A Witch's Fury (11 page)

I nodded, stowing my phone again.

“What’s our next move?” Miller asked.

“For you, nothing,” I sighed. “For us, there
are avenues we can attempt.”

Miller shifted, uncomfortable with my
honesty. “Don’t take offense, Miller. I’ll update you on what we
find out and worst case, if these things kill us, the Council will
have your information.

He regarded me closely, his eyes searching my
own. “You go after dangerous shit a lot?

“Yep.”

“Death wish?”

“Killing keeps me sane,” I admitted.

He shook his head, moving away.

“Any spells you can cast to lead us to the
mysterious witch?” I asked Jerry.

He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Maybe, if we
can find a local shop.”

I nodded, heading to the SUV.

Daniels ambushed us, grabbing my arm and
spinning me forcefully around to face him.

“Where do you think you are going?” he
demanded.

Slowly, my eyes trailed up from his hand
resting on my bare skin to his eyes.

“Uhh, you need to be letting her go now.”
Jerry reached over to remove his hand.

“Don’t,” I hissed.

Daniels shifted his focus from Jerry back to
me, “You need to explain—“

Rage swelled and I hit him full force with
fear—weak-in-the-knees, pee-yourself, can’t-breathe fear. His
reaction was exactly as advertised, dropping to his knees,
trembling. I lifted his hand off my arm and bent down to his ear.
“No one touches me.”

With that, I walked away. “When the fuck did
witches start binding necromancers?” I asked Jerry.

He gave me a wide berth after my power
display.

“I don’t know Olie, but was that
necessary?”

I turned on him quickly, stepping into his
personal space. I’ll give him props for not backing up at the
intensity in my eyes. “The moment I allow the humans’ government to
dictate what I do is the moment we are all lost. These interactions
are far more important than one human’s hurt ego. My power keeps us
all safe. Do not forget get that.”

Jerry lowered his head slightly before
following me to the SUV.

I should stop trying to keep friends. I
wasn’t built for it.

…

“Turn right in five hundred feet,” the GPS’s
curt voice informed me.

“What’s it called again?” I asked.

Jerry checked his phone. “The Bitchy
Witchy.”

“I’ll fit right in.”

Jerry snorted, “That you will.”

Dammit, me and my trying.

The small parking lot was deserted and we
didn’t have a long walk to the blacked out glass door entrance.

The overpowering reek of smoke blasted out of
the shop. My eyes were having a hard time adjusting from the bright
sunny day to the dark, cluttered interior.

“I ain’t buying nothin’!” yelled a rattling
voice.

Jerry pushed in front of me to greet the
hunched over witch hobbling toward us, leaning heavily on her
cane.

“I’d like to purchase.”

She squinted up at him with a huff before
turning to me. “You wait here.”

I nodded, annoyed. Why did I always have to
stay out in the lobby when the witches were talking? Fucking Blake
had me do the same thing.

My jaw tightened, my eyes misting of their
own damn accord. Fucking hell, I had to give up. I had to move on.
My fucking heart wasn’t letting me. I just missed the asshole so
much.

After ten minutes I went back to the car to
wait for Jerry. Unlike in the other shop, I was fairly certain I
was not allowed to peruse the wares.

…

Grams called just as Jerry was climbing into
the SUV, probably missing driving his Beast around.

“Olivia.” Her tone had warning signals
spiking through my veins.

“What?” I clipped out.

“Do not break anything.”

“Maybe I should drive,” Jerry offered.

Tapping the steering wheel, I nodded my head
in agreement and we made the switch.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“We’ve been invited to Blake and Angelina’s
wedding.”

Rage colored my vision, a snarl leaving my
lips without my permission.

“No.”

Grams cleared her throat, “No!” I
reaffirmed.

Softly, so as not to disturb my already
delicate sanity: “We are head of the Supernatural Council,
dear.”

I sat back against the seat with an audible
thump, causing Jerry to flinch from the sudden movement.

“No,” I tried again with less hope.

“Just think about it,” Grams concluded with a
sigh.

Think about it? Think about the only man I’d
ever allowed myself to love marrying someone else?

