Witch’s
Bounty
Demon
Assassins
Book
One
Ann
Gimpel
Dream Shadow
Press
66K words
Release Date:
9/6/16
Genre: Urban
Fantasy Romance
Urban Fantasy
Romance with a heaping side of Hexes, Spells, and Magick!
Book
Description:
One of three
remaining demon assassin witches, Colleen is almost the last of her kind. Along
with her familiar, a changeling spirit, she was hoping for a few months of
quiet, running a small magicians’ supply store in Fairbanks, Alaska. Peace
isn’t in the cards, though. Demons are raising hell in Seattle. She’s on her
way to kick some serious demon ass, when a Sidhe shows up and demands she
accompany him to England to quell a demon uprising.
Gutsy,
opinionated, and outspoken, Colleen refuses to come. Witches need her help, and
they trump everything else. Despite breaking a prime Sidhe precept concerning
non-interference in mortals’ affairs, Duncan offers his assistance. Colleen
fascinates him, and he wants to discover more about her. Lots more.
The Sidhe might
be the best-looking man Colleen’s ever stumbled over, but she doesn’t have time
for him—or much of anything else. She, Jenna, and Roz are Earth’s only hedge
against being overrun by Hell’s minions. Even with help from a powerful magic
wielder like Duncan, the odds aren’t good and the demons know it.
Sensing victory
is within their grasp, they close in for the kill.
Excerpt
from Witch’s Bounty:
Rain
worsened from a steady drizzle to a pounding, punishing deluge of icy sleet.
Colleen Kelly strengthened the spell around herself. It sizzled where it ran up
against the droplets. At least she wasn't quite as wet as she would have been
without its protection. Pavement glistened wetly in the last of the day's
light. It was just past three in the afternoon, but December days were short in
the northern latitudes and Fairbanks was pretty far north.
“At
least it’s not snowing,” she muttered as she pushed through a nearby
glass-fronted door into the magicians’ supply store she owned with two other
witches in the older part of downtown. Bells hanging around the door pealed
discordantly. She sent a small jolt of magic to silence them.
“I
heard that. Not the bells, but you. It’s supposed to snow this time of year.
How could you possibly be pleased the weather patterns have gone to hell?”
Jenna
Neil stalked over to the coatrack where Colleen stood. Blonde hair, hacked off
at shoulder level, framed a gamine’s face and shrewd, hazel eyes. Jenna towered
over Colleen’s six foot height by a good four inches, and her broad shoulders
would’ve made most men jealous. Between her trademark high-heeled boots and a
scruffy embroidered red cloak tossed over skintight blue jeans, she looked as
exotic as the anti-hex hoop earrings dangling from each ear.
Colleen
rolled her eyes, shook out her coat, and hung it on the rack. “Spare me your
lecture about global warming, okay? It’s cold enough to snow. It just isn’t,
for some reason.”
“Mmph.”
The line of Jenna’s jaw tensed.
Indian
spices wafted through the air, mingling with the scents of herbs, dried
flowers, and desiccated body parts from small animals. Colleen’s stomach
growled. Breakfast had been at six that morning—a long time ago. Pretty bad
when even dried newt smelled like food.
“Did
you cook something?” she asked. “And if you did, is there any left?”
A
terse nod. Jenna turned away, walking fast. Colleen lengthened her normal
stride to catch up. “Hey, sweetie. What happened? You can’t be in this big a
snit over the weather.”
Jenna
kept walking, heading for the small kitchen at the back of the store. “A lot of
things. I was just having a cup of tea. Shop’s been dead today.” She
disappeared behind a curtain.
Colleen
glanced over one shoulder at the empty store. The phalanx of bells around the
door would alert them if anyone stopped in. The minute she tugged the heavy,
upholstery fabric that served as a kitchen door aside, the pungent tang of
Irish whiskey made her eyes water. “You said tea.”
“Yeah,
well I spiked it.”
Colleen
grunted. “Smells like you took a bath in booze. What the fuck happened?” She
grabbed the larger woman and spun her so they faced one another.
“We
got another pay-your-tithe-or-die e-mail from our Coven.” Jenna’s nostrils
flared in annoyance.
“So?
That’s like the tenth one.” There were new policies none of them agreed with,
so they’d joined with about twenty other witches and stopped paying the monthly
stipend that supported their Coven’s hierarchy.
“It’s
not what’s bothering me.” Jenna pulled free from Colleen, tipped her cup, and
took a slug of what smelled like mostly liquor.
Colleen
fought a desire to swat her. Getting to the point quickly had never been one of
Jenna’s talents. She clamped her jaws together. “What is?”
“Roz
called with…problems.” Jenna turned and started toward the steep staircase
ladder leading to her bedroom above the shop.
“You
can’t just drop that bomb and leave.” Colleen made another grab for Jenna to
keep her in the kitchen. Worry for their friend ate at her. Of the three of
them, Roz was by far the most volatile. “What happened? I thought she was in
Missouri, or maybe it was Oklahoma, visiting that dishy dude she met online.”
“Didn’t
work out.” The corners of Jenna’s mouth twisted downward.
Colleen
quirked a brow, urging her friend to say more.
Jenna
plowed on. “He only wanted her for her magic. Turned out he preferred men.”
“Aw,
shit.” Colleen blew out a breath. “She must’ve been disappointed.”
Half
a snorting laugh bubbled past Jenna’s lips. “Maybe now she is. At the time,
furious would’ve been closer to the mark.”
Colleen’s
throat tightened. “Crap! What’d she do? She didn’t hurt him, did she?”
“Not
directly. She turned him over to the local Coven.”
“Thank
God!” Colleen let go of Jenna and laid a hand over her heart. Roxanne Lantry
was more than capable of killing anyone who pissed her off. It was how she
ended up in Alaska. Roz hadn’t exactly been caught when her cheating husband
and his two girlfriends went missing, but she hadn’t stuck around to encourage
the authorities to question her, either.
Colleen
and Jenna had already left Seattle when that little incident went down. Roz
repressed her antipathy for Alaska’s legendary foul weather and joined them.
Magically, she was strong as an ox, and she had a hell of a temper.
Colleen’s
stomach growled again. Louder this time. It didn’t give a good goddamn about
anything other than its empty state. She pushed past Jenna to the stove, lifted
a lid, and peered into a battered aluminum pot. Curry blasted her. The spicy
odor stung her eyes and made her nose run.
“Whew.
Potent. Mind if I help myself?”
“Go
ahead.” Jenna sat heavily in one of two chairs with a rickety wooden table
between them. She picked up her mug and took another long swallow.
Dish
in hand, Colleen slapped it on the table in front of the other chair and went
in search of a mug of her own. There weren’t any clean ones, so she plucked one
out of the sink and rinsed it. Back at the stove, she tipped the teakettle.
Thick, amber liquid spilled from its stubby snout into her waiting mug. Jenna
waggled the whiskey bottle in her direction.
“Nah.”
Colleen settled at the table. “It would go right to my head. Maybe after I get
some food on board.” She tucked in. After the first few mouthfuls, when the
curry powder nearly annihilated her taste buds, the pea, potato, and ham
mixture wasn’t half-bad.
Jenna
drank steadily, not offering anything by way of conversation.
When
Colleen’s dish was empty, she refilled her mug with tea, filched a couple of
biscuits from the cupboard, and sat back down. “Are you going to talk to me?”
“I
suppose so.” Jenna’s words slurred slightly.
Colleen
cocked her head to one side. “I suggest you start now, before you forget how.”
“Oh,
please.” Jenna blew out a breath, showering the small space with whiskey fumes.
Colleen waited. The other witch could be stubborn. Wheedling, cajoling, or
urging wouldn’t work until she was good and ready to talk.
Finally,
after so long Colleen had nearly chewed a hole in her cheek, Jenna finally
muttered, “Roz called.”
Colleen
ground her teeth together. “You already said that. It’s how you knew what
happened with the guy.”
