Gena Showalter - Unraveled

Victoria began tapping her chin again. “Perhaps, then, we will ward you against the witches. We can’t protect you from all their spells—you don’t have enough skin for that many tattoos—but we could cover the basics, the most dangerous. Mary Ann, too. No one can be warded against a spell that’s already been cast, of course, but after the meeting, when the death magic has worn off, we can ward her against another death spell. Until then, it will be wise to protect her from other curses.”

Dan would throw a fit if Aden came home covered in tattoos. And Mary Ann’s dad would probably have a heart attack if she inked anything, even something as innocent as a rose, into her flesh. “We’ll think about it. So why aren’t you warded against spells? Why isn’t Riley?” He reached out and linked their fingers.

“Some vampires are, but we aren’t around the witches enough to concern ourselves, really. For the most part, they avoid us and we avoid them. Wolves, though, can’t be warded. Their animal form doesn’t hold the ink, so it’s a waste. The moment they shift, their wards fade. I suppose we could ward Riley against certain spells for the meeting since he’ll be in human form. Knowing him, he’ll insist on going with you.”

He lifted her hand, kissed her wrist. “I don’t understand why Riley doesn’t just take over the vampire clan. He’d make an excellent king.”

And…there it was. The spark of anger that always accompanied talk about crowning a new king. Seriously. What the hell?

“The wolves have more loyalty than any other race. The need to guard is ingrained in them.”

“Well, leading is just another form of guarding. We’ll talk about that later, though. Let’s guard him for once. What do you think?” He was fighting the urge to jerk her back into his lap. If they stayed here, he would kiss her again. Guaranteed. “That witch is probably giving him fits.”

Victoria nodded and a moment later, the world around him disappeared.

A DESERTED CABIN, miles from town. From anything. Filled only with wolves, a vampire and weapons. Well, and also a blindfolded witch who was tied to a chair in the center of an otherwise empty bedroom. Not Marie, Mary Ann had realized upon first arriving. This witch’s hair was too short and too dark a blond. She wasn’t sure if that relieved her or disturbed her.

Riley had immediately begun his interrogation, and it had gone something like this:

Riley: Where is the meeting between your kind and Aden Stone supposed to take place?

Witch: Go suck yourself.

Riley: Maybe later. Meeting?

Witch: Enjoy death.

Riley: I have once already. Now, decide to talk or lose a body part.

Witch: May I recommend a finger?

Riley: Sure. After I take one of your very necessary hands.

Witch: Look, you mangy mutt. The elders will be here any day now. They had planned on contacting you. After this, well, I’m sure your invitation will be lost in the mail.

At that, frustration had filled the room. Guilt had filled Mary Ann. This had been her idea, but it had done more harm than good.

The same futile exchange was repeated three more times.

“Let me try,” Lauren finally said, moving behind the witch and placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders. Her fangs were longer than they’d been a moment ago, and there was such hunger in her eyes it actually hurt Mary Ann . In that moment, she was willing to hold out her arm and let the vampire go to town. No one should be that hungry.

But then she recalled Victoria’s words. Words uttered only yesterday, though an eternity seemed to have passed since then. Witch blood was like a drug to vampires. Once Lauren tasted the witch, there would be no pulling her off. And then Victoria, whenever she arrived—where was she? What was she doing?—would probably join the feasting.

“I’ll only nip her,” Lauren said, words now slurred. “Only take a little. She’ll start talking then. Swear.”

“No!” Riley shouted, and Mary Ann thought she saw the witch recoil.

That’s when Victoria and Aden at last appeared. Both were flushed, their lips swollen and red, glistening.

Ah. They’d been kissing.

Unlike Mary Ann and Riley, she thought sadly. They’d barely spoken since their argument in the cleaning closet. As a matter of fact, they’d hardly even looked at each other.

He’d paid more attention to Lauren in the half hour they’d been here than he had to Mary Ann, so she was almost afraid he liked the ever-growing distance between them. And oh, that burned. Lauren was utterly strong and completely self-assured. Helped that she was weighed down with weapons and clearly knew how to use them. She was fierce and brave, reliable, well able to take care of herself. Unlike Mary Ann.

Had she lost Riley already? Anger and helplessness, sadness and sorrow mixed together and filled her up. With the rise in her emotions, a warm, sweet breeze drifted to her. In and out she breathed, that breeze floating to her lungs, seeping into her veins, soothing every part of her. Just like that night in town, just like this morning with Marie, she welcomed the sensation. So good. And the taste…like candy. Sugar-coated, sparkling, fizzing.

Riley told Aden and Victoria what had been happening while forcing Lauren to move away from the witch.

“Use your voice on her,” Aden suggested to Victoria. “You know, the powerful one.” Then, “Shut up, Caleb! I’m not kidding. Her shirt stays on.”

Who was— Ah. One of the souls. Who did Caleb want to strip?

“Voiced commands don’t work on witches,” Victoria replied. She moved into Aden’s side, snuggling close, as if she couldn’t bear to be separated from him. “Their magic prevents it.”

Magic. Yes. That’s what she tasted, Mary Ann realized. Magic equaled power, and it was a heady sense of power that surged through her. She closed her eyes and savored. Felt more of that warmth, more of that sweetness, both consuming her.

She didn’t need Riley, she thought. This. This was all she needed. It nourished. It completed. It didn’t change its stupid mind.

How she was soaking that magic in, she didn’t know and she didn’t care. Just as long as she never stopped, she’d be happy.

“Fine, I’ll ask, but after that you have to simmer down,” Aden said with a sigh. Was he still talking to Victoria? Or to one of the souls? “Did you once know a guy named Caleb?” He focused on the witch.

“No,” the bound girl replied, flippant. “Should I have?”

“Did you once know a guy who could possess other bodies? A guy who died a little over sixteen years ago?”

A pause, laden with tension. “Who are you? The boy who summoned us? Don’t deny it, I can feel the pull of you. Why do you want to know about the possessor?”

Aden suddenly looked both excited and nervous. “So you did know him?”

“I didn’t say that,” she snapped. “Now tell me what I want to know!”

“First, let’s get a few of your facts straight. The summoning was an accident. I didn’t mean—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the witch growled, and that growl was far more intimidating than any sound the shifters had made. “Is it you who’s feeding off my magic right now? Tell me! I demand to know! And I demand you stop this instant, or the moment I’m free I’ll curse the skin from your bones. Do you hear me? Stop!”

Everyone in the room stilled. Someone gasped in horror.

“Feeding off your magic?” Lauren said with a frown. “No one would dare. There are no Drainers among us, witch. We would have killed the offender already.” Drainers? Killed?

Feeding —the same word Marie had used. Not muting, but feeding. Sucking like a vaccum.