliced through his gut like the edge of a knife. His hands clenched into fists. He reached for his muddy jeans, pushed his legs into them and shoved on his boots. With a groan of frustration, he stood and walked around the room in search of his coat.
He didn’t know what the hell Willow was up to. All he cared about was finding her. He walked to the couch and pulled on his coat sans his shirt. He picked up his gun off the end table and holstered it to his leg. He went to retrieve his keys and his heart rate spiked as reality struck.
She took my goddamn truck? She was going to put herself in danger yet again, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop her.
CHAPTER 23
The moment Willow approached the property, every nerve ending in her body vibrated. She could sense the inherent evil within. As she pulled to the side of the road and got out of the truck, the energy all around her became dark and heavy like an invisible weight pressing down on her soul. She’d remember this place in her nightmares, the smell of the earth, and the way the trees parted in the distance. Gnarled branches twisted into foreboding shadows. Her skin burned, and her senses became overloaded.
Her heart pounded as her intuition tried to tell her body to run far away. But what choice did she have? Alex would die if she didn’t do this—and probably Ellen too—and she couldn’t live with that. She closed her eyes and tried to tune into Ellen’s essence. She breathed in the air and sensed her presence. The bastard had gotten to her, which confirmed her dream had been real.
A million thoughts and emotions swirled through her head. Now it was her time to do something selfless for a change. This was her chance to finally right the wrongs of her past. Fate had brought her to this moment. And whatever happened from here on was on her terms; she’d stop this madman or die trying. Maeve would’ve done the same for her. Things had changed. Willow wasn’t the same lost girl anymore. There was a certain sense of liberation in working for the good guys now. Pushing everything else out of her mind, she reached into her pocket, and her hand curled around the potion bottle. Willow swallowed the lump in her throat and hurried her steps. There was no time to waste—after all, she had a high priestess to save and a fae to kill.
The bottom of Alex’s feet throbbed, and after walking for what seemed like hours, the soles of his boots were starting to come apart. His mouth was bone dry. And his ribs hurt like a mother. He didn’t know how many miles he’d walked, but it wasn’t enough. There was still no sign of the farm or of Willow, and as luck would have it, not a vehicle in sight.
What if I’m too late?
He was too lost in thought and too worried about Willow to see a van screech down the highway toward him at full speed. He jumped out of the way right before he became roadkill. The van spun its wheels and came to a screeching stop in front of him.
His hand flew up to shield his eyes from the glaring headlights. He wondered if he was hallucinating from lack of water and pure exhaustion when he caught a glimpse of a large blonde head with black horns behind the wheel. “Cayden?”
The door flew open and the demon jumped out. “Alex, where the hell have you been? This is seriously no time to go MIA on us, man.”
“How did you find me?”
“The tracking devices. Smith and Brodie are headed to the farm and I came to find you.” Cayden drew Willow’s athame from behind his back and threw it to Alex, handle up. “I think this belongs to a friend of yours. What the hell are you waiting for? Let’s go take the scumbag down.”
Willow stopped to take a breath, a stitch burned in her side. Wheezing from running at full-speed through the grass, she slumped against a tree. The moment she made contact with the bark, she saw red. Blood everywhere. The tree held so much pain—and fear—a witness to all who’d been tortured and died here. She let go, forced air into her lungs, and continued forward.
The stench of death lingered in the air. She tasted it on her tongue and all the way to the back of her throat. When she crossed over an embankment, she spotted the greenhouse and a dilapidated barn in the distance. Despite the sunny day, the place looked as dark and desolate as it did in her vision.
Through the corner of her eye, she caught movement. She ducked under a tree branch, careful to keep out of sight as much as possible. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She told herself it was an animal and took a tentative step through a copse of trees. Now she could actually see the small barn to the left of the house clearly.
She blinked and images from her dream flooded her mind. She could still hear Ellen’s scream ringing in her ears. She needed to get close enough to catch Griffiths off guard, get him away from Ellen, then throw the potion on him and chant the spell. And then he’d be obliterated for good, and she realized that was a big if.
