Witch Interrupted Read online

The guy wrenched back, but Marcus’s wolf-inspired strength would put any human to shame. They stood there, snarling at each other, like the front pair in a square dance of hate. More people stopped to watch, whispering, and Katie couldn’t convince them all to put away their stupid phones.

  She had to end this.

  Business suit guy lurched, jumped and pushed, but Marcus didn’t budge. A fierce grin lit his handsome face.

  “You’re on meth.” Sweat beaded the human’s brow. “Crazy redneck.”

  “It’s a fight,” someone said excitedly. “You getting this?”

  Hell, hell, hell. There was nobody around to wipe the memories of these humans. Let the redirection commence.

  Katie inserted herself between them, flung her arms around Marcus and kissed him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Marcus forgot all about the dolt who needed to be taught a lesson and caught Katie before she could get away. Her lithe body plastered against him. Her cheek bumped his chin. She raised herself onto her toes, and her lips found his.

  Her mouth was warm. Anxious. This wasn’t desire. She meant to distract him. In his peripheral hearing, the dolt yelled some nasty things and strutted off, as if he’d won the argument.

  Marcus didn’t care. He’d been a testosterone-addled idiot to fight a human in public, and Katie’s ambush was the reminder he needed.

  That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to turn it around on her. He wouldn’t be manipulated anymore. They’d escaped Lars together, barely, but that didn’t mean he could trust her. What they did, whether they kissed—that was his call, not hers.

  When he tolerated the embrace but didn’t respond, she opened her eyes.

  “My hero,” she said, her expression apprehensive. “You saved me. Can we go?”

  Marcus hadn’t been certain he should kiss her. Kissing was personal, an exchange for lovers. She was his to test, not his to love. He’d been aware that she’d wanted him to kiss her before and had denied her several times.

  But since she’d started it…

  He captured her lips, parting them roughly. The sweetness of her mouth lured his tongue, and he licked inside her, tasting and retreating. When her tongue answered his, his fingers dug into her back.

  He explored her lips until her scent edged from worry to passion. She needed to remember who was in charge, and why, and how quickly she would lose herself if he willed it. Her hips pressed him. Her hand caressed his neck, his shoulders. When he bit her lip, she let out a breathy little moan only he could hear. She curled her tongue against his upper lip, inviting him to continue.

  “Get a room,” someone yelled.

  If they’d had a modicum of privacy, he’d have wound her up until she was aching and wet before stopping. He couldn’t let that part of himself rule.

  Despite his best, most mature intentions, his cock hardened.

  Abruptly he set her away from him.

  “Your reminder was well-timed.” He forced his voice to come out measured and unaffected.

  “You’re welcome,” she said gruffly, her cheeks flushed and her lips reddened. “I thought that might be less conspicuous than kicking your ass.”

  As if she could. He’d known he was stronger and faster after the transformation, but he’d just taken out three trained keepers and had zero injuries to show for it.

  It was one of the first times he’d truly appreciated what it meant to be a wolf.

  “Adrenaline is tricky. I haven’t been in many confrontations in the past year.” He took her hand and led her across the street toward the garage, trying to walk as if he didn’t have an erection. Yet again.

  “This wasn’t because of the spell Lars cast?”

  “The berserker spell? I don’t think so. That forces a shift and temporary…ah, rage.”

  “Feral.” She shook her head. “Like wolves need encouragement to freak out.”

  He raised his chin as the faint wail of police sirens tweaked his consciousness. It might have nothing to do with them. But it might be cops responding to the fracas at the tattoo parlor and the bridge. He increased his speed as much as he could without making Katie trot.

  “Do you hear something?” she asked.

  “Sirens.” They reached the garage and ducked their heads, hiding their faces from cameras. Since Lars had been unable to mobilize his troops in time, their pursuers would have no way of knowing they’d gone into this building unless wolves, magic or technology told them.

  Tonya’s station wagon was parked on the fourth level. They snagged the hidden key, got into the battered car—with him behind the wheel—and exited the garage. While Katie hadn’t wrecked the stolen truck, he didn’t trust her driving.

