He leaned against the sink. “I know Veyda hurt her like this, but why did you do this to me?”
“Because I need you to know just a small part of what she suffered that night otherwise you’ll never understand.”
“Why?” The question seemed critical. Yet, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.
She started talking again about that night, about standing near Veyda, of hearing her voice in her head, of watching the dark fog roll away from the victim’s body. “Braden. It was Laura.”
A terrible sensation descended on him, like he was caught in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.
“Laura begged me to end her suffering. She was in more pain than you can imagine. Even though I’ve given you a taste of what she endured, try to picture the same poison all over your torso and your thighs. Can you do that?”
He nodded very slowly.
Maeve continued. “I crossed to the platform and climbed the steps. One of the witches gave me the ceremonial knife.” She gestured in front of her as though she could see the past as clearly as she could the present. She shifted her gaze to meet his. “But the poison was designed not to penetrate to the organs. Do you understand what that means? The death is slow, beyond any kind of agony you and I can imagine. The same poison eats through the muscle all the way to the bone, but it’s not life-threatening until hours have passed and it bleeds into the bone, then the blood supply.”
He looked at his now healed arm. He’d felt the burning chewing up his muscles as well. He rubbed his arm, trying to make the memory go away. “But why did you do this to me?”
“I needed you to have a frame of reference for what happened that night.”
He knew the rest of what she’d done. She’d told him. He’d helped her recover her memory.
But there was something else he wasn’t seeing.
His gaze dropped to her hands. “You said the witch gave you a blade?”
A terrible vibration passed through him as he finally understood what she was trying to tell him. “You were the witch who killed my wife.”
More tears flowed down Maeve’s cheeks. Her skin was white as porcelain. “Laura was screaming and I could smell her burning flesh. Veyda said she planned to take Laura to the pyre and burn her slowly if I didn’t do it. I knew she would follow through on her threat. I couldn’t let her continue to torture the woman strapped down on the killing table. That’s all I knew. I couldn’t let the poison continue to eat away at her flesh causing more pain than either you or I could ever comprehend.”
Maeve shook her head back and forth. “Laura was so brave. So grateful. I had the knife in my hand. I lifted both hands high overhead, the way Veyda was positioned above Kiara’s when we entered the killing room. Only there was no one to rescue Laura. There was just me with the chance to save her hours of agony. I didn’t want to do it, Braden. But I could see through to the bones of her thighs and her pelvis, her ribs. There was blood everywhere. Her muscles were being liquified. That’s why I gave you a taste of it. I needed you to know why I took Laura’s life.”
He now had the clearest possible picture of the night his wife had died. He had the murderess in his sights. He’d been hunting for Maeve all this time, the woman who had wielded the blade that drove the last bit of life from Laura’s body.
As he watched her blow her nose, he shook his head. What horrible twist of fate had caused this thing to happen that he’d fallen in love with her?
The night he’d discovered Laura had died, he’d made himself a simple promise. He would have vengeance for those responsible for her death.
He moved swiftly, before she could do anything. He slid one arm around her waist and with his free hand, he caught her throat with his fingers. Fur sprouted, wolf claws formed. He sunk them in. She was bleeding at her throat before he’d formed the thought to take his revenge.
Braden. Just do it. End this torment for me. You have a right exact my life for hers.
The last thing he’d expected was for her to acquiesce to his judgment.
He eased up on his stranglehold. She coughed and sputtered, though he didn’t release her entirely.
She burst into tears again, but her voice was once more in his head. She was so good and kind. Afterward, she stayed in her spirit form and led me to safety, to Kiara. Why would she do that? I was part of the whole thing.
“What do you mean? Explain.”
She coughed a few more times then spoke aloud. “I was still drugged and exhausted from firing my killing power that night. The room was in flames. All the witches were gone. I didn’t know where I was or how to get out of there.
