To Wrangle A Witch (Southern Sanctuary Book 3) (2 page)

Chapter
One

Serena
Chastain, former reality TV star, Earth Witch and current resident of a high
security nut house was dying. 

It
was a slow incremental death.  Every day she grew just that little bit
weaker. 

The
warden masquerading as the head doctor who ran the facility was stumped by her
gradual but seemingly unstoppable decline.  The sadistic twinkle in his
eyes when he came to stand at her door to watch her through the tiny
observation window had gradually shifted from an unhealthy anticipation to a
look of concern.  She wasn’t naive enough to think the concern was in
anyway directed towards her.  No, Doctor Kenton was worried about his own
precious hide. 

She
doubted he realised the two individuals who’d arranged for her incarceration
were Sek and Mot, the sons of Apep, the ancient God of Chaos.  But Kenton
was smart and astute; he would have recognised the fanaticism and bone deep
crazy that lurked in the eyes of the two men wearing Texas state police officer
uniforms.  Kenton knew she was being kept here in secret.  That there
was something different… special about her.  Yet a devious man like Kenton
didn’t ask tough questions when a helpless woman was dropped into his
lap. 

With
his perverted proclivities Kenton had waited only two nights after her arrival
before sneaking into her room to run his cold, clammy hands, eagerly over her
body.  Delighting in the fact that strapped to the bed she could only
issue mumbled protests through a haze of heavy drugs. 

It
had taken practically all the dregs of magic she had left to zap the
bastard.  And she hadn’t been gentle or even given a warning shot. 
She knew that if she didn’t scare Kenton off the very first time he’d be back,
maybe not the next night but soon, and then she’d be too weak to defend herself
at all. 

So
she’d balled up the last of her earth magic and sent a current of natural
energy, sort of like electricity, and targeted it right between Kenton’s
legs. 

Five
months later the memory of that defiant act still made her smile, resulting in
a fine sheen of sweat breaking out across her forehead, even smiling these days
was an effort.  Small mercy for the first time in ages her head was clear,
not that it did her much good with her body so weak.  Kenton was barking
up the wrong tree if he thought ceasing her meds would halt or reverse her
physical decline. 

It
wasn’t just the tiny windowless room killing her.  Even if she had access
to natural light that would have only slowed her decline minimally.  It
was the lack of earth, rich in life and plant matter that fed her very soul
with its energy that was at the root cause of her sad current physical
state. 

Sek
and Mot had quickly realised after her first escape attempt, the one in which
she’d accidently killed their brother Bal, that any access to flora or the
earth fed her magic.  That’s why they’d placed her in this facility. 
Bolting her away in this hellhole in the middle of a barren desert, hundreds of
miles between her and what she needed.  They thought to punish her for all
eternity for their brother’s death, despite the fact they desperately needed
her blood… a witch’s blood, for the ceremony to bring their father, the God of
Chaos, back from the dead. 

Had
they already found another witch to take part in their ritual?  Or had
they discovered that witches were more elusive than rainbows?  What would
they do when they discovered she’d died?  Escaping their plans for eternal
punishment?

She
wouldn’t want to be in Kenton’s shoes.  Upon her death the perverted
doctor would want to get rid of her body with all possible haste and nothing
destroyed evidence better than cremation, effectively denying Sek and Mot the
last ditch opportunity of using her blood.  Did it make her a bad witch to
know that the chaos demi-gods' wrath would be the end of the lecherous Dr
Kenton?  Too bad, so sad if it did.  She’d be dust in the wind by
then, returned at last to the earth.

Overhead
the air conditioner switched on, a soft breeze of metallic air filling the room
laced with the barest traces of life giving sustenance for her.  If she
wasn’t so weak she’d laugh at the idea that a patch of mold growing in the
ventilation system and a forgotten african violet one ward over would be her
champions. 

Their
familiar scents, distant and elusive, barely enough to tickle her well deep
need to be filled with the bounty of Mother Nature’s earth, yet just enough to
keep her clinging to this mortal world.  Though she imagined even remote
prison mental facilities were required by law to clean their ventilation
systems occasionally.  Once the mold was gone she’d soon follow.  It
had the makings of a bad country song written by a biology student.

With
no access to natural light Serena had learnt to use her other senses to monitor
the passing of time.  The air switching on was the first sign of a new day
starting.  The second was the muted screams of some of the other ‘guests’
on her ward being fed - in some cases forcibly - their meds.  Followed
soon after by the smell of burnt porridge and stale cold coffee as a breakfast
tray was slid through the slot at the base of her door. 

