Anya Bast - Witch Fury

A mound of earth doused the fire that had erupted from the burst of demon magick. In front of her the floor churned to a soil-like consistency and swallowed the demon whole.

Eyes wide and mouth agape, she stared at Theo over the mound.

“Go!” he commanded. “Get to the Coven. Now!” She went. Holding Grosset close to her, she dodged the odd grave in the center of her bedroom and dashed out the front door of her place just as the mound exploded in the bedroom and the demon roared his disapproval.

Sarafina raced down the stairs, wondering just how long it would be before her neighbors woke up and discovered the battle of titans going on her apartment. Or the floor turned to mush. How was she going to explain that to her landlord?

She kept an extra key in a holder hidden in the wheel well of her car. Holding Grosset in one arm, she found it and extracted it with shaking fingers. Across the street flashes of light burst from the windows of her apartment. She’d lose her lease and never get her deposit back at this point. The thought made crazy-sounding, nervous laughter bubble up.

As if losing her lease was her biggest worry.

Once in the car, she put Grosset on the passenger seat, jammed the key in the ignition, and took off with the tires squealing.

As soon as she got to the Coven she’d go to Thomas Monahan and send help to Theo. She only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

* * *

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? WHY WOULD AN Atrika go after you like that?” “Oh, goodie, I get to be special again. First I’m special to the head warlock and now a demon wants to cuddle with me in the middle of the night.” Sarafina dabbed a Q-tip covered in disinfectant over a nasty scratch on Theo’s face. He winced and she blew across it. Poor big baby. “This guy, Bai, asked for me by name.” Theo had come back to the Coven about an hour after she’d hightailed it there and sent some witches to aid him. She’d come into the dark, quiet Coven screaming for help, since she hadn’t known where to find anyone of importance. Thomas, Jack, and Claire had helped Theo drive the demon off.

Grosset was uninjured. It seemed he’d hit the mattress of her bed, not the wall. Now he was fed, watered, petted, and amply cuddled and curled up on Theo’s couch, fast asleep.

Theo rubbed his chin. “I guess this means what we’d suspected is true. Somehow the Duskoff have found a way to ally with the Atrika . I’d bet anything that demon was running an errand for Stefan.” “Uh, from what I read in Micah’s book, an Atrika wouldn’t be anyone’s errand boy.” “Something is drawing them together. The law of averages is against both the Duskoff and the Atrika taking a special interest in you at the same time.” “I really wish I were less interesting.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s only a couple hours until morning. The rest of the Coven might be able to make sense out of some of this.” “Have I said thank you yet?”

“You looked like you were doing a pretty good job before I got there.” She snorted. “That was a lucky shot.” “Took guts.”

Lifting a shoulder, she said, “He made me mad.” “Remind me never to do that.”

She held a bottle of disinfectant in one hand and a bag of cotton balls in the other. She glanced pointedly at his ripped and bloody shirt. “Take it off.” He gazed past her while he pulled the garment over his head and tossed it on the coffee table, looking far away in Musing Land. Suddenly, Sarafina was all there, though, momentarily struck dumb by the confusing, alluring, beautiful expanse of his body.

The first thing she noticed were the tattoos. They covered his arms, shoulders, chest, and back in swirling and swooping black tribal designs. Underneath those, or meshing with them, really, were scars — thin, white, raised ridges of flesh. Perhaps once they’d been wounds made with a knife? Maybe even a whip. The scars dovetailed with the tattoos, flirted and danced with them. The effect was clearly deliberate and oddly beautiful.

The second thing she noticed were the muscles. The sheer physical strength displayed in his upper body was as breathtaking as the tattoos. She allowed her gaze to travel the sculpted gorgeousness, every dip, curve, mountain, and valley. This was a man who took care of himself, who worked out on a daily basis and had a body fit for any male modeling job, scarring be damned.

His gaze was now centered on her and his face wore an expression of challenge. “Got a problem?” Sarafina blinked and cleared her throat. “Problem? No, no problem. Your body is just, just—” “Scarred? Disfigured? Disgusting? Pick an adjective.” “God, no, you’re gorgeous!” she blurted and immediately wished to call the words back into her mouth. “I mean, the tattoos are very well done.” “Thanks.”

She busied herself squirting some of the antiseptic onto a cotton ball. Not only was his chest decorated with ink, he had a couple of nasty gashes that needed attending. “Did you do them?” “Yeah. I had help for the places I couldn’t reach, but I did a lot of it.” “That’s crazy.”

“I do them for lots of the earth witches here, and some of the others who just want them for aesthetic reasons.” He paused. “Why? You want one?” She smiled. “Too late. Got one already.” He lifted his brows.

“You’ll never see it, buddy.” She grinned and swiped a drenched cotton ball over a gash.

He yelped.

“Sorry. Considering you just fought a demon, you’re really kind of being a wimp about this.” He only glared at her in response.

“How’d you get past the warding on my apartment, anyway?” “I created them, Sarafina, that means I can break them.” Of course. Duh. She mentally slapped her forehead. “So you were watching my place? Sitting out there on the street, monitoring me?” “Yeah.”

That was a little creepy. “So, I guess you still think I’m a bad guy.” He didn’t answer for a moment. “No. Not after tonight. I was watching you to see if—” She nodded, anger prickling through her. “You were using me as bait, weren’t you? To see if Stefan showed up again.” “Yeah, there was that,” he answered with a one-shouldered shrug. “But it was also to make sure you stayed safe. Scout’s honor.” Her lips twisted. “Somehow I can’t see you as a Boy Scout, Theo.” “Got me there. I never was.”

“I don’t want to even know what my apartment looks like after that battle. Is my landlord going to sue me for damages to his property?” Theo shook his head. “It’s taken care of. I used earth magick to clean it all up. Almost looks good as new. It’s a little messy, but there’s nothing your landlord will sue you over. I even put up a sound barrier around the place so you won’t get any complaints about the noise.” “Wow. Thank you.”

“It’s standard operating procedure. The Coven doesn’t need non-magickals asking too many questions. We’re better off left to myth and Hollywood where they’re concerned.” He winced again as she swiped more disinfectant over a gash.

“I’m sorry.”

“You know healing is a part of fire magick,” he gritted out. “It hurts a fuck of a lot less than antiseptic.” “So I read in the handy-dandy witch handbook. However, I’m not even close to trying that out.” “Why not? You’re going to have to learn sometime. Might as well be now.” “Are you qualified to teach me this lesson?” He grabbed her wrists and she jumped a little, startled. His fingers were warm on her skin and his dark, intense gaze drilled into her. “Just find your seat, be one with it, and it will flow naturally. There’s nothing to it once you find acceptance of your power. Doesn’t matter you’re coming to it late in life.” He forced her seat to warmth, made her feel the pulse of power that dwelt within her.