Jenna
nodded. “There’s more.” She picked up the whiskey, started to pour it into her
mug, then apparently changed her mind and drank right from the bottle. “She’s
in Seattle. Checked in with Witches’ Northwest, just to say hello, and because
she wanted to touch base with people she’s known for a long time.”
Another
long pause. Colleen batted back a compulsion spell. It wasn’t nice to use those
on your friends. She shoved her hands under her bottom to reduce the
temptation.
Jenna
lowered her voice until Colleen had to strain to hear. “The Irichna demons are
back.”
“But
our last confrontation wasn’t all that long ago. Only a few months. Sometimes
when we best them, they’ve stayed gone for years.”
Colleen
shook her head. Even the sound of the word, Irichna, crackled against her ears,
making them tingle unpleasantly. Irichna demons were the worst. Hands down, no
contest. They worked for Abbadon, Demon of the Abyss. Evil didn’t get much
worse than that. No wonder Jenna was drinking. Colleen held her hand out for
the bottle—suddenly a drink seemed like a most excellent idea—and picked her
words with care. “Did Roz actually sight one?”
“Yeah.
She also asked if we could come and help. More than asked. She came as close to
begging as I’ve ever heard her.”
“Erk.
They have a whole Coven there. Several if you count all the ones in western Washington.
Why do they need us?” Colleen belted back a stiff mouthful of whiskey. It
burned a track all the way to her stomach where it did battle with all the
curry she’d eaten.
Jenna
just shot her a look. “You know why.”
Colleen
swallowed again, hoping for oblivion, except it couldn’t come quick enough. She
knew exactly why, but the answer stuck in her craw and threatened to choke her.
The three of them were the last of a long line of demon assassins, witches with
specialized powers, able to lure demons, immobilize them, and send them packing
to the netherworld.
When
things worked right.
They
often didn’t, though, which was what killed off the other demon assassin
witches. It didn’t help that demons as a group had been gathering power these
last fifty years or so. Witches lived for a long time, but they were far from
immortal, and demon assassin ability was genetic. She, Jenna, or Roz would have
to produce children or that strain of magic would die out. So far, none of them
had come anywhere close to identifying a guy who looked like husband material…
Colleen
looked at her hands. Even absent a husband, none of them had a shred of
domesticity. Certainly not enough to saddle themselves with offspring.
“What’s
the matter?” Jenna grinned wickedly, clearly more than a little drunk. “Cat got
your tongue too?”
As if
on cue, a blood-curdling meow rose from a shadowed corner of the kitchen and
Bubba, Colleen’s resident familiar, padded forward. When he was halfway to
them, he gathered his haunches beneath him and sprang to the table. It rocked
alarmingly, and Jenna made a grab for her cup. The large black cat skinned his
lips back from his upper teeth, bared his incisors, and hissed.
“Oh,
all right.” Colleen clamped her jaws tight and summoned the magic to shift
Bubba to his primary form, a gnarled three-foot changeling.
The
air shimmered around him. Before it cleared, he swiped the liquor out of her
hand and drained the bottle.
“Would’ve
been a good reason to leave you a cat,” Jenna mumbled.
He
stood on the table and glared at both of them, elbows akimbo, bottle still
dangling from his oversized fingers. “If you’re going to fight demons, you have
to take me with you.”
“No,
we don’t,” Colleen countered.
“You
don’t follow directions well,” Jenna said pointedly.
“Isn’t
that the truth?” Colleen rotated her head from side to side, starting to feel
the whiskey. At least once when they’d humored the changeling, he’d almost
gotten all of them killed. Problem was she couldn’t predict when he’d follow
her orders, and when he’d decide on a different tack altogether. Then there
were the times his fearlessness had saved them all.
Bubba
might be a wildcard, but he was her wildcard.
“You
forgot when I welcomed your spirit into my body—and kept it alive—while the
healers worked on you.” Bubba eyed Colleen, sounding smug.
“If
you hadn’t decided to play hero, and needed to be rescued, the demons wouldn’t
have injured me.” Colleen winced at the sour undertone in her voice. That
incident had happened five years before. Maybe it was time she got over it.
“Nevertheless.”
He tossed his shaggy head, thick with hair as black as the cat’s. “When you
conjured me from the barrows of Ireland, and bound me, we became a unit. You
can’t go off and leave me here. It would be like leaving a part of yourself behind.”
His dark eyes glittered with challenge.
“I
hate to admit it—” Jenna sounded a little less drunk “—but he’s right.”
“See.”
Bubba leered at them, jumped off the table, and waddled over to the stove with
his bowlegged gait. Once there, he opened the oven, climbed onto its door, and
peeked into the pot. He started to stick a hand inside.
“Hold
it right there, bud.” Colleen got to her feet, covered the distance to the
stove, and dished him up some of the curry mixture. “Get some clothes on and
you can have this.”
He
clambered down from his perch and over to several colorful canisters scattered
around the house where she stashed outfits for him. Keeping Bubba clothed had
been a huge problem until she’d hatched up a plan, and sewn him several pant
and shirt combos with Velcro closures, since he didn’t like buttons or zippers.
The
changeling dressed quickly and took the bowl from her. “I could’ve gotten my
own food.”
“Better
for the rest of us if you keep your paws out of the cook pot.” Jenna stood a
bit unsteadily. “I’ll be right back.”
Bubba
stuffed food into his mouth with his fingers. “Where’s she going?” His words
came out garbled as he chewed open-mouthed.
Colleen
looked away. “Probably to pee. Maybe to throw up. Um, look, Bubba, it might be
wiser if we took a quick side trip to Ireland and released you.”
She
glanced sidelong at the changeling spirit she’d summoned during a major demon
war forty years before. He’d been truly helpful then, especially after he’d
mastered English, which hadn’t taken him all that long. In the intervening
time, he’d mostly clung to his feline form, eating and keeping their shop free
of mice and rats. They’d lived in Seattle the first ten years or so after he
joined them, relocating to Alaska to conceal their longevity. She dragged the
heels of her hands down her face, feeling tired. It was getting close to time
to move again, but she didn’t want to think about it.
Bubba
shook his head emphatically. Food flew from the sides of his mouth. He scooped
a glob off the floor and ate it anyway. “I have to agree to being released. I
don’t want to go back to my barrow. I like it much better here.”
Colleen
sucked in a hollow breath, blew it out, and did it again. Bubba was right.
Rules were rules. He’d had a choice at the front end. He could’ve refused her.
Witches respected all living creatures. The ones on the good side of the road,
anyway. No forced servitude for their familiars, despite rumors to the
contrary.
Jenna
lurched back into the kitchen looking a little green. “You okay?” Colleen
asked.
“Yeah.
I drank too much, that’s all.” She rinsed her mug at the sink, refilled it with
tap water, and sat back down. “Did you two come up with a plan?”
“I’m
going.” Bubba left his dish on the floor and vaulted back onto the table.
Jenna
rolled red-rimmed eyes. “That was the discussion when I left.”
“Your
point?” Colleen swallowed irritation.
“Nothing.”
The other witch sounded sullen, but maybe she just didn’t feel well.
“I
offered to free him—” Colleen began.
“I
refused,” Bubba cut in. He shook his head. “No recognition for all my years of
loyal service. Tsk. You should be—”
“Stuff
it.” Jenna glared at him. “We have bigger problems than your wounded ego.”
He
stuck out his lower lip, looking injured as only a changeling spirit could, but
he didn’t say anything else.
“I
suppose we have to go to Seattle,” Colleen muttered, half to herself.
“Don’t
see any way around it.” Jenna worried her lower lip between her teeth.
“What
exactly did Roz say?”
“We
didn’t talk long. Her cellphone battery was almost dead.” A muscle twitched
beneath Jenna’s eye. “She’d just stopped in at Coven Headquarters and the group
mobbed her. Said we had to come. They’ve already lost about twenty witches to
stealth demon attacks.”