Serena’s
restraints had long ago been removed when the staff realised she’d grown too
weak to resist.  Turning her head slightly on the bed she looked over at
the tray with disgust.  Any moment now the orderly on duty would appear to
pick it up and go through the motions of attempting to spoon feed her. 

There
were three orderlies who rotated on the morning shift, all of a similar build
and disposition.  As wide as they were tall, not dumb exactly but not
smart enough to deviate from Kenton’s instructions or question why the patient
in room 16C was unregistered. 

Their
uniform of white pants and snug t-shirts gave them that universal hospital
employee look until one noted their belts.  Then the illusion that this
was a care facility faded fast.  For each one had a stun prod, retractable
baton, handcuffs and a holstered handgun.  They never spoke to her except
to give her cursory instructions, turn over, open your mouth, drink this. 
Not that Serena particularly wished them to be chatty but it would have been
nice to have news of the outside world, to know that it still existed.

She
wasn’t surprised then, when like every other morning the door to her room
opened.  Except this time there came no sound of booted heel crossing the
linoleum floor, just silence.  Eyes flying open she inhaled sharply in
shock, a stranger stood just inside the doorway of her room, gazing at her
intently.  His dark blue eyes intense an unreadable as they swept her from
head to foot, cataloguing every detail.

“Who
are you?”  She managed to get the words out in a raspy whisper.

“I’m
your lawyer.”  There was something about the way he said the words,
crisply, tersely but with a resounding ring of truth.

“My
lawyer?”  Perhaps he had the wrong room.  That three piece suit he
was wearing probably cost more than her car.  Perhaps he wasn’t a lawyer
at all.  He was way too pretty for a start.  Was this some elaborate
joke Dr Kenton or Sek and Mot had devised?   Was she hallucinating?

“This
is America.
 
Everyone has a right to an
attorney.
And I’m yours
.” 

Of
course he was, wait… what?
 
There was something
about the way he spoke, a decisiveness that brooked no challenge.  Every
fiber in her being wanted to believe him and that only raised her suspicions
higher.  Just who was this man?  Where had he come from?  And
most importantly, why was he here in her room?

“No,
who are you really?” 

A
brief smile flirted across his handsome face before he covered it with a hard
business like look.  “Tough crowd. 
Questions later
.  Can
you walk?”

“No.” 
She burned to ask him a multitude of questions but for some reason she suddenly
couldn’t form the words.

“Okay.” 
He shifted his black leather hideously expensive looking briefcase to his left
hand, strode over to the bed and scooped her up as if she weighed no more than
a feather.  “
Under section 44-13-60 whereby a patient deemed harmless
or wrongfully committed may be removed from a state run facility as long as a
suitable and/or fit custodian can be identified is hereby invoked.  As a
nominated representative of the court and legal sponsor of patient 9C121-16C I
hereby retain custody of said patient forthwith.” 

Serena’s
mouth was open in shock as the man spouted legalese jibber jabber instead of
just running for the door.  Yet as he finished speaking a strange weight
seemed to have lifted from the air. 

Her
head swam slightly at his nearness.  The first gentle human touch she’d
experienced in over five months, enough to make any girl giddy she assured
herself.  Especially when the man doing the touching looked like this one;
clean shaven, strong chin, straight nose, broad shoulders, lean of build, tall,
around six foot one.  Hair the colour of dark chocolate mixed with the
deepest of reds, kept short around the back and sides but he let his fringe
grow out so the dark feathery tips caressed the tops of his eyebrows.  And
his eyes, they reminded her of the colour of the ocean just before twilight, so
blue, so dark, they were almost navy in colour. 

And
the smell.  By the Earth no wonder her head was swimming, the man smelt
divine.  As an Earth Witch she abhorred generic man-made fragrances but
whatever this man used she wanted to roll around and bathe in it.  Taking
a deep breath she catalogued the heady notes of worked leather, bergamot, black
pepper, sage and spiced rum. 

“You
okay?”  His deep steady voice broke into her musings.  “You’re not
going to pass out on me are you?”

Serena
willed the deep flush of embarrassment away, managing to meet his look with
steady eyes.  “I’m fine.” 

Could
she be more pathetic?  She was as a weak as a kitten and probably looked
more unsavoury than the patch of mold growing in the ventilation system. 
The man with the deep blue eyes was notably swoon worthy but the situation
couldn’t be more inappropriate.  And her current sad emaciated starved
state was hardly conducive to romance… yet there was something about him. 

