Witch Heart

CHAPTER SEVEN

Okay, time to go.

Adam lunged for the back seat, careful not to spear Claire with his sword on the way in. Theo gunned the engine and the tires churned up the earth. Magick pulsed and they were out fast. Theo had altered the ground beneath the SUV to make sure they got out of there as soon as possible. Tires hit pavement, squealed, and they were off.

Adam lay crosswise in the seat, draped across Claire's lap. "Damn it!" he threw the sword to the floor of the vehicle. "Fuck!"

"We'll get them, Adam," said Theo. "We have to choose the time and place, though. You remember what the first one was like."

Adam pushed up to a sitting position with Claire's help. He ended up staring straight into her face about a breath's space from her mouth. Her eyes went a little wider and her breath hitched. He levered into a sitting position beside her.

"They were in a killing rage, the both of them," she said quietly. "I suspect strongly they have injected themselves with caplium by now, which protects them against their copper allergy. You could not have won against them alone, Adam. Not even with Theo's help."

"What is caplium anyway?"

"It's a mixture of ingredients, a cooked up potion, essentially. I only know of it, not how to make it. The Ytrayi destroy the copper they find so caplium isn't something they use every day."

Adam stared out the window at the passing scenery. Theo was getting them back on the highway. "How do you kill these things?"

"What Isabelle did was right. Injecting copper straight into their bloodstream works, though it can be slow depending on how much caplium they've taken. Beheading works, blowing them to itty-bitty pieces works."

"Basically, utter destruction. Wounds they can't heal. They're immortal, the fucks. Why couldn't we have gotten a little of that genetic goodness, I ask you?" He rubbed his mouth. "Goddamn it, I need a cigarette." His fingers literally itched for one right now.

She nodded. "There are other defenses, magickal ones." She paused. "I need to get somewhere safe. I need to sift through this new power inside me. After I do that and can be sure how to wield my magick safely, then we will have a defense against them."

He turned his head and studied her in the dark car. "Getting you to a safe place is our top concern."

"Then you did the right thing back there. If you'd stayed to fight, you'd both be dead by now and they would have me."

"They want to extract that magick inside you?"

"You have a thing here, something called a coconut?"

"Yes."

"They want to crack me like a coconut and drink the milk within."

He grimaced. "That's vivid."

She shrugged a shoulder. "That's true. My magick is like the meat of the coconut, but whatever Rue gave me is the milk. The problem is that in places the milk has soaked into the meat. I need to examine those places, try to extract the milk and isolate it."

"They'd kill you trying to get out Rue's magick, wouldn't they?"

She twitched. "They will simply take bites of meat in order to get the milk. Yes, they would kill me." For a moment, she went silent, her head dropping a bit. "I don't know if there's a way to get the foreign magick out of me without killing me anyway."

"The theory of magick isn't really my strong suit, but we have Micah on our side. If anyone can figure out a way to do it, it'll be him."

She said nothing in response, so he reached out and took her fragile, warm hand in his. They sat in silence as Theo hit the highway. From the other direction, police cars and a fire engine zoomed toward the exit, sirens wailing. Someone had reported the fire.

The car they drove was undoubtedly stolen. Adam hadn't had a chance to check the plates, but he'd bet anything they were Illinois. The driver, he'd make a guess, was probably long since dead. They'd have to ditch this car soon and find another one. No way could they make it all the way to Minnesota in this one. Far too risky. Adam didn't say anything to Theo. He already knew what they had to do.

He glanced at Claire. Her fingers were still intertwined with his and their hands lay between them on the seat. "What was it like over there?"

She studied in him the darkness. "Eudae? Different. Less chaotic. Everything here seems big and… unwieldy. It's cold here and all the buildings are sharp." She looked out the window. "The people are sharp here, too, such a mass of emotional contradiction. Some are helpful, like you and Theo. Most…" She shook her head. "I can't generalize. I've only been here a few days."

"So things aren't… sharp on Eudae?"

"The Atrika are a horrid daaeman breed. The worst. They were made to be killing machines, soldiers for the ruling class. You must understand that the Ytrayi are a brutal breed, too, but their world is very ordered, very sane. There are certain protocols that are always followed, behaviors that are expected of them. They have little emotion, unlike the Atrika, so there is little unordered violence."