  Perhaps she’d been affected by panic and blood loss. And perhaps she’d been the one to inflict the damage on the station wagon.

  Katie buckled up. “Find a…I mean, could we find a public phone and call Vern?”

  “No.” Vernon had known the keepers were in the vicinity. The old fox would have plans and more plans. “He can handle it.”

  “I just want reassurance they’re okay, and I want to tell them I’m okay. We rendezvous in forty-eight, but anything could happen in two days.” She pulled antibacterial wipes and a spray can of heal-all out of the glove box to tend her wounds. The small magic popped Marcus’s ears. “We took Tonya’s car. What if they need it?”

  “I suspect Vernon can procure another vehicle,” he said dryly. “Wasn’t he the one who taught you everything you know? Like, say, carjacking?”

  “A witch can’t rely on magic alone.” Gunshot healed, Katie plucked briar stickers and flower fuzz off her pants from their flight through the pasture. “Where are we going? The tattoo shop isn’t far, and if we drive by it fast enough—”

  “No. Birmingham could have shown up in force or Lars may get a wolf to track us.” It wouldn’t matter to Lars if the wolf were willing; he would be all too happy to use pain to enforce cooperation.

  “If he had wolves, they’d have been able to catch us.”

  “They almost did. And now, I daresay he’s more motivated.” Lars had had no interest in treating wolves as anything but beasts when Marcus had worked for the council. Would Lars let his purism and hatred for wolves get in the way of opportunism? “He has several packers to choose from.”

  “That did occur to me,” she admitted. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “I’m a scientist. That’s the idea.”

  She grumbled one last time, more sound than words. He hoped it was an acknowledgement the tattoo parlor was unsafe. Katie herself had said she was a realist and a survivor.

  He hit the highway that led to the state park. Every minute or so, Katie stared behind them, expression pinched. He didn’t think her uneasiness was because of what lay ahead but what she was leaving behind. No matter what he thought of her character, her loyalty to her family was formidable.

  He wished she’d throw her loyalty—and magic—into his corner.

  He accepted that Katie wasn’t evil. Perhaps she never had been. He was driven by family loyalty himself, and he’d done questionable things. Like kidnap a woman, tie her up and grope her in the name of science.

  Did she mean it when she’d told Vernon she had an agreement that bound her to Marcus? Or had she been placating him until a more auspicious time to escape?

  He’d have to make sure she didn’t get one.

  He tested the power of the station wagon’s motor, satisfied it would pull the Airstream. No suspicious rattles, good response to the gas pedal. He’d noted a trailer hookup.

  Marcus glanced at Katie, who was, of course, watching the road behind them. Her lips tightened and pursed as she…well, he didn’t know what she was doing, moving her mouth like that. Her freckled nose scrunched next. Perhaps it was a reflexive gesture.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  She wrinkled her nose one last time and faced the windshield again. Sunlight reflected briefly off her glasses. “
I could eat.”

  “I have food at the trailer. I thought we’d go there first. Lars would expect us to disappear immediately.” He wasn’t asking for her thoughts, he was telling her. “So we won’t.”

  “At least not until after the rendezvous,” she said, as if it were her choice. “Birmingham won’t sense us in rival pack territory, and the Nashville pack doesn’t patrol frequently. I don’t think they bother with this border. They have more trouble with Louisville.”

  “They last patrolled in September.” The farther they traveled unhindered, the more Marcus unwound. The more he let himself think beyond escape. His bastard of a wolf subsided, thankfully, and he regained…himself. Goals beyond survival returned to the top of his list.

  Even if anyone linked him and Katie to the hijacked truck or the parking garage, they’d have no idea where the station wagon had gone. There were no traffic cameras on the quiet, wooded road to the state park. If Lars co-opted wolves, it was too wide a search radius, and Nashville territory to boot. Without a spell like Vernon’s location magic that Tonya had apparently used to find Katie the first time, there was no way Lars could trace Marcus and Katie. As long as the two of them played it safe.

