Enspelled Page 21

  They only lifted their heads curiously at Vale’s arrival, but shot to their feet at sight of Katarina, the male placing his big body in front of the female’s until she bit his ear.

  He shook his head and sent her a disgruntled look, but moved so they stood side by side.

  They must be Heath and Sophia.

  Vale nudged her with his shoulder before jerking his nose toward the couple.

  “Oh, right; you can’t talk,” Katarina muttered. At their dry expressions—she swore Sophia raised a brow—she threw her hands up. “Hey, I don’t know what sorts of things you’re capable of. I’m a witch, not a were.”

  A snort sounded beside her. Apparently even wolves succumbed to sarcasm.

  “Well, part-witch, part-warlock at the moment,” she clarified, before telling Sophia and Heath everything Christabel told Vale.

  “So basically, you have to do the impossible without opposable thumbs.”

  The wolf beside her moved swiftly enough to knock her off-balance.

  “Hey! I was only being realistic.”

  He just looked at her.

  Sophia rolled her eyes and moved past, Heath close on her heels. They both stopped to nod at a cat Katarina hadn’t noticed sitting in the hall behind them. The animal wasn’t…normal, but then what could she expect from a pet taken in by werewolves?

  Still, it seemed to smile when it realized she watched it, like she was missing out on a joke.

  “You were-people are strange as shit,” she whispered, hoping Vale hadn’t heard.

  This time when he slammed into her, she landed flat on her ass.

  He loped off after Sophia and Heath, the cat following close on their heels. It was barely audible, but Katarina heard the soft laughter of at least a dozen voices as the feline passed by.

  This house is something from a horror movie.

  By the time she regained her feet, there was a crash downstairs, followed by fierce growls and ripping sounds.

  The smell of incendie sûr wafted toward her, and she prayed Christabel had been right and it was only a very, very good fake.

  Or else they would all burn.

  Looking around, she didn’t know where to go—the creatures moved so fast, she’d lost their trails in a minute flat. The pole at the end of the hall seemed inviting enough, and at least she knew it would take her downstairs.

  Once her feet hit the ground, she could sense enough to know where to find the battle taking place. From the animalistic yelps and growls mingling with human curses, she knew fight was occurring somewhere off to her right.

  She hesitated when she caught sight of the weres she was meant to call allies holding their own against those who were supposed to be her kind. More warlocks than she’d anticipated, including another fledgling.

  Until now, she was still a warlock in training. The moment she brazenly betrayed members of her float that would completely change. She’d be an almost powerless witch again, so weak no coven would deign to take her.

  If she helped the warlocks now, however, she might be able to regain her place in the float. Maybe even move up in the rankings so she wouldn’t be the lowest.

  It was certain that whichever side she helped would win, limited powers or not. She tipped the scales, because she had a trick up her sleeve not even Christabel knew about.

  In her pocket was the talisman the float didn’t know existed. She’d wanted to brag about the find—she wanted to show that she was worth something—but she’d opted to keep it to herself, lest one of the higher-ranking fledglings steal it from her, or more likely, kill her for it.

  The talisman was powerful enough to kill for, and more than powerful enough to win this fight and many others.

  She allowed herself to weigh the options for a moment. Only then, when her decision was made, would she throw herself into this fight.

  Chapter 17

  IF she was meant to be burned, Briony refused to meet her fate lying down.

  Most everything happened for a reason, but sometimes the winds of karma blew in the wrong direction, and she knew this to be one of those times.

  Nothing good could possibly come from the death of her and Sebastian. She wanted to beg these warlocks to spare him, but her current form prevented her from communicating with anyone other than her comatose mate and Gris-Gris. Not to mention, warlocks were hardly known for their compassion.

  Wake up, sweet, she urged, nudging Sebastian with her paw. Please. I need you now.

