Witch Hunt, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series) (10 page)

“Fine, I will wait to hear your plan b
efore withdrawing my wolves, but I make no promises on our involvement. Maurin, as friend of the pack, I offer you shelter and protection. We’ll be leaving shortly if you care to join us,” Roul said.

“Thank you Roul.
I understand your position fully and appreciate even a twenty-four-hour extension on your offer of protection. However, given the Inquisitors’ previous interest in Maurin, I think it best that she stay here, behind the safety of our wards,” Mahalia said graciously.

“The vampires are not the only ones who tire of you monopolizing Maurin,” Roul said quietly as he passed Mahalia on his way out.

“A few of our wolves will be staying behind. Maurin, you remember Grayson? Should you decide to change your mind and no longer wish to stay with the coven, let him know. He’ll bring you to our house,” Olwyn said to me as she followed her husband out of Mahalia’s study.

Normally the fact that no one had bot
hered to let me answer the question about where I wanted to stay would have me pitching a royal bitch fest, but as I watched Roul and Olwyn leave I kept my mouth shut. See? Personal growth. Now wasn’t the time for me to be complaining about how no one listens to me or gives a rat’s ass about what I want. We’d had that argument a thousand times already. Mahalia was in deep shit. The Inquisitors were closing in and her allies were rolling out.

I wanted to help, but didn’t know where to begin. The Inquisitors’ return to Salem was starting to irritate old wounds in the Council.
How could I hold the Council together? I decided for now that the politics of the Council were best left to the three Council chairs. I didn’t want to find myself forced to choose a side. I was staying neutral as long as possible.

Mahalia sat at her desk.
She seemed at a loss for words. I didn’t have any either - at least not any that would help, so I left her looking defeated in her study.

9

Everywhere I turned there were clusters of people conversing like this was a party and not a sequestering. I wanted - no, needed - to be alone so that I could think. I squeezed through the small clusters of people until I reached the back door. Bracing myself, I stepped out into the New England cold. I took a deep breath of the brisk winter air to clear my head. What was left of the night cloaked any signs of the magic that had occurred the last time that I was here. I walked over to where the circle was drawn in Oberon’s blood, remembering the physical pain that I’d felt when Graive had sliced his palm and joined her magic with his. A dark thought was forming in the back of my mind. Was a blood circle really necessary to perform the recollection, or was Graive trying to wedge herself between the metaphysical connection that Oberon and I shared?

The screen door creaked open and, as if called by my thoughts, Oberon walked ou
tside. I hadn’t noticed when I got here, but his dark hair had been cropped short since the last time that I had seen him. Even in the dark, it made the blue of his eyes almost impossible to ignore. Almost. So much for that area of my personal growth.

“Stop trying to ignore me, Maurin,” he said, frustrated.

“I’m not trying,” I said stubbornly.

“You’ve been acting weird, even for you.
Tell me what’s bothering you so I can help,” he pleaded.

“You’d be acting weird too if you’d been to, let’s see, three crime scenes, the morgue, a Council meeting, and a casting.
Never mind being ambushed, kidnapped and beaten to within an inch of your life, rushing a friend to shock trauma and, to round out the last forty-eight hours, another damned Council meeting!” I snapped.

“It’s more than that,” he prodded.

“Seriously? That’s not enough for you?” I said, rounding on him.

“I guess I should have expected the a
nger and sarcasm that you always wrap around yourself instead of actually expecting an answer to my question,” he said.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Oberon.
If there was another question in there, then I didn’t hear it,” I replied.

“I know that you’re acting like this and putting all this distance between us b
ecause of Graive, but I can explain.” He stepped closer.

“I’m not putting any distance between us.
In case you weren’t paying attention to my answer to what’s been bothering me, I’ve been tied up - literally, in fact. As for Graive, you don’t owe me an explanation. I mean, it’s not like we said we were exclusive or anything, right? So it’s fine, you’re off the hook,” I said, turning to go back inside and away from Oberon.

He grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn and face him.

“I’ve known Graive for a long time - since we were kids. Her magic is close to mine in a lot of ways, so we took a few practical arts classes together. We became friends and for a while we were more than that,” he explained.

