Hunter, Page 3

  First her lovesick assistant had quit, without any notice, to get married, leaving Tatyana in the lurch when she’d needed to prepare a presentation to her newest clients. That was Monday. Tuesday, her brother Sergei, the private investigator, had shown up at her office. He had been a veritable font of evil information on her already and definitively ex boyfriend, just so he could reiterate more strongly how badly in need of a beating the rotten bastard was. Her overprotective sibling had taken up half her morning with his gossip until she’d been forced to throw him out. Wednesday had been the beginning of a three-day office campaign to drive her completely bats about this lousy New Year’s party she didn’t have a date for, thank you very much.

  Then, today, her ex-boyfriend had been lurking by her car when she had left the office, with a fresh new rose and an old, greasy charm. He’d tried to cajole her into inviting him to be her date. She had said yes, so long as he promised to bring his wife, whom he had neglected to mention to her during their dating. The jerk had not taken her suggestion well at all, hurling the rose and various insults at her.

  Her only consolation, she had reminded herself, was that she’d never slept with the loser. The thought actually warmed her as she picked up her pace. In fact, she was so focused on her brisk stride that it took her several minutes to note the lights suddenly appearing over the rise in the road she was climbing. When she finally did, she stopped dead in her tracks and exhaled a happy cloud of relieved breath. It was a house. A very freaking big house by the look of it.

  “Holy shit,” she gasped. “I’ve found it!” Dimitre had said the place was huge. A compound, he’d said. It looked more like a resort! “Ooo, chimneys! Fire. Me like fire.”

  The only problem? There were about twenty acres of land between said house and one popsicle redhead standing stupidly on the side of the road. On the plus side, it seemed to be a mostly cleared field. On the boo-hiss side, it was all uphill from there.

  She abandoned the road and began to trek across the field.

  Hunter waylaid Ryce just as he was about to enter the parlor. He sensed Annali was still upstairs, so he dragged Ryce into the privacy of the room and slammed the door shut. He instantly turned on his old friend.

  “I just saw Gracie,” he snapped.

  He really didn’t need to say more and Ryce knew it.

  “Hunter, I asked you to ...”

  “I refuse to wait for an explanation as to why you lied to me,” he interrupted harshly. “It’s absolutely unacceptable, Ryce. Our precious Annali isn’t here for you to hide behind, and knowing her, she’ll be late, which gives you plenty of time to explain to me what the hell is going on here! I have all my senses, and I have my intelligence, Ryce! I can damn well tell the difference between a woman who fell from a horse and a woman who has been abused at someone’s hands.” Hunter paused to draw a furious breath, trying to force his emotions under control. “Now, you will explain yourself, whether or not you think I have the right to demand it.”

  “I didn’t withhold full explanation to punish you for abandoning the coven, Hunter,” Ryce retorted sharply. “I am not so petty, and you bloody well should know it. I’ve been patient and accepting of your choices for ten years and that hasn’t changed just because I was compelled to call you back.”

  Hunter watched as the High Priest of his coven bent his dark head and collected his thoughts for a moment. They were both taking slow, measured breaths in order to cool their roiling tempers. It would do neither of them any good to begin fighting, and it certainly wouldn’t benefit the coven.

  “Gracelynne was attacked a few days ago,” Ryce continued abruptly. “She says she doesn’t remember the fight or the attacker, and if you had seen her directly after you’d understand why she can’t ... or won’t. She was out riding, alone. A few hours later her horse returned to the stable, saddle empty. Lennox and I went and found her.” Ryce shook his head slowly as he reviewed the horrible memory. “The entire area for an acre around where we found her looked like a war zone. She put up a hell of a fight. You knew her best when she was more of a scrapper, when her enthusiasm in a firefight got her through more than anything. But she’s changed, Hunter. Gracelynne’s become a true warrior. She’s extraordinarily skilled and manages her Elemental magic with style and control. Wait until you see it,” he said, his voice flooded with pride. “When you do, you’ll understand what it took for Gracie to be defeated. It was no easy task for her enemy, I assure you.”