  When they finally reached her, one of the warlocks stayed back, his hands pressed together tightly, but the scarier of the two kneeled down…to pet her fur. Instinct she hadn’t realized was hidden inside her sensed deceit, filling her mouth with an acrid taste that made her want to spit, to bite. Surely blood would get this taste out?

  Despite the unfamiliar urges, she tried to keep her hackles down. She could play his game…until she ripped out his jugular.

  The thought made her ill, but it was her only option. All she had were claws and teeth, and the man was well within her reach. The thing was, she’d never purposely hurt anyone, discounting any incidents involving potions and herbs that looked like one another.

  Teeth or claws, she thought to herself frantically, knowing her moment would end the second the warlock moved away, out of her reach. All he had to do was get a single drop of his weapon on her before lighting a match.

  Wetness splashed against her fur, right above her heart. More than a few drops. Panic rose, but Sebastian’s voice in her mind cut it away.

  Teeth.

  Unwilling to miss her chance, she didn’t stop to look at Sebastian before she lunged for the warlock, letting the same instinct that had told her to bite him in the first place take over.

  Only her teeth couldn’t meet his throat. There was a sort of shield protecting him, one she couldn’t see. It explained his willingness to come so near a werewolf while his companion kept a safe distance, wringing his hands.

  Whatever was barring her from his throat, she could sink her teeth into it, meaning it could be ripped away, exposing him. He poured the incendie sûr on her, coating her fur. Her skin burned, the feeling strangely similar the sting of a particularly strong toner.

  Sebastian chose that moment to rise, his lips peeling back to reveal a set of deadly sharp teeth.

  The warlock only grinned and produced a lighter.

  The moment Sebastian forced himself between her and the warlock, Briony pulled away with the shield still clutched in her mouth. It was spongy, like a physical padding he’d hidden with magic.

  An amateur move—this wasn’t a real warlock, but a fledgling. From what she’d learned from her time around Radburn, she had no doubt this man wasn’t as far gone as he seemed.

  Don’t kill him, she pleaded, hoping Sebastian was in full control of himself. He’s not one of them yet. There may be hope for him.

  Sebastian stopped himself a hairsbreadth away from biting into the fledgling’s face. A feral growl rose from him, sending goosebumps up the other man’s pale neck. Damn it, Bree—he’s trying to kill all of us.

  He doesn’t know not to.

  Cutting her an irritated look, Sebastian lifted his paws to push the fledgling onto his back.

  Briony made a point to watch the other man in case he tried to hurt Sebastian while his back was turned.

  Appearances could be deceiving, but the younger warlock’s partner seemed ready to wet himself. Why the hell did the float send these two to kill us?

  Then she understood.

  They didn’t. There was another part to their plan, a piece she had no way of predicting just yet.

  “How the hell are you talking to me?” the fledgling cried, squeezing his eyes shut. He reached up and covered his ears like a child. “Stop it! Stop talking to me! They know what you’re saying; you’re only making your case worse.”

  In a flash of a movement he reached down, took his lighter and thrust it toward Brion
y. Sebastian didn’t hesitate; he clamped down on the fledgling’s wrist, tearing through muscle.

  The man screamed and dropped the lighter, but his companion raised a match of his own.

  Briony’s heart fell.

  Two figures, followed closely by a third, came racing down the hall. They had to be Sophia, Heath and another, unfamiliar wolf.

  The unfamiliar wolf passed the mated couple, his bright eyes wild. The fearful warlock shook his open bottle incendie sûr at him, his hands trembling, but the were treated the inflammatory like an annoying rain. He didn’t back down but lunged at the warlock’s legs, bringing him to his knees.

  The match landed directly in the wolf’s fur, where its flame quickly died.

  That’s not really incendie sûr.

  Sebastian laughed inside her mind. No, sweetheart. It’s not. As quickly as the relief washed over them, he stilled, ears moving forward.

  There are more of them. Briony couldn’t sense anyone else, but she had a feeling Sebastian did. It made sense—they put their weakest out in the open while stronger warlocks remained hidden under glamour and spells, protected, until the moment they struck.