  Once they reached the Airstream, Marcus could renew the perimeter spell and get back to his original quest—the experiments that would render the keepers irrelevant and hopefully liable for some of their past actions. It would take him part of the afternoon to replot his variables. After he sanitized his workspace, he could run his first test on Katie.

  Phase one. He was getting excited imagining his newest avenue of research. Could he be a witch again this time tomorrow?

  He thought of that with great satisfaction, thought of beating that son of a bitch Hiram Lars, thought of how proud Elisa would be—but then other thoughts took over.

  Tonight he’d have Katie in his bed again. His to do whatever he wanted to.

  Dammit, he had to be structured about this. His wolf had to behave.

  Scientist Marcus. He needed scientist Marcus to be ascendant tonight.

  “After you eat, do you think you can fall asleep or will you be too tense?” he asked as they approached the cutoff for the park. He’d prefer she sleep naturally. His sleep spells were weapons-grade, like the keepers’. Hit a woman her size with one of those, and she might be out for days. The delay would be bothersome.

  “Why?”

  “To rebuild your magic. We’re going to need it.” At least enough to read chi during the experiment. Once in the beginning to set the baseline, once near the peak—preferably during, but he’d understand if she was unable to concentrate—and once afterward. Alas, no combination of technology and magic had enabled him to film an aura or lattice. They had to be seen live.

  “I could use a nap,” she admitted. “Full drain yesterday, late night, joke around with Lars, narrow escape from death… Hell, I’d sleep for two days if nobody woke me.”

  He directed the station wagon off the main park road and onto the gravel lane that led to the campsites. He didn’t always stay here when he made this loop—no trailer hookups—but he kept the Airstream stocked. Yes, it was definitely looking like tonight would be the night. For scientific advancement, and that was what mattered. As long as…

  “Will a nap allow you to cast minor spells by, say, 10:00 p.m.?”

  “10:00 p.m. How specific.”

  “I like specifics.”

  “Specifically, can I call Vern’s phone at 10:00 p.m.?”

  “We already vetoed that. If they do get caught…” He held up a finger when she shot him a dirty look. “Lars could have Vernon’s phone. It could be the phone they traced in the first place when they chased him to the tattoo parlor. You want to take that chance, even from a public location?”

  She sighed. “You’re right, you’re right. Can’t call Vern.”

  Hopefully that would be the end of that. “So, your magic renewal rate?”

  She wasn’t sulking, exactly, though her expression wrinkled. “I should be able to cast minor spells by ten if I get a nap.”

  One hurdle down. The true eye mix was innocuous enough that she couldn’t subvert it into a weapon. “Can you link someone else into the true eye spell?”

  If she couldn’t, it would require a mirror and additional Q&A during the act as she described what she saw. He’d use a digital voice recorder so he wouldn’t need to pause for note-taking, but still. It would be easier if he could see her chi for himself.

  The more he considered proper procedure, the calmer he grew.

  “I’ve never been the focal of a true eye link.” She crooked a knee onto the seat as she turned toward him. The station wagon bumped to a stop. “Here we are again. Home sweet home.”

  He went around the nose of the car to open her door. Or he tried to. She was already half out when he got there. She gave him an odd look.

  “This way.” They reentered the trailer, securing all the locks. If he’d done so last night, Tonya couldn’t have busted in on them, and the rest of the day might have gone very differently.

  Katie watched him set the protection spells using his primed components. No wolf or witch would realize the people in the trailer weren’t human for twenty-four hours unless they barged through the door. That gave him ample time to enact phase one and begin programming phase two.

  “I actually need to tell you something,” she said. “Before we—do anything.”

  He dusted the chalk from the perimeter spell off his hands. “What’s that?”

  She leaned against the kitchen-cum-laboratory counter. “When I attempted to wipe your memories, I sensed something unanticipated. I assume it was your lattice.”

