Anya Bast - Witch Fury

“Eat,” he barked in a low voice.

“It’s not poisoned, is it?”

He rolled his eyes, leaned forward, grabbed one half of the sandwich, and took a bite. While he chewed and swallowed, he threw the bitten sandwich back onto the plate. Sarafina stared at it, lip curled.

“See? Not poisoned.” He growled. This man always growled. It was just a natural part of his voice.

Avoiding the contaminated half, she took a bite and closed her eyes. God, when a person hadn’t eaten for a day and a half PB&J tasted like just about the best thing in the whole world.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

Well, at least he’d turned somewhat talkative. He hadn’t said much at all since they’d walked the corridor. Once in the apartment, he’d mostly just shoved things at her and grunted.

“Grosset,” she answered around a mouthful.

“Why Grosset?”

She shrugged and took another bite. “That’s just his name. That’s what the Humane Society said it was.” “He looks like a tribble.”

“He’s not a tribble, he’s a Pomeranian!” “Whatever you say.” He grunted again and pushed off the counter. “I’m going to bed. Take the couch.” “What if Grosset has to pee?”

Theo stopped in the doorway and spoke without turning around. “You’re not getting out of my place tonight, not for nothing.” She sighed and shrugged a shoulder even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “Dogs have to pee. You can’t stop nature.” She paused. “You’re not very good with people, are you?” He stood for a moment, shoulders hunched, his body going tight. Then he scooped Grosset up mid-SPAM bite and stalked out of the apartment. Sarafina smiled a little, knowing she’d just annoyed the hell out of him. That gave her a little thrill of satisfaction. Maybe now she had a nice short-term goal. Short-term since she planned to get out of here just as fast as she could.

He was good-looking in a way that would make most women’s mouths water. Tall, ripped, handsome, virile, and mysterious as all get-out.

Too bad his personality left so much to be desired.

She finished the half of her sandwich Theo hadn’t bitten and went into the living room. The first thing she did was try the door. It was locked with a dead bolt and there wasn’t a key in sight. Not that she’d leave without Grosset, anyway. Theo had found her Achilles’ heel right there.

Sarafina turned and surveyed her surroundings. Discarded clothes lay over the couch, the floor, and the card table in the corner. Loose herbs scattered the coffee table and the carpet. It was pretty clear that Theo wasn’t much of a housekeeper to go along with not being much of a cook. From the looks of this man’s apartment, he didn’t receive many visitors and Sarafina highly doubted he had any kind of a steady girlfriend, either. Of course, given his disposition, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Sarafina was the outgoing type and she had lots of friends who stopped by at all hours of the day and evening. Just because of that, she kept her place picked up. Of course, she also cleaned while she was depressed or stressed, which meant that lately her apartment had been pretty much spotless.

Right now her fingers itched to find a dustpan, but no way was she doing this guy any favors.

The thought of her friends made a small jolt of panic go through her. They were probably concerned about where she was. She wondered if they’d contacted the police yet.

Biting her lower lip and suddenly in full-on worry, she picked the clothes up off the couch without even thinking about it and cleared the coffee table. Before she knew it, she’d cleaned the whole room, piling Theo’s clothes onto his bed.

God, what did the man do, just shed his clothes as soon as he walked through the door? Did he prefer to hang out in his place nude all the time? A vivid image of him naked popped into her head and made her mouth go dry.

“That’s enough of that ,” she scolded herself under her breath and grabbed a blanket and pillow from the linen closet and threw them onto the couch.

The door opened and Theo came through, Grosset trotting at his heels. Sarafina realized with a start that she hadn’t worried for a moment about her dog in Theo’s care. She’d trusted him not to hurt her beloved pet.

That didn’t mean she liked the man, though.

Ignoring his presence, she settled down on the couch and pulled the blanket over her. Grosset jumped up to lay beside her.

