Witch Fury

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—” “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.

Theo looked back down at the pictures. “She’s strong. You can feel it radiating off her in waves. It’s uncontrolled, but the intensity is there.” “I know what you’re thinking,” Micah answered. “You’re thinking that’s why Stefan seemed to be paying extra attention to her, because she’s kicking powerful.” He shook his shaggy head. “I don’t think that’s the reason why.” “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Judging from her mother combusting like she did, she had to be really powerful, too.” “There are lots of powerful fire witches in the world,” Micah answered. “It doesn’t mean His Majesty, Stefan Faucheux, would want to spend personal time with them. I’ll do some more digging and see what I can come up with.” “In the meantime, let her go. Send her to me, Theo,” said Isabelle. “I’ll smooth things over with her a little and then send her home.” He turned and glared at her. “What makes you think I can’t smooth things over with her?” She made a scoffing sound. “Uh-huh. No offense, but you lack skill in the diplomacy department. Better send her to me. I can only imagine how you’ve treated her. I heard all about the run through the cornfield. In hindsight that was pretty brutal, wasn’t it? She probably hates your guts.” Theo thought back to the conversation he’d had with Sarafina the night before. How she’d asked him to tell her about the world she’d fallen into and how he’d rebuffed her. Isabelle’s words hit him in the solar plexus. Sarafina almost certainly did hate him.

He glanced down at the file folder. “Probably.” “Okay. We’re agreed. Un-abracadabra the earth wards on your door and send her down to me, poor woman.” Theo rose, holding the file. “I’ll go get her.” He left the room and headed to his apartment. He should be happy to be free of the woman and her yapping little dog, but tension had settled in the pit of his stomach instead. Perhaps it was because he still sensed that Sarafina — never mind the fact she was named for a kind of angel — was dangerous. Theo didn’t like the idea of releasing her. Or perhaps it was because she was, in fact, an innocent and he’d treated her so brutally. Hell, she’d been abducted just like he’d been. Maybe guilt was the reason for the tension in his gut.

He entered the apartment and found her lying on her stomach across the couch, reading one of his spell books. She’d folded the blanket and set it on the end of the couch, on top of the pillow.

Sensing something was different, he glanced around. The room was spotless. It looked like she’d even taken a dust rag to the bookshelves. A glance into the kitchen revealed the same level of cleanliness.

Damn, that was the first time he’d seen the countertops in months. His best spell pot gleamed on the stove. It looked like she’d polished it to within an inch of its life.

She glanced up at him with an annoyed look on her face and then returned to giving the book her complete attention. Grosset seemed happy to see him, at least. He bounced like a dust mop on crack at Theo’s feet, small pink tongue hanging out.

Sarafina’s hair spilled loose down her back, silky white blond against the black of the T-shirt she’d pilfered from him that morning. Her nose, long and slightly snubbed at the end, was buried deeply in the spell book, but Theo had a feeling it was all just for show. As he watched, she puckered her full lips a little and turned a page. One bare foot jiggled with irritation, toenails painted light pink. He tried really hard not to notice the luscious shape of her smooth calves where the hem of the sweatpants she wore had ridden up.

The woman really did look and act innocent, but Theo suspected that was all a show, too. Even though he wasn’t crazy about the thought of having her as a houseguest, he wished he could keep her here a little longer, long enough to ferret out her mysteries. Maybe it was better he playact now and try to make amends. If she liked him better, it would be easier for him to keep an eye on her once she left the Coven.

He stooped to pet Grosset, then rose and walked to the center of the room. “They’ve been able to sort out the people rescued from the farmhouse and there’s proof that you were abducted.” He paused a moment, hating having to admit he’d been wrong. . maybe. “You’re not a warlock.” “No kidding.” She closed the book with a thump. “I was falsely accused. I told you so.” “I know. I’m. . sorry.”