Colleen’s
heart skipped a few beats. Twenty witches was a lot. Maybe a quarter of the
Witches’ Northwest Coven. “Crap. When did the attacks start?”
“Only
a few days ago. They’d planned to call us, but saw it as goddess intervention
when Roz showed up.”
“Damn
that Oklahoma cowboy.” Colleen pounded a fist into her open palm. “If his Coven
doesn’t flatten him, I will.”
“He
wasn’t a cowboy.” Jenna’s voice held a flat, dead sound. “He was supposed to be
a witch. You know, like us.”
“Doesn’t
matter.”
“Do
you want to close things up here, or should I try to get someone from our Coven
to fill in at the shop?” Jenna looked pale, but the tipsy aspect had left her
face.
Colleen
shook her head. “We haven’t sold enough in the last few weeks to make it
worthwhile to pay someone to clerk for us.”
“Okay.”
Jenna’s hazel eyes clouded with worry. “When do you want to leave?”
“If
you asked Witches’ Northwest, we probably should’ve left three days ago.”
“How
are we getting there?” Bubba squared his hunched shoulders as much as he could
and eyed Colleen.
“Excellent
question.” Jenna looked at Colleen too.
She
raised her hands in front of her face, palms out. “Stop it, you two. I can’t
deal with the pressure.” Colleen clamped her jaws together and considered their
options. Roz already had a car in Seattle. It didn’t make sense to drive their
other one down, plus it would take too long. Flying with Bubba was impossible.
He looked too odd in his gnome form and his cat form didn’t do well with the
pressure changes. They had to teleport, which would seriously deplete their
magic and mean they couldn’t fight so much as a disembodied spirit for at least
twenty-four hours after they arrived.
Jenna
screwed her face into an apologetic scowl, apparently having come to the same
conclusion. “Look, I’m sorry I’m not more help. There’s something about that
particular mix of earth, fire, and air that I always bungle.”
Air
whistled through Colleen’s teeth. It had been so long since they’d teleported
anywhere, she’d almost forgotten Jenna’s ineptitude with the requisite spell.
“How about this? You go down to the basement and practice. I’ll get a few
things together…”
“What
do you want me to do?” Bubba asked.
“You
can help me,” Jenna said. “I’ll do better if I have an object to practice
with.”
The
changeling scrunched his low forehead into a mass of wrinkles. “Just don’t get
me lost.”
“Even
if she does, I’ll be able to find you.” Colleen tried to sound reassuring. She
was fond of her familiar. In many ways, he was very childlike.
Heh!
Maybe that’s why I’ve been so reluctant to have a kid. I already have one who’ll
never grow up.
The
bells around the shop door clanged a discordant riot of notes. “Crap!” Jenna
shot to her feet. “First customer in two days. I should’ve locked the damn
door.”
“Back
to cat form.” Colleen flicked her fingers at Bubba, who shrank obligingly and
slithered out of clothing, which puddled around him. She snatched up his shirt
and pants and dropped them back into the canister.
“I
say,” a strongly accented male voice called out. “Is anyone here?”
“I’ll
take care of the Brit,” Colleen mouthed. “Take Bubba to the basement and
practice.”
She
got to her feet and stepped past the curtain. “Yes?” She gazed around the dimly
lit store for their customer.
A
tall, powerfully built man, wearing dark slacks and a dark turtleneck, strode
toward her, a woolen greatcoat slung over one arm. His white-blond hair was
drawn back into a queue. Arresting facial bones—sculpted cheeks, strong jaw,
high forehead—captured her attention and stole her breath. He was quite
possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. Discerning green eyes
zeroed in on her face, caught her gaze, and held it. Magic danced around him in
a numinous shroud. Strong magic.
What
was he?
And
then she knew. Daoine Sidhe. The man had to be Sidhe royalty. No wonder he was
so stunning it almost hurt to look at him.
Colleen
held her ground. She placed her feet shoulder width apart and crossed her arms
over her chest. “What can I help you with?”
“Colleen
Kelly?”
Okay,
so he knows who I am. Doesn’t mean a thing. He’s Sidhe. Could’ve plucked my
name right out of my head.
“That
would be me. How can I help you?” she repeated, burying a desire to lick
nervously at her lips.
“Time
is short. I’ve been hunting you for a while now. Come closer, witch. We need to
talk.”
Witch’s
Bane
Demon
Assassins
Book
2
Ann
Gimpel
Dream Shadow
Press
66K words
Release Date:
9/6/16
Genre: Urban
Fantasy Romance
Urban Fantasy
Romance with a heaping side of Hexes, Spells, and Magick!
Book
Description:
Last of the
demon assassin witches, Roz, Jenna, and Colleen have escaped disaster so far,
but their luck is running low. Demons strike in the midst of Colleen’s wedding,
and Roz launches desperate measures. As she shape-shifts to keep one step ahead
of evil, at least it takes her mind off her other problems. Personal ones. She
burned through a couple of marriages and hooked up with a string of loser men
before, after, and in between. Though she wants to be happy for Colleen, the
jealousy bug bit deep and hasn’t let go.
In Roz’s secret
heart, she’s attracted to Ronin, one of the Daoine Sidhe. He’s so profanely
beautiful she can barely breathe around him, but he’s also headstrong and
arrogant. Not good partner material—unless she wants to end up dusting her
heart off one more time.
Ronin set his
sights on Roz the day he met her, and he can’t get her out of his mind.
Unfortunately, she’s so prickly getting close to her requires scheming. He
casts an enchantment to lure her at Colleen’s wedding, but she senses the spell
and calls him on it. Demons swarm out of the ether before he can come up with
another strategy. Killing them trumps everything.
Roz is used to
calling the shots. So is Ronin. Sparks fly. Tempers run hot, right along with
an attraction too heady to ignore.
Excerpt
from Witch’s Bane:
Roxanne
Lantry—Roz to everyone who knew her—paced up and down the sodden lawn outside
the huge old Victorian that housed the Witches’ Northwest Coven headquarters in
Seattle. Rain pelted her from beneath a gunmetal sky, but it was better out
here than inside. She fought an unfamiliar thickening at the back of her throat
and balled her hands into fists.
“I
will not cry,” she muttered to an inquisitive ground squirrel that ran across
her boot tops, but telling herself and controlling her emotions were two
different things.
One
of her two best friends, Colleen Kelly, would be getting married in less than
half an hour. Roz had been inside, in the midst of all the bride-craziness, but
seeing Colleen swathed in cream-colored lace sent her into a tailspin.
What
the fuck is wrong with me?
She
kicked at a hummock of grass and yelped when it didn’t move, but the pain from
her stubbed toes helped her focus. If she was honest, not an easy task when men
were involved, she knew exactly what was bothering her.
“Yeah,”
she mouthed the words, lecturing herself. “Two failed marriages and a whole
bunch of loser dudes before, after, and in between. I’m jealous and I need a
good, swift boot in the backside. Just because Colleen finally stumbled across
Mr. Right doesn’t lower my odds of ever finding someone who’s gorgeous and
magical and worships me.”
Now if
I could only believe that…
Roz
was happy for Colleen and Duncan, the Daoine Sidhe she was marrying. They made
a great couple, but surely there was enough connubial bliss in the universe to
sprinkle a little her way too. Her last go-round with a strikingly handsome
Oklahoman she’d met online had ended in fireworks when he’d admitted all he
really wanted was to tap into her magical ability. When the rubber met the
road, he didn’t even like women. Her stomach churned. She hated being made a
fool of. She’d turned the guy in to his Coven for false advertising and laying
a trap to delude a fellow magic wielder, but she doubted they’d done much to
censure him.
Water
dripped off her nose. She stuck out her lower lip and blew upward, but the rain
kept on dripping. Roz shook her fist at the low-hanging clouds, recognizing it
for displacement activity. What she really wanted to do was pound her fist
through the Oklahoman’s nice, straight nose.
