The Darkest Witch

Chapter 2

2

There were moments when I missed Forest Creek. It had been hard to part ways with all that was familiar to me.

It took me almost two weeks to pack, move all of my things to Delia’s house—my house—and return my apartment to its owner early, though I ended up paying the full lease. I locked the house but left a key with Suzie, so she could stop by every couple of months to make sure everything was all right.

That had been hard too. Saying goodbye to Suzie and the tea shop. I told her I hoped it was a temporary thing, but I had gotten news of some relatives—a lie, but what else was I supposed to tell her? That I was half witch, half demon hunter and that I had opened a magical box, let out a vampire, and now demons were after the box and me?

If all worked out, Lord Drake would know what to do with the box. Breaking my connection to the box would hopefully make whoever was after me stop, and then I would be able to go back to my normal life.

I wasn’t even sure I wanted that, but it was all I had.

Arriving at the inn, I ambled up the stairs to the second floor, my feet rattling the metal railings with each impact against the concrete steps. On the second floor, doors lined one side, while a short rail protected travelers from toppling into the parking lot below. My beat-up Corolla looked small and pathetic nestled between two large black SUVs.

After entering our room, my fingers twisted the lock.

The instant I turned around, it hit me. The box’s pull. It had increased exponentially since I used it to escape the demon hunters’ trap, and now its presence called to me.

Killian said the pull he felt was a painful thing, tugging at his soul, wanting it, consuming it.

For me, it was different. Its allure, its enchanting call, sang like a siren. The feeling, the tug, promised rewards, pleasure, and paradise.

But mostly power.

The taste of the box's power still lingered, and my body craved more.

Shaking off the allure, I grabbed clean clothes from the bag I left beside my bed. I did my best to ignore the box, which was wrapped in a small hand towel, inside a duffel bag, tucked inside the closet.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

I glanced at the second bed and Killian’s bag. He had insisted we sleep in the same room for safety. In case someone attacked in the middle of the night. But damn, seeing him sleeping just a few feet from me—everything was hard with him.

I plopped down on my bed, suddenly exhausted. Losing Delia, leaving Forest Creek and Suzie’s Brew behind, being chased by demons, putting up with a brooding Killian, feeling the box’s pull, and still not being able to access my full magic had left me mentally and physically drained.

Curling into a fetal position wouldn’t fix anything. With a sigh, I rose, a painful tug tweaking my lower back. Cursing, I went to the bathroom and lifted my shirt in front of the mirror. A pink bruise spread on the side of my waist and lower back—where Killian had kicked me during practice.

Shit, this was nasty, and it was starting to hurt like a b***h.

I kept my shirt folded over my breasts, my midriff exposed, and went back to my bed, where I dug into my supply bag for my herbs. I could make a salve to apply to the bruise so it wouldn’t be too bad, and I could make a potion for the pain.

I put the herbs aside and was fishing out the only mortar and pestle I had brought, when the bedroom’s door opened and Killian walked in, carrying a McDonald’s takeout bag.

He froze, his gaze locked on my stomach. Then, his brows slammed down and he lifted his eyes to meet mine. “I hurt you.” He closed the door and took two steps in.

I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious over my state of undress. I ignored the urge to shrink away. “Isn’t that supposed to happen during training?”

“I was holding back,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “I was holding a lot back. And I still hurt you.”

“It’s okay.” I held the mortar and pestle up. “I can fix it.”

He stared at me, at the mortar and pestle, at the herbs on my bed, at my bare stomach. His eyes darkened and his jaw ticked with tension; he squeezed the top of the takeout bag until I thought it would rip.

With a grunt, he dropped the bag on his bed. “Your dinner.”

Then, he turned to the door.

I gawked at his back. “Where are you going?”

“I just … I need some fresh air.”

And just like that, he was gone.

What the hell was that?

My head swirled with a million thoughts; my chest constricted with my held breath. What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with me?

No, I wouldn’t go down that road, because I couldn’t begin to comprehend how Killian felt. He had always hated witches, but I thought that after what we went through together, after I freed him from the box, after we exacted revenge for our families, after our kiss, that things had changed between us. Maybe he didn’t hate witches anymore, or at least he didn’t hate me. I thought he felt the same attraction I did, especially when he had been the one to invite me to come with him. I was here because he had brought me with him.

Irritated, I hopped into the shower. The hot water relaxed my sore muscles, but didn't ease the hunger gnarling at the pit of my stomach. After the shower, I quickly ate while I finished the salve and the tonic. I smoothed the salve over the surface of the bruise, wrapped it with a bandage so it wouldn’t get my pajamas dirty, and settled into bed.

Watching the door. Waiting.

Where had Killian gone? Why wasn’t he here? Did he hate me so much he couldn't stand to be near me?

I wanted to pretend I didn’t care, but the longing I felt called me a liar. I was hopeless.

