A Witch's Fury (4 page)

Rubbing his chin with his first two fingers,
he eyed my smoky appearance and damaged, raw flesh, the debate on
helping me evident in his gaze. When his eye landed on Mindy, he
softened. How often do psychos have small children with them? The
answer is more fucking often than I like to think about. People
with families can be just as evil as those without.

He pushed the desk phone toward me. I crossed
the distance between us, leaning heavily on the counter as I
dialed.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered.

“Grams,” I growled.

“Olie?” I heard the whisper of sheets moving
and another muffled voice, Mercer.

“Yes.” I wanted to ask, who the fuck else
calls at ungodly hours after you send them after a fucking HUMAN? I
didn’t, mainly because I didn’t want to explain to the old man
pretending to read his paper.

“Why haven’t you called?”

“Why—“ I stopped the response, my eyes
flicking over to the desk clerk. “I need you to wire me money and
pay for a hotel for tonight.”

Grams sighed, annoyed. “Can I send money in
the morning?”

“Of course, I’m sure Mindy doesn’t mind not
eating until then.”

“You have her?” she asked, breathless and
alert.

I held the phone close to my lips, the
plastic creaking beneath my fingers. “Of. Course.” If only I could
convey my irritation and annoyance with those two words alone.

“I’ll do it. Hang on.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring
at it in disbelief.

“Mindy?” Mercer asked, worried.

Finding her close to my hip, I gave her the
phone.

“Grandpa?” Her small voice questioned.

“Oh God Mindy,” he paused, emotions ceasing
his words. Then, “Go with Olivia. Stay with her, she will keep you
safe.”

Mindy cradled the phone gently, her dark eyes
searching mine. “Okay.”

It took all my self-control to hand the phone
to the clerk and say, “She has the credit card information.”

…

Mindy slept with a full belly, freshly
cleaned dark locks, and a terrible teal Welcome to Indiana t-shirt
with a too-large pair of gray sweats. I had picked up a
pocketknife—a terribly made, pathetic item I would personally laugh
at in a fight, but it made me feel better as I flicked out the
sharpened edge and stowed it again.

My anger had simmered until it wasn’t pushing
forcefully against my shields, but I was having a hard time
understanding why the woman I trusted with my entire organization,
my entire life’s work, was lying to me. So fucking help her Gods if
it was for a man.

…

I intentionally did not pick up the phone
Grams had secured for me the next morning, stopping only for the
cash, snacks for Mindy, and a first aid kit to wrap my ankle and
feet. We were going to talk in person.

I did get myself a sunshine yellow t-shirt
and flip flops from the gift store that did not match my leather
pants. If only Jerry could see me now. In addition to driving me
around on occasion, he was responsible for every adorable item of
clothing I owned.

…

Pulling into the manor’s cobblestone
driveway, I looked up at the front door with a sense of dread
eating away at me. I was out and around the SUV while Mindy was
still looking up at the building in uncertainty.

“You own a mansion?” she asked, stepping down
hesitantly.

“I prefer to call it a manor, and where else
would I put the wayward children like yourself?” I tried for a
smile, I really did.

She nodded, taking my hand, “So there are
kids like me here?”

“Many.” Too many.

I gave her hand a squeeze and we walked
through the front doors, then straight upstairs to Grams’s
office.

I debated for half a second on knocking when
I heard the voices. Deciding against it, I opened the door wide,
pulling Mindy in with me.

“What the ever-loving fuck?” I screamed.

Never in my most paranoid dreams did I ever
imagine the man Grams would betray me for would be Hash, sitting
relaxed in front of her office. My hands instantly moved to Mindy’s
shoulders, pulling her close.

“Get out,” I hissed, my voice carrying the
weight of my anger.

He listened, rushing past me like the slime
he was. The death stare I was packing still worked. I turned it to
Grams.

“Ex—plain,” I demanded, drawing out the
syllables.

“It was a meeting,” she calmly informed me,
pressing down her pale blue suit.

“About what?”

“Business.”

“MINDY!” Mercer cried out from behind me.
Turning, I watched her own shields crack as she became a hurt
little girl again, crumbling into her grandfather’s arms.