Some
instantaneous connection had occurred between them.  The very air in the
room seemed to crackle with the awareness of it.  A wave of heat suffused
her body to centre between her legs, suddenly she felt breathless and hyper
aware of him.  There was no way this man could remain unaffected by the
sheer magnitude of the invisible bonds that had just linked them irretrievably
together.  She wondered what he was thinking behind those beautiful navy
blue eyes.  Okay so she didn’t really expect him to open his mouth and
spout poetry or declare his undying love but she certainly wasn’t prepared for
his next words.

“You
aren’t going to throw up are you?  This is one of my favourite suits.”

“What?
No!”  Serena all but squeaked.  “Let’s just go.”  She instructed
as he made a break for the door at a swift pace.  “No! We have to go that
way.”  She waved her hand directing him deeper into the building.

He
glanced at her for a split second, weighing up some equation she couldn’t
understand, before turning to obey her instructions.  She was surprised
when he didn’t ask for more details, and even more surprised by the sight of
two orderlies slumped over in the corridor.  One was sobbing his heart
out, the other looked slacked jaw bordering on catatonic.

“What?...
Did?”  She struggled to form the words, straining her neck to get a look
back over her lawyer’s broad shoulder.  Glancing up to study her rescuer
with burning curiosity.  What had he done?

“Not
everyone likes the truth.”  He shrugged off her querying look with an
enigmatic platitude. 

She
swore by the Earth and the Moon when she was stronger this man was going to
give her some answers.
 
“We need to go
that way.”  She instructed pointing left down the brightly lit corridor. 
Right now she wouldn’t worry about her weakened physical state, appalling
appearance or the strange gorgeous man claiming to be her lawyer who had yet to
give her his name.  All she could focus on right at this moment was saving
a very dear friend.

Chapter
Two

Locke
intentionally drove the gleaming, top of the range, black BMW too fast towards
the final barricade to exit the facility.  The guard manning the gate was
unsurprised by the smug hotshot lawyer’s high handed tactics, though he still
had to scramble to get the barricade lifted in time. 

It
was all about the image. 

Something
Maat’s warrior elite had a hard time getting their heads around when Locke had
initially told them his requirements for this mission.  It had been Vaughn
of all people who’d finally understood his reasoning.  It might have meant
an extra three hour drive but it was worth him hiring a luxury car in Fort
Worth rather than arriving closer to his destination, say in Lubbock, and being
forced to drive an economy model car.  Image literally was
everything.  Image was truth. 

People
saw the expensive haircut, Italian suit, silk tie, glossy high end leather
shoes and exclusive one of a kind briefcase and they instantly thought
lawyer.  Doors automatically opened.  Peoples’ concepts, ideas and
stereotypes of lawyers solidified into truth. 

When
he’d initially driven up to the facility he’d barely bothered to tap the
brakes, knowing the security guard would assume he was just one more over-paid dickhead
lawyer and it was above his pay grade to deny the bastard in the top of the
line luxury vehicle access to a state run facility.  That was someone
else’s problem. 

The
same thoughts went through the minds of the administrator and sentries on duty in
the reception area.  All packing way too much military hardware to fool
anyone with half a brain that they were medical staff, but they too allowed
Locke to barrel on past without him having to state out loud his
business. 

Things
had gotten a little bit trickier the deeper into the hospital he’d travelled.
If he’d been heading for the administration offices then no one would have
questioned him.  But still, a fast pace, arrogant air and a hard stare had
kept the staff from questioning his presence.

It
hadn’t been difficult to track down Serena’s room.  The orderlies on duty
on that ward hadn’t been mental giants exactly.  Locke’s immaculate
appearance and attitude, that he was perfectly entitled to be walking down any
corridor he chose, was enough of an initial truth to halt them in their tracks
so he could at least engage them in conversation before they resorted to
physical violence. 

Once
they let him speak… well the rest is history.  As he’d always said - truth
hurts - and that was fine with Locke as long as it was hurting someone
else.  So he’d been congratulating himself as he’d walked towards the door
the last orderly – with major mother abandonment issues - had indicated between
heaving sobs was his destination. 

Take
that elite cavemen!  Not a single drop of blood spilt.  Not even an
exchange of angry words.  Okay there were tears, but they weren’t his, so
they didn’t count right?  His suit was his armour, his car his mighty
steed and his briefcase full of irrefutable, incontrovertible truths his
sword.  He was invincible, unbeatable and just all-round the man. 
Nothing could touch him, he was lawyer… hear him roar.  Or at the very
least hear him smugly rub Vaughn and the rest of the Chippendale warriors’
noses in the fact that he had succeeded where they couldn’t.  He was on
such a high he didn’t think anything could bring him down.

