Witch Interrupted Read online

  “Go on,” he encouraged.

  “You have an excess, more magic than you’re used to. I used to be able to handle a lot because of how often I amped up, but everyone has limits. My guess is you’ve never overdrafted.” She grinned. “Better add that to your charts.”

  He didn’t appreciate her levity. “We need to fix it. At once. I feel like rubbish.”

  She considered him with what seemed like actual sympathy. “The easiest thing to do for an excess is burn it off. Waste not, want not. I used to use cayenne—it can store whatever you throw at it.”

  “Yes, if you want to create explosions.” Cayenne was troublesome enough when filled with a standard amount of magic. It irritated the skin, requiring additional magic to relieve pain. The layered, supercharged cayenne some keepers created was harsher.

  “You did say you needed a backhoe or some magical TNT to remove your constraints,” she said. “I used to layer it with a whole coven’s worth of power. Carried it around my waist in a hidden pouch so nobody would know what I was doing.”

  “How does one use it without significant damage?” he asked, distracted by curiosity. And where would they get a coven’s worth of power? “Cayenne that strong blisters the skin down to the dermis or worse. That’s not practical.”

  When Katie raised her eyebrows and started to answer, he lifted a hand. “Never mind. I can’t prime cayenne anyway. I need you to remove the excess for me.”

  She gestured toward the front door. “I bet if you shift, it will take care of the overdraft and your bruises.”

  Why hadn’t he thought of that?

  Ah, yes. Because he hadn’t had a chance to prepare for this phase of the experiment. Irritated and stiff, he undid the many latches on the front door and hurled it open. Once in the bright morning sunlight, he willed the wolf to take over.

  Nothing happened.

  Just as witches could run out of power, wolves could become form stuck if they shifted too many times in a row. Marcus hadn’t shifted since yesterday, but this didn’t feel like empty. Or overfull.

  It felt like something was barricading his wolf.

  Ignoring Katie in the doorway, watching him, he crouched on the ground, placed his knuckles in the mulch and closed his eyes. With all his might, he compelled his body to shift.

  His extremities prickled as if they’d fallen asleep. Otherwise, nothing happened.

  He sprang to his feet and nearly crumpled. Katie was there, bare feet sunk in the pine needles, to catch him. “Whoa. Take it easy.”

  “Can’t shift.” He was fairly certain he could walk on his own but let her support his weight as they shuffled to the trailer. Pinecones and bark pricked his soles. “Before you ask, I’m not form stuck.”

  He shook her off and climbed the stairs like an old witch at the end of a third pass-through. The weakness, the anesthetized senses and the bodily aches had started after Katie had given him her magic.

  This was no mere excess. So what was it?

  Yes, he hadn’t prepared, but everything he’d calculated had indicated witch and wolf magic were the same. Transferrable. A witch could use magic from a wolf without issues; so should a wolf be able to use magic from a witch.

  Magic was magic. It was a neutral force, created inside a shifter, neither good nor evil. Whether taken or given, it would change nothing about the power itself. A witch could take magic directly from a wolf and prime cayenne with it to use in any spells. He shouldn’t have any issue using Katie’s magic to shift into a wolf.

  “That makes sense,” she said, her chin on her hands as she perched on the other side of the small table. “Would a sausage biscuit help? Because it would help me. I’m starving.”

  He realized he’d been thinking aloud. And had seated himself at his computer, booted it up and begun several mathematical computations to assess the power transfer.

  “We need to view my aura and lattice,” he said, right before his stomach let out a loud grumble.

  “Breakfast first. How can you concentrate when you’re hungry?”

  “I can’t.” He closed the laptop and considered nearby food sources. He didn’t often eat at restaurants, but his weekly grocery run had been delayed.

  Katie popped up. “I want to go to the rendezvous point. I’ll use one of Tonya’s masks from our go bag, and you can use one of yours.”