  She didn’t know how many warlocks there were, but with her and Sebastian restrained they were outnumbered.

  Not to mention they could hardly fight those they couldn’t see.

  It was a reflex to mentally run through the motions of an old spell that, when completed by a true witch, drew glamours away. Feeling silly for wishing she could wield magic as a wolf, she put the spell out of her mind. That’s not my life anymore.

  Even if forgetting spells, especially in a crisis, was like forgetting to breathe.

  Did you do that? Sebastian growled while he mentally spoke with her, looking every bit the predator that he was. His attention wasn’t on either of the weak warlocks, the younger of whom Sophia had dragged away and was currently circling. He was watching the air just beyond Heath…because it was flickering like a weak lightbulb.

  Maybe, Briony answered, both bemused and exhilarated. Could she use her magic now, even in this form?

  Don’t let them attack me for a minute. She closed her eyes, ignoring Sebastian’s responding growl. She needed to focus and as of now, the fight was taking place out of her reach.

  Maybe if she tried the spell again the glamour wouldn’t become unsteady. It would be ripped away. Then the weres would stand a chance against even the strongest of warlocks.

  Centering herself with a deep breath that felt both calming and bizarre in this unfamiliar body, she concentrated on truth and the purity of the honest self. I want answers, she thought, reaching out with her magic, and you’re going to give them to me. You will show us where they are.

  The flickering stopped, and for a moment that immobilized her heart, Briony thought her spell had the opposite effect from what she wanted.

  But the warlocks had merely moved closer to Sophia and the fledgling, where they could be seen as clearly as the chains that bound Briony and Sebastian from helping in the fight. Now that she could clearly see, she knew there were three of them, two men and one woman.

  And none of them had the same fear in their eyes as the two warlocks who lacked glamour, those warlocks who depended on infantile protections and the stealth of others.

  At sight of the newly exposed warlocks Sebastian went wild, jerking at his bonds and trying his best to put fear in the hearts of their enemies. He kept himself slightly in front of Briony, but she was only scared for him. Even if they didn’t hurt him, he was on a direct path to take off one of his own legs if he pulled much harder.

  Please don’t hurt yourself.

  He didn’t so much as pause. Trust me, whatever I break tonight will be healed by sun-up.

  She shook her head at him, catching sight of the strange werewolf jerking around in a full one-eighty to face a young woman who’d appeared on the opposite side of the hall.

  It was the same woman who’d given her wax earplugs at the ball, except now her face was free of makeup. The other difference was the lack of confidence in her expression like there had been then. She simply stood in place, her eyes wide with indecision.

  When the unfamiliar werewolf howled, a mournful sound that made even Briony’s stomach twist in sympathy, the woman jerked as if she’d been slapped.

  Briony held her breath as the woman ran into the fray, one hand in her pocket, the other raised in front of her, palm-out.

  A male warlock advancing upon Sophia crumpled to the ground.

  “You bitch,” the female warlock snarled, taking something out of a pack at her hip. Whatever it was, she cupped it in her hands and grew taller, her limbs stretching thin and growing bug-like joints.

  If she wasn’t terrifying enough already, a sword at least eight feet long appeared in her hand.

  “I think wolf shish kabobs sound nice,” she roared in a voice that had deepened at least two octaves. “Topped off with little warlock fledglings…both of Katarina and Eliot if a certain manboy can’t get the drop on at least one were.”

  Laughing, she swung the blade down…to pierce through the heart of the terrified warlock Heath and the other male were had backed against the wall. Feeling sick, Briony forced herself not to look away from the threat, despite her visceral urge to block out the sight and smell of blood.

  The frightened warlock that the fledgling came here with was dead.

  The blade turned toward Heath. He didn’t have time to avoid its wrath—the direction it was headed would behead him in a single strike.

  Shield!