Then
he’d opened the door, taken one look at the petite pale occupant on the bed and
he’d metaphorically crashed and burned into the ground, obliterating all life
and kicking off the next ice age.  Shit… he was in so much trouble. 

Even
in her current state, half starved, hollow cheeked with dark circles under her
eyes she was the most beautiful woman he’d seen… ever.  Her hair was that
white gold you sometimes saw on little kids that only ever darkened with age,
not hers, as it streamed out across the pillow next to her in a tangled
mess.  Her eyes were huge and the colour unusual, the inner ring of the
iris blue, the outer purple.  Her nose small and straight, her lips bee
stung and rose coloured against the pale cream of her unblemished skin. 

The
large off-white hospital top and drawstring pants swam on her tiny frame,
making it impossible for him to gauge her exact shape, until he picked her up
and even in her depleted physical state soft curves pressed against him. 
He wondered briefly… inanely, how tall she was, at a guess he’d put her at five
foot four.  

It
was no big deal he assured himself.  She was a stunningly attractive
woman.
 
His was a perfectly normal reaction. 
Except he hadn’t been acting normally, if he had he would have dropped her like
a hot rock at the thought she might hurl on his bespoke Caraceni charcoal grey
three piece suit.  In his book the fact that he didn’t drop her
immediately hurtled him past the heroic category into the legendary tales to be
told grandchildren category. 

Hold
on… what?  Grandchildren?  He’d never thought about children let
alone grandchildren in his life.  One look into dual pansy coloured eyes
and he was waxing lyrical over non-existent future spawn.  Goddess he
needed to get her back to Maat Enterprises and fast, before he did, or worse
said anything he was going to regret.

With
the law, a bright shining protective shield on his side, Locke had booked it
out of there fast, with only one minor detour to slow them down. 

So
now the security guard was forced to scramble at the gate, praying that the
boom gate would lift in time, since it didn’t look like the over-priced piece
of shit lawyer with the incredibly sweet ride was going to slow down. 

Locke
completed his award winning performance with a smug superior flick of his
fingers at an underling so minor in the scheme of things he didn’t deserve a
nanosecond of Locke’s time or energy.
 
The guard frowned, wanker didn’t even wave, just sort of saluted
him.  It was all so typical, so expected; the guard didn’t even question
why he hadn’t made the lawyer stop and double check in with front of house
security like he normally would.  Instead he just watched the dickhead speed
off, leaving in his wake a cloud of choking dust.

With
the hospital facility in his rear view mirror Locke chanced a swift glance at
his passenger, huddled in the seat next to him, a pot plant containing an
african violet clutched to her chest.  He couldn’t believe they’d wasted
precious time by detouring so that she could rescue a plant. 

Thank
the Goddess this was a rental, he shuddered at the sight of the medium sized
pot, fresh earth threatening to spill over the sides any moment.  His
passenger seemed unfazed by the mess, or the fact that her fingers were
clenched around the rim of the pot, pressing into the dirt.  He had some
sanitary wipes in his briefcase but he didn’t think she’d appreciate the
offer.  At least her colour was better, a faint tinge of pink clinging to
her high cheekbones, her eyes clear and once more focused.

Returning
his attention to the empty road Locke pressed his foot down on the accelerator,
checking his rear view mirror.  No sign of pursuit yet but it would come,
the power of truth faded over time.  Arguments, counterarguments,
delusions, illusions, beliefs and peer pressure all nibbled away at truth. He
might have right on his side, taking Serena Chastain away from that clinical
hell hole, but now that he was no longer present to reinforce that truth, well
human nature came once more to the fore.  It was just a question of how
long it would take until someone sounded the alarm. 

With
that in mind he pressed his foot harder still on the accelerator and the engine
leapt to respond. That was another reason for wanting a high end luxury car,
they made great getaway vehicles.

*
                                                    
*
                                            
*

Serena
had a million questions zinging around in her head but couldn’t seem to put any
of them into words.  Had they done something to her at the hospital? 
Was this part of her deterioration?  Every time she went to open her mouth
it was like an invisible hand squeezed her throat.   Not that she
wasn’t grateful to be out of that hateful place but she had so many questions. Gripping
the pot plant hard, digging her fingers into the dirt deeper she forced the
word out despite the pain it caused.  “Questions!”  Her eyes watered
at the sheer effort saying just that one word cost her.

