Midlife Witch Hunter (The Forty Proof Series Book 6) Page 2

  “I do. He fears death, and so he seeks to become what does not die.”

  We stared at each other for a moment and sweat broke out across my face. “No. He wants the dark gift . . . for himself?”

  “Yes. Because he is already a necromancer, he believes becoming a vampire would make him not only immortal but more powerful than any other. In some ways he is not wrong. But he does not remember the yellow fever.” Ozzie made air quotes around ‘yellow fever.’ “That was started when a necromancer was bitten and turned in Savannah. The madness that spread from her was . . . well, it was nothing short of hell on earth.”

  “I was in Ireland then,” I said softly. “But I heard the stories as surely as anyone else.”

  Ozzie shrugged. “Aye, the same was true of me, but then I came to help with the clean-up.”

  The forge was quiet, the air tense. “Look, I don’t know how you want me to—”

  “I will give you a list of all the ones I know for sure. Of the thirteen, including you and I and Louis, I have nine. Nine that if they were put down would no longer be a threat to the girl.”

  “Why are you so bent on protecting her?” I asked. “I know why I am, but what’s your motivation?”

  Ozzie sighed. “She is one of the pure souls. She gives without thinking, fights for those who need to be protected, and quite frankly I think she could do this world a favor by sticking around. But if Clovis and Louis have their way, she’ll either be turned to the dark side or killed.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “The dark side?”

  “I just finished watching Episode IV.” He waved a chubby hand at me. “I’m ad libbing here. You know what I mean. They’d break her spirit, tie her in chains, and she’d never be free.”

  I closed my eyes. “Like me.”

  “Like you. Only you got some power behind you now, and they know it. If they didn’t, they would have just come in here and beaten the shit outta you.” Ozzie reached up and patted my cheek. “They are afraid of you, Blacksmith, and rightly so.”

  A frown creased my face. “And how do I know that you aren’t setting me up? How do I know that you aren’t bringing me about to push me down?”

  He spread his hands wide. “I’ve been trying to help the girl. I’ve given her a book of spells and Celia’s book. She owes me a favor, and when I call it in, it will save her life.” Ozzie stepped back. “I have to go now. I suggest you follow through with what Clovis wants from you, throw him off the scent.”

  The leprechaun snapped his fingers, and he was gone, a glittering of faint fairy dust and sulphur smoke lingering in the air like a bad fart. I shook my head, then froze. On the table where he’d sat was a square of paper with a thick scrawl written across it.

  I stared at the paper as if it were a snake ready to rear up and sink its fangs into me, and yet . . . the pull of it was undeniable. Who was in the Dark Council with me? I truly had no guesses, beyond the obvious, and over the years had stopped trying.

  I found my hand reaching for the paper and folding it in half. Into my front jeans pocket it went. I would look at it later. If I chose to believe what Oster Boon was telling me.

  Because after this many years of being on the council, I was no fool. The power struggles were very, very real and incredibly dangerous. You could wake up dead just for suspecting the right person.

  My hands brushed over a chunk of steel left out on the table, and I stared at it, feeling the urge to create roll through me. Without putting much thought into what I was doing, I put the steel into the forge and cranked the handle on the blower.

  Picking up a pair of tongs, I set them on my anvil, left the hand crank long enough to pick out a favorite hammer and set that on the anvil too. The movements were so familiar to me, so deeply ingrained in my being, that my mind wandered.

  As I bent the steel to my will, pushing and urging it to take shape, as my muscles worked to create something out of nothing, I went over my options.

  Going to find the old witch—if he meant who I thought he did—would take me away from Savannah, and away from Bree. It would also bring Clovis a step closer to becoming a vampire, a thought that made me shudder. Mostly because only vampires who were born were worth acknowledging. Those who were created were a mess.

  “Idiot,” I whispered as I flicked my tong hand, sending a spray of sparks across the stone floor. Clovis was a fool for believing that he could or would be different than any of the others who’d been created.

