Chapter 13 Kit #2
They fell in a tangle of fighting limbs, both of them trying to gain the upper hand. Conroy—older, less injured, more experienced—had Kit underneath him in seconds.
“You should have just let us have our fun,” Conroy spat.
“He’s. Mine,” Kit snarled, throwing a wild punch and catching Conroy on the side of his face. Unlike Kezia, Conroy withstood the force behind it, shaking it off like it was nothing more than a tap. Conroy caught both of Kit’s wrists in one hand and pressed them into the grass.
Easily.
Too easily.
Kit struggled and flailed, his chest growing tight at being in such a vulnerable position. It reminded him far too much of other times he’d been in this exact place—below someone far stronger than him and unable to fight back. It made Kit feel fragile and all too human.
Conroy’s fangs looked sharp as he spoke. “You’re the one who came cryin’ to me, wanting the werewolf gone. How dare you—” Conroy’s words were succinctly cut off when Quin hurtled into him.
Conroy’s talons cut into Kit’s wrists before being ripped away, leaving deep, bloody scores along his hands. Turning over onto his knees, Kit saw Quin’s large jaw close around Conroy’s middle. Vampires were hardy creatures, but surely being bisected would cause a permanent death.
Before Quin could end Conroy’s existence, an odd pressure built in the air, like the atmosphere itself had become tangible.
Kit blinked at the sudden appearance of two people—a man and a woman—in the field as the pressure receded.
With a quick sniff, he could tell that they weren’t vampires or werewolves, but they didn’t seem human either.
They smelled old, like the pages of an antique book.
The woman stepped forward. She had cropped black hair, which curled around her round face, and wore so many overlapping necklaces they were impossible to count.
Despite none of the necklaces matching—there were shades from shining titanium and gunmetal grey to sunny gold and rich bronze—the combination was striking.
“Drop him,” she demanded in a vaguely Slavic accent, staring at Quin where he held a thrashing, swearing Conroy.
Quin held firm, a harsh growl forming in the back of his throat. Conroy managed an aggrieved, “Roxy, fucking help me!”
The woman—Roxy—sighed. “Werewolf, would you be so kind as to release the idiot vampire you have in your mouth?”
As Roxy spoke, the man who’d arrived with her eyed Kit. He shrank at the intensity of the man’s hazel eyes, as they seemed to burrow under the surface of Kit’s skin.
Quin still hadn’t let Conroy go. His big furry body was shaking with exertion, his chest falling and rising rapidly as his heart beat worryingly fast. Blood oozed from the bullet wound on his flank, and the blood smelled wrong, not at all like Quin’s usual pleasant aroma.
Poisoned—sickened by the silver. Kit crawled to his feet, intent on going to Quin, but a sharp shake from the unknown man’s head had him hesitating.
Whoever these two were, Kit doubted they were all-out enemies. They’d had the chance to take them by surprise and hadn’t. That didn’t mean Kit trusted them, however. Quin’s bright blue gaze flicked towards Kit, wary and pained.
Tati was patting at the bird’s nest that had replaced her perfect hair as she rushed over. “Xavier, they tried to kill us!” she cried.
“Nobody is killing anyone today.” Roxy said, before doing a double take at the crumpled form of Kezia. “Unless she’s already dead,” she corrected herself, “in which case nobody else is dying.”
Tati whined incoherently.
The man—Xavier—drifted closer to Kit. Xavier was tall, with poker straight, shoulder-length blue-black hair. He wore stacks of rings on every finger, the gemstones adorning each one sparkling despite the lack of light. “You have a dark aura,” Xavier said. “A shadow hangs over you.”
“Don’t comment on my aura,” Kit said, tensing as Xavier continued to move closer, placing himself between Kit and Quin.
Xavier smirked. “Apologies,” he said, not even attempting sincerity.
Quin growled again, drawing their attention. Tati sped over, the remains of her shirt fluttering around her. “Xavier, the beast is going to kill Master!”
“Only because you tried to kill him first,” Kit said. Done with the standoff, he ran towards Tati, intent on removing her head, but a firm grasp on his arm stopped him. He yelped, Xavier’s hand catching him where Conroy had shot him. Xavier’s grip was like iron, leaving Kit unable to escape.
Multiple things happened at once. Quin roared, dropping Conroy. Tati advanced on Kit, but Xavier held a hand out, stopping her. Roxy yelled a warning, but Kit was so busy trying to free himself from Xavier’s hold that he wasn’t sure of her exact words.
Quin came rushing towards them, but Xavier pulled Kit in front of him like he weighed nothing. Quin skidded to a halt a few feet away as Xavier’s free hand gripped tight under Kit’s jaw, forcing his head upwards. The rings on Xavier’s fingers burned hot against his skin.
