A Witch's Fury (6 page)

When Becky from security called me, however,
I picked up on the first ring, curious and slightly worried.

“Hey Olie, I know you are busy but I want to
run a few things by you,” she began, chomping on her bubble
gum.

“Go for it,” I said, merging with traffic in
Iowa.

“We’ve had three attempted break-ins at the
Manor, all by vampires who, as far as I can tell, are unrelated to
any of the Houses we have in town—” Becky tried to continue but I
interrupted.

“Do you still have them?” I demanded.

“Yes, what do you want us to do with them?
Torture has been unenlightening,” she admitted, snapping her gum.
“The only thing we’ve managed to find out is that they are here for
Tate, but not in what capacity.”

“Keep them for me,” I answered, smiling.

“Done. Now, should we beef up security?”

I chewed on my lower lip, “No, if we are
catching them, our security is working perfectly. And I want them
to try again.”

“Gotcha. ETA on your arrival?” she asked,
idly clicking keys in the background. It felt good to be treated
normally, not like the borderline psycho I admittedly was.

“Two days. I’m going to finish up this case
and be back,” I said, terminating the call.

Three vampires attempting to gain access into
our compound, that didn’t bode well for Tate at all.

…

It took me three days to get back, since the
last beast I took down managed to take a chunk of my forearm with
it. I needed a full day of sleep just so I could use it again.

Outside the Centennial Compound, I leaned
against my car, debating if I should call first. Manners said I
should, but my gut said I didn’t give a flying fuck.

I left my weapons in the car. Just because I
wanted to kill again, that didn’t mean this was the place.

I sauntered up to the front door. The guards
clearly remembered me, or perhaps it was the death that still clung
to my clothing and hair. Either way, they called for Tate
immediately.

“You need to wait here,” a pleasant
receptionist said, attempting to get me to sit after I passed the
guards.

I scoffed, “Nice try, sweetie, where is
Tate?”

Coming around her polished desk, she adjusted
her formfitting suit. “I’m sorry, but he is in a meeting at the
moment.”

“Do you know who I am?” I asked, stepping
toward her.

She swallowed loudly, showing she hadn’t been
a vamp for long. “Yes,” she squeaked out.

“Do you know what I do?” I asked, leaning
closer, my voice softening on the threat.

She nodded, properly terrified.

“Call Tate. NOW.”

She scampered behind the desk, hitting
buttons with trembling fingers.

“So now you pay us a visit,” Mal said from
behind me. I turned to see her arms crossed over her thin form, her
auburn hair loose around her shoulders. With her designer clothing,
she was regal in the opulent House.

I growled, “This isn’t social.”

“I heard,” she said, turning away and
motioning for me to follow her.

“Do you know anything about the attacks on
the manor?” I asked her back, following her lead.

She stopped suddenly, turning back to me in
shock. “Vampires are attacking the manor?”

“Yes, isn’t that what you heard?” I asked her
in annoyance. Patience was not a virtue I had ever acquired. Why
didn’t anyone understand that?

“No, I thought you were here about the
wedding.” She headed up the stairs to the second floor.

I shook my head. “Why would I care about a
wedding?” I had certainly had my fill organizing Darren and Kass’s,
and there was still Logan and Lorraine’s to come, which was on my
to-do list. Far, far down the list.

Mal turned on the stairs. “Because Blake is
getting married to Angelina.”

I took a step back, shocked, as a million
terrible emotions pumped through me. I tried my voice, but only a
pathetic squeaking noise came out.

“Shit Olie, I thought you knew.” She stepped
closer.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.” I
forced my fingers to release the wood banister, on which they were
leaving deep groove marks.

Mal touched my shoulder and I jerked back. I
hadn’t spent the last six weeks killing shit to let my emotions get
the better of me now. I was a fucking Executioner first, and a
person second.

“I think Blake is being forced into it,” she
offered.

“It’s not my business.” I forced a cold tone
into my voice and eyes. How could this be happening? How little did
I really mean to him? How pathetic that I was fooled so easily! My
jaw tightened painfully.