"TV?"

"I'm sorry but I don't understand."

She blew out a breath. "You know what to expect on Eudae, living with the Ytrayi. There aren't any surprises. When my mother and I came over—" Claire snapped her mouth shut and looked out the window.

Clearly, she didn't want to talk about that, but he wanted to hear more. "So I guess they don't have cars or TV over there."

"No cars. There's no need. They've mastered the art of dimensional travel."

"Ah. Poofing."

She looked at him. "Poofing?"

"That's what Isabelle calls it. When they open a mini doorway and travel to another location."

"They jump, yes." She pursed her lips. "We use the word jump, not… poof."

Wow, this woman needed to lighten up.

Claire turned to face forward, drawing her hand from his. "Entertainment isn't something the Ytrayi engage in. It's considered a waste of time and the Ytrayi don't waste time, ever. They do play sports sometimes, though. To hone their battle skills." She shivered. "I don't like to watch that."

Adam immediately remembered something Micah had said once about the Mayans and the ballgame they used to play. The one in which the losers lost their heads… literally. "They almost sound primitive."

She made a scoffing sound. "Hardly. They are farther ahead in terms of technology than you are. They don't believe in frivolous entertainment, but they do appreciate fine art. The Mandari breed creates all sorts of sculptures, things that encompass energy, which make them shift and change periodically. The wall coverings in their homes do the same, change color and texture at their whim."

"Wow. That would make interior design a breeze."

Claire was not amused. "They typically own one outfit at a time. They have no need for more clothing because the fabric adjusts to temperature and need. It's keyed to the the thought process and environment of the daaeman, always changing, always cleaning itself, always protecting with perfection the being within."

There was a note of pride in her voice and almost wistfulness. Did she miss Eudae? It was the only home she'd ever known, yet she'd essentially been a slave there. Perhaps it was Stockholm syndrome.

"That sounds cool, Claire. How come you don't have clothes like that?"

She studied something in her lap. "Aeamon are not allowed such things."

He wasn't surprised. "We're considered inferior there." It wasn't a question. He already knew, both from his experience with Erasmus Boyle and from the research Micah was doing. "Boyle, the Atrika who tried to kill all of us last year, kept referring to aeamon and humans as cattle." He couldn't keep the note of tension from his voice.

"The Ytrayi are different than the Atrika. Please remember that. However, aeamon are still half-breeds, still considered of weaker blood. I was afforded respect because I am female and the Atrika honor females. Also because I was Rue's handmaiden and there I was—"

"You mean like his slave?" The words lashed the air. Adam couldn't have held them back even if he'd wanted to.

"We will talk no more of this." Her voice trembled with anger. Claire leaned her head back and closed her eyes, signaling an end to their conversation.

Adam knelt beside the wood-burning fire-place in the safe house's living room and kindled a small flame in the dry branches until a fire caught and held.

They made it to the Coven safe house in the early morning hours. They'd left the SUV in Hudson right before crossing the bridge over the Saint Croix into Minnesota. From there they'd waited until morning and had taken a taxi to the Minneapolis International Airport, only to stave off suspicion. Then they'd taken another taxi to their destination.

It paid to be careful.

The house wasn't just any house. It was a million bucks easy. Located in the upscale neighborhood of Crocus Hill, it was a three-story renovated home that had probably been built sometime in the late eighteenth century. It was a Queen Anne Victorian with a spindled porch, two large windows flanking it. It even had a turret.

From Thomas Monahan and the Coven he should have expected no less. They'd probably bought this place when real estate here was cheap. Hell of an investment. Now he had a good idea of how the Coven had amassed its fortune.

It was a gorgeous piece of architecture and Eliza would have known more about that than he did. What little he knew came from her. She'd always been blabbing on about her work. She had loved being an architect. And, fuck, Eliza would have loved this house, too.

As soon as they'd pulled up to the structure thoughts of Eliza had crowded Adam's mind, eliminated all others and plunged him into a very dark place. He hated it when things reminded him of Eliza, yet every day something did.