“Laura came to me in her ghost form and led me by the hand from the house. Veyda would have killed me otherwise. She took me to Kiara’s. I didn’t remember any of this until about a half hour ago. Braden, I wish I was dead. Why did this have to happen? To me? To her? To any of us? Oh, God, I wish I was dead.”
Braden felt a numbness invade his heart. Everything he’d just heard and experienced had forced him to relive Laura’s death all over again.
He did the only sensible thing he could think of. He took her in his arms and held her. He’d hurt her and he could feel the wet of her blood on his neck and throat. In his pain, in his rage, he’d hurt her.
Gone, however, was the tenderness he’d once felt for Maeve. She couldn’t relax against him either. She felt stiff in his arms and he sensed her feelings of worthlessness because she’d been Veyda’s instrument that night. She’d killed three women and one of them had been the kindest soul Braden had ever known. So kind, she’d returned in spirit form to lead Maeve to safety.
How much that sounded like the wife of his heart, the woman he’d shared his life with before and after the alter transformation had ruined their human plans and dreams.
Eventually, he released Maeve. She stepped away then sank down to sit in a chair near the sink. It backed up to the wall.
He had to leave her now. He was more grateful than he could say that he hadn’t bonded with her. Maeve didn’t deserve death for her part in his wife’s murder, but he couldn’t stay with her either.
He levitated slowly up the stairs. He still had his hotel room. He thought it might be best to head there now, get some distance.
Yet as he used his warlock-senses and crossed the protective spell into the broad hallway, there was one thing he wanted to do before he left.
He headed to the right and down the hall that led to the Landing’s emergency services, the place he’d been brought while close to death.
He made a left before the E.R. and headed to Kiara’s room.
He found her sitting up. Because she bore a strange expression on her face, he asked, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
She gestured to her left.
Braden turned and felt his fur appear once more along his cheeks, neck and the backs of his hands. Standing behind the chair was Laura in spirit form. She wore her favorite blue jeans and a red tank top. She looked as beautiful as he remembered, with her long dark hair floating around her shoulders.
He immediately moved toward her, but she lifted her hand and he stopped. Her voice, more melodious than Maeve’s, was in his head. If you come closer, I’ll have to leave. It’s one of the rules. And I am including Kiara in this conversation.
What are you doing here? His heart swelled at the sight of her. All the love he’d ever felt for her rose to the surface of his mind, his body, and yes, his spirit too.
She smiled, her beautiful grin that had always squeezed his heart. Making sure you don’t do something idiotic. You must forgive her, my love. Maeve performed a tremendous service for me that night. My spirit had already gone to the other side. I won’t go into the pain I experienced, though I think it was smart of Maeve to let you feel the poison yourself. My life had run its course and she saved me from hours of agony. But what I need to say to you is that it wounded Maeve severely to take my life, as necessary as it was. Do you understand? It broke her mind a
nd her heart. It will destroy her completely unless you help her through this.
He could only nod. He was in shock at seeing her, at hearing her voice once more inside his mind. He would have given anything to take her in his arms, but her physical body was no longer there.
Braden. Focus and hear me! Stop thinking about me as I was. I’m no longer that woman. But Maeve needs you. She blocked these memories because of her tender heart. You must help her through this if she’s to survive and become the force Five Bridges needs her to be. She’s spent all these months saving other people, including you. Now you must return the favor. Go to her and save her.
I’m going to say good-bye now. You have my blessings and enjoy your children.
Laura, don’t go.
She grinned again. Nonsense. I must. One last thing, Veyda is in Maeve’s spellroom. Get over yourself and go save our girl.
With that, she offered one last smile, blew him a kiss then vanished.
He knew without having to be told that she’d only returned to offer this one last service, not to him, but to Maeve.
He glanced at Kiara, who in turn added her voice to Laura’s. “Go to Maeve, Braden! She’s in danger. Veyda’s here and she came with one purpose: To kill Maeve. Go!”
