Anya Bast - Witch Blood

She fumbled with the lock, slid the door to the side and stepped outside. The warm wind whipped around her bare body as she examined the balcony. The condo was on the fifteenth floor. The only place for the figure to have gone was straight up to the balcony above. She gazed skyward, but saw nothing.

There had been something , though. She knew she hadn’t imagined it. Unless the dream had shaken her so badly, she’d hallucinated. But was it possible to hallucinate a scent? And a scent as strange as that? Like earth, but not of this Earth.

Isabelle shivered, despite the warm air. She stood for a moment, staring out into the darkness. Somewhere in the distance, thunder boomed.

A storm was coming.

THOMAS WAITED IN THE RECESSES OF GRIBBENPrison for Isabelle to arrive. Micah, his cousin, stood near him.

The building was named for the Coven director who’d had it built on the sprawling Coven-owned lands. The Council had decided long ago that witches who harmed others could not be allowed to roam free in non-magickal society. First, they posed a threat to witchdom by calling attention to themselves. Second, non-magickals were ill-equipped to protect themselves against a witch with a will to harm.

The Coven had a contingent trained to deal with those who broke the rules they called witch hunters. Wayward witches were tracked down and killed outright by Coven hunters if they posed an immediate danger to others. Witches guilty of lesser crimes or only suspected of violence were caught and brought in to stand trial. If the witch was found guilty, he was housed in Gribben, an underground facility with wardings and spellcastings cemented right into the construction by some of the best earth witches to ever live.

Here, no witch could use magick — not the tenants, not the caretakers or guards, not even visitors. Working here was no treat, so the employees tended to be witches with little inherited magick, who noticed the loss less. In addition, they only worked part-time to limit their exposure to the place.

Thomas hated being in Gribben. Crossing the threshold first made him nauseous, then, as his ability to tap his power vanished, he began to feel like a piece of melba toast — dry, flavorless, and easily breakable. It was probably how the non-magickicals felt all the time.

Some of the prisoners went mad from being imprisoned in Gribben and he could see why. The threat of imprisonment here was a very effective incentive to not break Coven law. Because of that, they didn’t have a huge problem with offending witches. Only the most incorrigible or crazy ended up in Gribben.

Warlocks, witches who had publicly turned their back on Coven law and made a career of breaking the rede, often found protection within the Duskoff Cabal. The Duskoff was as organized and as powerful as the Coven. Therefore warlocks were difficult to catch. Still there were about twenty warlocks within Gribben’s walls…along with their leader, Stefan.

“Where the hell is she?” muttered Micah, glancing at his watch.

“What’s the matter? Got dust to get back to?”

Micah was the Coven archivist and self-appointed researcher. Thomas’s cousin had always been a bookworm and had graduated top of his class at MIT, though at first glance he defied the stereotype of a book geek.

He had the same body that all the males in his family possessed — strong, broad-shouldered, and tall. Micah looked more like a well-built surfer than a scholar. His dark reddish brown hair hung a little past his collar and sharp green eyes and handsome face attracted women, though he didn’t know what to do with all that female attention. Womanizer, his cousin was not.

“I just want to get this over with and get the hell out of Gribben. I can’t believe you’re letting the woman who tried to kill Stefan in cold blood help question him, by the way.” Micah shook his head of shaggy hair. “Where does that get productive?”

Thomas shifted and leaned against the wall. “Her attempt wasn’t made in cold blood. Trust me, this woman doesn’t know the meaning of cold .”

Micah lifted a copper-colored brow. “So you think she’s hot, huh?”

Thomas ignored him. “I suspect she has a hell of a temper, isn’t someone to mess with, and I think she’s grieving. I also believe there’s something else going on with her, but I’m not sure what.”

“What do you mean?”

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know yet. Her records only went back so far. The mother is a wealthy drifter, looks like. She travels all over the world, befriending men of means.”

“Prostitute?”

“Maybe not an outright prostitute, but a woman who hunts rich men for money and trinkets. There’s no record of a father for either Isabelle or Angela. Either their mother doesn’t know who fathered them or it’s because Isabelle doesn’t have a complete set of records in the archives. I actually thought I’d get you to do some more research on Isabelle and her mother, Catalina Novak. Can you do that? Dig a little deeper than what’s there now?”

He shrugged. “I can try.”

“I get an intuitive hit off Isabelle. She’s got secrets and I think they’re the kind deep hurts are made of.”

“Why do you care? I mean, why snoop into her past? Why is that relevant?”

Thomas rubbed a hand over his chin. “I want to know what we’ve just invited onto our team. If she’s got a bunch of unresolved issues that are going to muck up our investigation, I want to know about it. Anyway, I don’t think Catalina knows her daughter died yet. I thought maybe you might discover her whereabouts while you poke around for information.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re letting her help question Stefan. She’s dragging in a bunch of baggage.”

He studied his cousin. Micah’s mother, his aunt, had been killed by a warlock when Micah had just been a child. “You have your own issues with the Duskoff and you’re here.”

He glanced away. “Don’t we all?”

“Look, Isabelle spent a long time hunting the demon and struck out, just like us. Her sister was the second witch killed. She has a right to be here.”

“Yeah, well, I have a right to not like it,” he mumbled.

They looked up at the distant sound of clicking heels on the concrete floor. Isabelle turned a corner and walked toward them, dressed in a scoop-neck red top, faded, close-fitting jeans and a pair of red boots with heels. She wore her hair loose and long, little makeup, and no jewelry.

“Damn, you were right about her being hot,” Micah said under his breath.

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, whatever. That’s why you’re practically drooling on the floor right now.”

“It’s just the water-to-earth attraction. That’s all.”

Micah gave a derisive snort. “Uh-uh. I think I’m feeling it, too.”

Dark circles marked the smooth skin under her eyes and her face was a shade paler than normal. “This place is horrible. It’s so bad my skin wants to walk away without me.” She shuddered.

Thomas frowned. “You look tired. Are you all right?”

She glanced at him, then at Micah. “I didn’t sleep well.” She stuck her hand out toward his cousin. “I doubt Thomas will introduce us, so, hello.”

Thomas fought the urge to grind his teeth. “Isabelle, this is Micah. He’s sort of our official historian and record keeper. We don’t know much about the demons, but out of everyone in the Coven, Micah knows the most.”

His cousin shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure. Now, let’s get this over with. I’ve already been in Gribben way too long.”

They passed through the set of swinging doors at the end of the hallway and allowed a guard to let them through another set, giving them entrance into the cell block. All the small containment rooms held just one prisoner each.