Chapter 16
All the new information I’d learned from Larkin, which occupied my thoughts during the drive to Jonah’s home, was pushed aside.
Approaching the quaint brick house that Jonah shared with other witches, I wondered if I was adequately prepared to deal with a potentially hostile quasi-coven.
Too much about their magic was unknown. I rechecked my stored weapons and the few accoutrements I’d brought to protect me from magic.
Without access to my own magic, it was hard to prepare for the encounter.
Bringing another witch with me would be tantamount to a challenge.
A werewolf would be considered a threat.
Based on Jonah’s history with the Houses of Hollows and Knight, I doubted they’d even respond to me.
I knew I was being watched through the camera in the doorbell, so I wasn’t sure why someone felt the need to pull back the curtains and observe me.
When I turned to face them, their face disappeared behind the thick fabric.
Jonah was still a person of interest, and I would have preferred to catch him off guard to prevent him making up a story.
Before I could signal my arrival, the door opened.
Jonah leaned against the doorframe, using his uninjured hand to readjust the sling securing his cast against his body.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Do you really care?”
“Yes. I don’t like to see anyone in pain. I hate that I was put in a position where I had to injure you.”
“Breaking my wrist was unavoidable?”
“Of course it was. Would you have preferred Belham’s retaliation?”
Rolling his eyes, his lips beveled into a frown. “I had an escape plan.”
“An escape plan that would have gotten you out of the house but wouldn’t have saved you from facing the consequences of your actions.”
His minor irritation had notched up to full-blown anger, making further discussion difficult.
“I’m sorry I broke your wrist.” It didn’t sound conciliatory despite the effort I put into sounding sincere. Jonah’s lips formed a hard line that resembled the look he gave me.
“Why are you here?” He repositioned himself to block the entrance. He was tall and broad enough to obscure whoever was making the noise behind him.
“We need to talk.”
“So talk,” he demanded, looking down at his nails, using his thumb to push at the cuticles.
“I’d rather do it inside.”
After several beats of consideration, he looked over his shoulder. After a clamoring noise and footsteps, he stepped aside.
From the doorway, I could see the living space was a mismatch of various decorative styles.
“You share this home with your coven?”
“Coven.” He spat it out with such disdain I wondered if he’d been expelled from one.
Expulsion from a coven wasn’t common practice, but when a witch showed signs of being unable to abide by the rules, or the Archanist witch suspected they’d cause unnecessary conflict with other covens, they took that route.
From what Amelia had told me, it was a last resort.
Excommunicated witches became a thorn in the coven’s side, seeking retribution by any means.
Based on Jonah’s bitterness, he’d definitely do it.
“You have a problem with covens?”
“I have a problem with their nonsensical rules and commitment to living small. Most covens require that of their witches. They’re unwilling to allow us to flourish, to push the boundaries of our magic or pursue alternative methods to enhance it and our spellcasting abilities so we’re no longer under the thumb of the vampires and werewolves.
” He scoffed. “They can’t own wolfsbane because the pack forbade it.
It’s absurd that creatures without magic can dictate what we can do. ”
“They change into wolves. There’s magic. And when in that form they’re immune to yours. It’s inconvenient, but a war with potential allies is absurd over a flower that’s rarely used,” I pointed out.
“It’s a concession. Weakness.”
“Ah, were you or one of your witches flexing your strength earlier with Terran?” I searched his face for the answer because I doubted he’d provide the truth verbally.
“We aren’t his witches.” A ruddy-faced woman with ash-blond hair stacked into a disheveled bun had appeared to my left.
Giving her a placating nod, I slipped my hand into my pocket, keeping a careful eye on the silver thread of energy that reminded me of lightning.
As it hovered over her fingertips, she smiled just enough to display the edges of her teeth.
The beady eyes and elongated features of a ferret were incongruous with her stout, powerful stature.
When Jonah stepped aside, she crowded me.
Her smile widened when I increased the space between us.
“It would make me feel more comfortable if you put that away.” I nudged my chin in the direction of her lightning toy.
Scoffing, she answered, “Because your comfort is my priority.”
“I’m a guest in your home. Shouldn’t it be?”
“I believe your vampires have inflated your sense of entitlement. Their pet doesn’t have any authority in the House of Nigh.”