  “Nox analyzed the spell remains left around the area in an attempt to understand what had happened. It’s a very useful skill he’s developed,” Ryce explained, “that allows him to study the forensics of magical residue. Whoever it was, the bastard was clever. Gracie’s attacker magically dampened the entire area so she couldn’t cast a call for help, while simultaneously masking all of our natural connections as a coven. I don’t need to tell you how powerful a spell like that would have to be, Hunter. A warlock would drain a great deal of resources for that spell alone, never mind battling with someone of Gracie’s skill afterward.”

  “Are you certain it was a warlock, then? Not a rogue?” It was usual for dark warlocks and white witches to mix, but there were also non-aligned witches, rogues who were without a coven, who sometimes got it in their heads to cause trouble.

  “Nothing is certain, but I do have suspicions and I will explain them in a moment. I estimate Gracie’s conflict had to have lasted at least an hour in order to leave her so weak. Once she was isolated from the rest of us, all her enemy had to do was beat her back until she exhausted her magic. It’s hard to imagine any single warlock having the power to take on Grace in such a manner, but Nox swears he could find only two magical signatures. Hers and her enemy’s.” Ryce’s teeth made a sharp sound as they clenched together. “Once he had her exhausted and at his mercy, he went for the old-fashioned joy of putting his hands on her.”

  “A male,” Hunter hissed. “I can see you are as certain of it as I am. Was she raped, Ryce? She had handprints buried into the flesh of her hips, but she didn’t cringe from my touch. Does she even know?” he demanded.

  “We had no choice but to bring Gracelynne to hospital, since Kaia wasn’t here. They did a kit, but the nurse said she didn’t see any tearing or bruising. No sign of ... biological evidence. But you and I both know a warlock can use magic to make a victim compliant, and it doesn’t take magic to use a condom. No one will know for certain but Gracelynne, and right now ...”

  “She can’t remember.”

  “I suspect her attacker got a kick out of threatening her with rape at the very least. She was naked and insensate when we found her, staked out on the ground like some kind of twisted sacrifice. But there was no track of the enemy, even though I could feel he’d been there moments before we arrived.”

  Hunter took in a low, steady breath, trying to keep himself from feeling the sharp bile of guilt in his throat. A few days. Only a few days earlier and he might have been there. To help, maybe. To track, definitely.

  The only comfort was that vengeance was still waiting for him. Unfortunately, it would be of little comfort to Gracelynne. It was no wonder Annali had been freaked out after they had discovered Grace in such a state. Annali had spent a nightmarish pair of weeks being violated by a psychotic warlock named Evan when she’d been only sixteen years old. This after she’d watched him kill her family. Only Hunter and Ryce’s fortuitous rescue had spared her from a continuing life worse than death.

  “Just who is it you think did this?” he asked, his tone heavy with disgust for the twisted behaviors of his own sex.

  “If I had to make a guess? It’s a dark coven in Pennsylvania, not far across the border between the states,” Ryce informed him. “Hunter, they are by far the most massive collection of warlocks I have ever seen in my lifetime. I’ve read about only a few other cult covens like this, bursting at the seams with dark witches. Someone is hoping to eradicate Willow coven by sheer force of numbers. They tried once in November,
attacking us on an outing when all of us were together in one place. Twelve to seven odds, and they had the element of surprise. We almost lost Annali’s new lover, Dimitre. We might have lost more than that if not for him. He’s a Tempus witch. He can control time.”

  “No fucking way,” Hunter exclaimed. “Damn, Ryce, I’ve been all over this world this past decade, and I’ve run into covens from here to Shanghai. I have met only one Tempus witch in my experience, and her coven had to bind her powers because she went insane from memory jumping. She couldn’t control it.”