Adam, Theo, and Claire spent the first day getting to know the house, putting their financials in order, buying food, and most importantly, finding a new car. They'd paid cash for a used 1970 Dodge Challenger that had been owned by a speed freak. The car's innards reflected it. They'd figured the ability to go fast wasn't such a bad thing. In fact, it was a priority.

It was pretty. In his book, it was prettier than the house. No way in hell was he blowing that car up.

The big question on everyone's minds was whether or not the demons could track them magickally. Tonight they'd probably find out.

Soon after they'd settled down for the evening, Claire procured one of the guest rooms on the main floor as an area to play with that bastard Rue's bundle of stashed joy. The elium.

Theo had retreated to the bedroom he'd chosen on the second floor for the night, his store of comaraderie apparently used up. He wasn't exactly an outgoing guy. Sparkly personality had passed him by when he was born. Or maybe it wasn't because of genes, but rather the ordeal he'd gone through when he'd been a teenager.

Theodosius Winters was one of the more powerful earth witches that the Coven knew of. When Theo had been seventeen, the Duskoff had kidnapped him because of his strength.

The Duskoff did that sometimes, took more powerful witches when they were vulnerable in order to break them young and use them for their own purposes. If they were air witches, sometimes they used them in blood rituals or other really distasteful things.

A good rule of thumb was to never allow yourself to be taken by the warlocks.

In any case, they'd tortured Theo until he was almost dead, trying to break his spirit and turn him. They'd never succeeded and had intended to kill him. But the Coven had sent a rescue party, a young Thomas Monahan included, and broke him out before they could do that.

Theo hadn't escaped without being scarred, though, mentally and physically. He'd been in a psychiatric ward for a while after the hospital had discharged him. Eventually, he'd come to work for the Coven, having a special grudge against the Duskoff.

Deep furrows marked the skin of Theo's chest, shoulders, and back, probably made by a bull whip. Adam had seen him bare from the waist up, seen how Theo had riffed off the scars with black tribal-like tattoos all over. The tats were charged with power the way earth witches stored it. Theo packed a lot of magick on him now — all kinds of spells he'd cooked up and stored. He was the Arnold Schwarzenegger of magick.

Adam knew Theo was itching for an all-out with the Duskoff, but these days the warlocks were nowhere to be found. At least, not the head honchos, not Stefan Faucheux and his inner circle. They'd disappeared after the battle with Erasmus Boyle. Stefan had called to taunt Isabelle with the fact he'd escaped Gribben, the magick-free prison on the Coven's property, and then vanished.

Duskoff International, a conglomerate with headquarters in New York, ran like any other evil corporation these days, manufacturing goods in sweatshops, outsourcing their labor, and laying off employees. No human knew warlocks sat in the executive's chairs, of course. No human could feel the warding that circled the Duskoff building or understood the tongue-in-cheek elevator music: "I Put a Spell on You," "Black Magic Woman," "Season of the Witch," and other assorted cheesiness.

So, yeah, Theo had a hell of a grudge to bring to bear on the Duskoff these days. Most of the Coven witches did. Adam didn't. Not specifically. Adam just had gratitude to the Coven, lots of it. Gratitude and loyalty.

The grudge he bore was only against himself.

Memories rose up, coloring his vision as red and hot as the fire he'd kindled in the hearth. His hands began to grow warm and the seat of his magick tingled. He closed his eyes and forced himself to cool down.

"Adam?" came a small female voice to his left.

"What is it?" His voice came out as a growl.

Silence.

He opened his eyes to find Claire gripping the back of the fancy couch, her face as white as the fabric. Adam stood. "What's wrong?"

She only shook her head. Her knees gave out and he was there in a flash, helping her to sit. "I tried to separate the magick… but it was like pulling off my own fingernail. The elium is seared to my seat." She went green and he pulled her against him, resting her head on his chest. "I can't extract it. Not on my own."

"So don't try. Wait for Micah, okay? Pulling off your own fingernail is not cool."

"I would do it in a heartbeat if I really thought it was something so minor," she whispered. "The more I tried to separate the energies, the more it hurt. I don't think I can live though the extraction."

"Can you control it? Rue's power, I mean. Do you think you can wield your magick and the elium together?"