  But he wasn’t usually a fool. Which led me to believe that there was something else at play. Something Oster hadn’t figured out just yet.

  The question was, what? What could Clovis be up to?

  I started the fine-tune work on the item I was working on, turning it this way and that, until it began to come into focus.

  It wasn’t meant to be one item, but three. Three thin slivers of metal, each tipped in an arrowhead leaf. Using my tools, I etched in the veins on the leaves, then began to mark the rounded edges with a wood grain pattern.

  My body went through the motions, and the tools warmed in my hands as if they were a part of me. Slowly the image of what they were meant to be pulled into view and, using a wooden hammer, I curled the thin iron into a circle.

  “Not quite right,” I muttered as I thought of her eyes. Digging around in my box of gems, I pulled out three tiny slivers of sapphires and set them into the steel, where the leaf met the root of the branch. I placed more and more until the ‘branch’ portion of the bracelet was speckled as if with tiny blue flowers.

  “Better.” I nodded to myself and stood up, stretching the tension in my spine. Tension that came from years of this kind of work, of forgetting that I was not young anymore. I laid my tools down and scooped up the three bracelets.

  They were prepared to take something on, whether it be a spell, a curse, or . . . something else. Would she even accept them? Would Bree understand that even though I knew she and I could not be, my desire to protect her and see her happy was still there?

  I found myself looking at the small plastic baggie that held the dust from my forge under Celia’s house. What was in it . . . there was too much for it all to be used for what Clovis wanted.

  Before I could think better of it, I took a sprinkling of the dust created from burning the feathers of the fallen angel and rubbed it over the steel bracelets. They shimmered and then took on the look of true wood—the leaves darkening to a shadowy green and the gems opening as if they were true flowers.

  If I looked closely, I could see the steel, I could see the marks from my tools. But to the naked eye, they looked like well-made bracelets of wood.

  I tucked the bracelets into a blue velvet bag and left the forge. Night had fallen, and I knew that I would not have much time.

  Already I could feel the pull of Clovis’s demands on me. I would need to leave and find the old witch as soon as I could.

  I grimaced, thinking about having to deal with her. She hadn’t been seen for a very, very long time. The first witch. The biggest witch of them all. Bree would have a heyday with that.

  Smiling to myself, I slid out of the forge and onto the streets of Goblin Town. They were busy, as this time of night was the hour of trade for goblins.

  I returned the nods of my—people was not the right word, maybe wards would be better. The women tittered, and the men gave me nods and salutes back. They appreciated that their previous king, Derek, was gone. He’d been running them into ruin, and they could not have found their way out of it on their own.

  A flash of pixy dust and wings caught my eye, and I glanced up sharply, hoping it would be Kinkly. That she could take Bree a message for me. But it was Scarlett.

  Scarlett, who was one of Karissa’s favorites. Best to deal with her head on. “I see you there. What do you want, Scarlett?”

  She fluttered out from behind the edge of a building. “Karissa would speak with you.”

  I didn’t roll my eyes, nor did I grunt a response. I merely nodded. “As
soon as I have time.”

  Scarlett flipped her long hair back from her face and glared at me. “She wants to speak to you now. Perhaps sooner.”

  Of course she did.

  “Tell her I will be along presently.” That was the best I was going to give my manipulative ex-wife. She was lucky she was not on the list of the Dark Council members.

  My hand went to my pocket. But what if she was? Did I have it in me to kill a woman I’d once loved, even though it had all been a farce?

  Scarlett saw my hand slip to my pocket. “What do you have there? A gift for the chubby girl?”

  “This is perhaps not a good day to piss me off, pixy,” I snapped, letting some of my darker powers slide up with my words. The powers that gave me my connection to working iron and steel when other fae fell sick or even died when they came in contact with it.

  Scarlett’s eyes widened, and she flew backward. “You would not dare harm me.”

