“What did you do to me?” he demanded, his voice a mere whisper.
“Nothing near as bad as I could’ve done,” she said. He didn’t need to know she was bluffing. She couldn’t do much more to him yet, not until she returned to full strength. But Marty wasn’t exactly a strong werewolf. It wouldn’t take much to train him.
She sidled up to him and rested a hand on his chest, stroking him through the cotton of his shirt. “I could have killed you, you know,” she murmured. She stroked a hand down, toyed with the button of his jeans. “I could have drained you dry, left you like an empty husk. You’re not strong enough to stop me. You know it. I know it. So, Marty . . . don’t piss me off.”
After reaching up to pat his cheek, she returned to the couch. “Enough with the drama already. What is it you want from me?”
“There’s a Hunter. In town.” He spoke slowly, almost reluctantly. The color returned to his face, his altered body repairing the damage she had done with relative ease. She hadn’t taken enough to damage him—just enough to scare him. Just enough to warn him.
With a shrug, she pushed her hair back from her face. “I already know about the Hunter.”
“You know,” he echoed. “You knew there was a Hunter nearby, and you didn’t see fit to warn anybody?”
Isis waved a hand dismissively. “Why should I? You’re not my responsibility. You are responsible for your own neck.”
“I suppose it never occurred to you that the two of us are more equipped to deal with him together than on our own? You increase your chance of surviving by working with me, old witch,” he snapped.
“I cannot face a Hunter right now. You’re on your own with her. She almost . . . ” Her voice trailed off. Scowling, she cocked her head and studied his face. “Did you say
‘him
’ ? This Hunter, he’s a man?”
“Yeah.” He frowned as he met her eyes. “I take it you thought it was a woman.”
“I assumed it was the same witch I battled . . . the one who damn near killed me. She’s a Hunter, as well.”
Two of them.
Isis rubbed her hands together. Her gut twisted, ran cold with fear.
No, not fear. I’m not afraid of a couple of Hunters
, she told herself. She didn’t fear them. Closing her eyes, Isis focused. She needed to get control of the fear. She took a series of deep, slow breaths and then focused on Marty’s face once more.
“Tell me about this male Hunter. Is he the only one you’ve seen? Have you seen the witch?”
“Son of a bitch,” Marty swore. He shoved a hand through his hair and started to pace. She caught a glimpse of the glitter in his eyes and realized he was still very afraid . . . and it wasn’t because of her. “Another witch. We don’t need another witch around.”
“Another . . . why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about me?”
“Because I’m not,” he snapped. Glaring at her, he said, “The Hunter I ran across is a vampire. Young, but not weak. He’s got strength inside him. And he came here looking for a witch. Now you tell me you’ve run into a different Hunter—a Hunter who’s a witch. That’s two Hunters. Two different Hunters, and the witch beat you, so that tells me she’s a strong one.”
“She didn’t beat me,” Isis snarled. “It wasn’t even my fight . . . I was cleaning up my daughter’s mess. That stupid, useless waste.”
Marty folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t care what your excuses are. They don’t matter to me. Bottom line . . . you fought and you didn’t kill her. If you had won, you would have killed her, you would have drunk her power, and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.” He turned away and started to pace. “So now we have two Hunters to deal with. The witch and the vampire. With any luck, that idiot Morgan will keep the vampire occupied, for a while at least. Sunrise is coming soon and he will have to rest. That buys us until nightfall before we have to worry about him.”
“Morgan . . .” Isis murmured. She shook her head and then asked, “Did you say Morgan?”
Marty waved a hand. “Yeah. She’s the reason the Hunter is here. He was looking for her. I can’t figure out what she’s done to grab his interest, but she certainly got it. He was more interested in her than me, so she must’ve done something.”
Morgan.
“Describe her to me,” Isis murmured.
Marty rolled his eyes. “Trust me, Isis. That ditz Morgan is not going to be an issue. Hell, she might even be useful. She already has. She distracted the vampire.”
“Damn it, you mangy wolf. Describe her to me.” Isis shot up off the couch, glaring at him. Her power, always erratic when her emotions spiked, flared out of control and the light in the room flickered. And when Marty exhaled, his breath came out in a frosty puff of air.
He stared at her. “She’s just a stupid little witch. Young, I don’t know, in her twenties. Hard to gauge the age of the human, especially the witches. But she’s not too powerful so I suspect she is as young as she looks.”
“And what does she
look
like?” Isis closed her hands into fists, struggling to control her anger. Struggling to keep control . . . period. She couldn’t spare the energy.
Plus, although Marty was annoying, he wasn’t an idiot. That was why she hadn’t killed him. If she had to have another predator living so close to her territory, she would rather it not be a fool. Fools did foolish things, and foolish things too often caught attention. Isis did not want attention drawn to her, or anywhere near her territory. That was how she avoided the Hunters. She kept under their radar.
Marty wasn’t a fool, and that meant there was no way he could look at Agnes Milcher and not recognize her for what she was. One very powerful witch.
Which meant . . .
what
?
Morgan.
Isis narrowed her eyes. She sensed the barest remnant of Morgan’s presence, but she’d dismissed it.
The second she laid eyes on the face that had belonged to her oldest child, she’d known she wasn’t dealing with Morgan—no matter what the witch had pretended.
Hunters had a feel all their own, and Hunter witches—even more unique.
There had been
something
that felt like Morgan. An echo. A shadow. Hell, maybe Morgan had been haunting the bitch who killed her.
Or maybe . . .
A smile curled her lips. “So, she told you her name was Morgan?”
“
Y
OU have got to be kidding me.”
Brad opened his mouth to respond, only to close it with a sigh as Duke’s pale gray eyes narrowed and shifted to a point somewhere over Brad’s shoulder. The car. The girl. The little witch.