Enough
of this. Give it a rest. That happened months ago.
For
Christ’s sake, I need to get moving, go inside, and trade my jeans and serape
for fancy duds.
Roz
took a few deep breaths to settle her angst. She couldn’t show her tear-stained
face to the world. She’d never live it down. When she closed her eyes, the
Oklahoma asshole formed behind her lids, taunting her. Roz clenched her jaw and
summoned a calming spell. It seemed like cheating, but time was short. As the
wispy edges of magic caught her up, they soothed her frazzled nerves and she
turned hard right and headed for the house at a brisk trot.
She,
Colleen, and Jenna Neil were the last of a long line of demon assassins.
Witches with specialized powers, they lured Irichna demons, immobilized them,
and sent them packing to the netherworld. When things worked right, she and her
sister witches—along with Colleen’s familiar—shanghaied the demons and locked
them behind the gate guarding the Ninth Circle of Hell.
The
demons didn’t go without a fight, though, which was what had killed off the
other demon assassin witches. It didn’t help that demons as a group had been
gathering power these last fifty years or so. Witches lived a long time, but
they were far from immortal, and demon assassination ability was genetic. She,
Jenna, or Colleen would have to produce children or that strain of magic would
die out. None of them had a shred of domesticity, so no one had signed up for
motherhood. At least not yet.
I
can’t put two weeks together without a major demon battle these days. How the
hell could I take time off to raise a kid?
Rain
ran down her neck and Roz shivered. Thinking about demons chilled her bones.
Realizing she’d stopped walking, she plodded toward the house again and forced
her thoughts to the magicians’ supply store she owned with Colleen and Jenna in
Fairbanks, Alaska.
The
other two witches had moved there months ahead of her. She hated the idea of
all that snow and cold and winter nights that lasted twenty hours, but she’d
boxed herself into a dicey situation and hadn’t had much choice. Her temper,
never very controllable on a good day, had gotten the better of her, and she
made short work of her cheating husband and his two—yup, count ’em—girlfriends.
After that, she’d packed up and headed her aging Subaru north. Next stop,
Fairbanks…
That
had happened a few years ago. So many, it was almost time to move on before
anyone noticed she and the other witches didn’t seem to grow any older.
Roz
shook her head, not wanting to go there, either. She forced her mind back to
the special skill she shared with Colleen and Jenna. She hated to admit it, but
demons held the high cards these days, and she had no idea how to even the
odds.
Aren’t
I just the queen of cheerful?
She
gave herself a mental shake with instructions to snap out of her funk.
Roz
made it to the huge house and tugged on one of the ground level doors. When it
didn’t open, she hit it with a jolt of magic, and the deadbolt snicked aside.
She stopped long enough to shake water off her and then loped down a long
corridor with a concrete floor toward one of the old mansion’s many stairwells.
Fluorescent lights, recessed into the ceiling, gave off a sickly yellow gleam
that matched her sour mood.
She’d
just begun climbing upward when a rush of footsteps sounded from the hallway
below.
“There
you are,” Bubba, Colleen’s familiar, cried out and leapt up the stairs after
her.
Roz
glanced over a shoulder and saw he was in his normal form: a three-foot-tall
changeling with oversized feet, long arms, and a bow-legged gait. His shaggy,
black hair had been brushed until it shone, and his dark eyes glittered
mischievously. Colleen had a hell of a time keeping him dressed, but today he
sported black pants and a black jacket over a white shirt.
“Yes,”
Roz countered, still feeling out of sorts. “Here I am. The question is why
aren’t you upstairs with everyone else?”
“Colleen
got worried. She sent me to hunt you down.” Bubba crossed his arms over his
chest, looking pleased with himself.
Roz
rolled her eyes. “Bubba, look—”
“Uh-uh.”
He uncrossed his arms and waggled a finger at her. “Niall. Remember, you all
promised to use my real name from now on.”
“So
we did. Crap! I don’t have time for this.” She unkinked her neck and trudged
upward.
“No
kidding,” he agreed. “Everyone’s here, and you’re not even dressed yet.”
Rather
than focus on her shortcomings, Roz changed the subject. “You’re looking pretty
spiffy, bud.”
“Do
you like it?”
“What
I saw of it. It’s sort of like a black tuxedo, but with Velcro instead of
buttons.”
“I
hate buttons.”
Roz
grinned in spite of herself. “I know you do, sweetie.”
She
came to the third floor landing and pushed the stairwell door open, holding it
for the changeling. “Run and tell Colleen I’ll be there in about fifteen
minutes.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked briskly halfway down the
long hall and let herself into her bedroom. Locking the door behind her, she
unlaced her wet boots and toed them off. Next she shucked her sodden clothes,
ducked into the bathroom, and gathered strands of coal black hair, pulling it
into a ponytail with both hands. Once she had her hair together, she wrapped
her head in a towel. She didn’t believe in hair dryers, so once she’d soaked as
much water as she could into the towel, she grabbed her comb, made several
sections, and plaited her knee-length, straight-as-a-stick hair, weaving it
into a pseudo-French braid.
Before
she left the bathroom, she inspected her face in the mirror. She never wore
makeup because it made her look like a clown. Her bronzed skin and stark bone
structure declared her Native American blood more clearly than words could
have. She smoothed her eyebrows with a few drops of water and considered which
of two outfits to wear. Colleen had said it didn’t matter to her, so long as
Roz didn’t show up in her usual tattered blue jeans and combat boots.
With
a snort of amusement, she padded back into the bedroom and pulled a long,
beaded black buckskin skirt off a hanger. She stepped into it and laced the
side fastening. Next came a turquoise deerskin top, also beaded, that clung to
her like a second skin. In addition to not bothering with makeup, she also
didn’t care for underthings, so the outline of her breasts was clearly visible
through the soft leather. She slipped a heavy silver and turquoise necklace
over her head, arranging her braid on top of it, and grabbed a matching ring
off the dresser.
The
only thing left was her moccasins. Roz wriggled her feet into them, enjoying
the way the deerskin warmed and hugged her feet. Jenna always wore high heels,
but Roz had never understood how she could tolerate them. They’d had a few
heated discussions years ago before Roz finally gave up.
“To
each her own,” she told the mirror. Satisfied she looked presentable, she
focused the threads of her calming spell, strengthened it a bit to make certain
she’d last through the ceremony without breaking down and bawling like an
idiot, and let herself into the hallway.
The
buzz of a crowd reached her from the main floor. She glanced toward the stairs
and then the other way, wondering if Colleen was still up here. Figuring it
couldn’t hurt to find out, she walked two doors down and knocked. The door flew
open almost immediately and she looked into an accusing set of pale blue eyes.
“It’s
about fucking time,” Colleen exclaimed. Auburn hair with lily of the valley
woven into it swirled around her, falling to waist level. At six feet, Colleen
was normally a good four inches shorter than Roz, but today she wore heels and
they were of a height.
“Huh?”
Roz murmured, confused. “I almost went downstairs. I had no idea you were
waiting for me.”
“We’d
planned to all go down together.” Colleen sounded sullen. “You know, like a
proper wedding party.”
“If
we were all that proper,” Roz said, “Jenna and I would be wearing matching—”
Jenna
made chopping motions with both hands and unfolded her well-rounded frame from
off the bed. Blonde hair, hacked off at shoulder level, framed a gamine’s face
with shrewd, hazel eyes. Rather than her standard, thrift store couture, today
she wore a short beige silk skirt, a lacy blouse, and her trademark high-heeled
boots. Huge, golden hoops graced her ears.
She
walked to Roz’s side and looped an arm through hers. “Don’t think anything of
it. The bride—” she waved an airy hand Colleen’s way “—has been antsy as a
scalded cat all day.”
Colleen
closed her teeth together with an audible clack. “Maybe I’m making a mistake.”
Roz
and Jenna turned to stare at her. “What?” Jenna asked, incredulous.
“Hey,
if you don’t want him—” Roz began.