  “Food only,” he corrected. “While Tonya and your father have amnesia, Vernon knows all about us.” The more he thought about it, the more he realized Lars probably hadn’t murdered Vernon yet. He would interrogate and torture the old witch first.

  “Vern won’t tell Lars a damn thing,” Katie said.

  “He may not have a choice.” Had she forgotten how keepers employed calming mix? “It takes time, but they can extract information from people one way or another.”

  “Compulsion magic can take weeks to function as a truth serum. Vern’s crafty. There’s no way he would have broken yet.”

  Marcus rubbed his temples, wishing Katie were…easier. He had no idea which one of them was right, but he didn’t plan to endanger her. Them. “I’m not driving you to Garner.”

  “We’ll see,” she said in a tone that left little doubt they’d have another argument about this.

  She got dressed, washed up and found her backpack in the time it took him to put on a shirt.

  His progress seemed unduly lopsided. Perhaps the disproportion wasn’t all him. Katie was friskier than he’d ever seen her. Determined, even. Her depression yesterday had been a concern. He’d tried to keep her from activating the combat bonus, but it seemed probable that he’d failed.

  “Precisely how much has your refill pace increased?” he asked. “Are you flush already?”

  “I’ve a ways to go before I’m flush,” she said, answering only his second question. “Keep in mind—my reserves are larger than most. I heard a rumor I’m alpha.” She was at his side, already, car keys jangling impatiently. “Do you really need that?”

  Marcus slipped the bay capsule into his pocket. “I hope not.”

  “Look, if you still think I…” Her lips tightened and she quit speaking.

  “You’re not the only convex witch, Katie.” He could see it bothered her, but it wasn’t a protection against her. Was it?

  “I’m just the convex witch who’s ready to go now,” she said. “You don’t even have on your shoes. Hurry up.”

  Partly because it was smart and partly because she was dancing with impatience, Marcus triple checked his utility kit before dosing himself with some primed heal-all. It helped. He offered it to her, and she waved it off.

  “Heal-all? How bad do you feel?” she asked. “Shall I drive?”

  “I can drive.”

  With a little smile he didn’t trust—but which he still liked, for some reason—she handed him the keys and followed him to the car. Once they were on the road, he struck up a conversation. If he kept her mind busy, perhaps she’d relent on the matter of the rendezvous. The local pack, the coven and any number of elders might be combing the Birmingham territory by now, keepers or no keepers. Unnecessary risks weren’t on his agenda.

  “Tell me about your permabrands,” he encouraged. Magical tattoo artists like Katie were extremely exclusive. Rare to begin with and crazy expensive, they worked through agents and concealed their identities, else they’d be constantly bombarded. “Could you create one that was a mask?”

  “With some effort.” As much as she was fidgeting in her seat, tapping her fingers and rearranging herself, he thought she might be closer to flush than she’d let on. “They’re not simple spells. It wipes me so completely I get a dry socket in my brain, and the components aren’t always easy to come by.”

  “And a witch can only sport one brand at a time?” He considered the possibilities. The mask he wore right now would wear off in approximately three hours. To be free of the daily need to mask would be a relief.

  “That’s right,” she said. “I’d go for 20/20 vision, but I ca
n’t tattoo myself. And if you’re thinking of asking for a brand—”

  “I’d choose a mask.” Heal-all wasn’t necessary—or hadn’t been before today. “Are your brands as attractive as your dragons?” he asked, trying to get another smile out of her.

  The corner of her lip twitched. That was close enough. “Unfair comparison. I don’t want to get rid of my permabrand customers.”

  The conversation paused as they hit a drive-through. Katie indicated she wanted him to park with their food, and he did, assuming she needed to avail herself of the facilities. He unbuckled his seatbelt. He’d have to stand guard so she didn’t give him the slip.

  Instead of getting out, she turned toward him. “I want to check the rendezvous point.”

  He leaned against the seat, slumping a little. This again. “Not safe.”