~ ~ ~
Maeve had never been more grateful for anything in her life than seeing the bitch, Veyda, in her spellroom. She didn’t know how she’d gotten in or when. She didn’t care. She was pretty sure Veyda had witnessed her use of the poisoned paste on Braden. She must have enjoyed those few moments when Braden shouted in pain.
She could see Veyda now and Maeve wanted her wiped from the face of the planet. She’d hurt so many people, destroyed so many lives, and had made Maeve’s conscience a fiery thing she’d have to live with the rest of her life.
Veyda stood near the stone steps. She was tall for a woman, about Maeve’s height. Her hair was blond and wrapped in braids on top of her head. She wore a shimmering dark blue gown. Her eyes were black and held an unholy light. She wasn’t a lost soul. She was damned.
She’d recovered from the recent burns Maeve had inflicted, but the green flames on her neck and cheeks had darkened. The woman was full of emerald flame. Maeve could smell it on her.
Veyda’s gaze took in the wall of canisters as she stepped slowly into the spellroom. “Not bad for a beginner.”
Maeve remained near the end of the sink counter, her back to the wall.
There was one question, however, she wanted Veyda to answer. “Why did you kill Frank? He was a good man. He’d never hurt anybody in his life.”
“Simple. I didn’t want you to have any attachments to the human world.”
“But we’d said our good-byes. He was leaving Five Bridges forever. You must have known that.”
“Yes. I saw your farewells.” Veyda moved to the wood cupboard opposite the sink but adjacent to the shelves with all the canisters. She ran her fingertips over each implement as though claiming them. Maybe she thought she was.
Maeve slowly accessed her killing power. She had no intention of aligning herself with Veyda and she didn’t mind if the encounter with the bitch from hell ended in her own death. She was ready.
“You were so new to Five Bridges, I felt certain you’d cave and summon him back here. But I needed you with me, devoted to our coven.”
Maeve could have responded. Instead, she stayed in a quiet watchful place, building her power.
She was going to battle this woman to the death. She knew it now as surely as Veyda continued to handle her tools. Though she carried Braden’s children, even they weren’t safe so long as Veyda lived. No one was. It was time to take her down or die trying.
“You should see my spellroom, then you would know what a real witch does to create potions. By the way, how did you duplicate my paste poison? Although I liked the bit of mint you added.” Veyda shifted her gaze sideways to Maeve.
Maeve saw no reason not to tell her the truth. “By smell.”
Veyda may have murmured a couple of invectives. Maeve wasn’t sure. “Are you having wolf-like responses to things? Is that it? Has Officer Braden infected you with his dog-like attributes?”
Maeve’s mind made the leap. “You wanted Braden dead because he might bond with me.”
“It was one possible future.” She moved back to the glass canisters and turned to lean her hips against the wood counter. She now faced Maeve. “I had a sensitive fae in my employ who alerted me to Braden’s possible influence in your life. Though she’s not with me anymore. She was one of the women you took out of my prison.” She clucked her tongue. “You shouldn’t have done that, you know. I’m very angry with you.”
Maeve snorted in disbelief. “You’re angry? You abducted me and I killed Braden’s wife because of your sick, twisted perversions. You tortured Kiara. Then you and your pals tried to kill Braden in the Graveyard. No, I’m the one who’s angry.”
“Good. You should always hold your rage close. Fury is a witch’s best friend. It will keep you focused.”
Maeve was ready to take the woman on. But not in her spellroom. The power of her killing arm could shatter all the glass canisters and she didn’t know what would happen if the ingredients came together with two powerful witches in one room. She could end up significantly, if accidentally, giving the bitch a power boost.
Though she was reluctant to reveal her burrow to Veyda, she had no other choice. Besides, the close proximity could help her do what needed to be done.
She would do everything she could to come out of the confrontation alive, for the sake of her babies. But more than anything right now, Veyda had to disappear off the face of the earth.
She moved swiftly to the burrow door, opened it then slipped inside.