“No
shit,” Jenna interrupted. “Tall, blond, drop dead gorgeous. Those green eyes
are to die for and those shoulders.” She made panting noises. “The couple of
times I saw him without a shirt, I almost came just watching his muscles rustle
beneath his skin when he walked.”
Colleen
rolled her eyes. “You two are impossible. Can’t a bride have a case of jitters
without her two closest friends turning into vultures?”
“No.”
Roz looked down her nose at Colleen. “Considering how long and hard I’ve hunted
for decent partner material…” She let her words trail off before the extent of
her jealousy leaked out.
The door
blew inward and Bubba marched in, hands on his hips. “Come on. Everyone’s
ready.” He lowered his voice, but not by much. “I think Duncan’s worried that
you—” he pointed at Colleen “—got cold feet.”
“She
nearly did,” Jenna muttered.
“Aw,
crap. Guess I need to go tell everyone the wedding’s off.” Bubba did an about
face, but before he could sprint through the open door, Colleen snatched him
up.
“You’ll
do no such thing.” She swallowed audibly. “I’m ready. I guess.”
“Let
go of me.” Bubba writhed in her grasp.
“Not
before you promise to keep your mouth shut.”
Roz
smirked. Circumspection was not exactly the changeling’s long suit. She walked
to Bubba’s other side. “I’ll take him.” She held out her arms.
“I
can walk,” the changeling said with a great deal of dignity, “as soon as
Colleen lets go of me.”
“You
haven’t promised,” Colleen said. “Please, sweetie. It’s important to me. A girl
needs to have some things stay private.”
He
blew out an annoyed sounding breath. “All right. I promise.” Colleen relaxed
her grip. Shaking himself like a dog might have, the gnome-like changeling
chuckled. “Too bad. Something like that’s a prime piece of gossip.”
Colleen
broke into a broad grin. “Right up your alley, eh?”
Roz
made shooing motions. “Let’s get going. You don’t want all that food the Sidhe
catered to get cold do you?”
“I
don’t care about food,” Colleen mumbled. “I’m so nervous I probably won’t be
able to eat a thing.”
“Well
I do,” Jenna said. “I’m with Roz. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Have
a couple belts of whiskey,” Roz suggested. “It’ll do wonders for your nerves.”
The
hallway air brightened and shimmered. When it cleared, Titania, Queen of
Faerie, shook floor-length silvery hair out of her ice blue eyes and pushed it
over her shoulders. A diaphanous gown, more jewels than fabric, floated around
her tall, thin frame. “Is there some problem?” she inquired with asperity, and
her gaze zeroed in on Colleen.
Colleen
half curtseyed.
Roz
considered it, but didn’t because Titania wasn’t her queen.
“No
problem at all.” Colleen inclined her head. “We were just on our way.”
The
Queen of Faerie’s severe expression softened. “Thank the goddess. For a minute
there, I was afraid you were going to break Duncan’s heart.” She strode forward
and thumped Colleen’s chest with a bony forefinger. “If you ever hurt that boy,
I’ll hunt you down and make you very sorry.”
“That
boy—” Colleen held the queen’s gaze “—is a thousand-year-old man.”
Titania
furled her perfect silver brows. “Details. Besides, it’s rude to contradict me.
Privilege of age and rank and all that. Let’s go. I haven’t performed a
marriage in centuries. I’m quite looking forward to it.”
Colleen’s
eyes widened. “I thought Naomi, the leader of this Coven, was going to join
Duncan and me.”
“We
both have roles to play.” Titania’s mouth twitched. “Surely you didn’t think
I’d let one of my own be bound in marriage without my magic involved.”
“I
have no idea what I thought,” Colleen managed, but she looked ready to throttle
the queen.
Before
things got any tenser and Colleen started in about it being her wedding, Roz
herded them out the door and down the hallway. Colleen stopped for a moment at
the head of the stairway, tension rolling off her in waves.
Roz
wrapped an arm around her. “It will be fine,” she whispered. “Just fine.” After
a quick hug, she let go.
As if
those six words did the trick—or maybe it was the hug—Colleen swept down the
long, curved staircase, looking regal. Roz, Jenna, and Titania jostled one
another as they made their way down the twenty-five steps. Bubba made an end
run around them and fell in behind Colleen, where he picked up her lace train.
They
marched through the dining area where caterers and witches bustled about laying
out a spread of food that smelled delicious, into a large, luxurious room that
took up much of the bottom floor of the old Victorian. At one point, they’d
talked about having the ceremony outside, but the weather put the kibosh on
that idea. Roz wondered why they’d wasted their breath even considering an
out-of-doors event. It was the winter solstice in Seattle. She bet there’d
never been one when it wasn’t raining like crazy—or snowing.
Chairs
lined the wood-paneled great room, and a fire burned merrily in a huge stone
fireplace that took up one end of the sumptuous space. Old-fashioned
chandeliers were festooned with hundreds of blazing candles. Witches sat on one
side of a center aisle, Daoine Sidhe on the other. Roz guessed between three
and four hundred people were in attendance—more Sidhe than witches. Everyone
turned in their seats to stare at Colleen, and a collective aaaaah surged
through the room.
Roz
clamped down on a grin. Colleen really did make a lovely bride, with her Irish
complexion and red tresses. The creamy lace dress was perfect. White would have
made her look washed out. Titania strode around all of them and took her place
at the head of the room. Roz noted with amusement that Naomi held her ground
when Titania tried to push her to one side.
Before
she and Jenna left Colleen to find their seats, her gaze landed on Duncan—Lord
Regis—and her heart nearly stopped. All Sidhe had an ethereal beauty, but
Duncan practically glowed. Dressed in a black tuxedo with a crimson cummerbund
and diamond studs, he cut an impressive figure with his high forehead, sculpted
cheekbones, and strong jaw. Longish blond hair had been braided in tight rows,
but the severe style suited him and make him look like an ancient warrior.
Roz
averted her gaze, afraid he’d catch her staring, but he only had eyes for his
bride. She said a quick prayer asking the goddess’s blessing on their union and
turned toward the witches’ side of the room.
Because
Ronin came up from her other side, she didn’t notice the Sidhe leader until he
wove an arm around her shoulders. “I saved you a chair next to me.”
Her
heart slammed into double-time rhythm. She’d met Ronin two weeks before at his
castle in northern England, and they’d shared several spirited conversations
over meals. Something magical and electric had sparked between them, but she’d
chalked it up to everyone’s emotions running full tilt. She’d just escaped
demons by the skin of her teeth, and he was dealing with shame or guilt—or
whatever he felt—about forcing witches into being demon assassins two centuries
before. While his attentiveness had been welcome—and more than a little
flattering—she’d been more focused on her relief at being alive than anything
else. Besides, after the Oklahoman, she’d sworn off men—forever.
Ronin
smiled, not looking anything but glad to see her, and her heart did a funny
little flip-flop, in addition to beating much too fast. Dark hair hung loose to
his shoulders, and his blue eyes twinkled warmly. Every bit as handsome as
Duncan, he was dressed in formal clothing, black with a blue cummerbund, and
what might have been ruby studs.
“I
can’t,” she whispered. “I’m supposed to sit over there.” She gestured in the
general direction of the witches’ side of the room.
“No
one will notice,” he assured her and hooked his hand beneath her arm.
Roz
didn’t fully understand why she let him guide her to a padded straight-backed
chair near the front of the room and help her into it, but there was something
irresistible about his energy. Too late, she recognized a mild compulsion
spell. Anger spiked, but now wasn’t the place to give in to it. With every
shred of self-discipline at her disposal, she forced her attention to Duncan
and Colleen reciting their vows, and to Naomi, who’d muscled her way in before
Titania could get rolling.