“Nothing good can come of this,” I muttered,
rubbing my forehead. “When is it?” Maybe I could just conveniently
forget. Yeah, no one was going to buy that excuse.

“Two weeks.”

“WHAT?” Jerry and I asked in unison.

“Two weeks,” Grams repeated.

I groaned, “I hope I get taken by the
witches.”

“Olivia,” Grams scolded, “do not even think
of allowing that to happen in order to get out of going.”

I groaned again.

Noise from the children colored the line.
“Think about it,” Grams repeated before ending the call.

“He still loves you,” Jerry stated
confidently.

“Ha,” I humorlessly replied. “Why then, wise
man, is he marrying another woman?”

Jerry was silent, so I answered for him.
“Because she can solve his problems. I can’t, because I will always
and forever be a demon whore.” I hissed the last two words.

Jerry shifted in the driver’s seat, clearly
having no idea how to answer that.

“I don’t know about that, but I do know
Angelina feels threatened by you. That’s why she invited you.”

“She invited me because I am the Head
Executioner for the Council.”

“Really?” he asked, looking at me for a brief
moment as we made a right turn. “How many weddings do you get
invited to yearly?”

He had a point. It wasn’t one I was willing
to concede, though. “There’s our hotel.”

He grunted, my blaringly obvious topic change
noted.

…

“This is taking forever,” I complained again,
watching Jerry sitting cross-legged on the navy carpet of the hotel
room, with bowls, ingredients, and books spread around him.

Perched on the bed, I rested my chin in my
hand, lying on my stomach.

“It’s an art form,” he replied through
clenched teeth.

I huffed, rolling to my back to stare at the
ceiling.

As is a common theme in my life, I didn’t
wait well.

Jerry grunted and I rolled back over to his
look of satisfaction.

“Done.”

“Where is she?”

He sighed. “It didn’t exactly work out like
that.”

“Why not?”

“She shielded at the graveyard. I was able to
create a locator so that in a 100 yard radius, or so, you can track
her, like playing a game of hot and cold.”

I pursed my lips at him. I wasn’t celebrating
this as a win.

“If you knew anything about magic you would
be applauding my immense talent and skills right now.”

I slow clapped, “Woohoo.”

“Rude.”

“If you want recognition, hang out with your
own kind.”

He huffed, “No thank you. I like my head on
my shoulders, and those bitches are not fans of all this
awesomeness. And now, I’m going to shower.

“Here,” he handed me the gold talisman. “Hot
and cold.”

Right now it was cold, very cold. Where the
hell did an army of zombies wander off to?

…

Jerry exited the shower a few minutes later.
“How long can the necromancer keep the zombies above ground?” I
asked.

“No idea. I’ve only encountered their kind
twice, and neither was a pleasant experience.”

I grunted, “Same here. They are fucking
creepy.”

“Agreed.”

After a pause, he asked, “Did you notice the
footprints at the graveyard?”

“Nope.”

Jerry chewed his bottom lip. “Me either.”

“Portal?”

Jerry sat heavily. “The blood sacrifice would
make more sense. It wasn’t for the necromancer. She would have been
fully charged in the cemetery.”

“Anyway to track a portal?”

“No, and the talisman is worthless until they
come back.”

I nodded, “They will.”

“Unless they made it to the Fae.”

I blew out a breath, stowing the gold in my
jeans pocket. “If the only thing that happened from the witches
reaching the Fae was their disappearance, I’d go to the fucking
wedding with bells on.”

“Have you decided if you are going?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, I suppose you don’t.”

We scoured the entire state in the week and a
half before I had to be back for the wedding, and even though I
spent a small fortune on gas, there was nothing to be found.

Chapter 9

If I
was hoping for a happy ending with Blake, that he would leave
Angelina and run into my arms with a heartfelt apology and an
earnest declaration of his love, I was fucking deluding myself.

“Olivia, are you ready?” Grams called out,
coming down the stairs into the living room.

“Yeah,” I grumbled back.

Tommy looked up at me as I gave him back the
controller to the racing game he was destroying me in. He might
have been a teenager, but by the sorrowful expression in his eyes
and the soft squeeze of my hand, he understood.

