Witch Hunter Olivia (5 page)

“I kind of need you to stay here, okay?”

“No way—”

“Listen, Tara. I need to do this alone. Besides, you can’t risk someone you know seeing you and blowing your masking spell like I did tonight. Everyone you used to know thinks you’re dead, which is for the best, trust me. Plus, I can watch my own ass in this place, but with you there, it won’t be as easy. It’s not safe and you know that. It’ll be better for both of us if you stay here,” I explain. “I’m sorry, but I have to go solo on this one.”

“Got it. I’m a distraction,” she replies with a frustrated sigh.

“It’s not like that.”

“No, I understand, really. I’ll just wait here and stare at the ceiling or something.” She attempts to laugh, but it doesn’t sound genuine.

“I’ll be back soon. And remember to lock the door behind me, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” she replies, and ushers me out of the room. “Be careful.”

“Always am.”

“Famous last words,” she comments as I begin to move down the hall.

Oh, The Reaping, how I loathe you. Let me count the ways.

Standing in front of the bar now, I can look past its shoddy construction, the many flyers tacked to the door advertising the strip joint down the block, and even the fact that it was once a slaughterhouse owned by a group of vampires. The only thing I can’t look past is that inside lies the potential of running into the one person I’m actually here to find.

The moment I reach for the handle, the door flies open, causing me to quickly sidestep out of the way. A guy stumbles out with another one following close behind. I recognize the second man as Doug, the owner of the bar, but the first guy flew by too quickly for me to get a good look.

“I told you you’re cut off,” Doug reprimands

The guy throws up one arm to wave Doug off before muttering, “Whatever.”

“Damn drunks,” Doug grumbles. “The bane and lifeblood of my business.”

“Rough night?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips.

“Olivia? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know me. I can’t get enough of alcohol-induced shenanigans.”

He chuckles to himself. “I was under the impression you left our quaint town of Piedmont Pointe months ago.”

“Now where did you get an idea like that?”

“Your brother,” he replies matter-of-factly. “So, what brings you out to my neck of the woods?”

“Actually, my brother. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he’s inside. Follow me.”

I cross over the threshold while Doug holds the door open. I’m instantly bombarded by the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and some other stench I can’t quite put my finger on. The smells are quickly followed by a jolt to my stomach, meaning witches are here.

The bar looks to be close to capacity. As I survey the area, I recognize a few of the patrons as not-so-human, even though their current appearances would suggest otherwise. The Reaping’s one of the few places that maintains a good ratio of paranormals to mortals, though every human, with the exception of Doug, is completely unaware of what surrounds them. Very few townies are aware that Piedmont Pointe is a hotbed for paranormal activity.

Doug has a way of keeping the peace in his bar, and doesn’t allow for any kind of drama to be brought in—paranormal or not. He always makes them take it outside. It probably helps that he has a stash of every weapon under the sun—that can kill any and everything—behind the bar under lock and key, and he’s not afraid to go there. He’s garnered respect from both sides for not putting up with anybody’s shit and treating everyone as equal … as long as they buy a drink, that is. It’s clearly a sound business practice.

“He’s in his usual spot, over there,” Doug shouts, pointing to the large circular booth in the back left corner of the bar.

From where I’m standing, I can tell the booth is full of people. I can’t quite make out my brother though, so I decide to move closer. It dawns on me that I haven’t thought about what I’m going to say to him. I’ve been so preoccupied with worrying about how our interaction was going to be instead of thinking about what I was going to actually say.

As I close in on the booth, the entire group of people sitting there comes into complete focus. I recognize each and every one of them. They’re all friends of my brother’s, and once mine as well. Until I defected.

There are six Hunters including my brother. Two of them are Witch Hunters, but the other three are different. Witch Hunters aren’t the only types out there. There are ones assigned to every paranormal race, and together they form a supernatural task force of sorts. We’re all born into it, and each of us is supposed to carry out our duties until the day we die, or in my case, the day I decided to turn my back on everything I’ve ever been taught.

My brother locks eyes with me and his face goes from laughing at something that was just said at the table to serious with a hint of surprise in two seconds flat. His reaction is odd because he looks like this is the first time he’s seen me since I left.

Malcolm rises from his seat and supports himself with his palms pressed firmly against the table. He doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me with a steady glare, and when everyone else in the booth notices what he’s staring at, they do the same thing. All accept one: Topher.

Wow, I feel welcome.

I notice Topher, my brother’s boyfriend, send me a reserved smile before placing his hand on Malcolm’s. He says something to Malcolm that causes him to relax a bit. I’ve always liked Topher. He has such a calming effect on my brother. Besides my direct family, he’s next on the list of people I miss the most from my previous life.

“Hey, traitor,” Sasha says with a scoff and a flip of her long, curly black hair. She’s a big shot, self-absorbed Vampire Hunter. Actually, for some reason, most Vampire Hunters I know are full of themselves. They believe vampires are the most dangerous of all paranormals, and feel they risk their lives more than any other Hunter trying to keep the vampires in line.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here, Olivia.” Malcolm finally says.

“Believe me, this is the very last place I want to be right now, but some things are more important than what we want in life,” I fire back. “Listen, I need to talk to you, okay?”

He gestures to the table. “The floor is yours.”

“Alone, please?”

“Look, whatever you want to say, you can say in front of everyone.”

“Fine. The hit you were ordered to—”

“Outside, now,” he demands, cutting me off. I knew bringing up the hit right away would get him to take me aside for some one-on-one time. Hunters aren’t supposed to discuss the details of the hits they’re assigned by the Elders. Day-to-day interactions are fine, but assigned hits are meant to be kept confidential.