The confirmation of their history t
ogether was not making me feel any better. And the sudden realization that I was a jealous and insecure person wasn’t helping either.

“I said that you didn’t owe me an expl
anation,” I told him, bitterly.

“She’s back because she wants to stop the Inquisitors as much as we do.
Twelve years ago, before Mahalia was High Priestess, the Inquisitors were in Danvers to cleanse the town of witches, like they’re attempting to do now in Salem. They killed her mother and her two sisters; they left her for dead. The Inquisitors don’t see much difference between a witch and a necromancer, so Graive’s family was slaughtered just like all of the others. My sister’s an oracle, but she was only eight then; my father barely had enough time to send us away. We left for Ireland the night before the Inquisitors arrived. He tried to warn the others in the Danvers coven, but they wouldn’t run based upon the warning vision of an untrained oracle. Keirsten came home with me for our parents’ funeral, but went back to Ireland shortly after to stay with our uncle and his family. She hasn’t been right since they died.”

I stood completely still, listening to him, as it sunk in that this story wasn’t just about
Graive’s loss, but his as well.

He went on, “So I guess it was what ha
ppened to our families that drew us together, but it wasn’t enough. Tragedy causes strong, uncontrollable and unpredictable emotions, but there’s got to be more than that to keep a relationship going. Graive and I are better off as friends.”

He tried to pull me closer to him, but I dug in my heels.

“Yeah, well, I think she disagrees.
Anyway, if Graive was the only issue, then I think we could…but she’s not. I think you want her to be, but it’s not that simple. She only highlights the real problems,” I said solemnly.

“And what are those?” he asked, sounding really angry for the first time.

“We’ve been out a few times since the metaphysical bond was formed between us, but I don’t really know you and you don’t really know me either. For example, I didn’t even know that your parents were murdered,” I said.

“Well that’s on you.
You could know me if you wanted to. I mean, how else do you think people get to know each other, Maurin? They do it by talking and doing things together, but you’ve been resisting this the whole time!” Oberon was practically yelling at me now.

“Can you blame me?
I can’t just run away with my emotions when up until a few days ago I wasn’t even sure how much of them were actually mine!” I yelled back.

“This is probably the biggest difference between us right here.
I was raised to accept things like this, to have the faith that you don’t. It’s at the core of what I am. My magic won’t work without it,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t raised to accept anything about what I could do.
I don’t know how to have faith in any of this. I mean, I’m trying, but…. I’m not good at relationships. It never works out with me, with what I can do,” I said, wiggling my fingers to let him know I was talking about being psychometric.

“I don’t have anything to hide,” he said, his palms turned up to me.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t put your hands out like a reading is going to fix this.” I tried to ignore what remained of the cut in his palm from Graive. “It took a lot of training to learn how to keep my shields in place to keep everything out - so I could walk around without gloves on all the time and now you’re asking me to take them down. I don’t think I can do that Oberon,” I said.

“That’s where you’re wrong.
I’m not asking you to take them down; I’m asking you just to let me in,” he said.

He pulled me in for a hug and this time I let him.
“See? I’ve already learned a couple of things about you tonight,” he said, his breath warm on the top of my head.

“Yeah, what’s that?”
I asked, nervous to hear the answer.

“You’re jealous for one, which I kind of like.
You’re a little unsure of yourself for two, which I understand because of your family, but we’ll work on that,” he said, squeezing me tighter.

“What do you mean because of my family?” I asked, trying not to get caught up in painful emotions and images that I thought I’d let go of a long time ago.

“Well, you said you weren’t brought up to accept anything about what you could do, so I just put two and two together - that you weren’t close with your family,” he said.

“Yeah, well, that’s an understatement.
Everyone in my family’s a Norm. Imagine their surprise at producing me, the freak, for a daughter. I got out of there as soon as I was old enough and never looked back. So, yeah, all of this is a bit overwhelming for me,” I said, suddenly feeling exhausted from all of this sharing.

He loosened his grip on my body and stepped back a little so that he could look at me.
He was starting to say something when he saw the brand on my neck for the first time. Anger flashed in his eyes and his hand shook a little as he reached out to trace the scar.

“They’re going to regret ever laying a fucking finger on you,” he growled mena
cingly.