When
Ronin draped an arm around her shoulders, she shot him a harsh look that made
him move it damned fast. Good, she thought. It’s about time the Sidhe realize
their days of pushing witches around are over. Yes, he was gorgeous, and he
seemed interested in her, but the last thing she needed was some overbearing
mage mucking things up. She still wasn’t quite certain how Colleen’s marriage
to Duncan would impact her and Jenna. They’d always been kind of like The Three
Musketeers, demon style. The permanent addition of a Sidhe was bound to have
some effect. Exactly what was hard to gauge.
Who
am I kidding? We didn’t just get Duncan. We’re stuck with his kinfolk now too.
All of them.
She
bit back a sigh. If the series of meetings a couple of weeks before in the U.K.
was any indication, she, Jenna, and Colleen would have to fight to be
recognized as anything remotely close to equal.
Roz
snuck a glance at Ronin. He sat straight in his seat, his profile
heartbreakingly beautiful. His long-fingered hands were clasped together in his
lap. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what they’d feel like stroking
her body. Warm. Electric. Compelling.
Maybe
I should give him a chance, a tiny, inner voice piped up.
Bosh.
Roz
tried for a stern note, but the other part of her brain wouldn’t shut up.
Witches
Rule
Demon
Assassins
Book
3
Ann
Gimpel
Dream Shadow
Press
68K words
Release Date:
9/26/16
Genre: Urban
Fantasy Romance
Urban Fantasy
Romance with a heaping side of Hexes, Spells, and Magick!
Book
Description:
Jenna’s a
special witch, sort of, when her magic works, which it often doesn’t. One of
three remaining demon assassins, she and her sister witches, Roz and Colleen,
are Earth’s only hedge against being overrun by Hell’s minions. On the heels of
Roz’s and Colleen’s weddings, Jenna is headed for the U.K. when a demon
confronts her. Any other witch could teleport out of the plane, but not her.
Frustration
about her limited power eats at her. It would be pathetic to get killed for
lack of skills a teenager could master.
Tristan is a
Sidhe warrior, but his primary gift is attunement to others’ emotions. He fell
hard for Jenna, but hasn’t had an opportunity to act on their attraction beyond
a few kisses because she returned to Alaska, and he’s been in the field
fighting demons.
As seer for the
Sidhe, Kiernan is haunted by visions, particularly an apocalyptic sending that
seems to be coming true. A confirmed bachelor, he doesn’t understand his
attraction to Jenna, but it’s so strong he can’t fight it. After a while, he
doesn’t even try, despite recognizing Tristan’s claim to her.
Startling truths
surface about Jenna’s magic, and then there’s the problem that she’s falling in
love with two very different men. At first she believes she has to pick one of
them, but her spirit refuses to walk away from either. It’s impossible to choose
between a seer with dreams in his eyes and a beautiful man who intuits her
every need. Standing on the verge of Earth’s destruction, will she defy
convention and follow the song in her heart?
Excerpt
from Witches Rule:
Jenna
Neil sank heavily onto her airplane seat and kicked off her high heels, shoving
them beneath the seat in front of her. With a small sigh of relief, she rotated
her ankles to take the pressure off her aching arches. She’d always loved
heels—the higher the better—and insisted on wearing them, never mind they
definitely lacked a comfort factor. Once she’d shot past six feet, she figured
it didn’t matter if she added a few inches to her already overbearing height.
A
flight attendant leaned over to hand her a pillow and blanket. Jenna tucked the
pillow behind her head as she listened to the safety briefing and estimates of
their arrival time in London.
She
closed her eyes, but it didn’t ease how tired and gritty they felt, and
smoothed her too-short denim skirt down her thighs. A red wool sweater and
matching denim jacket finished off her outfit. She’d been so excited about
getting out of Alaska and away from the layers she was forced to wear through
the winter, she’d probably underdressed for the current jaunt. Less trendy
clothes were tucked in her checked luggage, but they weren’t exactly
accessible.
The
last few days hadn’t offered much opportunity for rest. She, Colleen
Kelly-Regis, and Roxanne Lantry-Redstone—Roz to everyone who knew her well—were
the last of the demon assassin witches. Having escaped Irichna demons by a
ridiculously narrow margin—again—the three of them were on their way to the
U.K. where they could do it all over again.
Jenna
grinned ruefully. Demons running amok through the British countryside had
thrown witches and the Daoine Sidhe together after two hundred years of enmity.
It had also netted impossibly hunky husbands for her sister witches, but that
was beside the point. Staying alive was a much more front and center problem.
Because
Irichna demons had become so much more aggressive, everyone but her thought it
would be best to travel separately. She hadn’t agreed, but she’d been the one
dissenting vote. As far as Jenna was concerned, there was always strength in
numbers, but the others were convinced their current strategy would confuse the
demons long enough for everyone to regroup on the eastern side of the Atlantic.
Colleen and Roz were teleporting with their husbands. Niall, Colleen’s Irish
changeling familiar, was making his own way back home along with two Scottish
changelings, Llyr and Krae. Jenna had never been much good at teleporting, so
she’d opted to fly commercial. It would place her arrival at least twelve hours
after everyone else, but she could live with that. At least the first leg of
her journey, from Fairbanks to Seattle, and thence to New York, had been
uneventful.
Thinking
about Irichna made her shiver, so she unfolded her blanket and draped it around
her shoulders. Demons didn’t get much worse than Irichna. As Abbadon’s chosen
henchmen, they played for keeps, and Abbadon was the biggest and baddest of
Hell’s denizens, so nothing was off limits. Demon assassin witches had been a
craw in his throat for a long time, and lately he’d upped the ante to get rid
of them—permanently.
Them
means me, and I’d do well not to forget that.
Jenna
blew out a weary breath. One of her not-so-distant ancestors had been forced
into demon containment two hundred years ago by the Sidhe, breaking every rule
that bound magic-wielders, but the Sidhe hadn’t cared. In the intervening
years, demons had managed to kill every single witch with demon-assassin
ability—except for her, Roz, and Colleen. The Sidhe were primed to take back
some responsibility for ferrying Irichna to the Ninth Circle of Hell where the
gatekeeper locked them away, but that hadn’t exactly happened yet.
She
gritted her teeth and unclenched hands she’d balled into fists around the edge
of the thin airline blanket. The aircraft backed out of its slip and headed for
one of the many runways at JFK Airport. While it would be lovely to have help
with the demons, working with the Sidhe held its own set of problems. For one
thing, most of them were insufferably autocratic, which was how Jenna’s
great-grandmother had ended up being suckered into picking up the demon banner
in the first place.
Even
though Titania, Queen of Faerie, appeared marginally tolerant of Colleen’s and
Roz’s marriages to Sidhe now, she’d given Duncan quite a bit of grief over his
proposed marriage to Colleen at the front end of things. By the time Ronin, the
de facto Sidhe leader, made it clear he’d set his sights on Roz, Titania had
backed down a few notches, probably because they were beset by Irichna.
Jenna
thinned her lips into a hard line. Hundreds of years before, Ronin’s human
partner had died in childbirth, and the child along with her. Apparently, both
the Queen and King of Faerie made it clear Ronin had sunk himself by choosing
to marry someone outside his race. In the face of their indifference, Ronin had
carried his grief alone.
It’s
just like it is with humans. Everybody’s got to have somebody to look down on…
Jenna
tamped back a cynical grin. The Sidhe had made strides accepting other races,
but they had a way to go before they moved beyond their intolerant past.
Jenna
pictured her friends’ husbands, and a small sigh escaped. Like all the Daoine
Sidhe, Duncan Regis and Ronin Redstone were heartbreakingly stunning. Duncan’s
blond good looks and green eyes provided a counterpart for Ronin’s dark hair
and deep blue gaze. When Jenna scratched the surface and did a little
soul-searching, she had to admit she’d never expected to find a permanent
partner. Girls like her—well rounded and obscenely tall—weren’t exactly in
demand. Colleen was beautiful with her waist length auburn hair and pale blue
eyes, and Roz was unusual and striking. Her Native American heritage and long,
lean frame turned heads whenever she passed by.