“What?” 
The man who claimed to be her lawyer glanced her way for a split second before
refocusing on the road.  “Right, yes, no doubt you have some
questions.  Sure….
ask away
.”

And
just like that the pressure eased.  He’d done this to her?  “What did
you just do?”  She rubbed her throat to ease the ache.

“Sorry,
I forgot in all the mad rush that I’d told you not to ask any questions. 
We couldn’t afford to waste time on extraneous stuff like detailed
explanations.”

Serena
would have been more upset if she hadn’t noticed the dark stain of
embarrassment that rose briefly across his tanned face.  “Who are
you?”  Always start with the basics her grandmother had said.

“Locke...
Locke Valhalla.  I’ll be your rescuer today.”

“Who
do you work for?”

“Me. 
I run a global firm specialising in corporate law.”

Serena
frowned.  “Did someone pay you to rescue me?”

“Money?” 
He laughed and it was a strangely attractive sound.  “Try
blackmail.”  Locke ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his
breath.  “Underhanded Maat loving bastard.”

“You
know Maat’s warriors?”  Serena felt a wave of relief sweep through
her.  Vaughn, Drum, Nate and the others hadn’t forgotten or abandoned
her. 

Locke
must have heard something in her tone.  “They’ve been looking for you,
from the moment you left… disappeared.”

“They
know it was Xander Marr right?”  Serena tensed. “That he kidnapped me?”

“Yes
they know.”

“What
about Sek and Mot, do they know they’re trying to raise their father from the
underworld?” 

“And
need a witch’s blood to complete the summoning?  Yes.”

“Good,
so they have everything under control.”  Serena relaxed back in her seat.

“Well
I wouldn’t say that.  Xander’s catatonic.  Sek and Mot are in the
wind, no doubt out hunting for another witch and Apep’s casket has gone
missing.”

“Oh.” 
Serena’s tension ramped back up, settling into a tight knot between her
shoulders.  “Why didn’t they come themselves… to rescue me?”  She
couldn’t keep the slightly dejected note out of her voice.

“They
wanted to.  But I told them they’d only get in my way.  They’ve been
scouring Texan prisons looking for you for months now.  But the bad guys
had you squirrelled away under a false identity.  When Marcus finally
pinpointed your location they staked out the facility looking for the best
access points.  Surprisingly common sense prevailed, they realised
breaking you out wasn’t going to be viable without instigating a bloodbath or
alerting the chaos twins that your location had been compromised.  So they
came to me for the finesse option.”

“And
had to blackmail you into volunteering?”  Serena questioned drily.

“Please. 
We have a love hate relationship.  I love that he makes my sister happy, I
hate that he’s interfering on a daily basis with my life and work.”

“He?” 
Serena frowned.

“Vaughn.”

“Let
me get this straight.  Vaughn is involved with your sister?”

“They’re
meld mates.  Which essentially translates to being married.”  Locke
added helpfully, his eyes flicking to the rear view mirror, was that dust in
the distant?

“I
can’t imagine Vaughn married.  Wow.”  Serena’s gaze settled out the
window, as the barren wasteland whizzed by.  Earth, so much had changed
and she’d been gone barely six months.  Vaughn married?  She pictured
in her head some sweet blonde doll who wore an apron, high heels and baked.
 “So what does he have on you?”

“Have
on me?” 

“To
blackmail you with?”

“Nothing
earth shattering if that’s what you’re worried about.  He just threatened
to involve my father in what was going on.”  Locke couldn’t help
shuddering at the idea of his ‘smash, kill, destroy’ father taking an interest in
his life.

“You’re
scared of your father?”  Serena asked a bemused tired smile tilting up the
edges of her lips.  Earth, her eyelids were growing heavy.  Must be
the adrenalin crash following their escape.

“Not
scared exactly.  It’s not like my mother would ever let him hurt me. 
Let’s just say I have a healthy respect for the man and leave it at
that?” 

Locke
waited for her to process that information, when she didn’t ask any follow up
questions he chanced a quick glance her way.  Asleep.  Hugging the pot
plant to her chest like it was a teddy bear.  A seriously flowering pot
plant he now realised.  Weird, it hadn’t had any flowers on it when she’d
first scooped its bedraggled butt off a high forgotten ledge, now it seemed to
be twice the size and flourishing dramatically with a handful of deep purple
flowers in full bloom.