Jonah shot her a look that chipped at some of her enmity. They were going by house rather than coven. I packed that information away to explore later.
“If you insist on making me feel uncomfortable, then I have no other choice than to return the favor.”
Dodging sideways as the silver flash of magic soared toward me, I lunged forward and swept her legs out from under her, sending her crashing face down onto the floor.
Before she could recover, I was on her. With my legs pinning hers down, one arm locked around her throat, I pressed my chunky iridium ring against her skin to block her magic.
Clawing at my hand, she gurgled and choked for breath.
Meeting Jonah’s calculating stare as he searched for a way to rescue his witch without harming her, I said, “My position with the vampires has earned me some influence and garnered favors with some friendly and some not so friendly supernaturals. I’d find leveraging those relationships against you distasteful.
But I’ll wade into the mud if you force my hand. Don’t make me.”
My little speech didn’t seem to deter him. He was not nearly as fearful of the vampires as he should be, or maybe there was a reason for him not to be.
“Terran and I were attacked earlier today by a witch. I’m used to people wanting me dead, but he isn’t as forgiving.
You know what’s worse than an arrogant Alpha?
One who believes he was a target without cause.
Unless I cancel the scheduled text naming you as the culprit in…
Well, I’m not sure. It was scheduled to be sent thirty minutes from the time I entered your home.
If I can’t cancel it, you’d better be prepared to contend with his pack. ”
Gripping the witch tighter, I hissed, “Stop struggling,” as blood welled from the crescent-shaped nail marks she’d left in my skin.
My vision blurred from the pain. “You might feel confident about being enemies of the Houses of Hollows and Knight, although I’d strongly suggest you rethink that.
Do you believe the House of Nigh will survive adding the werewolves, too? ”
Jonah didn’t appear confident about that. “Release her,” he demanded, his voice tremulous.
The sting of her unprovoked attack lingered. Not feeling amicable about responding to his demands, my grip tightened.
“Please,” he tacked on. “And you”—he addressed the witch—“need to leave this room.”
When the secured witch tapped pitifully at my arm, I released her. As soon as she moved away, I rolled to my feet. Rubbing her neck, the witch leveled a dagger-sharp glare in my direction before lumbering down the hall. Moments later, a door slammed.
Jonah stared at me, an onslaught of judgment in his eyes. “The vampires are sucking out your soul.”
“Yeah, because defending myself against an attack shows a lack of soul.”
“Not at all. The expression on your face was pitiless.”
His comment made me question whether three years with the vampires had changed me. But I didn’t think that was it. The witch’s attack had triggered memories of my assassination attempt.
Magicless in a world where magic would benefit me, and forced to call in favors from unscrupulous witches to break a spell, was making my grasp on humanity tenuous.
My eyes sharpened on him. “I’ll show mercy when it is deserved, and I’ll deliver retribution when I have no choice. My friend is dying. You can’t imagine what I’ve done to keep her alive. You’re one of the few people who can save her. I need your help.”
“Help to do what?”
I pulled out the version of the spell without Cirrian’s snarky commentary.
Studying the paper, his eyes were narrowed when they lifted to meet mine.
“Your relationship with the vampires must be impressive, or you’re exceptionally skilled at persuasion if you’re able to get them to agree to this.
” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “More than a pet,” he muttered to himself.
I was getting really fed up with that little title.
“You want me to perform the spell?”
“I don’t have magic.”
From the slow drag of his eyes over me, he didn’t believe me and simply responded with a grunt.
“That’s the second time you challenged my magical status,” I said.
Inching closer, he closed his eyes. Raising his face as if he were basking in the sun, he frowned. “I’ve heard you have some trace of magic that makes you immune to wards. Some consider it trivial, but I disagree. There are a host of benefits that comes with that, wouldn’t you agree?”
I nodded. That trivial magic included my inability to be bound. Too bad it hadn’t saved me from the most consequential oath-binding.
“I can’t place your magic. I believe I’ve encountered your energy before,” he said, stepping back until his back rested against the wall. He winced and repositioned his arm. It couldn’t be easy being in the room with the person who had given him that injury.
“I need you to do that spell.”
Irritation flickered across his face. “Me?”