“Pretty sure I covered that.
They thought they had me figured out; they did all the research and followed the paper trail, but they didn’t predict that I’d take down the big guy. They hauled ass off the island when they realized the Butcher wasn’t going to be able to finish me off,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

Truth be told, that could have easily gone the other way, with me sprawled out somewhere dead for the coven to find, but I wasn’t going to dwell on that.
I was alive and ready for some revenge. Maybe I should have my name fastened into a brand so that I could burn it onto the ass of every Inquisitor who crossed my path.

Oberon took my hand and unsnapped the small leather cuff that I was wearing.

“What are you going to do with that?” I asked.

“Cast a glamour for you.
When you wear it, it will hide the mark on your neck. I could cast something more permanent, so that it would be practically invisible all of the time without you having to wear anything, but something tells me that you wouldn’t go for that. At least this way you don’t have to look at it if you don’t want to,” he said.

“That’s my favorite leather cuff,” I said.

“We’ll use this one temporarily, then. You can soak it in salt water later and I’ll make you a new one with something else,” he replied.

“But it’ll have salt stains on it,” I complained.

“We can clean it. Stop being stubborn and let me do this for you, Maurin.” His voice softened, in spite of his frustration with me.

I gave in, mostly because I had the feeling that making the glamour was actua
lly more for him than it was for me. He didn’t care that I had scars, emotional and physical, but this one was different. The Inquisitors had scarred him more deeply than they had me. So I let him make me the glamour and I’d wear it for him if it made him feel better.

He held the leather cuff in his hand, muttering something in Gaelic, before sna
pping it back on my wrist. I didn’t feel anything at first.

“Is it gone?” I asked, unable to check for myself.

“No, it’s still there,” he said, reaching for the mark on my neck.

“
Ow, don’t touch it,” I said, a little panicky.

“I didn’t.”
He sounded concerned.

“Ouch! Holy shit, that burns!
Is it supposed to do that?” I asked, through gritted teeth.

“No, take it off!” he urgently commanded me.

I fumbled with the snaps, the burning in my neck growing hotter and more painful with every second. Oberon ripped the cuff off of my wrist. The heat subsided, but the pain was almost unbearable. It was as if I had been branded all over again.

“Did you do it right?” I asked, trying not to be mad at him for an honest mistake.

“Of course I did it right. It’s a beginner-level spell; I’ve been doing glamours since grade school,” he said, suddenly defensive.

“Okay, don’t get all bent out of shape.
I was just asking, since my neck feels like you put a red hot poker on it!” I snapped back.

“Sorry.
I don’t know why it did that. That’s never happened before. I didn’t even know that could happen,” he said, obviously confused.

“Holy hell, it actually hurts more now than when I got it!”
I could feel the burn seeping. “What if there was something on the iron that they used? Do you think they poisoned me?” I asked. I was starting to feel nauseated from the pain.

“It’s possible, but you were fine before I cast the glamour.
We can see if Mahalia still has that allicorn powder. It can’t hurt,” he said.

Allicorn
is unicorn horn ground into a fine powder and extremely rare. It can cleanse the body of just about any toxin that you can imagine. Amalie had taken it from The Witches’ Closet, a magical supply store in town, when we went up against the Morrigna. It was a good thing too, since Arcana, a coven member and proprietor of The Witches’ Closet, had been attacked by a hellhound. The bites from the hounds were full of more bacteria than a Komodo dragon. If it weren’t for the allicorn powder, Arcana would never have survived. In fact, she was still recuperating from her horrible wounds. If there were some sort of poison in me, then allicorn would surely draw it out.

We headed for the house, but I didn’t make it.
I fell to my knees, and the cold, damp ground soaked into my jeans. I stayed there on all fours, unable to move, as pain arced through my body. The nausea got worse and I started dry heaving. Oberon kneeled down beside me, rubbing my back until the nausea passed. Then he scooped me up and carried me inside.

Oberon set me down on the couch in Mahalia’s study.
He grabbed the afghan that was thrown over the back of the couch and covered me up with it.

“I’m going to get Mahalia. I’ll see if she’s got any of that
allicorn. I’ll be right back.” Oberon said. He gently kissed my forehead before running from the room to track down Mahalia.