Guess
I’m the odd witch out these days…
Jenna
pressed her lips together. It remained to be seen how her friends’ marriages
would impact their lives. Some things would have to change because she couldn’t
quite envision Duncan and Ronin simply moving in to her Fairbanks, Alaska, home
along with their new wives. For one thing, all the Sidhe maintained amazing
abodes in the U.K. Places that resembled castles more than houses.
Jenna
reined in her thoughts. There were a lot of unknowns, but the main problem
would be surviving the next few weeks. Once they got the Irichna on the run—if
that were even possible—then she could figure out more prosaic things, like if
she’d be the only one still living in Fairbanks and running their magicians’
supply shop. Before the thought even finished forming, she knew that
arrangement wouldn’t work. She, Roz, and Colleen had to stay together, and if
the others insisted on remaining in the U.K., well then she wouldn’t have much
choice in the matter. If she returned to Alaska by herself, she’d be a sitting
duck for Irichna to swoop down and overpower her.
She
shivered again and considered asking for a second blanket.
In an
attempt to divert herself and maybe unwind, though it seemed unlikely, Jenna
started to push her seat back and then remembered she wasn’t supposed to quite
yet. The plane’s engines were revving, but they hadn’t left the ground. She
heard the captain instruct the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for
takeoff and tried to relax in her plush first-class seat. If the goddess was
good to her, maybe she’d catch a few hours of sleep before the plane landed.
A
flurry of supernatural energy caught the edges of her attention, and Jenna’s
gut twisted into a sour knot. She sat up straight and craned her neck to scan
the cabin, defensive magic at the ready. Her eyes widened in disbelief as
Krae’s unmistakable form shimmered into being, and the changeling bounded into
the empty seat next to Jenna. Her long, bright red hair hung loose, and her
eyes shone like emeralds. Krae’s stocky body was draped in wide-bottomed green
silk pants and an embroidered black tunic. As was usual with changelings, her
feet were bare. The creatures drew their power from the earth, and Jenna
assumed they didn’t want layers of leather or rubber or neoprene between
themselves and their magical well. With their three-foot height, broad
shoulders, and longish arms, they looked like a missing link between humans and
the great apes.
“What
are you doing here?” Jenna kept her voice low.
“Don’t
worry,” Krae replied, not exactly answering Jenna’s question. “No one can see
me except you.”
“Where
are Niall and Llyr?”
“Niall
joined Colleen and Duncan, and Llyr is with Roz and Ronin.”
Of course,
why didn’t I think of that?
Jenna
cleared her throat. “Why did you make different plans?”
Krae
cocked her head to one side and crinkled her gnome-like face, making her look
even more outlandish. “We discussed it and decided you might need help.” A corner
of her mouth curved into a frown. “Personally, I thought it was a bit
overdrawn, but Niall was most insistent about remaining with Colleen.”
“Can
he join her teleport spell after it’s already set in motion?” Jenna was
curious, but if Krae could teleport into this aircraft, maybe the other two
could tap into a spell she’d always considered sacrosanct.
“Not
directly, but he communicated with Colleen telepathically, and she altered her
destination to pick him up. Llyr did the same with Roz and Ronin.” Krae dusted
her palms together and grinned. “Nothing easier.” The changeling swept her
agate-green gaze around the first-class cabin. “When will they feed us?”
“As
soon as we pass through ten thousand feet, which won’t be long since we just
took off.” Jenna paused for a beat. “If you weren’t thrilled about the plans to
get to the U.K., why didn’t you speak up back in Alaska?”
“We
did. No one listened to us. Roz and Ronin were so wrapped up in lust and pawing
at each other, all they wanted to do was get to his manor house as fast as they
could.”
“Well,
they did just get married,” Jenna pointed out in defense of her friend. “And I
don’t recall anyone but me voicing concerns about splitting up to travel.”
“That’s
because you weren’t paying attention, either. Look, sweetie, if the Irichna
win, no one will be tupping anyone.” Despite being much shorter than Jenna, the
changeling managed to send a withering glance her way.
“Point
taken.” Jenna shot an equally scathing glance back. “Next time, if you feel
strongly about something and no one’s paying attention, talk louder.”
“Rehashing
the past is a waste of time.” Krae bounced up and down in her seat. Jenna
considered telling her to fasten her seatbelt, but if no one could see her,
there wasn’t much point. “Be sure to take everything they offer foodwise,” the
changeling instructed. “I’m hungry.”
“Shouldn’t
be a problem since I’m not.” Jenna lapsed into silence.
“Why
so glum, witchy girl?” Krae trained her ancient eyes, which probably didn’t
miss a trick, on Jenna.
“Oh, no
particular reason.” Jenna stifled a snort and rolled her eyes. “I find facing
death several times a day downright exhilarating.”
A
bell sounded, and the fasten seat belt icon winked out. Moments later, the
first-class cabin flight attendant leaned close. “Are you all right?”
“Why
wouldn’t I be?” Jenna snapped and then winced at how surly she sounded.
“I
heard you talking and thought maybe you needed something.” The flight attendant
smiled encouragingly. Airlines had moved past using Barbie clones long since,
and this woman was middle-aged with streaks of gray in her dark,
shoulder-length hair, the beginnings of wrinkles around her blue eyes, and a
kind expression.
“Food,”
Krae prodded, not bothering with telepathic speech.
“Thanks
for being concerned.” Jenna managed a genuine smile for the cabin attendant. “I
am hungry, so snacks would be appreciated whenever you get around to serving.”
“Of
course.” The woman smiled back. “I’m Suzanne.” She tapped the nametag hanging
around her neck. “Just press your call button if you need anything. Other than
that, relax and enjoy your flight.”
“You
could’ve been a bit more assertive about our dinner,” Krae complained.
“I’m
guessing they can’t hear you, either.” Jenna switched to telepathic speech.
“Of
course they can’t.” Krae blew out an annoyed-sounding breath. “Look,
witchy-girl, draw a spot of magic and shield your speech. That way no one will
bother us, and we can talk.”
Feeling
like an idiot because she hadn’t come up with the idea herself, Jenna drew the
requisite spell before she spoke again. “I was actually hoping to sleep.”
“You
can do that after we eat and talk.”
Jenna
turned to face the changeling and raised a quizzical brow. “This is starting to
sound bigger than you. Whose idea was it for the three of you to split up, and
for you to join me?”
Krae’s
generous mouth twitched into a grin, and she jabbed a finger in the air between
them. “Smart witch.”
“You
didn’t exactly answer me.”
“No.
I didn’t.”
Jenna
pressed her tongue against her teeth to manage her annoyance. The last thing
she needed was a rousing game of twenty questions, so she trained what she
hoped was a non-confrontational gaze on Krae and shrugged. “We have seven
hours, feel free to take your time.”
The
changeling’s green eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re burning up with
curiosity. I can smell it.”
Jenna
didn’t bother to point out she was so trashed from the past few weeks that she
doubted she had enough energy to burn up with anything. Suzanne handed her a
bottle of water and a tray with an assortment of appetizers. The flight
attendant had no sooner moved on to the next passenger than Krae bent over the
tray and dug in.
The
changeling looked up after inhaling half the finger sandwiches and most of the
nuts. “Sure you don’t want any of this?”
“Help
yourself.” Jenna adjusted her seat so it tilted backward, twisted the cap off
the water, and drank deeply.
“Beer,
wine, or a cocktail, miss?” a masculine voice asked.
Jenna
glanced up at a cabin attendant she hadn’t seen before. He was tall and rangy
with very blue eyes, white-blond hair, and a gold band on the third finger of
his left hand. She swallowed a smile. With looks like his, he might have begun
wearing the ring in self-defense, to slow the tide of women throwing themselves
at his feet. He arched a brow and gestured toward the drink cart.
“Um,
maybe a cup of coffee with a side of Irish whiskey.”
“Excellent
choice.” He beamed at her, displaying very white, very even teeth. He may have
winked, but she wasn’t quite certain. “Would you care for cream or sugar?”