“I don’t want to hurt you, little one,” Xavier said, leaning down to speak in Kit’s ear. “But if your werewolf doesn’t back down, then this might have to go that way.”
Frozen in shock at Xavier’s ability to overpower him so easily, Kit could only ask, “What are you?”
Roxy answered. “We’re witches. I’m unlucky enough to be tethered to that one,” she said, jerking her thumb at Conroy. “I’d appreciate it if you both stopped trying to murder him.”
Kit didn’t know what tethered meant, but he wasn’t in a position to argue her point.
Conroy was on his feet, dusting himself off. “Roxy, darlin’, can we talk about this?”
Roxy turned on him. “Are you quite done with almost getting yourself torn to pieces?”
Kit squirmed, wondering if he could wriggle free of Xavier. Quin kept his eyes on Kit; his twitching ears the only sign he was paying attention to the others.
Kit inched his claws closer to the witch’s thighs, intent on sticking them where it would hurt.
“Don’t even think about it,” Xavier warned, his rings heating further and making Kit hiss.
Kit left his arms dangling at his sides, impotent. Quin pressed himself closer to the ground with a growl, looking ready to pounce on Xavier.
“Just do what they say, Quin,” Kit said.
As loath as Kit was to admit defeat, he and Quin were outnumbered, overpowered and at the whims of the witches.
Even with his werewolf face, Kit could tell that Quin was unhappy.
But he lay down flat, his tongue falling out of his mouth as he panted.
The scent of his silver-tainted blood permeated the air, so thick and cloying that Kit almost gagged on it.
“Please let me go to him,” Kit said. “He’s hurt.”
“Do you promise not to attack anyone?” Xavier murmured.
“They were the ones attacking us. We only defended ourselves.”
“That may be so, but I need your word before I release you.”
“I promise,” Kit gritted out.
Xavier—to Kit’s surprise—let him go. He stumbled over to Quin, burying himself into his side. Quin’s big head turned into Kit, rubbing against his shoulder. Quin’s fur was soft where it wasn’t matted with blood.
Kit searched for the bullet wound, relief flooding him when he found only grazes.
It had been enough to get into Quin’s bloodstream, however.
Kit contemplated sucking the poison out of him, like he would with dead blood in another vampire.
But he had no idea if Quin’s beating heart would have pumped the silver throughout his body.
“Now that everyone has stopped trying to kill one another, can we have a truce?” Roxy asked. Clearly, she saw herself as the one in charge.
“We were just having a bit of fun.”
Kit peeked out from behind Quin to shoot daggers at Conroy, whose arms were thrown out wide.
“Hunting down a werewolf and one of your own is fun to you?” Roxy said in such a way that it was obvious that she didn’t expect Conroy to respond.
Conroy did anyway. “Yes?”
“Wrong answer. That’s the sort of stupid behaviour that gets you and me killed.” She turned to Kit and Quin. “I apologise on his behalf. He won’t be doing it again, because he knows what’s good for him.”
Kezia chose that point to sit up, her neck still bent at an unnatural angle. She wailed as it cracked, her broken bones healing.
Roxy spared her a glance. “Oh, good. You’re right on time for my lecture.”
Conroy went to help Kezia, but Tati didn’t spare her companion a glance. Instead, she aimed considerable ire at Kit and Quin.
Roxy clapped her hands, demanding their attention. “Now, I need a vow from each of you that you’ll not attempt to maim or kill one another from here on out.”
“Rox—” Conroy started, but she didn’t humour him.
“Conroy, I swear to Mother Earth that I’ll cut up all of your cravats if you don’t do what I say.”
Conroy’s gasp of indignation was so dramatic that—despite everything—Kit snorted a surprised laugh into Quin’s fur.
Kit shuffled out from behind Quin, who growled softly but didn’t seek to stop him. “I can’t tell whose side you’re on,” he said. “Why do you wish to avoid having them kill us?”
Roxy’s voice was softer when she responded. “You’re not part of a nest, are you?”
Kit shook his head.
“Have you ever met a witch before?” she asked.
“Not until now.”
“That would explain it. I’m tethered to Conroy. Been that way for a couple hundred years. Keeps me young, and also stops this mudak from taking me out of the equation.”
“Which Roxy knows I wouldn’t do,” Conroy said, cutting in. “Even when she calls me a shithead.”
“If you don’t want my sister to call you a shithead, don’t act like a shithead,” Xavier said.
Despite his words, he sounded bored with the back and forth.
Now that Xavier had confirmed the relationship between him and Roxy, it seemed obvious to Kit.
The siblings held themselves in the same manner—poised and confident, like they were completely in control.