  “Do not push me,” I said, and wondered for a moment what monster she saw in me. The blood of the old fae and . . . others . . . ran true in my veins, and moments like this reminded me of how important it was for me to keep control. There was a reason the old lines had been locked away.

  Scarlett zipped away, and I knew she’d tattle on me. I sighed and picked up my pace, heading for the nearest portal that would take me out of Faerie, and into Savannah. I’d put the bracelets somewhere that Bree would find them. While I didn’t know exactly what they would do for her, the angel dust I’d rubbed into them should give her a boost. Maybe even protection. She had plenty of magic of her own, so it was hard to say what might come to the surface.

  I stepped out of the cool night and into the humid, heavy heat of the South. I drew a breath as I moved out of the water and turned toward Bree’s home. Celia’s home. And, for a stolen moment, my home too.

  It was the smell of charred wood that I noticed first. The faintest whisper of charred . . . everything.

  Before clearer thinking took over, I started running. I knew in my gut that it wasn’t a coincidence—it was her house. What if Bree had been inside?

  When I got close enough, I saw it had been reduced to nothing but smoking embers.

  Bree was across the street from the wreckage, on her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She still wore her fighting clothes from the battle at the fort. She still had the same smears of dirt and blood, which told me less time had passed here than what I’d spent in Faerie. Which meant the magic was shifting. Normally it was the other way around.

  A sob ripped out of her, and I started moving toward her, only to stagger to a stop before she could see me.

  She’d think I’d done it.

  Or at least had been complicit in the act. Ducking behind a tree, I drew a slow breath as I listened to her cry.

  “I’m so sorry, love,” I whispered as my eyes welled. Her pain struck through me, sharper than any blade I’d forged, sharper than anything I’d ever felt on my own. I shook with it, unable to reach out and hold her and tell her I would help her make it right. She did not need me to do anything for her, but what I wouldn’t give to stand at her side and fix this.

  All I could do was stay in that spot, a silent witness to her grief, and ensure she was safe.

  Time slipped by, and she finally stopped crying. A quick look around the tree showed me her stepping away, leaving what little remained of her home. Bree paused and turned toward me. I ducked back behind the tree.

  “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not in the mood,” she said. The fatigue was like a weight in her voice, but I had no doubt she’d fight if she had to.

  Her footsteps picked up cadence again, and I waited until she was gone before I moved out from behind the tree.

  As I went across the street, the smell of burnt herbs grew. All of Celia’s work had been destroyed, gone a flash of smoke and flame. The heat of the embers didn’t bother me, and I stepped onto the remains of the house.

  The Dark Council had done this because I’d failed to find the fairy cross. They’d done this to hurt my Bree.

  “Oh!”

  I turned to see a young female goblin standing off to one side, a little girl holding her hand. Bridgette was the goblin’s name, and the little girl was Charlotte. Neighbors.

  “Hello,” I said.

  The little girl with dark hair and eyes looked me over. “You didn’t do this, did you?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “No, lass, I did not.”

  She bobbed her head once. “Good. ’Cause whoever did it made my friend cry. I probably hate whoever did this. Though my mom says I shouldn’t say things like I hate people.”

  Bridgette nodded. “We heard the flames, your majesty. We called the human fire people, but they were too slow.”

  I bent and put a hand over the smoking rubble. “Killing fire was used.”

  That meant Monica, the shapeshifter, was likely responsible. She had a real hatred for Bree for some reason. Then again, Bree had managed to flip Monica upside down in front of a lot of humans. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it. Monica, who’d been masquerading as human, hadn’t been able to retaliate or respond in kind.

  That embarrassment alone might have been enough to make her hate my girl.

  “You going to find out who did this?” the young lass asked. “And kick them in the hiney?”

  I stepped off the rubble and approached the pair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She shook her head. “Not good enough.”

  Bridgette let out a sigh. “Little one, that is not—”

  I went to one knee and held out a hand to Charlotte. “I swear to you on my crown that I will find who did this.”