“Both.”
Once
he handed her drink over, she uncapped the small bottle of spirits and dumped a
little into her cup. She’d traveled through so many time zones already, it
scarcely mattered whether it was evening yet, and the liquor might have a
salutary effect. The steward’s gaze traveled up her body in frank appraisal
before he moved to the passenger across the aisle. Jenna’s face warmed a few
degrees. What the hell? Was he sizing her up for a quickie in one of the
plane’s johns?
Krae
twisted her head and stared at the man. The air glistened wetly where the
changeling deployed magic. She wasn’t particularly subtle, and the man’s spine
stiffened, but he didn’t turn around.
“He
felt that.” Jenna pitched her mind voice just for Krae and shielded it to boot.
“Indeed
he did.” Krae narrowed her eyes. “Do you know what he is?” Jenna shook her
head. “Pity,” the changeling went on, “neither do I.”
“I
don’t think it’s a good idea to send more magic his way,” Jenna murmured. “As
it is, what you did tipped him off. How did you know something was wrong?”
“How
else?” Krae shrugged. “I almost missed it, but something…odd drew my attention
when he looked at you. If he’d been human, his gaze would have held more heat.
Instead there was an…unnatural hunger.” She hesitated. “More like he was
relieved he’d found you rather than wanting sex.”
A
shudder iced Jenna’s blood. Unlike Roz and Colleen, she couldn’t simply
teleport off the airplane. Her heartbeat sped up. “Maybe you should leave,” she
told Krae. “No point in both of us being trapped.”
“Uh-uh.
We hold our ground for now. It’s possible his presence has nothing to do with
you.”
“Not
very fucking likely.”
Krae
picked up another small sandwich and stuffed it into her mouth. Jenna snuck a
peek at the steward just in time to see him disappear through the curtain
separating first class from the remainder of the aircraft. Because she was
desperate for information, she sent a tendril of magic snaking outward and
yanked it back as soon as she determined the man wasn’t an Irichna disguised as
human. Duncan had run up against one masquerading as a priest near the Witches’
Northwest Coven headquarters in Seattle. It had lured two female teenagers and
would have drained them of life if Duncan hadn’t intervened. As it was, he
wasn’t certain either had survived because he’d left them at a hospital and
hadn’t hung around long enough to find out.
Jenna
ran options through her mind, not liking any of them. She didn’t want to end up
in a pitched battle inside the aircraft. Hell, they’d probably lock her away as
a terrorist the minute the plane landed, and Irichna would pick her off from
her cell.
“I
was serious,” Krae’s out loud voice intruded. “There’s at least a small
possibility he’s simply some sort of mage. He might have gotten a magical hit
off your aura and was curious.”
“What
did you want to talk about earlier?” Jenna changed the subject because she
could speculate about the mystery steward from now until he made a move against
her, and it wouldn’t change the outcome, other than making her more aware to
watch out for him.
“How
much do you know about my race?” Krae countered, answering Jenna by asking a
question of her own.
“Mostly
what I’ve gleaned from living with Niall for forty years. Why?”
Krae
popped the last sandwich into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “We’ve always
known we would have a key role to play in major battles against the Irichna.
It’s written in our histories, and we’ve prepared as best we could.”
Jenna
drew her brows together. “Niall never mentioned it.”
“It’s
quite possible he didn’t know. We’ve done our damnedest to keep that particular
bit of knowledge quiet, so the Irichna wouldn’t target us before the time came
to play our part. Not that we didn’t inform our people—and try to coach
them—but Niall’s been gone for a good many years.”
Jenna
rolled her shoulders to offset the iron bar of tension sitting between them.
“You sound like a preacher threatening the latter days are nearly upon us.”
“They
are.” Krae’s expression turned deadly serious.
“More
whiskey, miss?”
Jenna
started at the sound of the steward’s voice. He’d returned to the cabin so
quietly, she hadn’t heard him. “Um, no.” She resisted the temptation to look at
him. It would give her more information, but that was a two-way street.
“As
you will, miss.” He pushed the drink cart past her. It made quite a bit of
noise, which led her to suspect he’d used magic to muffle his presence earlier.
How
long had he studied her without her knowing?
Why
hadn’t Krae sensed him?
Worse,
he’d apparently made his way back to the front of the plane, pushed the
rattling cart past her, and served other passengers without alerting her to his
presence. Not good. Jenna shielded her mind—just in case—and clamped her jaws
together when he sashayed into the curtained galley alcove between first class
and the cockpit. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, and her throat was dry.
It was looking like she’d need to do something, but what would attract the
least attention?
Krae
uttered a muted expletive in Gaelic, bolted from her seat, and whisked after
the steward. Jenna stared after the changeling with her mouth hanging open. She
pushed upright, remembered her seatbelt, and fumbled with the clasp. By the
time she was free of it, a flash of multicolored light practically blinded her,
flaring above, below, and through the curtain. Heedless of the other first
class passengers, who couldn’t sense expended magic anyway, she threw her power
wide open.
Jenna
didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it whistled from between her
clenched teeth. She drew her lips back, hissing in satisfaction once she
realized the blast of power had come from Krae, not the man. Balancing on the
balls of her stocking-clad feet, Jenna strode forward and pushed past the
curtain.
The
steward was shaking his head back and forth, his face screwed into a mask of
pain. Power flashed from the changeling’s hands. “No more,” he rasped,
tottering from foot to foot. “I won’t hurt either of you.”
Jenna
dragged an invisibility spell over all of them, layered a don’t look here spell
over that, and prayed to the goddess no one would enter the small, enclosed
space for the next few minutes.
“What
are you?” She shoved the question hard into his mind.
“I
already figured that out,” Krae said sourly. “He’s a minor demon sent to keep
an eye on you and report back.”
“I
already told you I hadn’t,” he whined. “And I won’t. You can bind me with
magic.”
“That’s
not good enough,” Jenna growled. “Demons lie.”
“So
do changelings and witches.” He shot her a venomous look that belied his promises
of non-interference.
“We’re
wasting time,” Krae said and settled into a low chant.
A
look of horror twisted the steward’s handsome face into something
unrecognizable. He tried to walk past them but clearly couldn’t move. The air
thickened, took on a blackish tinge, and stank of ozone just before smoke rose
from the creature and he vanished.
Jenna
drew back, impressed. Whatever Krae had done was magic well beyond her own
abilities. Footsteps sounded on the far side of the curtain. Suzanne. Jenna
recognized her energy and ducked into a passenger restroom. If Krae was
powerful enough to banish the demon, shielding herself from the flight
attendant should prove trivial. Kicking herself for being sloppy, Jenna pulled
the magic from her spells to make the cramped galley appear as normal as
possible.
“Paul,”
Suzanne’s voice was pitched low, “your drink cart’s here. Where are you?”
Jenna
flushed the toilet and splashed cold water on her overheated face. She took her
time drying off and settled her features into a bland expression before
stepping out of the john. With a nod and a smile at Suzanne, she pushed the
curtain aside and returned to her seat. Krae was already there, doing her best
to mask a self-satisfied grin.
“Okay,
I give up.” Jenna eyed the changeling. “What did you do?”
“Teleported
him outside the plane. Nature took care of the rest.”
Jenna
thought about it. “While it’s good he’s gone, how will we know he didn’t report
in somehow?”
“We
won’t,” Krae said shortly. “Which means we’ll have to be very careful not to
lead the enemy right to wherever we’re staying after we land.”
About
the Author:
Ann Gimpel is a
national bestselling author. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began
writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has
appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the
gamut from urban fantasy to paranormal romance. Once upon a time, she nurtured
clients, now she nurtures dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against
reality. When she’s not writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and
dirty with her camera. She’s published over 30 books to date, with several more
planned for 2016 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and wolf
hybrids round out her family.
@AnnGimpel (for
Twitter)
Very cool cover work!
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