Grams came around her desk, patting my arm.
“Good job.”

“I’m not your pet,” I hissed at her.

Crossing her arms, she indicated with her
eyes the beautiful moment unfolding before us, silently chiding
me.

Pulling her deeper into her office, I
squeezed her arm with unnecessary force.

“You’re hurting me.”

I probably should have apologized; Grams had
not been scared of me in a long damn time. “What is wrong with
you?” I hissed, releasing her.

She covered her fear well, straightening her
suit and squaring her shoulders. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Leaning in close, I clenched my jaw and
forced out, “Is that you or Hash talking now?”

Grams shoved me hard enough to back me
up.

“What’s going on?” Mercer asked, his voice
thick with tears.

“This is not over,” I snarled before
leaving.

If I couldn’t stay and yell at Grams for
betraying me by having the enemy at a place where I kept our
children, and even my warped sense of decency said to give Mercer
and Mindy their time together, I was going shopping.

At least that would bring me some measure of
pleasure.

…

Myrtle’s is not what most would think of when
going shopping. The walls are not covered in gun displays, or the
lighting fluorescent in color. But this troll, and I do mean that
literally, has the most impressive collection of weapons this side
of the Mississippi. Not to mention that she energetically cleans
them. In this business, that was important and worth her
higher-than-normal price tags.

The smoky interior clung to my neon yellow
shirt and I groaned as all eyes turned toward me. Let’s hope I
hadn’t used up all the power in my death stare.

“Lord have mercy, Olivia, you look like a
woman on a mission.” Myrtle’s thick voice was sweet music to my
ears. Her lavender hair was not complemented by her stone gray
skin. Sitting down hid her short stature, but not her thick and
strong body.

“Myrtle,” I sighed in relief, flopping onto
the worn leather couch next to her. Something was going right. My
anger had quickly turned to exhaustion.

“Woman, you smell foul.”

I lifted a pit to check as several other
trolls working took notice. They might have started out in the
swamps, but these trolls cleaned up better than I did,
obviously.

I shrugged, “It’s been an interesting few
days. It’s also going to be a profitable few hours for you.”

Both her purple eyebrows rose. “Special
item?”

“All the items,” I muttered, leaning my head
back and staring at the black ceiling.

“You lost ALL of them?” she asked me,
astonished.

“Yeah, I did.”

Myrtle sputtered for a few moments.
“How?”

“Don’t ask,” I muttered.

“Alright then, where should we start?
Crossbows, swords, throwing knives—I know, follow me.”

It took more effort than I am willing to
admit to get myself off that couch. My adrenaline and anger were
spent. I was empty.

…

Two hours later at the back of my SUV, I
admired Myrtle’s handiwork.

“Feel better?” She nudged me from her short
frame.

“You have no idea.” All the glittering gold
and diamonds couldn’t compare to my joy and feeling of completion
seeing the blades, crossbows, and swords stowed in the SUV, shining
back at me. I traced my fingers over the sig 1911 pearl grip
handles in the black harness fitted over my terrible yellow
shirt.

“Thanks, Myrtle.”

My equilibrium had been restored.

I supposed I needed actual clothing next.

…

Clothing and weapons accounted for, I headed
to Blake’s for a much-needed shower and probably an apology. I had
gone radio silent on him as well as Grams. Oops.

Cracking the door open, I slipped in and
dropped my large shopping bag by the laundry room before walking
quietly into the kitchen.

He was waiting for me, perched at the island
with two phones.

I sat next to him at the breakfast counter
and watched his nimble hands toy with the phones. My own hands
clasped together, shoulders hunched, I felt the weight of my bad
decision-making.

“I’ve been trying to reach you.” He didn’t
look at me.

I spaghetti-slouched deeper into the
quicksand the tall chair had become.

“Sorry.”

He pushed the phone in front of me, along
with a replacement credit card from Grams that he pulled from his
pocket, before standing. “Hungry?”

“Starved.”

He gave me a small, tight-lipped smile, his
sapphire blue eyes distracted. “Go get dressed, we have
reservations.”