Grams raked over my outfit, finding it
fitting. The short purple dress ended mid-thigh, embellished with
large rhinestones on the strapless top. It matched the purple
highlights in my hair, which was pulled into a soft bun behind my
left ear.

“Are you bringing any weapons?”

I sighed, following her to the garage. “No,
you’ve made it perfectly clear we are to be an open target.”

“It’s a peaceful event.”

“Nothing with the Supernatural community is
ever peaceful, but at least Darren and Logan will be there. They
grow claws.” I was still fucking jealous.

“Mercer will be there running security.”

“Really, humans doing security?”

“The Centennial House is using Darren’s firm
for security.”

I cast her a sidelong look as we got into my
SUV. I could at least have my toys waiting for me, even if she was
driving. “When did Mercer make that switch?”

“Soon after he lost his job,” she answered
sadly. “Terrible shame about that.”

I nodded, unsure who should be ashamed. “Have
you talked to Hash about it?”

“I have. He can’t overlook the conflict of
interest.”

“Ugh, like Franks is a model officer. What
ever happened with the case?”

“We won. They settled out of court once they
saw the pictures of the untreated wounds on your back.”

“Good, that makes me feel slightly better
about not killing him. I’d absolutely still do it if I happened
upon him in a dark alley. ”

Grams laughed, “Or a well-lit alley.”

“I’m not particular.”

…

An hour later we pulled up to The Eagle, an
elite and highly restrictive club I had only heard mentions of
before.

I grudgingly had to admit it was elegant and
awe-inspiring.

The valet took my keys and I watched them
wistfully as my trunk full of weapons was carted away.

“Come, let’s see Darren and Kass,” Grams
said, pulling me behind her gracefully. I straightened my
shoulders, pretending I wasn’t the grieving, miserable,
ex-girlfriend, but the confident Executioner.

Kass took one look at me and pulled me into
an embrace. “How ya doing?” she asked kindly, her dark eyes
sincere.

“Fucking wonderful.”

She grimaced. “So, we found out the sex.”

“Really?” I perked up at that news, eyeing
her hand resting lovingly on her stomach.

“It’s a boy.”

“Aww! Congrats!”

Kass beamed, “Thanks, he’s totally healthy,
nothing to worry about.”

I smiled, squeezing her hand. “That’s
wonderful news.”

Mercer stopped by, dropping a kiss on Grams’s
cheek as he checked in. He looked better in this environment. The
suit and the technology peeking out his ear were both of a far
higher quality. I daresay he even looked more relaxed, but that
could have just been all the sex he was having with Grams.

Jerry and Mark found us next, looking better
together, though their body language still hinted at trouble. Mark,
also dressed for security, gave Jerry a pointed look that
reaffirmed my suspicions before moving away. Although neither
Mercer nor Mark moved far from our little group, I suppose I wasn’t
the only one not really thrilled about the no weapons policy.

Logan and Lorraine found us next, hooray.

Lorraine, as per usual, was drunk. How did
the bitch find the alcohol so fast? If I didn’t find her annoying
and idiotic I’d be tagging along for the drinks. As it was,
however, I wanted to throttle her.

Logan looked at me over her head, which was
leaning unsteadily against him.

“How are you?” he asked, sincerely, which for
the record freaked me out.

I shrugged, not trusting my voice, my misty
eyes looking away from his quickly.

“Let’s get you a drink,” Kass suggested,
pulling me gently behind her.

I nodded, grateful for the escape.

Blowing out a trapped breath, I gave the
bartender a closed lip smile as I plunked down with a thump at the
bar.

“Wine?” the bartender asked.

I nodded. He poured a glass quickly, not
bothering to ask what kind. Good, I wasn’t particular.

“Sorry Kass, I know you can’t drink right
now.”

She shrugged, toying with the napkin under
her ginger ale. “Not a big deal, Olie.”

Right, the big deal was that I was here.

A throat cleared behind me. Turning, I looked
into intelligent green eyes I hadn’t seen in quite some time.
“Morgan,” I acknowledged, nodding at his blond date as well.

“Olivia, it’s been too long. Any succubus you
need us to drain?” His meaning was not lost on me.