Sitting with my back against the headboard, I turned on the TV, putting on a random movie. The tonic's relaxing properties kicked in, and my eyelids drooped, heavy with sleep. I turned off the TV, snuggled into the bed, hugged one of the pillows, and closed my eyes.

* * *

I woke up with a start, my body immobilized. Killian's body was flush with mine, his mouth an inch from mine. His musky scent wrapped around me like an inebriating d**g. My heart went into overdrive. Had he changed his mind about me?

My hands shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move. Instead, he placed a finger over his lips. Leaning into me, he placed his mouth next to my ear.

Oh, my Lord …

“We’ve been found,” he whispered. I stilled. “A dozen people are searching the inn.” He touched his lips to my ears. “When I say so, I need you to get your things and run.”

“But—“

Pulling back, he stared at me, his eyes cold as ice. “No buts. Just do what I say.”

Killian was the trained soldier here, the one with battle experience. I nodded.

For twelve torturous seconds, we didn’t move. We barely breathed, but I could feel his entire body against mine, I could see the way he looked at me, his eyes searching mine, and I liked the way his hands splayed beside my head, caging me in.

He shot to his feet, pulling me with him. “Now!”

I sprang into action, grabbing my bag and shoving my boots on.

Not a second later, the door burst open. My heart hammered against my chest.

Killian bared his fangs, ready to attack.

Three men wearing long cloaks walked in.

And Killian faltered.

“What—?”

One of the men curled his lips. “Surprised to see me, Killian?”

I gaped at them.

Killian recovered and snarled. “Tack. Whatever you’re here for, you’re wasting your time.”

“Is that the way you greet an old friend?”

Killian scoffed. “You and the other warlocks kidnapped me. You kept me sedated for weeks, and then helped Soren put me in the box. We're not friends.”

Oh, s**t. These were warlocks, and apparently, the exact ones who had captured Killian twenty years ago. The ones who had created the boxes.

The box!

With trembling hands, I grabbed the bag with the box from inside the closet and hugged it tight.

“It's all about perspective.” Tack took a step closer, clearly not afraid of Killian. “I sent you friends to invite you back, but you killed them. Not very nice of you.”

“The demons,” I whispered.

Tack glanced past Killian and smiled wider at me. “Exactly. You must be the girl who can open the box. I’ve been looking for you.”

I retreated a step, every muscle in my body shaking.

Killian shifted so he was right in front of me. “I’ll give you ten seconds to leave.”

Tack laughed. “What? Do you think you can escape? Over a dozen warlocks are waiting for you to try.”

I remembered the talisman the demon hunters had. It inhibited any supernatural’s powers. I just hoped these warlocks didn’t have anything like that, or we would be in big trouble. Well, even bigger.

Killian's body blurred as he assaulted the warlocks. Magic bolts soared at Killian, striking the walls, lamps, and furniture in the wake of his vampire speed. Two warlocks went down. Killian backhanded Tack, throwing him aside like a fly. The warlock hit the wall and crumpled to his knees.

Killian grabbed his bag from the bed and offered me his hand. “Come.”

I slid my hand into his.

As he pulled me toward the door, I glanced at Tack. He pushed up to his feet and conjured a big bolt between his hands. He threw it.

“Killian!” I screamed. Without thinking, I threw my body in front of Killian and extended my arms out. A thin wall of blue light appeared as a bolt hit it, throwing me backward. The barrier crumbled.

Killian steadied me. “What the …?”

I mimicked Tack’s hands curled around one another and a big blue ball of magic appeared. I threw it at him, hitting him square in the chest. This time, he went down and stayed down.

I gaped at my hands, bemused by my instincts.

Killian grabbed my hand again. “No time to marvel. We need to go.”

We ran out of the room, and sure enough, warlocks closed in on us from both sides.

Killian locked his arm around my waist and held me tight. “Hang on.”

He jumped off the rail.

I inhaled deeply, a scream lodged in my throat. My stomach dipped and I thought I would lose my dinner.

Then, we were on the ground, and he set my feet down but didn’t let go of my hand.

“You have nowhere to run!” someone yelled behind us as bolts of magic rained down on us.

Killian ran with me, faster than I could ever do by myself, but not his usual fast. In a blur, he opened my car’s door and pushed me inside. He followed. The bolts hit the car like bullets, sizzling and smoking on contact. The engine revved to life, and we raced out of the parking lot.

I glanced back at the inn as we hit the road, hard and fast, and saw the warlocks gathered in the parking lot. At least a dozen of them.

My stomach knotted.

I sat straighter, looking at Killian.

Now didn’t seem like a good time to ask him about Tack. Though, I couldn’t help but panic. If these warlocks found us—the same warlocks who had started this mess twenty years ago—who said they couldn’t find us again?

We were doomed.