Theo lingered in the doorway for a long moment. “Okay?” “Okay?” She twisted around to look at him. “Okay about what? Okay that I was kidnapped by a darling of society and had my witch powers activated? Or okay that some big un-talkative guy is holding me captive in his apartment and making me sleep on his couch after he gave me a mud bath earlier in the day?” She blinked. “Which life-altering event are you asking me if I’m okay about?” He shifted and his expression grew stormy. . well, storm ier , anyway. “You cleaned.” “Wow, your powers of observation leave nothing to be desired, do they?” She flopped onto her side so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Do you have enough blankets?”

“I’m fine. Can you please stop talking to me now?” “My pleasure. I’m going to bed.” He started to walk toward the hallway.

“Wait!” She turned to face him. “Look, big guy, do me a favor. Forget the not-talking thing. Sit down with me and pretend you actually don’t think I’m a warlock. Tell me where I am, what warlocks are, why they’re bad, and all that stuff.” “I won’t play games with you.” The words came out in an especially low growl.

“I don’t want to play a game, I just want information.” “Bullshit. You want to play me for a fool.” His voice rose. “You want the pleasure of having me sit there and tell you things you already know so you can laugh at me.” Damn it. “That was a lot of words.” She compressed her lips into a thin line. “Did saying all that give you a headache?” “I—”

“Never mind.” She turned back and rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.” “I already have.” He turned and left the room.

MICAH LAID A MANILA FILE FOLDER ON THE TABLE in front of Theo. “Sarafina Connell. We found files on some of the kidnapped witches and hers was among them.” Micah and Isabelle had been put in charge of sorting out the abducted witches they’d recovered from the farmhouse the day before.

Theo stared at the file folder. “She could be lying about her name.” He still believed Sarafina was a warlock. She had to be. Every instinct he had screamed she was dangerous, no matter the pretty package she came in.

The Coven archivist and all-around geek snapped the file open. There, paper-clipped to a sheaf of papers, was a photo of Sarafina. It had been taken while she’d been sitting at a Starbucks. She was talking with a good-looking man about her age. Her head was tipped back on a laugh, her long blond hair curling around her shoulders and falling down her back. One hand gripped a paper coffee cup, her slim arm resting on the tabletop near the man’s.

“That your woman?”

Theo nodded.

Micah flopped down in the chair opposite him and pushed one hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Then she’s an abducted witch and she’s been telling you the truth, Theo.” Fuck. He picked up the file folder and began reading the information on her. “It doesn’t make sense.” “It doesn’t make sense, I agree,” said Isabelle from across the room. She sat on the edge of her husband’s desk, one long leg swinging, foot encased in a red sandal. “Why was Stefan meeting with this woman, this one abductee? What makes her so special?” “There’s nothing out of the ordinary in her file,” Micah answered. “Both her parents were fire witches. Her father left when she was just a baby, leaving her to be raised by her very religious mother. We’re talking born-again Christian, here — fire, brimstone, and big tent revivals. There’s no way to know the mother’s story, but as near as I can piece together, being a witch sent her right off the deep end. Sarafina’s mom is famous in Bowling Green because one day when Sarafina was eight, her mother chased her out of their house screaming at her for being a witch, then burst into flames halfway down the block in one of their neighbor’s backyards.” “Oh, wow,” murmured Isabelle. “Her power killed her. Maybe she didn’t even know how to wield it. Maybe it just exploded out of her when her emotions ran high.” “Yeah, I tracked down all the old news stories on it. It freaked out everyone in town. It’s still studied by parapsychologists as one of the most well-documented cases of spontaneous combustion on record. They did a fucking Unanswered Mysteries segment on it.” “Poor woman,” said Isabelle softly. “Her name makes sense, if her mother was really religious. Does Sarafina play off the—” “Seraphim,” Micah interrupted her. “The highest-ranking angels of heaven according to Jewish scripture.” He paused and twisted his lips. “It also means burning one.” Isabelle’s jaw dropped. “Tell me you looked that up and didn’t just know it off the top of your head.” They continued talking to each other, but Theo didn’t listen. At the back of the file folder were several more photos of Sarafina. In one she held the hand of the man from the coffee shop, probably her boyfriend. The warlocks seemed to have watched her for quite some time before they’d snatched her. Gods, she really did look like an angel with all her long pale hair, creamy skin, and light blue eyes.