She heard Veyda laugh. “Where do you think you’re going? Did you think you can escape me? I know that space is a dead end.”
Maeve moved to the back of the burrow and faced the doorway.
Slowly Veyda opened the door. “What an idiotic move.”
The moment the witch was in plain view, Maeve let loose with her killing power.
Veyda screamed in pain, then returned fire with her own deadly, blood red stream of energy.
Maeve met the power with the force of her will and her rage. Gold and red sparks flew up toward the rock ceiling. She could feel the plants recoiling all around her, but she couldn’t help the damage that would be done.
She also sensed that Braden was nearby. He’d come back to her apartment.
Maybe she had a chance after all.
She didn’t hesitate to reach out to him. I’ve got Veyda in the burrow and I’m not letting her leave except on her back, eyes wide open, her heart at a dead stop. I could use your help, though. You might want to put a spell together. I suggest you use a touch of emerald flame. Either that, or stay the hell out of here.
Got it. Braden’s deep telepathic voice heightened Maeve’s determination.
Maeve continued to fire her killing power. Yet, she knew Veyda had tremendous ability and eventually Maeve would be in serious trouble.
It came sooner than she expected as she watched Veyda’s right hand flick in her direction.
The next moment, Maeve’s power faltered and Veyda drew her own back. Maeve fell, or perhaps floated, onto the nearby furs. Her mind spun in beautiful circles.
This felt and smelled very familiar. She remembered now. This was how Veyda had abducted her the first time. She now knew the ingredients and one of them was emerald flame.
She tried to reach Braden, but couldn’t. She just hoped to hell he could set aside his abhorrence of the drug and take care of business. He was a noble man and wouldn’t leave here as long as Veyda was present in Maeve’s home. Yet, he would need the added boost to have even a small chance of defeating the demon witch.
In the meantime, Veyda moved to hover nearby, smiling in triumph.
You’ll be mine, soon, Maeve. And you will join my coven.
~ ~ ~
&nbs
p; Braden stood in front of the glass canisters and accessed his warlock-sense. He knew Maeve was in trouble. He’d felt her fall beneath one of Veyda’s spells.
He had to work fast. He wasn’t sure what Veyda planned to do, but it wouldn’t be good. When he heard her start chanting, his heartrate doubled.
He also had to subdue his wolf. The sheer physicality of his wolf-life, as well as his time as a Border Patrol officer, demanded he act.
If he did, however, they’d both die. He needed warlock cunning right now, not wolf brawn.
He pulled five glass containers from the shelves as though he’d been creating spells his entire life. He dipped into each one, took out a portion that felt right, then dumped it into the nearby mortar.
When he had the correct mixture assembled, he stared down into the marble bowl. He was missing one ingredient. He could sense it as though the letters were carved into the smooth surface of the stone: Emerald flame.
He hated this drug more than the others because he’d seen the results of its abuse in Savage. As a result, he’d had a zero-tolerance policy in his pack.
But if he was to save the woman he loved and the children she carried, it was the only way.
He took the container from the fridge and using tweezers as Maeve had done, he removed three grains exactly. He added these to the compound and ground away with the pestle.
It didn’t take long. He poured the dry compound into another ceramic bowl, held his breath as he added just enough water, then mixed and drank.
The potion bubbled down his throat.
When it hit his wolf’s stomach, it turned to lightning and spread through his veins. The flame drug had enhanced the potion a hundred-fold.
He lifted his left hand, stunned. He felt a warlock’s killing power forming. Only this time, he was using his wolf’s physical strength as well. He embraced this new ability and turned in the direction of the closed burrow door.
He crossed swiftly and with a powerful kick of his foot, knocked the door flat. It landed flat on the stone floor next to the bed of furs.
Veyda, who was hovering over Maeve and chanting, whipped in his direction. In the same split-second, she fired a red bolt of her own killing power. But it was as though the terrible witch energy moved in slow-motion.