Anya Bast - Witch Heart

There was a note of pride in her voice and almost wistfulness. Did she miss Eudae? It was the only home she'd ever known, yet she'd essentially been a slave there. Perhaps it was Stockholm syndrome.

"That sounds cool, Claire. How come you don't have clothes like that?"

She studied something in her lap. "Aeamon are not allowed such things."

He wasn't surprised. "We're considered inferior there." It wasn't a question. He already knew, both from his experience with Erasmus Boyle and from the research Micah was doing. "Boyle, the Atrika who tried to kill all of us last year, kept referring to aeamon and humans as cattle." He couldn't keep the note of tension from his voice.

"The Ytrayi are different than the Atrika. Please remember that. However, aeamon are still half-breeds, still considered of weaker blood. I was afforded respect because I am female and the Atrika honor females. Also because I was Rue's handmaiden and there I was—"

"You mean like his slave?" The words lashed the air. Adam couldn't have held them back even if he'd wanted to.

"We will talk no more of this." Her voice trembled with anger. Claire leaned her head back and closed her eyes, signaling an end to their conversation.

Adam knelt beside the wood-burning fire-place in the safe house's living room and kindled a small flame in the dry branches until a fire caught and held.

They made it to the Coven safe house in the early morning hours. They'd left the SUV in Hudson right before crossing the bridge over the Saint Croix into Minnesota. From there they'd waited until morning and had taken a taxi to the Minneapolis International Airport, only to stave off suspicion. Then they'd taken another taxi to their destination.

It paid to be careful.

The house wasn't just any house. It was a million bucks easy. Located in the upscale neighborhood of Crocus Hill, it was a three-story renovated home that had probably been built sometime in the late eighteenth century. It was a Queen Anne Victorian with a spindled porch, two large windows flanking it. It even had a turret.

From Thomas Monahan and the Coven he should have expected no less. They'd probably bought this place when real estate here was cheap. Hell of an investment. Now he had a good idea of how the Coven had amassed its fortune.

It was a gorgeous piece of architecture and Eliza would have known more about that than he did. What little he knew came from her. She'd always been blabbing on about her work. She had loved being an architect. And, fuck, Eliza would have loved this house, too.

As soon as they'd pulled up to the structure thoughts of Eliza had crowded Adam's mind, eliminated all others and plunged him into a very dark place. He hated it when things reminded him of Eliza, yet every day something did.

Adam, Theo, and Claire spent the first day getting to know the house, putting their financials in order, buying food, and most importantly, finding a new car. They'd paid cash for a used 1970 Dodge Challenger that had been owned by a speed freak. The car's innards reflected it. They'd figured the ability to go fast wasn't such a bad thing. In fact, it was a priority.

It was pretty. In his book, it was prettier than the house. No way in hell was he blowing that car up.

The big question on everyone's minds was whether or not the demons could track them magickally. Tonight they'd probably find out.

Soon after they'd settled down for the evening, Claire procured one of the guest rooms on the main floor as an area to play with that bastard Rue's bundle of stashed joy. The elium.

Theo had retreated to the bedroom he'd chosen on the second floor for the night, his store of comaraderie apparently used up. He wasn't exactly an outgoing guy. Sparkly personality had passed him by when he was born. Or maybe it wasn't because of genes, but rather the ordeal he'd gone through when he'd been a teenager.

Theodosius Winters was one of the more powerful earth witches that the Coven knew of. When Theo had been seventeen, the Duskoff had kidnapped him because of his strength.

The Duskoff did that sometimes, took more powerful witches when they were vulnerable in order to break them young and use them for their own purposes. If they were air witches, sometimes they used them in blood rituals or other really distasteful things.

A good rule of thumb was to never allow yourself to be taken by the warlocks.

In any case, they'd tortured Theo until he was almost dead, trying to break his spirit and turn him. They'd never succeeded and had intended to kill him. But the Coven had sent a rescue party, a young Thomas Monahan included, and broke him out before they could do that.

Theo hadn't escaped without being scarred, though, mentally and physically. He'd been in a psychiatric ward for a while after the hospital had discharged him. Eventually, he'd come to work for the Coven, having a special grudge against the Duskoff.

Deep furrows marked the skin of Theo's chest, shoulders, and back, probably made by a bull whip. Adam had seen him bare from the waist up, seen how Theo had riffed off the scars with black tribal-like tattoos all over. The tats were charged with power the way earth witches stored it. Theo packed a lot of magick on him now — all kinds of spells he'd cooked up and stored. He was the Arnold Schwarzenegger of magick.

Adam knew Theo was itching for an all-out with the Duskoff, but these days the warlocks were nowhere to be found. At least, not the head honchos, not Stefan Faucheux and his inner circle. They'd disappeared after the battle with Erasmus Boyle. Stefan had called to taunt Isabelle with the fact he'd escaped Gribben, the magick-free prison on the Coven's property, and then vanished.

Duskoff International, a conglomerate with headquarters in New York, ran like any other evil corporation these days, manufacturing goods in sweatshops, outsourcing their labor, and laying off employees. No human knew warlocks sat in the executive's chairs, of course. No human could feel the warding that circled the Duskoff building or understood the tongue-in-cheek elevator music: "I Put a Spell on You," "Black Magic Woman," "Season of the Witch," and other assorted cheesiness.

So, yeah, Theo had a hell of a grudge to bring to bear on the Duskoff these days. Most of the Coven witches did. Adam didn't. Not specifically. Adam just had gratitude to the Coven, lots of it. Gratitude and loyalty.

The grudge he bore was only against himself.

Memories rose up, coloring his vision as red and hot as the fire he'd kindled in the hearth. His hands began to grow warm and the seat of his magick tingled. He closed his eyes and forced himself to cool down.

"Adam?" came a small female voice to his left.

"What is it?" His voice came out as a growl.

Silence.

He opened his eyes to find Claire gripping the back of the fancy couch, her face as white as the fabric. Adam stood. "What's wrong?"

She only shook her head. Her knees gave out and he was there in a flash, helping her to sit. "I tried to separate the magick… but it was like pulling off my own fingernail. The elium is seared to my seat." She went green and he pulled her against him, resting her head on his chest. "I can't extract it. Not on my own."

"So don't try. Wait for Micah, okay? Pulling off your own fingernail is not cool."

"I would do it in a heartbeat if I really thought it was something so minor," she whispered. "The more I tried to separate the energies, the more it hurt. I don't think I can live though the extraction."

"Can you control it? Rue's power, I mean. Do you think you can wield your magick and the elium together?"

Claire didn't speak for several moments, only drew shuddering breaths. "I don't know yet. The one time I did it involuntarily, I passed out. Tomorrow I'll start experimenting."