Mal nodded slowly, cautiously stepping away
from me before turning her back and heading back upstairs. I didn’t
think anyone was forcing Blake. I think he finally realized he was
too good for me, and he was. There wasn’t anything else to say on
the score.

Finally off the stairs, we turned a corner
and ran straight into Tate and Angelina.

“Olivia, I am not having this discussion with
you,” Tate sourly dismissed me, massaging his temples.

“Yes, you are.” Please let him refuse me.
Please let me have a reason to hurt him, anything.

“She isn’t here about Blake,” Mal enlightened
him. “The manor has been attacked by rogue vampires as well.”

“Dammit,” Tate cursed. “This really isn’t a
good time for this.”

“I don’t give a fuck if this isn’t an
opportune time for you, Tate. I want information on why vampires
are attacking my home,” I challenged him, wishing I had my weapons
on me.

“That isn’t my fault,” he snarled back.

I searched his eyes. “Liar.”

He lunged at me and I smiled, glad to have
rattled him. Unfortunately, Mal grabbed his hand at the last second
and pulled him back, rendering both of them off balance. Seething,
he regarded me for a long moment before muttering, “I will take
care of it.”

“See that you do,” I said to his back.

…

While the Manor had a beautiful gym, not to
mention the dance rooms used by the Kitten dancers, I just wasn’t
in the mood. Instead, I stormed out of the Centennial House and
pulled into Sonny’s Boxing Gym, a local joint owned by a shifter I
had met during my arbitrating with Logan.

I needed to work off some steam on a punching
bag or a shifter. I wasn’t particular.

As I entered the musty gym, the high ceiling
fans working overtime to spread the cool air around, heads turned.
I surveyed the place with my bag slung over my shoulder. I wasn’t
working out in my leathers.

Alec, a powerful wolf shifter and Logan’s
right hand man, jogged over, sweat dripping from his auburn locks,
“You need me?”

We had developed a friendship based on
beating the shit out people.

“Only if you want your ass beat,” I advised,
smiling. “I need to work out some tension.”

Alec smiled good-naturedly. “Let me show you
to the locker rooms.”

“Thanks,” I answered, trying to ignore the
stares.

“Don’t see many females in here,” he offered,
holding open the women’s locker room door for me.

“That was apparent.”

“I’m at the bags when you are ready.”

I took my time, splashing cold water on my
face and re-wrapping my raw forearm. I frowned at the wound that my
natural healing would knit together faster if I rested and took
better care of myself. I didn’t. The pain was a sensation I
enjoyed.

Dressed in a sports bra and yoga pants, I
went out in search of wraps and gloves.

Sonny found his way over to me, puffing on a
cigar and holding out pink wraps and gloves while arguing with
someone on the phone. I took the offering, smiling my thanks, and
headed toward the bags and Alec.

He stopped his assault on the bag, reaching a
hand out to steady its sway. “Fuck, Olivia, what happened to you?”
he asked, taking a once-over of my body.

I shrugged. “Work.”

“Then work is beating the shit out of you.”
His eyes roved over my wrapped forearm and bruised ribs.

“I can put a shirt on if some combat wounds
bother you,” I snipped.

Alec held his hands out for the wraps, his
face carefully neutral. “You do need to work out some tension.
What’s up?” He started wrapping the pink material on my left
hand.

“Vamps are attacking the manor,” I
confessed.

“Local?”

“Don’t appear to be,” I answered, as he moved
to the other hand.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, taking
a surreptitious glance at my clenched jaw.

“Find the nest and deliver their heads on
spikes.”

To Alec’s credit, he didn’t pause at my
gruesome description or correct me that vampire heads couldn’t be
put on spikes, since they turned to dust.

Smart man.

“You know what you are doing?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes and attacked the bag with
all the anger and frustration that Blake’s wedding announcement had
instilled in me, not to mention the fight with Grams or the fucking
vampires attacking what I cherished most.

Sweat dripped into my eyes and my raw forearm
burned with exhaustion from attacking the bag with more energy than
I had anticipated.

When my arms shook from exertion I stopped,
leaning my forehead against the bag, feeling the stitching, sucking
down sweet air. “Thanks, Alec,” I said to his wide eyes. “I needed
that.”