  “You have a mask already. I brought my mask. We’ll drive by the post office, and you can use your wolf senses to see if there are any suspicious characters hanging around before I go in. I really doubt Vernon gave us up, but we can take precautions.”

  “My nose doesn’t seem to be working,” he reminded her. “For example, this smells delicious.” He held up the bag of biscuits. “I know what goes in fast food. It shouldn’t smell delicious.”

  “We have to do something. We can’t pretend my family isn’t in trouble.”

  “We are doing something. The experiments will give us a huge edge in bargaining for what we want.” With the region elders, if not the keepers. “Patience.”

  “I just want to find out what’s happening outside the Airstream. If we check the post office, I promise I’ll—”

  “No, you won’t.” Sighing, he tore open the biscuit bag and arranged it on the seat between them like a platter. “I know your priorities, Katie, and whatever you’re about to tell me isn’t your priority. You’ll break that promise and any others that interfere with your goals.”

  Though their discussion was contentious, she didn’t raise her voice. “Like you’re any different? What if there was a chance your sister would be waiting for you?”

  “My sister’s dead. Checking the rendezvous point is an unwarranted gamble, even with masks.” He dumped extra sugar in his coffee, not looking at Katie. He understood why she kept misleading him. If there was anything she could do for her family, she meant to do it, at the cost of her own life—or his.

  That didn’t mean he was willing to make that choice.

  “Well, my family isn’t dead. We both know I’m never going to let this go. Stay in the car and I’ll go in. My face would mean nothing to anyone but the keepers, and they—”

  “We aren’t separating again. I’m not saying this to be cruel, but I believe Lars caught your family. The likelihood of a message being at the post office that wasn’t there yesterday isn’t sufficient payoff.”

  “It is to me.” She crumpled a biscuit wrapper, her expression mulish. “This question has to be answered.”

  “Not immediately, it doesn’t.” Her loyalty and tenaciousness were admirable. But barreling into a situation wasn’t the best way to succeed. If they were going to mount a rescue, she had to heed him. He wasn’t the one overwhelmed by loss. He had perspective.

  If he’d had Katie’s assistance when Elisa had turned, could her perspective have resulted in success? Could Elisa and the child have survived?

  He’d had no one then and had placed his trust in the wrong people. The sympathizers and Tonya Applebaum had meant well but performed poorly.

  So had he.

  “I didn’t go when I could have,” Katie reminded him. Her discretion did evidence an improvement in her behavior. “I waited until we could discuss it. I want to agree.”

  “You want my assistance.”

  “I want your help.” She bit angrily into another biscuit, chewed, swallowed. “And you want mine.”

  He wanted more than her help. He wanted her trust. He wanted to trust her. He wanted their façade of teamwork to be real teamwork. If he negotiated here, would that build a bridge between them?

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “I want to believe you won’t trick me anymore.”

  “Twice now, I could have disappeared. But I’ve stuck with you.” Unexpectedly, she scooted toward him, biscuit forgotten. She caught his shoulder. “Please, if you don’t feel safe going to the rendezvous point, can I go alone? I’ll come back to you, Marcus.”

  He needed more than that. “Will you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best bet.” She stared straight at him. “And I like the sex.”

  “The tests have been successful, except for the one,” he acknowledged. They’d been so intent on their conversation, he’d forgotten the fact his wolf was on the fritz.

  She clarified. “I don’t like the tests. I don’t like the charts. I don’t like the science.”

  “Then what do you—”

  “I like the sex. With you.”

  Her words seemed heavier than a factual statement. “Because I’m a wolf and you possessed a certain curiosity.” Wolf lust. He’d smelled it on her from the first and known what the keepers had done to her because of it.

  “That I did. But no.” She touched his jaw, lightly, as if confirming the length of his stubble. He hadn’t taken the time to shave in days. “I realized last night if you were someone else, I would not be okay with this. I would not help someone else, and I would not ask someone else to help me. I would not come back to someone else.”