  “Interesting.” Marcus booted up the laptop so he could start crunching numbers after lunch. She’d observed, all on her own, one of the essential similarities between witches and wolves. The magic. Tonight, she’d realize they had even more similarities. “Did it surprise you?”

  “Does it not surprise you?”

  “I already knew. I suppose as a keeper who merely wiped your victims, you wouldn’t have viewed a wolf’s lattice, but my work for the council included it.” How much more should he share with her? How much did she care to know? She was participating in his research out of obligation. Well, obligation and sexual prurience, but mainly obligation.

  If prurience were enough to drive her, he wouldn’t be her first wolf.

  He did like that—being her first. It made his wolf—all right, it made him—impatient. Possessive. The reaction had nothing to do with research.

  But it was within acceptable parameters. Even a scientist attempting to cure cancer and take down a corrupt military organization while running for his life needed the occasional frivolity.

  “I never denied wolves have magic. That’s common sense. Biology and science, as far as I know, don’t allow a person to change into an animal.”

  He smiled, but hid it behind the refrigerator door as he assembled the ingredients for sandwiches. Despite the semi-popular belief science would one day account for shifters in Earth’s genome—or prove them to be aliens—he hadn’t seen anything in his studies to suggest their powers were anything but mystical, even if certain aspects of magic could be studied with scientific methodology. And, of course, wolf shifters didn’t realize witches existed, which might reverse their outlook about magic entirely.

  “But your essence, your magic…there was only one path for it, Marcus.”

  He’d observed that during his time with the keepers too, but disagreed it was permanent. He sniffed the bread to make sure it hadn’t molded and laid four slices on two paper plates. “Witches form new outlets for their power every time they master a spell. Mustard or mayo?”

  “Mustard.”

  “Me too.” He spread the yellow condiment with a knife. “As I was saying, witches can add to their magical repertoire limitlessly. I don’t see why it shouldn’t be the same for wolves.”

  Each spell a witch used, each ingredient or
recipe, forged a unique path, creating a lattice of connections and power. It wasn’t difficult for witches to work new spells if they had the capacity, so he ought to be able to regain the magical paths he’d lost.

  He knew how to cast the spells. He knew the magic was there, simmering inside him. But the wolf had driven a channel so deeply into his soul that the magic had nowhere else to go.

  “It isn’t the same for wolves. That’s what being a wolf means.” Though she’d watched him make the sandwiches, Katie peeled back the top slice of bread in the sandwich he’d given her to inspect the cheese, meat and lettuce. “You have one way to use your magic. One all-consuming way. It’s a tradeoff.”

  “Pack bonding ceremonies and other wolf rituals involve component-related magic use,” he pointed out. “Is something wrong with the sandwich?”

  She stuck the bread back together. “Habit.”

  “I’m not trying to drug you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I just like to see what I’m getting,” she said around a bite. After she swallowed, she returned to their topic of discussion. “Pack spells aren’t the same as witch magic. Wolves can’t cast them at will. Do pack wolves’ lattices show signs of the rituals?”

  Marcus didn’t like to eat standing. It was bad for digestion. After he wiped all traces of bread crumbs from the countertop, he seated himself at the tiny table. “No, but I’ll be able to remove my constraints. I just need a…backhoe.”

  “A backhoe,” she repeated dubiously. She sat across from him.

  “Magical TNT. That’s where you come in. But first we need to become accustomed to linking.”

  “Is that a euphemism?”

  “Magical linking.” He wouldn’t mind becoming accustomed to fucking, but outside the scope of the experiment, it wouldn’t be strictly necessary. “There are waters in the bottom drawer of the fridge if you like.”

  She got up, opened the door. “In the crisper? No veggies?”

  “I’ve sort of lost my taste for them,” he admitted. “I’d appreciate a water too, please.”

  “Just because you have magic doesn’t mean we can link. I couldn’t, well…” As she opened the water bottles, her back to him, her voice grew formal and concise. “I may have tried to use your magic to augment the spell I was working at that particular time.”