“I guess,” he said, releasing the bag to
crack his knuckles. “Tyler is looking for a partner in the ring if
you are up to it. He’s a mean son of a bitch, though.”

I smiled as I headed to the drinking
fountain. “Sounds like fun.”

Cheers went up from the ring—thanks to
shifter hearing, nothing was private. I splashed cool water on my
face and turned to walk over to the giant of a man. I ignored the
stares of those who had stopped their workouts to watch. He was
larger than Alec; where Alec had trained for lean muscle that made
him deadly quick, Tyler had stocky muscle upon muscle. Idly, I
wondered what animal he shifted into.

I couldn’t help my smile. This was going to
be fun. I was still fucking irritated.

Sonny came up from behind me, halting my
progress toward Tyler. He outfitted me with headgear and a
mouthpiece, the cigar still dangling from his lips. I watched Tyler
bounce energetically from foot to foot, loudly boasting.

“You sure you can handle all this, little
girl?” he taunted.

I smiled and nodded, speech hindered by the
mouthpiece. I was certain my eyes conveyed my excitement.

After securing the chinstrap a little too
tightly, Sonny held me at arm’s length. “Do not kill him,” he
warned, his dark eyes serious.

I nodded, patting him on the shoulder with a
gloved hand.

“My ulcers can’t take this,” he grunted,
moving out of my way.

I slipped into the ring gracefully, keeping
my attention on Tyler the entire time.

He hadn’t opted for headgear or a mouthpiece.
I shrugged. Dental work was expensive and took time I didn’t
have.

As we touched gloves in the center of the
ring, I watched his posture, knowing by the bunching of his thigh
muscles that he would charge me as soon as the bell rang.

The metal bell announced our fight with a
shrill peal. I felt the others watching us, gathered around the
ring, but my gaze was only for Tyler. Here’s hoping he could handle
me.

Just as predicted, he came out of his corner
with his center of mass lowered as he tried to bowl me over. I
dodged easily enough, resting my weight on the balls of my
feet.

He turned, letting his right hand swing with
a force I couldn’t help but admire. I definitely could not let
those shots connect with my face. I would go down hard and not come
back up, protective headgear or not. Ducking under his attempts, I
twisted around him, changing our positions.

I should have clarified beforehand whether
this was strictly a boxing match, or if I was allowed to add
wrestling in as well.

Oh well, I would just play off of what Tyler
did. Currently he was trash talking me, but I wasn’t listening to
him or the cheers from the spectators crowded around us.

My focus narrowed to his arms and his pretty
thick-skulled head, which he didn’t cover up nearly well
enough.

I didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence
about him being the recipient of a kiss when he was finished
kicking my ass. I rushed him, closing the distance with quick
strides before I landed two hooks to each side of his head.

Dazed, he stumbled back as I followed up with
three swift uppercuts to his stomach. He doubled over, looking up
at me with the change present in his eyes.

“Go ahead, bitch,” I taunted. Bringing a
little shifter action into the ring would make this more of a
challenge.

His upper body rippled and grew. Shouts of
foul reached my ears for his partially shifting, but I didn’t care.
He charged me like a buffalo, aiming his shoulder toward my
midsection again. I wasn’t as fast in dodging him this time. I went
down to all fours and he tripped over me, landing in the ropes
awkwardly.

Smiling around the mouth guard, I pushed up
from the stiff mat, waving him to try again.

He was faster than I expected, his charge
landing against my midsection, pushing me back into the ropes.

I gasped for breath and found any effort
futile; I was equally unable to push or punch him. Instead, I drew
my feet up and slammed my heels against his sternum, giving myself
enough room to crash to the mat and roll away. Springing up behind
him, I sucked in air as he turned, throwing jabs at my face
again.

I ducked quickly, shuffling back, looking for
an opportunity. It came in the form of his unbalance as he put
everything he had into his last jab that connected with my
shoulder. I moved in closer and took him down to the mat with a
kick to the knee.

Straddling him, I blasted his face with punch
after punch, hearing the satisfying crunch of his breaking nose,
several times. His quick healing was annoying me.