  “Since you haven’t done this with anyone else,” he said, nonplussed by her intensity, “you can’t be sure of that.”

  “No?” She regarded him with wide, bright eyes and that same faint smile that mystified him. Her lips had a tiny dimple in one corner, an indention he only noticed when she wasn’t…angry. It was a precursor to the dimple in her cheek that appeared when she was amused. “Would you do this with anyone else, Marcus?”

  For some reason, she was leaning into him, close enough to kiss. His gaze dropped to her lips. “My experiments? I approached a former colleague I suspected of being alpha, but she notified the elders who notified the keepers, and I—”

  “Yeah, I don’t actually want to know that.” She backed off and shoved both hands under her legs. A shutter closed over her expression, rendering it neutral. “I want to go to the rendezvous.”

  Marcus had never been great with women. People, actually. People’s behavior, human or shifter, didn’t abide by formulae. He suspected he’d just stomped on Katie’s feelings, or her toes, or her plans to wheedle him. Something. He’d driven away her smile, the one that did funny things to his insides.

  Would she really come back to him?

  Did he really want her out there alone?

  “All right,” he said, going against logic. This wasn’t safe. This wasn’t smart. But confirming there was no message might help Katie settle. “Put your mask on. No other detours.”

  * * *

  After they cruised the post office, Marcus’s confiscated ball cap tugged low over his eyes, Katie directed him to a lot several blocks from the rendezvous point. They would cut through a well-populated area—a public playground and a kitschy shopping district—to reach their destination.

  They left the car in the large, crowded lot, taking a few essentials in case of emergency. His chattiness had disappeared. The farther they’d driven into Birmingham territory, the twitchier he’d gotten. At this point he practically jangled with nerves. Whatever her magic had done to his wolf senses, he wasn’t adjusting to their loss well.

  But that was a puzzle for later. Right now, Katie was just relieved he’d agreed to come. She was growing more and more reluctant to be at odds with him. They needed each other.

  “Relax,” she told him. Her scientist had only been living incognito for a year and hadn’t perfected the art of nonchalance. Not only was he jumpy enough to attract attention, but she was responsible for making him this way. “The coven and the pack might be searching the Birmingham territory to figure out wh
at the hell happened at the tattoo shop—”

  “There’s no ‘might be.’ They are.” Marcus jammed his hands in his pockets. In one he had his beloved bay capsules, and in the other he had a few spell pods—formulated for throwing, in the event skin contact wasn’t feasible. They’d do a wolf no good because they weren’t primed, but he’d insisted on a weapon of some sort. They’d left the gun in the Airstream, and the tire iron would have been conspicuous. “We could be walking into a trap.”

  “I avoided capture for twenty years. Give me some credit. Covert is my middle name.” She had spell capsules and packets stashed on her too—and enough power to use all of them. She’d forgotten how convenient the combat bonus was. The magic boosted her confidence and sharpened her determination.

  Marcus muttered something.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I assumed your middle name was Chaos.”

  “Ha, ha.” She took his arm, slowing his pace so they’d look like a typical couple out shopping. “Before you, there was no chaos. A couple relocations, the occasional biker gang or drunken fraternity group trying to talk us into giving them tattoos. You brought the chaos.”

  “I feel like shit.”

  “Because you brought the chaos?” They strolled past a bistro with several outdoor tables full of coffee drinkers. The scents floating past—pastry and coffee beans—were delicious despite the fact they’d had sausage biscuits an hour ago.

  Marcus inhaled, his nostrils flaring. “Because of what you did. I could use more caffeine.”

  She gestured. “You want to—”

  “No.”

  Grump. Not that she had anything to smile about in the grand scheme of things, but a grin tugged at her lips. “We’re nearly there.”

  The busy postal building sat between a bank and a historic home converted into offices. Birds chirped, and the sun shone warmly. Nothing pinged Katie’s radar. It looked exactly like yesterday. The parking lot had no cars she recognized, though Vern would have parked elsewhere.