  Protection was one of the most natural gifts for witches—legend had it, they were meant to protect the earth from humans and animals who were determined to destroy it. Briony didn’t know a single witch who couldn’t throw up a shield at the drop of a hat.

  Thank God for magic.

  A split second before the sword would have hit Heath, Briony’s shield rose to stop the blow. Emitting a sharp, keening sound, Sophia ran to check on her mate before twisting to face the woman who came so close to killing him.

  I think she’s even scarier than you, Briony thought wryly. Spit flew from between Sophia’s bared teeth, and she moved so quickly the warlock had no hope of so much as nicking her with the sword.

  Just wait ’til you see me fight without chains, Sebastian answered.

  It’s a date.

  While the fight was still completely out of Sebastian and Briony’s reach, both Katarina and Sophia engaged with the disfigured warlock woman while Heath and the were who could be his doppelganger fought the remaining warlocks.

  Both men were distracted. They repeatedly glanced over their shoulders to check on Sophia and Katarina, not-so-subtle moves their opponents did not miss.

  More than once, Briony had to throw up her shield to protect them from either a blade or powder thrown at them while they were distracted by the increasingly bloody fight between the three women.

  “Who’s doing that?” a warlock roared furiously when his small dagger changed its trajectory from a beeline to the back of the strange werewolf’s neck to becoming lodged in the ceiling.

  The were slashed him across the chest, drawing blood.

  Stop or they’ll target you, Sebastian commanded on a deep snarl.

  Briony didn’t respond. She couldn’t promise him she’d stop protecting her new packmates in order to save herself. It was a notion she knew Sebastian would never consider—he’d lay down his life for any of them.

  Her hair stood on end. She was being watched carefully, and her reaction wasn’t to Sebastian’s concerned looks.

  It was the fledgling, Eliot. Seemingly forgotten by the weres around him, he stared at her, waiting to see her make a move he could report to his betters. She could hardly blame him; that woman had threatened to kill him, and she already killed the man the fledgling came here with.

  Sophia leapt up to sink her teeth into the woman’s too-thin leg at the same time K
atarina released something from her talisman that made the warlock turn white, her eyes growing wide with shock.

  She fell to her knees, a tangle of hair and limbs.

  Finally Sophia released her, her mouth bloody but her eyes bright. Katarina plopped down next to her, gently petting her fur and earning a mild growl in response.

  “I know it’s her, the smaller wolf chained over there. She keeps interfering.”

  At Eliot’s words, the frowning older warlock met Briony’s gaze. From the narrowing of his eyes, she knew she’d been caught. She braced herself, praying he wouldn’t go through Sebastian to get to her—which would be difficult to avoid, given his crouched stance only inches in front of her.

  The moment the warlock moved in her direction Heath plowed into him, his right paw outstretched.

  It was then that Briony noticed the tattoos from his human form had transferred to his canine body. They were glowing, twisting from one side of his body to the other, and rearranging themselves into different places like pieces of a puzzle.

  His paw went through the warlock, but unlike the earlier cuts across his chest, this blow drew no blood. It only left a smoking hole the man gaped at until his jaw went limp, followed by the rest of his body.

  Briony felt her shoulders sag with relief. Now they could rest peacefully until the sun came up and their chains fell loose.

  Or not.

  Sebastian’s panicked howl tore through the air. He still hadn’t moved from his stance blocking her from the fray.

  What is it? she asked.

  Sophia!

  The female warlock’s sword raised slowly, her movements subtle enough that Briony hadn’t noticed her regained consciousness. But Sebastian’s call alerted Sophia and Katarina in time for them to attack. Katarina held a hand out, freezing her in place, while Sophia lunged for her throat.

  Briony turned away so she only had to hear the sickening sound of one warlock who was now very, very dead.

  Eliot, the last surviving intruder, actually whimpered.

  In Briony’s mind, the now-shaking man was no longer a threat. She finally allowed the yawn that had been rising escape her throat as she lay down, burrowing into Sebastian’s side when he did the same.