“Here goes nothing,” she murmured, got down onto her belly, and crawled to the barn. Rocks and sticks cut through her jeans and scraped against her skin. She bit down on her lip against the pain and kept going.
When she finally made it to the side of the barn, she got to her feet and ran inside. She spun around, but there was no sign of Ellen or the fae anywhere. “Ellen,” she whispered, trying not to give herself away.
There was not a single window around the wooden walls. The place was dark and freezing cold. She pushed her hands together to form a ball of light and took a tentative step forward. She glanced at the rows of haystacks, hanging rakes, and farm equipment. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
Every few seconds, she’d turn her head and glance over her shoulder, bracing herself against getting blindsided. Movement drew her attention to the back of the barn. Moving as silently as she could toward the source, she came to a filthy tarp hung like a door.
She pushed out a hand, trying to sense what was behind it, but all she picked up on was a sea of blackness. She took a step closer and the end of her ponytail tangled in the top of the tarp. She held her breath and stepped through it.
When she came out on the other side, she gasped and forced herself not to sink to her knees in shock. Blood splattered the barn walls like some kind of twisted mural. Row after row of crossbows and knives of varying lengths hung from hooks overhead, covered in dried blood. Splotches of blood even coated the dirt floor. She coughed and covered her mouth to keep from gagging. Pink Floyd’s “Run Like Hell” played from speakers all around the room.
Willow wrapped her hand around a beam to get her bearings. The sensations of fear and death made her light-headed. Her senses tuned into the collective energy surrounding her and she trembled with physical pain. Shaking, she let go of the beam and took several long, deep breaths. The air was thick, heavy with the metallic smell of smoke along with a faint scent of blood and black magick.
Her gaze zeroed in on an altar set up on a cardboard box. She spotted a fabric poppet on top. It was wrapped with a lock of flaming red hair, which she instantly recognized as Ellen’s. A single black candle burned beside it. Only the two together could bind a witch’s powers completely.
Her hands began to shake. She took a step back and collided with the back of a table.
“Willow?”
She jumped and turned to find Ellen tied to a chair. Her head was slumped forward. Anger bubbled inside Willow’s chest. She cursed, wishing she had her athame to cut her ropes. “We have to get you out of here.”
“No,” Ellen cried. “He’ll kill us both. He used a piece of my hair and then gave me a potion that stripped my powers, and he’ll do the same to you. Leave while you still can, before he gets back.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving here without you,” Willow whispered, trying to sound more convincing than she felt.
“You don’t get it. You’re no match for him.” Ellen began to sob. Her usual bravado was gone, replaced with raw fear. “He’s bat-shit crazy. Look what he did to the demon special agent.” She tried to lift her head.
When Willow glanced up, she found Smith spread eagle, covered in blood and hanging from the rafters. “Dear Goddess.” Her hand flew to her mouth. She sensed he was still alive, but barely. “Where’s Brodie?” She rubbed her hands over her face to hide her expression of horror. When Ellen didn’t respond, Willow chanted a series of healing spells for Smith, but her magick was still too depleted for it to do any good.
He was too high up to send her energy into his body. The only thing she could do right now was to try and save Ellen. “Listen to me. You have to be strong. You have to fight, and I will get us out of here.” Willow whispered a spell to undo the knots, but they didn’t budge. She dug her fingers into them and pulled. They seemed magickally enhanced somehow.
“We don’t have much time.”
“I need a knife or an object with a sharp point.” Willow glanced around for anything to cut the ropes and climbed onto a chair. Her only hope was to use one of the crossbows.
Shock flashed in Ellen’s eyes as Willow stepped down holding the weapon in her hands. “What are you doing?”
“Saving your ass.” Willow bent and moved the tip of the broadhead back and forth against the ropes at Ellen’s wrists, and then moved to the ones at her ankles.
“C’mon, hurry,” Ellen pleaded, an edge of panic in her voice.