  She gripped my hand, and a tingle of magic slid across my skin. Already, untrained, the power in her was strong. Her eyes were solemn. “And you’ll kick them in the hiney?”

  I smiled. “And I will kick them in the hiney.”

  Chapter

  Three

  CRASH

  Back in Faerie, I made my way to Karissa’s bower with an overnight bag slung over my shoulder. I didn’t plan on staying. I’d be leaving Faerie immediately after speaking with her.

  Karissa’s bower was not a place I wanted to be. The last time I’d willingly gone to see her she’d damn well spelled me into her bed. This time I’d taken more precautions.

  I had my sword on one hip and a small pendant around my neck, tucked under my shirt. Celia had given it to me just a few days before. After I’d tried to take Bree hostage.

  My guts churned at the thought and my mind shot back to the moment Bree had fled, terrified of me. I could still feel the ache of that in my gut. But Bree didn’t know what had happened immediately afterward. Only three people did. Celia, me, and Sarge.

  “You idiot, idiot boy!” Celia had swung a hand toward me, but it had skimmed right through my arm. Still, I’d found myself flinching. “She trusted you!”

  “I had no choice! If I did not come for her, they would have sent Bruce!” Bruce of the no-face as Bree liked to call him.

  Celia closed her eyes. “Fire within me, are you certain?”

  “Yes. That’s why . . .” I looked across at Sarge who was watching me closely.

  “You might as well spill the beans now,” he growled. “I don’t want to have a bump on my noggin for nothing.”

  “If Bruce came for her, there is no telling how he’d hurt her—or you, for that matter—he’s a sadist of the highest order,” I said. “At least if I came, I knew that—”

  “That you could give her a chance to get away?” Sarge’s eyes were wide. “You know she won’t trust you after this.”

  “I know.” I rubbed a hand over my face.

  Celia disappeared—literally—leaving me alone with the werewolf. “Where did Corb go?”

  He blinked. “Why do you ask? Oh . . . no . . . don’t try that sacrificial, he loves her and is better for her bit. He’s a mess. She’d be better off with Robert.”

  “Robert
is not what or who he seems to be,” I said. “And while he is her friend now, that will change. He has a whole other set of issues.”

  Celia popped back into existence right in front of me. “Why would it change? He’s like her, a past guardian.”

  I stared at Celia, not sure how much I should tell her. Not because a secret would help, but because I didn’t know that she’d believe me. “Just . . . do not be surprised when it happens.” That was the best I could do.

  The rest they would have to find out on their own.

  Celia narrowed her eyes and stared hard at me. “Here. I only have two. Bree wears one, so perhaps it is fitting that you have the other.” The pendant she gave me was a dragon in relief, symbols carved around the edges. “May it protect you when you can no longer protect yourself.”

  Now, approaching the hanging flowers and vines that covered the entrance to the bower,

  my hand lifted to the pendant. Karissa’s bed was littered with flower petals and covered in satin sheets that had obviously been fragranced with her perfume. A bottle of wine and two fresh chalices sat to the side.

  “Karissa, I do not have time for your games.” I threw my words out like a challenge.

  “Oh, but they are not games if the costs and the rewards are true,” she purred as she emerged from the right side of the bower.

  At least she was dressed, her pale green gown floated around her on the pleasant breeze that blew through the small space. She smiled, but I did not return the gesture.

  “Again, I have no time. I have a job and a journey ahead of me,” I said.

  “Pity. Well, I shall get right to the point.” She poured herself a glass of wine, then offered me one. I shook my head and she laughed. “Almost like you don’t trust me.”

  “Almost is not a word that belongs in that sentence.” I didn’t so much as shift toward her. “Speak now, or I will leave.”

  She lifted a hand and took a sip of her drink before she spoke. Just to make a point that she would not be rushed. Yes, I knew this game of hers well.