“Fine by me,” I say with some snark as I follow him toward the back door of the bar that leads out to the alleyway.

The moment I step outside, Malcolm slams the door closed behind us. He passes by me and flashes a quick glare before checking if the coast is clear by peering up and down the alley.

“What in the hell were you thinking bringing up hits like that out in public?”

“Hey, I’m not a Hunter anymore, so I don’t have to follow your silly rules, okay?” I spit out, matching his forceful tone with my own.

He fumes right in front of my face, and then releases a deep groan. “This is so typical of you, Olivia. Always the rebel. Always the nonconformist. Just say what you’ve got to say so I can get back to enjoying my evening.”

My brother and I were so close when we used to train together. With just one decision on my part, that all changed. It doesn’t help that the one decision was to turn my back on everything my family believes in.

“I think you might be in danger,” I blurt out. “Why did you attack a High Priestess’s daughter tonight? Who ordered that?”

“A who? What the hell are you going on about?” he asks, sounding confused.

“Your hit tonight—”

“Was on a witch who was kidnapping children from a local neighborhood. Yeah, I know. Hansel and Gretel, stereotypical,” he states, finishing my sentence.

“Wait … you didn’t crash the Alpha Nu Gamma sorority party tonight? Don’t try to deny it. I saw you there.”

“Uh, no. I’ve been here most of the night. This is the first time I’ve seen you since you abandoned us.”

“But I saw you … we talked … you knew who I was,” I explain, trying to make sense of this in my mind.

“Don’t know what to tell ya. Wasn’t me,” he replies with a shrug. “Are we finished here?”

“No, we’re not. Someone posed as you at a party tonight and tried to assassinate a pretty powerful witch. The person looked and sounded just like you. He or she was even able to control three Maulers at once. Doesn’t that concern you a little?” I ask, blocking his way when he tries to move around me.

“Do you realize how this sounds? Have you said it out loud to yourself? You sound ridiculous.”

“I know what I saw, Malcolm,” I huff, poking him in the chest with my index finger. “And it seriously worries me that you’re not more concerned about this.”

“It’s been real, sis, but I have to get back to my boyfriend and friends. Next time you want to chat, come to me with a more convincing reason, and not just a poor attempt for attention.” He pats me on the shoulder before moving past me to the door. “Oh, and don’t pull this kind of stunt on Mom and Dad, please. They’ve been through enough with you lately.”

That last comment digs into me like a knife. But I knew what I was getting myself into when I chose the way I did. I still don’t regret leaving.

“Ouch. That was abrasive.” A familiar male’s voice comes from down the alleyway after my brother shuts the door in my face.

I turn to my right and see the outline of a person standing outside the circle of light beaming over me from the fixture situated over the back door. He takes a few steps forward and I’m met with the gorgeously stubble-filled face of Heath. I’m surprised to see him hanging out around here. He used to refer to this place as a cesspool of epic proportions.

“And what are you doing here? I thought you hated this place,” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“I couldn’t resist the weekly meeting of the witch minds,” he jokes. I turn my eyebrow up and send him a look of disbelief. “Okay, you got me. Doug has a better beer selection now.”

“Ah, I see. That’s more like it.”

“Hey, you gonna be okay?” His light blue eyes are suddenly sympathetic.

I release a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I need to get used to this treatment. I feel this is only the beginning.”

“You shouldn’t have gone through that.” Even after how I treated him at the parlor, he still manages to say something nice to me. “Want a drink? I think you could use one.”

“No, thanks. I’m good. I have an early class in the morning. I should probably head back.”

“Suit yourself.” I hear a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Heath?” I ask just before he’s about to open the back door.

“Yeah?”

“You heard everything just now, right?”

He nods. “Pretty much.”

“Even though my brother basically dismissed me, I can’t help but be worried about him. I think someone or something that looked exactly like him was at the party tonight. I’m not going crazy. I know what I saw.”

“I believe you, Liv,” he says simply.

“You do?”

“Of course. Why in the hell would you make up something like that?”

A smile begins to form on my lips, but then it wavers. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. This isn’t my life anymore and I shouldn’t interfere, but he’s my brother. I can’t turn my back on this, no matter how much of a jerk he’s being about it.”

He leans in close to me. “Listen, I may know someone who can help. It might be a long shot, but this guy knows almost everything that goes down in the paranormal world. According to my dad, nothing gets by him. He’ll probably have heard something about tonight.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Meet me tomorrow at eleven in front of the parlor, and we’ll leave from there.” He moves even closer to me and puts us practically chest to chest.

“No-go. I’ve got a class then,” I say and am met with an “are you serious?” stare.

“Do you want to help your brother?”

“I do, obviously.”

“Then meet me at eleven,” he states, and I nod. “You sure you don’t want that drink? If I remember correctly, we had a pretty fantastic evening when you had one … or five,” he laughs.

A blush begins to work its way up my cheeks as I think back to that night. We came so close to going all the way, and as I replay the way we ripped each other’s clothes off, garment by garment, the blush deepens. We were cut short by his father, of all people, walking in on us. I mean, we were in the back office of the tattoo parlor, and we were under the impression we were alone. Well, we were alone initially, but his dad had forgotten some paperwork at the shop.

I so want to say yes and give in to Heath’s offer, but can’t pull myself to do it. His eyes are making it even harder, but somehow I find a way to say no. “Another time maybe. Like I said, early class.”