  A witch’s magic, or Craft, was usually focused on a singular school of power. There were well over a dozen disciplines, but the Tempus school was rare for a reason. It was also unbelievably potent if it could be mastered. Of all the schools of witchcraft, Spellcasters were among the most powerful. It was common for this discipline to produce witches who became either Sentinel or High Priest in white covens. Willow Coven had two Spellcasters: Ryce, and now again Hunter. Although they shared the same school, their skills had forked off into two very different directions over the years. Ryce enjoyed delving into the magic of the Egyptians and even more ancient Craft. Hunter had begun there, but leaving the coven had sent him veering into more modern mysticism. However, while their sources of magic now seemed so different, the punch they packed was equally impressive.

  “Right. His power is a bit twitchy,” Ryce agreed, “but Dimitre has a handle on it, though it’s all a bit new. Still, it was enough to save us that day. We may have finished the warlocks off easily, thanks to him, but I promise you, they were bloody powerful. They would have kicked our asses into the corner. Willow Coven would have survived, but not intact. I’m convinced I would have lost a witch that day.”

  Hunter knew Ryce didn’t exaggerate for drama.

  “I take it they’ve been raising hell elsewhere?” Hunter asked.

  “Yes. Ever since they tipped their hand to us. They knew we would track them, so it’s as though it’s bloody Christmas morning for them now. They’re doing some terrible damage in the civilian world and they need to be checked.” Ryce looked at him with grim determination in his eyes. “The Great Mother only knows how many familiars a coven that size is holding captive. The very thought shreds my soul.

  “I realized right away that this was going to be an undertaking far more massive than we’re used to. You understand? Granted, we are the most powerful white coven on the Eastern Seaboard, Hunter, even without our Sentinel.” There was no reproach in his pointed look. “But it was clear that this would take us all working at the top of our talents in order for us to succeed. And you as well.” Ryce turned his head aside, staring off into nothingness for a long beat. “But before we could get you here to help, they struck again.

  “They went for the women first, Hunter. Annali was attacked the same day Gracelynne was. I suspect if Kaia hadn’t left the night before with Dimitre, she would have met with a similar ambush.”

  “What happened to Annali?” Hunter demanded through his teeth.

  “Some cuts, some bruises ... scared the hell out of her. But she’s resourceful, our Annie. She got the better of the three who cornered her.”

  “Sweet Lady, three to one?”

  “Unfortunately for the warlocks, they underestimated our girl’s powers. Annali dispatched them quickly. She thought it was a random ambush by rogues until everyone met up at Gracie’s bedside and exchanged notes. We’re lucky they misjudged Annie or she’d be in a bed beside Grace and I’d be answering to one hell of a pissed-off Tempus.”

  “Did they?” Hunter asked suddenly, giving Ryce a dark look. “Or are you being led to believe that? Maybe they didn’t fail, Ryce. Maybe they succeeded at exactly what they wanted to.”

  Ryce’s brows lifted in surprise. “What are you saying?”

  “Besides you and me, Gracelynne is the most powerful member of the coven. She has the experience, the temerity to fight to the death, and the skill. You said it yourself. She’s a force to contend with. They don’t know about me. No one knew you’d summoned me back. So next to you, she was the second strongest threat in a pitched battle. Taking her out severely weakens your position, Ryce. What better way to get to you than to take out your biggest gun?”

  “Bloody hell,” Ryce swore on a soft breath.

  “It’s the nature of the attack that gets me. Whoever it was made certain to screw with Grace’s mind. Sure, they took her out physically, but that’s temporary. People heal. Messing with her head will last longer. And maybe it isn’t a coincidence this happened when our Healer witch is off on a lecture. And this thing with Annali,” Hunter went on, “is just odd. Three to one for Annali. One to one for Grace? Failure with Anna, but success with Grace. Something isn’t right.”

  Ryce agreed. But with Hunter back, he felt more secure. Ryce’s faith in the future safety of his coven solidified just a bit more. He’d been afraid for some time now that he was going to lose one of his beloved witches, that he wouldn’t be strong enough to protect them. When Gracie had been found so horribly injured, it had devastated him as a leader and protector.