Her lips twisted and she tilted her head to the side. “Do the syllables of the words I’m sorry taste bad? You’re grimacing.” He ignored the comment. “You and I got off on the wrong foot—” “You think?” She sat up, put the spell book on the coffee table, then leaned back with her arms crossed over her chest. “Normally, I love being buried alive.” “Look, I’m sorry, all right? Sorry for everything. I was really rude to you last night and I feel bad about it, so if there’s anything you want me to tell you about—” “Everything.” She uncrossed her arms and leaned toward him, her blue eyes suddenly bright. “I feel like I’ve been transported to a foreign country and I don’t know the language or any of the customs. I feel like I’ve found a missing part of myself, a part that’s completely familiar to me, and yet totally alien at the same time.” He rolled his eyes. Gods, were they going to have to talk about their emotions? He’d rather stab himself in the eye.

“Plus—” She snapped her mouth shut. Her hands were clenched in her lap and had gone totally white. “It pisses me off that I’m admitting this to you, but I’m grieving right now.” She practically snarled the words. “Not that you care.” His heart softened a bit. Damn it. “I heard. It’s unfortunate all this is happening to you at once.” “Yes, I think that’s why I feel extra. . lost. If you could give me a compass, I’d appreciate it.” He leaned forward, bracing a hand near her shoulder on the couch, and pulled a book from the shelf behind her head, bringing his body uncomfortably close to hers. She smelled good. He’d noticed it yesterday, even under the scent of the dirt he’d tried to drown her in. It was her perfume, maybe, or the shampoo she used. Her soap? Whatever it was, it was subtle and seemingly an integral part of her. His gaze caught hers and he noticed her eyes were a little shiny. A beautiful blue. . and filled with just the lightest sheen of tears.

Theo drew back, book in hand. He hoped she didn’t cry. Oh, Gods. The last thing he needed on his hands was a blubbering female. What the hell did you do with a weeping woman?

After tossing the book into her lap, he eased down into the chair behind him, a safe distance away from her. The dog jumped into his lap immediately. Theo stared down into Grosset’s furry, panting face and tried not to curl his lip.

Sarafina looked down at the red hardcover book in her hands. “What’s this?” “That’s all we know about what we are. Micah, our scholar and the cousin of the head of the Coven, compiled it and had it bound for the members of the Coven. It’s our history, as much as we know.” She picked up the thick volume and turned it over in her hands, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Take it home, read it, and then ask me any questions you have.” Hopefully, that would ensure they have contact after she left this apartment, so he could keep his eye on her.

“Answer one for me right now?”

“Shoot.”

Her face tightened. Theo recognized fear when he saw it. “Do witches have red eyes?” He stilled, a nasty icy jolt going through him. “There’s only one thing I know of that has red eyes and they’re not witches.” “What are they?”

“Where did you see someone like that?” “At the farmhouse. He woke me up in the middle of the night and nearly made me soil the mattress. He didn’t hurt me, but everything about him was threatening.” She paused. “And he was big, almost unnaturally so. When I asked Stefan about the creature, Stefan never told me what he was, only that he was curious about me.” Theo ran his hand over his jaw and looked away from her. Demon. Probably an Atrika demon. What the hell was an Atrika doing Earthside. . again? He sighed, weariness bubbling up from the depths of him. Gods, he did not want to have to deal with Atrika again. “It wasn’t a man.” “Okay.” Pause. “Not a man. So what did I wake up to in the middle of the night, Theo?” “My guess is a demon.” He let her absorb that for a moment. Theo had grown up with this stuff, she hadn’t. He could only guess how shocking it was. “They call themselves daaeman and they come from a place called Eudae. It’s all in the book.” “I just can’t. .” She trailed off, putting a hand to her forehead. “I think I need a drink.” “I’m sorry.” Her body was trembling slightly and her face had gone pale. “There’s a bottle of Scotch in the kitchen, if you’re serious about needing that drink. Look, I’ll give you a minute. I need to make a phone call.” “Sure.”

He got up and went into his bedroom, pulling his cell out of his pocket. He punched the speed dial for Thomas. “Yeah, we got another Atrika.” Silence.

“Did you hear me? The woman I thought was a warlock, but isn’t, says she saw one at the farmhouse.” “Fuck.”

“I just thought you should know right away, man.” “Tell me everything she saw.”

Theo told him what Sarafina had said.