Claire didn't speak for several moments, only drew shuddering breaths. "I don't know yet. The one time I did it involuntarily, I passed out. Tomorrow I'll start experimenting."

"I want to be there when you do."

She flinched. What an odd reaction. "Thank you. Really, this… searing of the elium to my seat, it isn't so different from the experiments that Rue did on me. He grafted daaeman magick onto my earth magick and I had to learn how to manage it. He totally altered my power that way. This is just on a larger scale, and I need to be sure of what he gave me in order to proceed. Tomorrow I'll find out what this is for certain, whether it's the elium or not."

He nodded. "I'll start talking to Micah about your problem tomorrow." He glanced at the clock. "Now it's time to get some sleep."

She made a scoffing noise. "Sleep? Tonight? I don't think so."

Yeah, I know what you're saying." He rubbed his chin. You have to be hungry. Want something to eat?"

She grimaced. "Almost all the food I've had so far has been disgusting."

He recoiled as if in shock. "Whoa! That's only because you haven't tasted my famous banana pepper sandwich." He drew her to her feet. "It'll help you sleep, promise."

"Banana peppers will help me sleep?"

"Yeah, it shocks your body right into a deep slumber. Kills all your dreams for the night as an added bonus. Works like a charm."

She laughed. It was a nice sound, full of joy. It was the first time he'd heard her do it. "At this point I'm willing to try anything."

Fifteen minutes later he slid his creation to the center of the breakfast bar in the middle of the kitchen and dug into his own sandwich with relish.

She eyed the hoagie bun dubiously. He'd scooped out the innards of the thick bottom half and replaced it with a mixture of salt, olive oil, capers and diced banana peppers. On top, he'd layered a little bit of prosciutto and some aged Monterey Jack cheese.

"What did you eat on Eudae?" A memory of the contents of Erasmus Boyle's refrigerator flashed into his mind. "Scratch that, maybe I don't want to know."

She picked up the sandwich and studied the end. "Actually, probably nothing you would find abhorrent. The Atrika are the ones with the nasty diet, raw rotting meat is their favorite. The Ytrayi and other daaeman breeds eat very healthy things. Some cooked meats. Lots of nuts, berries, and vegetables. I ate what they ate. It's quite good for you. Not, what do you call it? Junk food."

"You've never had junk food? Oh, man, you've missed out on part of your heritage. I've got a whole world of Ho Hos and Ding Dongs to show you."

"I had some yellow cakes with filling my second day here. That was good."

"Twinkies?"

She shrugged. "Maybe." Grimacing, she bit into his sandwich and chewed while Adam waited for her reaction.

Claire closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, a look of rapture passing over her face. "This is delicious."

Adam couldn't help the slow slide of his gaze over her plump lips, the curve of her chin leading to her throat, and the way her long eyelashes lay against her cheek.

She smiled at him. "If this is junk food, bring on the Ding Dings!"

Adam grinned. Gods, she was cute. He was trying not to look at her sexually, him being her protector and all. Ordinarily, it probably wouldn't bother him so much, but Claire was different. She seemed so innocent, new to this world. Of course, she wasn't. She was a grown woman in her early thirties. A woman who had seen and heard things so far beyond his comprehension he could barely imagine them.

He wondered if Rue had ever forced himself on her. Adam's fists twitched at the mere thought. He wondered if she'd ever had demon sex, voluntary or not.

There was no tactful way to ask that question.

"Ding Dongs," he corrected.

"What?" She batted long, dark lashes and crossed her legs. They'd bought her a few clothes today, so she wore a pair of new jeans. She grinned. "Oh, yes. Sorry."

She was starting to warm up. That was good. It was nor good that he was starting to warm up, too, and the reason why had nothing to do with his abilities. He watched her polish off the sandwich and practically lick the plate clean.

He cleared his throat. "We'd better at least try to get some sleep tonight." He took another bite of his sandwich.

Claire pushed the empty plate toward him and stared down at it. "About that." She drew a breath. "I haven't had one good night of sleep since I was pushed through. Well… if you don't count the times I was passed out or drugged." Her lips quirked.

"What can I do to help you?" he asked around a mouthful.

She raised her gaze. "Sleep with me."