  Hunter reached out to lay a strong, steady hand on Ryce’s shoulder. A decade could change much, but he knew it would never change the fact that the well-being of the Willow Coven meant everything to Ryce. Anything that happened to them would hit straight at his heart. These attacks had taken a great toll on his confidence, and Hunter could see it even if no one else would. Ryce wouldn’t allow his shaken self-assurance to be visible to those who depended on him for his strength. As High Priest, he would reveal his starkest fears only to his Sentinel, who was his advisor and confidant as well as his in-pocket warrior. The leader of Willow Coven had gone too long without this crucial support system. Hunter wasn’t responsible for Ryce never having replaced him in all these years, but he would take back the mantle of Sentinel with pride and full commitment, bringing peace to his old and trusted friend.

  Ryce was a born leader. He was a natural mediator and guide. His power and his ability to stand strong in truth and grounded in the morals of their coven were legendary. Hunter was a guardian. A rock. He’d always performed best as the strength behind the leader. He had the unflagging loyalty necessary to be Ryce’s champion and protector, while being malleable enough to take orders with ease. But he also had the strength to question his commander when necessary, to keep Ryce’s emotions in check, just as he was doing now.

  Ryce and the coven had survived for a long time without him. They had even thrived. Nevertheless, it was clear that he was needed now, and Ryce had proven his wisdom as a leader by recognizing that.

  Even though it had meant breaking a ten-year-long promise.

  “I see now why you summoned me, Ryce.”

  “We need your power, Hunter,” he said. “For starters, Gracie needs justice. Your type of justice. We’re all in need of protection that only you are capable of giving us. You are Sentinel,” he said firmly, meeting the bold blue of his friend’s gaze, speaking so much more with that look than with his words. “We’ve always needed you.”

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t replace me,” Hunter said in an unexpectedly quiet voice, his brows drawing together deeply in a frown. “The coven has needed a Sentinel for ten years, and you never thought to fill my place? It has made you weaker than you could’ve been. This dark coven might not have attacked you if you’d had a Sentinel.”

  “It comes to this,” Ryce said, his hands resting on his hips and his legs braced apart. “With all due respect to Gracie and the others, there will never be a witch on this planet who could fill your shoes. You’ve always been, and will always be, the most competent witch I know. Everyone else pales beside you. Besides”—he shrugged and gave Hunter a crooked little smile—“you’re family, Hunter. The bond of the coven is stronger than blood, and we’re all brothers and sisters here. Losing you was like losing a critical limb, and not just because of your power and protection, my friend. You left holes in the hearts of your famil
y, even though we loved you enough to let you go. So long as you were alive there could be no other Sentinel for us. Surely you know that?”

  Hunter lowered his eyes, but a corner of his mouth curled in a smile.

  “It was a pleasant surprise to hear from you, Ryce. I didn’t react at all the way I thought I would whenever I imagined you breaking your silence to call me. When your scry came through and you made the request, I suddenly realized that I was ready. More than ready. That it was long overdue. I was good in this place. I was whole, powerful, and loved, and I really wanted that back.”

  “Then we’re even. We really wanted you back. For a variety of selfish reasons. However, I’ve only one use for you at the moment.”

  “First line of defense?”

  “More like a harbinger. Annali is coming, so we’ll talk more about it later, but I mean to send you into the serpents’ nest with a message for those sons of bitches who thought to lay hands on our sister witches.” Ryce’s smile turned positively wicked. “I can’t wait until they get a taste of you, mate.”

  “As it turns out, neither can I,” Hunter agreed as he turned to face the opening door.

  Annali swept into the room, all silk and sparkling smile, ink smudges left behind. She instantly drifted into Hunter’s embrace, unable to resist hugging him again. He chuckled at her easy affection, the warmth of it shedding the darkness of his conversation with Ryce, and turning him back to the task of settling back in with his family. He looked down into her light eyes, the nearly lavender color enhanced by her dark violet dress. Her hair, the warm blond of beach sand, was coiffed to perfection once more, all but a few soft curls near her ears.

  “Well, aren’t you a picture,” Hunter praised her. “Come on. I’m starving, and I hear someone has a new love to tell me all about.”