“Okay.” Thomas’s voice was heavy and a little tired sounding. “Somehow, some way Stefan’s allied with the Atrika. That’s the implication. It’s nothing we didn’t already suspect might somehow happen.” “Our worst nightmare.”

“Pretty much.” Thomas exhaled slowly. “Micah and Isabelle have determined Sarafina is no threat, right?” “Yeah, we’re sending her home.”

“Let’s keep an eye on her, though.”

“I’m already on it, boss.”

Theo hung up the phone and returned to the living room where Sarafina still sat on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chin and Grosset by her side.

He sank into the chair near her and pushed a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “Doing okay with the demon thing?” She looked at him and wrinkled her face. “Are you crazy? How am I supposed to be okay with the demon thing?” “Yeah, that was a dumb question. I know this is a lot for you to absorb.” He looked at the book. “Read that, okay? It will answer a lot of your questions.” She turned her face away. “I just want to be left alone. I want to go back to my life as it was four days ago, even with the death of my foster mother, the debt, and the dumping. Why did the warlocks want me? Why go to all that trouble for me?” Theo considered her a moment, deciding how best to answer. “The warlocks have been abducting and converting vulnerable witches to their cause since as far back as we know. Lately, though, they’ve been taking more. Almost like they’re building an army.” She shook her head. “I’m not military material.” “Stefan seems to have taken a special interest in you. Or at least, normally he doesn’t meet personally with witches they’ve abducted, let alone go on the initial kidnapping. He doesn’t take risks, you know? He’s got underlings for that. Hell, ever since Isabelle almost nabbed him, he never even goes anywhere without bodyguards. He took a risk for you and he’s given you all kinds of personal attention, but we don’t know why you’re so special.” “I feel like Alice and I just slipped down the rabbit hole.” “So who does that make me?”

A smile flickered across her mouth. “Not the Cheshire cat, that’s for sure. You don’t smile enough for that.” She frowned. “You don’t smile at all.” “Yeah, well, not much to smile about these days.” “God,” she breathed, looking down at her lap and toying with a small hole in the knee of the sweatpants. “My mom. I always just assumed she was schizophrenic. The human torch thing, well, no one had an explanation for that.” “Now you do.”

“I’ll say.”

“Micah told me that it made all the supernatural unsolved mystery shows.” Suddenly, she looked about ten years older. “Yes.” She sighed. She looked down at the book in her lap again. “So, does this mean I can go home now?” “Isabelle is downstairs in the library. I’ll take you to her. She’ll give you some clothes to wear that fit, something decent to eat, and take you home.” She looked up at him. “Isabelle sounds really nice, but if it’s okay, I’d rather you just took me home now.” She glanced down at her clothes. “I mean, as long as you don’t mind that I’d be taking your clothes with me. I’ll wash them and return them—” “I don’t mind that you’re wearing my clothes.” Actually, she looked damn good in them. He let his gaze wander down her torso. His clothes engulfed her slim body, making him wonder what lay beneath all the bulk. Making him want to undress her and find out. It was intimate to think that the material that had lain against his skin now lay against hers.

Theo ripped his gaze back to her face. Clearly, he needed to get laid sometime soon. It had been too long. He hadn’t taken a lover since Ingrid had died last year.

There had been no great love between him and Ingrid. They’d been in the relationship for the sex and the companionship, to ease a little of their loneliness. But Ingrid had been a good friend and she’d died in a horrific way. It had hit him hard and he was still grieving her loss.

“Will you just take me home, then? I want to get back to my stuff. Familiarity, you know? I have phone calls to make. Friends of mine will be worried, not to mention my boss.” “Okay. I’m ready whenever you are.”

She pushed off the couch. “Then let’s go. It’s not like I have a lot of luggage.” He walked toward the door, stopped, and turned back to her. “Uh, except. . I drive a bike.” “A bike? You mean like a motorcycle?” He twisted his lips. “You think I ride a ten-speed? I drive a Harley.” “That figures. I can’t really see you driving a sedan.” She only waved her hand absently. “As long as we can get Grosset home on the thing, I’m past caring. I just want my own bathtub and bed tonight.”