Witch Heart

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Claire screamed. Memory flashed.

Standing in the center of the bare, well-warded training room with Rue in front of her. His golden eyes boring holes into hers. His magick ripe and hot in the room, tingling through her as he sank his power into the seat of her magick — twisted here, prodded right there...

The first time he'd done it, it had almost felt like rape — his will asserted over hers, her protests falling on deaf ears. She'd fought the insertion of his power into her body, had squirmed from him and ran. He'd forced it into her anyway, gentling her with softly spoken words. It was the only time he ever spoken so sweetly to her, when he'd wanted her to settle down and allow him to mold her.

Over time she'd learned to accept the sessions with Rue, and as her magick had grown in power, she'd actually started to look forward to them. Although Rue had never provided her with complete answers to her questions, never explained exactly what he was doing.

He'd most certainly never opened up to her emotionally as the parental figure she supposed she'd been longing for. The Ytrayi weren't good at that, though in the privacy of their romantic relationships, with their mates, she knew there was a degree of shared emotion, caring, even love.

But in her relationship with Rue — owner and pet, master and slave — true openness of feeling never evolved. Even though she'd always known — well, she thought she'd known — that Rue cared for her well-being on some level. She'd believed that up until the day he'd imbued her with the elium and sent her tumbling into a foreign world.

Where was Rue now? If he still lived, would he care that she was about to be tortured, probably killed, by these two Atrika? And why did she care what Rue felt for her anyway? Why was she even thinking of him in this moment at all?

Probably, because he was one of the few people in her life she'd ever formed a relationship with, no matter how dysfunctional.

Probably because it was too painful to think about Adam. Especially about losing him.

Adam.

Pain lanced through her and her spine bowed. Right after the flash of agony, blessed numbness started at her toes and worked its way up her body. Her mind, already befuddled from the venom, flashed again to parts of her life — watching her mother die, meeting Ty.

Then Adam's face filled her mind. Instead of balking from the fear of losing him, she embraced the image and held it close.

Adam smiling at her, Adam glancing at her, annoyed that she was endangering herself. The curve of his lips, the light in his eyes, the warm glow of caring he'd bestowed on her at the gas station right before she'd been taken.

Claire was glad that was the last memory she had of him. It warmed her even as her body went cold from the demon poison making its way through her bloodstream.

Her vision blurred. She blinked and the color of the world bled away to black and white. The numbness and chill in her limbs and body unfortunately did not prevent her from feeling the hard grip of the demon's hands on her arms and legs, or the heat of Kai's breath as he leaned down and examined her eyes.

All sound was muffled, as though she existed underwater. Tevan and Kai spoke to each other in clipped, harsh tones. She could tell by the looks on their faces and the abrupt way they spoke that they were not working well together. The information filtered through the thickness of her thoughts as important and she filed it away.

If she was able to endure what was to come, if she lived through the day, maybe she could use it against them in some way.

Demon magick slipped inside her, like Rue's had so many years ago. Claire closed her eyelids with effort, unable to manipulate any other part of her anatomy. Every fiber of her will screamed at her to fight, fight, flee! But, of course, that was impossible. Instead she fought to give in and allow it, the way she'd taught herself to allow Rue's magick inside her.

Claire had learned over the years that when she couldn't avoid something distasteful it was better to bend a little and permit it. If she couldn't bend, she might break.

And she wasn't about to let these monsters break her.

Tevan's power touched the seat of her magick, flicked out and tasted it like a snake's tongue. She shuddered deep within. Undoubtedly, he found the flavor to his liking, just as he would find her flesh delicious to his taste buds. He hesitated a moment, long enough to make her wonder just how strong a handle he had on his control, then he moved to the elium.

The elium flared under the touch of demon power, thrumming deep within her. The core of the magick nestled in the heart of her, like a pearl embedded in the meat of an oyster. It responded like-to-like and Claire could tell that the elium wanted to go to Tevan. It reached out like a child wanting its mother, preferring to dwell in the heart of a pure demon than in a mere halfling.

Claire wanted it to go, too.

Tevan stroked the elium carefully, like a mother bird protecting a fragile egg. It was as close to caring as she'd ever known an Atrika could get. It made sense, she supposed, that it was a weapon an Atrika would show tenderness for.

Around the edges of the elium, she sensed how her magick had interwoven with it. Parts of the seat of her magick were tangled with the outer threads of the elium.

Tevan went straight for those threads and started to pull them apart. White-hot needles of pain stabbed through the center of her. Had she not been paralyzed, she would have screamed until her lungs exploded. This was like Micah's spell quadrupled, performed with no finesse or caring.

Unconsciousness threatened but was only snatched away. Claire knew the venom would keep blessed unawareness from her. It was a well-known side effect.

Tevan tried again to unthread the elium from the seat of her magick, and again agony seared her. For every tendril of power Tevan managed to untangle, another wrapped tight.

Her mind swamped with pain, she considered insanity. It might be the only way she could get through this. A wild giggle rose within her, unable to be voiced.

Adam fought mot to punch the wall. Long gone was the lighthearted man the Coven had known. For years he was the one who joked around with everyone, even under the direst of circumstances.

He could find nothing light within him at the moment, not even a speck. Every moment they spent not finding Claire was another moment the demons had to kill her.

If, indeed, she still lived.

"You need to calm down, Adam."

"I really fucking wish people would stop saying that." Adam turned on his heel and paced away from Jack McAllister. "Easy for you to say; it's not someone you care about trapped with a couple demons who are ready to rip her limb from limb."

"You're right. In your position, if it were Mira in the hands of the demons, I'd be crazed, too."

"And don't fucking tell me that Micah and the others are doing all they can. If one more fucking witch tells me that, I'm going rip their fucking head off."