“You so much as touch that door, kid, and you’ll regret it,” Duke said, his voice a rough growl.
Jasmine Wakefield muttered something under her breath. Brad couldn’t quite catch it, but Duke did. Amusement flashed through the shifter’s eyes, and he shook his head. “That girl is a brat,” he said softly.
“Miracle she isn’t worse.” Brad shrugged. He hadn’t ever met her older sister, at least not when Morgan had been the inhabitant of the body, but he’d heard some stories.
Bad news.
That was what those stories said. She was nothing but bad news.
Jasmine might be trouble, but she wasn’t bad news.
She definitely was trouble, though, and she was already proving to be a pain in the neck. Brad shoved his hands deep inside the pockets of the fleece hoodie he wore and waited until Duke’s eyes shifted back to him. “There’s no other way to handle this,” Brad said.
“There’s always another way. You think it’s so fucking important for Ana to be there, then fine. I trust your instincts. But we’ll all go.”
Shaking his head, Brad replied, “We can’t.
She
can’t.” He jerked his head toward the car. “That girl can’t be anywhere around them right now.”
“Why not?” Duke asked.
“She just can’t. She’s too vulnerable to them. None of us are equipped to protect a baby witch from other witches and you know it.” Brad glared at Duke and demanded, “Do you trust me or not? You say you trust my instincts, and then you demand I do the exact opposite of what my instincts are telling me. We need to get that girl to Excelsior and we need to do it quick. You know she’s too damn vulnerable out here.”
“I am
not
vulnerable,” Jasmine snarled, poking her head out of the car.
Brad shot her a look over his shoulders. A brat. With very good ears. But he didn’t respond to her. He looked back at Duke and said, “You’re the only one who can definitely get her back there. I could try, but if she managed to get away, I don’t know that I could find her.
You
could—you could just track her. Plus, she’ll have a harder time slipping away from you.”
Ana had been standing quietly to the side through the exchange. As Brad glanced at her, she moved to stand by Duke, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Duke, it’s not like I’m wading into some nest of vampires or something all on my own. Brad will be with me . . . plus, Dominic is there.”
“Damn it, Ana.” Duke’s lips twisted in a snarl and he shook his head. “That might not be the best way to argue the kid’s case.”
Brad rolled his eyes. Part of him wanted to argue about the “kid” part, but he’d already realized that he was
always
going to be a kid to Duke—when the man had married Ana, he’d all but adopted Brad as his unofficial little brother. Not just a brother-in-law, either . . . a real brother.
“Dominic isn’t interested in Ana,” Brad said.
Duke’s upper lip peeled back from his teeth. “Once upon a time, he was.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Ana crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Duke. “Please tell me that’s not why we’re standing here arguing.”
“It’s not.” Duke hooked a hand over her neck and drew her close.
Brad looked away as Duke pressed his brow to Ana’s. They’d been married for a while now, but sometimes, it seemed like they were still on a honeymoon. The obvious love between the two of them still left him amazed. Even though Brad had seen this coming, he hadn’t been fully prepared for it.
“It’s because this isn’t your job, Ana,” Duke said quietly. He cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb over her lower lip. “You weren’t trained for this.”
She watched him, purple eyes dark with worry, fear. She no longer hid from him, which was a damn good thing, but he hated seeing that fear in her eyes.
“Duke, you know Brad wouldn’t be hauling me along if he thought I was going to be in major danger. Especially not without you with me. For some reason, he thinks I can help with something . . . I have to try.”
“No.” He scowled. Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her close and muttered, “No. Damn it, Ana, we’re supposed to be on vacation. Taking it easy.”
She smoothed a hand down his arm and said, “If you wanted to take it easy, we should have just laid around the house back home instead of hitting the beaches.”
“And I should have said no when the kid wanted to come along,” Duke muttered. He lifted his head and glared at Brad.
Brad returned his stare, levelly, steadily.
The kid really wasn’t a kid anymore, Duke knew. He also knew Brad was smart, sharp, savvy. He wasn’t going to get his sister into some sort of danger. He adored his big sister—she’d spent her life protecting him. Now Brad was the stronger one, physically . . . and in other ways. He’d die before he let something happen to her.
But still . . .
“Duke.”
He looked at her, watched as she gave him a strained smile. “Duke, I’m in good hands . . . and you know it.”
Yeah. He did know. Plus, he also knew they couldn’t leave the baby witch alone. She was problems just waiting to happen and they needed to get someplace controlled, contained . . . and hopefully somebody at Excelsior could undo the hint of darkness he sensed inside the girl.
If Brad was sensing something tugging at him, then Brad was the one best-equipped to handle it. Duke didn’t feel a damn thing.
The kid’s psychic skills were something of a wonder, and if he said there was a need for Ana, then there was a need for her. Her rather unique skills had come in handy a time or two, and Duke suspected he knew why she was needed.
Still, he didn’t like it. At all.
Turning from Ana, he stared at Brad. Ignoring his wife, he crowded in on Brad, fisting a hand in the younger man’s shirt. Brad didn’t flinch or look away. His heartbeat spiked before he could control it, but that lasted only a few seconds. The kid’s control was damn near perfect.
“You got any idea what I’d do if something happened to her?”
Brad snorted. “Assuming I didn’t kill myself first, I figure you wouldn’t leave enough to bury. You know I won’t let anything happen to her, Duke.”
A kid. He’s just a kid.
But he wasn’t. Brad hadn’t ever been
just
a kid. And even though he was only nineteen, he had so much power inside him, so much control. He was one of the youngest called to serve the Council, and come fall, Brad was heading north to Alaska where Duke was going to mentor him for a while.