I smiled, moving around the counter to press
a quick kiss against his cheek. He couldn’t be that mad at me if
he’d made reservations. But his rigid posture was cause for
hesitation. “Everything okay?”

“No,” he answered honestly, “but soon it will
be.”

I didn’t push, but my gut was demanding that
I launch a shoulder into his walls. I was having a hard time
ignoring it.

Chapter 4

The
ride to the restaurant was quiet. Blake was unreachable, leaving me
with time to think. I replayed my fight with Grams over and over. I
didn’t like the way things ended between us. Grams is an important
constant in my life and, more importantly, in the children’s. She
has put up with more shit from me than anyone else. I in turn
overlooked her expensive wardrobe, dinners out, and vacations. But
her lying left me feeling repulsed.

I had a hard time trusting and even greater
difficultly forgiving.

Pulling myself back to the present, I smiled
at Blake, trying to ease the tension from my shoulders. I had been
denied a romp before dinner; however, I had high hopes that only
meant he had something delicious and naughty planned for later. I
pushed the offensive feelings away, wanting to focus on us. I
reached over and stroked the back of his neck casually. Judging by
the tension in his own shoulders, things with his family were still
not resolved. My smile dipped and my worry blossomed in full
force.

When the valet took the car, Blake handed it
off without a look or nod of thanks. I tilted my head, watching his
unusual behavior as he came around the vehicle.

“Shall we?” he asked, buttoning his suit
jacket.

I nodded, noting that he didn’t extend an arm
for me to take. Actually, he hadn’t been touching me very much at
all. Was it possible he was still angry about me not having a
phone?

The restaurant was beautiful, softly lit and
rich with tantalizing scents that teased my taste buds as the
hostess sat us at our linen-covered table with delicate crystal
centerpieces. I crossed my feet under the table, suppressing a
wince as my roughed-up ankle let me know it was none too pleased at
being locked into a high heel. It was shocking, but I had broken
down and actually worn a pair Blake had picked out. I really didn’t
want him mad at me. The dress I picked out of my small section of
Blake’s closet was a favorite little black dress he had surprised
me with.

“Good evening,” the waiter began, “can I
interest you in a drink to begin?”

“We would like the house cabernet,” Blake
stated, casting a look behind me before returning his gaze to
me.

He smiled at me. Warmth pooled into my
stomach at the sight, pulling me forward in my chair.

“I hear they make excellent eggplant
parmesan,” he suggested.

“Think it will pair well with the wine?” I
asked, tilting my head at him.

He shrugged. “When have you ever been
discriminating about your wine?”

I laughed, “True.”

The waiter returned, pouring our drinks as we
ordered dinner. I also added dessert.

The meal was delicious. Our conversation
flowed and ebbed, the tension draining out of Blake’s shoulders. I
ate his dinner along with my own, since I would be feeding him
later anyway.

He cleared his throat, which is an unneeded
act for a vampire. I was about to tease him about getting out of
here so he could have his dessert when he looked back over my
shoulder, his face falling painfully.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, reaching out to lay
my hand over his.

“I have something to tell you and it’s not
pleasant.” He wouldn’t meet my gaze. Fear stole my breath.

With a determined jaw clench, he raised his
head to look at me, and what I saw in his eyes had my heart
sinking. I wanted to cry out for him not to say whatever it was,
but I sat there mute.

“Olivia, I brought you here to end our
relationship.” He rushed on, keeping his voice low, “I know I was
the one who demanded exclusivity from you.” His blue eyes searched
my own terrified ones. “I want you to know the things you shared
with me in confidence will stay that way.”

“What?” I whispered, feeling my chest
constrict painfully as I waited for the punch line, blood draining
from my face. My entire world narrowed to Blake. This had to be
some terrible, awful attempt at a joke, or—or—my mind blanked. I
was rendered speechless.

He shook his head, moving his napkin from his
lap to the table. “I can’t do this anymore, Olivia. I have to make
the choices that are best for me and my House, and you are—“ he
hesitated, searching my face. When he finally met my gaze,
uncertainty flickered in his eyes and I could guess why. He was
debating how his next words would impact my reduced emotional
capacity.