"Yeah," Jack said, eyebrows rising. He stood and went to the kitchen, took two short, fat glasses from the cabinet, and poured whiskey into them both. He turned. "Do you want a fucking drink?"

Adam started toward him. "Fuck, yeah." He took the glass from Jack, downed it in one swallow and then poured another.

"So, it finally happened, then. Adam Tyrell finally fell in love."

He rolled his eyes at Jack and drank down another glass. "Hell, have a baby and get married, and you start going all soft and talking about love."

"You wouldn't be like this if it was anything less. Anyway, what's wrong with love?"

Plenty.

Adam turned and stalked away from him, back into the living room of his Coven apartment. "I was married before, Jack. I'm not unacquainted with love."

Jack went totally silent.

Adam glanced at him. "Yeah, I know. Shocking, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Thomas knows. Isabelle knows, but not the details. A few others know. Not many."

"Did you get divorced?"

He collapsed into a recliner with a heavy sigh. Why'd he even bring this up? "No, man, she died."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck."

Jack set his glass down and moved into the living room to sit in the other recliner. "I'm sorry."

Adam tipped his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. "Why do people always say that when they hear someone's died?"

"Because they don't know what else to say." He paused. "How did she die?"

"I was a cop. I bet you didn't know that, either. My dad was a cop, too. I followed in his footsteps, just like he wanted. My dad, both my uncles, all of them were Chicago cops. It was in my blood."

"No, I didn't know."

Adam tipped his head forward and looked at Jack. "I was a good cop, too. Never took bribes, never confiscated shit from crime scenes. I wasn't corrupt. Anyway, one night after my shift I got home and a thief broke into our house and killed her." He laughed, a harsh sound. "I was still wearing my holster."

Jack just stared at him. Adam was thankful he didn't say he was sorry again.

"I fried the guy on the spot, right where he stood. You can guess what I had to do after that. Thomas came in, cleaned up my mess, and I started working for him."

Jack just blinked. "I always wondered how you came to the Coven."

"I loved my wife, Jack."

"I know. I can hear it in your voice and see it on your face."

Adam got up and poured himself and Jack another drink. He needed it. He bet wherever Claire was, she needed one, too. His hand clenched around the bottle as he poured.

If he could confront Tevan and Kai right now he would make fire hot enough to rival the sun, hot enough to get through their shields. When he finally met them again, they were going to taste it.

He finished pouring the amber liquid into the glasses, then braced his hands on the counter and bowed his head as a wave of emotion swamped his mind and body. A trickle of fire jumped down his arm from his seat and sparked harmlessly on the counter. "We have to get Claire back."

Jack, thankfully, said nothing.

Jack had shown up, sent by Thomas, no doubt, to keep him from doing something rash while Micah worked up possible places the demons might have taken Claire. Something about spots in the world where demon magick was likely to be most effective. It had to do with the flux and flow of energy, ley lines, and the basic geographical lay of the land.

Truth was, the demons could have jumped her anywhere, anywhere in the world. Their only chance in finding her was divine intervention. Since Adam didn't believe in the divine, they were probably shit out of luck.

After a moment, Adam picked up the glasses and walked back into the living room.

"It wasn't your fault Claire was taken, you know," said Jack as he handed the glass to him.

Fuck it all. "Don't, Jack."

He moved to sit at the edge of his chair. "I mean it, Adam," he snapped. "You and Claire staved off Tevan and Kai against incredible odds. We're dealing with magicks and beings we know little about. There was no way to know they'd be able to track her so fast and pick her up during the five-minute stop you made at the gas station."

Truth was. he did feel responsible for Claire's abduction. "It was like they were just playing with us up until then."

"Yeah, well, Claire pulled the elium on them and then she did something no other elemental witch has ever managed to do and used all four elements on them together." He took a long drink. "You'd better believe they were done fucking around by that time."

"Claire is amazing."

"And she might have already escaped. Don't count her out of this yet."

"We shared dreams." His voice sounded a little slurred to his own ears. The alcohol was sending him to a place where he could drift a little.

"What?"

"After I first met her, we had this chemistry—"

"You have chemistry with every woman."

"No. It was different with Claire. It was a shared thing, that spark." Adam snapped his fingers in the air and a flame appeared. "And we shared dreams."

"What do you mean, share?"

"We dreamt the same dream. A couple times. The exact same dream on the same night, probably at the same time."

Jack was quiet for a long moment. "Huh." He said finally. "That's really strange."

"Claire thought maybe it was magickical bleed through."

"Like her magick affected yours while she slept, drew your astral self into her mind or something? Mira can let her consciousness walk about without her body. It's something air witches can do. Claire is an air witch, in a way."

"Claire is an everything witch." Adam mulled it over for a moment. "I guess that's what happened. I don't know."

Jack sat forward so fast he sloshed his drink over the rim of the glass and onto the carpet. "That's it, you fucking bastard."

"What's it?"

"You can find Claire that way. You can use the connection you two shared in your dreams to find out where she is."

Adam sat forward. "Are you drunk?"

Jack stood up. "Mira is really into this, Adam. She can tell you more than I can, but I know it's kind of like remote viewing. If you can connect with Claire, you can see out of her eyes and maybe we can tell where she's being held."

Hope flickered to life inside him and then crunched to his toes. "Claire's the one with the air magick, Jack, not me. Didn't you hear a word Micah said? No way do the demons have Claire anywhere unwarded. Wherever she is, she can't access her air magick or any kind of elemental magick."

But Jack was already striding to the door. "We don't know that for sure. Anything's worth a shot at this point. The only other thing to do is get drunk; this is time better spent. I'm sending Mira here right now." He turned and pointed a finger at him. Fucking make some coffee, Adam. She'll need you sober."