“Almost there.” She’d cut the ties at one of Ellen’s ankles and was onto the other one when a loud thud made Willow glance at the roof. Before she could finish cutting the last piece of rope, a dark shadow flew down, landed on the other side of the barn, and spread out its wings.
The fae smirked. “Well, well, it looks like we’ve got company.”
CHAPTER 24
“Only cowards prey on innocent women. Does it make you feel more like a man?” Willow held the crossbow in front of her body like a shield, trying not to show fear. If she was getting out of this alive, she had to hold her own.
She got a good look at him, and it gave her chills. Long, dark hair hung past his collar. He was dressed in black from head to toe and reminded her of an avenging angel of death. Splatters of blood covered his shirt and pants.
“I’m afraid I have to correct you.” Griffiths glanced from Ellen to her, letting his wings slowly retreat back into his body. “Ellen’s far from innocent. In fact, she was a willing participant, a common whore. She’s been flirting with me since my first visit to the coven. She was the one who came onto me,” he said, pointing in Ellen’s direction.
“She made it clear from the start she’d come back to my place and screw me. It’s amazing the degrading lengths some women will go to for a handsome face and a muscular body. All you have to do is ask a woman a few questions about herself and then tell her she’s hot and voila.”
“Well you’d know all about whores wouldn’t you? Wasn’t your mother a whore, Stephen? Stephen Griffiths, right? Didn’t she bring her johns to your home? Is that why you’re such a twisted bastard?” A stab of anxiety pricked her chest.
“Shut your mouth, witch.” Pink Floyd’s “Run Like Hell” continued to play softly in the background, over and over again on a continuous loop. Next to her, Willow could hear Ellen’s heaving breaths and quiet sobs. No matter what bad blood lay between them, she didn’t deserve this.
Now, after everything, Willow wasn’t sure if Ellen had managed to get the rest of the ropes off. Then again, what help would she be if she did? Willow stole a glance over at the high priestess and her heart sank. Her powers were bound, and she looked weak and dehydrated, probably in a state of shock. She turned back to face him again and gulped at the look of pure evil blazing in his eyes. “Did Saint Claire hire you to kill the witches?” The question was why, but she would work up to that. She had to, because if he had hired him, even Griffith’s death wouldn’t mean the coven was safe.
He smiled and it made her gut twist with revulsion. “When he figured out Maeve Donovan was blabbing her mouth to your boyfriend, he hired me to get rid of her. Funny,” he said with a bitter laugh. “It turned out pretty well when I absorbed her powers after I killed her. After that, one witch just wasn’t enough.”
A surge of rage shot though her veins. “You bastard!” Willow’s fingers were white-knuckled around the handle of the crossbow. “You’ll pay for her death.” She pulled on the trigger and waited for the bolt to release, but nothing happened. Oh shit.
“I’m counting on it,” he said with a sneer. “My crossbow’s magickally enhanced to work only on my command.”
She dropped the offending weapon and lifted her hands in front of her body. “What’s the reason for killing the others,” she said though clenched teeth.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on the coven for months,” he muttered in a gruff voice and walked to the altar. He lifted his shirt and pointed to his belt buckle, edging closer. “I was able to use this as a shield to keep the cops and the MBI off the radar. Well, until you came along, and now I’m afraid I have to get rid of you too.”
“You’ll never get the chance. Other agents will be swarming the place any minute.” Her eyes darted toward the barn door, but there was still no sign of anyone.
“I’m afraid not soon enough. I got some of your hairs off the tarp. I put tape on it for this very reason.” When he picked up one of the poppets and wrapped her hair around it, her breaths became shallow. The bastard was going to try and bind her powers.
“I witnessed firsthand how the witches were able to use their magick to locate jewelry and artwork.” He lit a black candle, sending plumes of smoke around the room. “I reported back to Saint Claire and he thought that kind of export business could be lucrative for his own distribution channels.” The cloying stench of death began to close in and Willow got the distinct impression that time was running out.
