Autumn Storm (The Witchling #2)(33)

Music blared, and the scents and smoke from marijuana and cigarettes rolled into the street from the party in the apartment overlooking the alley in which Decker stood. He sought the entrance to the building and walked through the hallways, until he found a stairwell to the fourth floor. Down another corridor, he found the party. People, trash and alcohol spanned across several apartments.

Using his magick, he reached out to identify where the newly Dark soul was and followed his instincts. He jostled his way through the humans, unconcerned with them, when the prey he hunted was nearby.

He sensed several witchlings here, both Dark and Light. The Darkness was creeping into his mind again, ready to take control of his body. He wanted … needed it to help him this night, after kissing the blond girl.

The soul he sought wasn’t in the main room. He walked through the first hallway and opened one door. The couple within was in the throes of sex. The sight left him aroused, the fire in his blood adding to his agitated magick. They were humans, not witchlings.

He went to the second door and opened it. Five witchlings – three Light, one Dark and one newly Dark – were gathered around a pentagram. In the center of the pentagram was the pale, naked body of a brunette. Two of the Light witchlings – both girls – were crying. He sensed by the Light Law broken that someone had tried blood magick to help the human girl in the center, who had overdosed.

She was dead. There was no bringing her back. His eyes took in her pale skin and the dark hair fanning around her head. She was built much like the soul mate he’d lost. An image of Summer’s naked body in the moonlight flashed through his thoughts. He’d spent a weekend with her in his parent’s cabin, making love to her and learning more about the girl meant to be his mate.

The vision in his head changed. Summer was replaced by the blond girl whose kiss destroyed what little Decker held sacred: the memory of his time Summer. He shouldn’t have kissed the blond. He’d failed Summer in life. He’d betrayed her in death.

Tonight is the night you choose. Bartholomew-the-Terrible said. If you kill enough Light witchlings, the Darkness will take away your pain.

Guilt rose, followed by resolve. Decker stared at the body then turned his gaze to the three Light witchlings. All eyes were on him. Judging by the glazed looks, they were drugged. Only one had the sense to look terrified when she recognized that the Dark Master stood in their midst.

Decker hesitated. The Light witchlings were innocent, their eyes already red with tears from crying over their friend.

You’ll have peace at last, Bartholomew told him. Everyone you love will be protected from what you are. All you have to do is kill them.

With a deep breath, Decker turned to close the door and lock it. He stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders. The Darkness was at the edge of his mind, waiting to see what he chose to do.

Decker withdrew the knife and wound his fingers through the hair of the nearest Light witchling, pulling her head back to expose her vulnerable neck.

Was he ready to cross the point of no return?





He paused. The Darkness seized his body without taking his mind. It made his wrist flick. Blood spurted over his hands, the scent and warmth making him shudder with pleasure-and horror of what he’d done. The witchling sank to his feet, the light in her eyes dying.

The others began screaming, but not for long. Decker killed the newly Dark witchling before the Darkness seized his mind and took over the slaughter. Decker fell into the calm, gentle depths of his mind. The pain, fury, frustration, shame … all disappeared. He relaxed in the quiet place, unconcerned with what the Darkness did with his body.

Suddenly, it returned his mind and body to him. Decker jolted back into himself and the emotions. Blood soaked him, calming him. He looked around, taken aback by the carnage the Darkness committed. The knife was clenched in his hand and dripped with blood.

He couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Was Darkness really his only escape? Sometimes, when the voices in his head were quiet enough, he was able to hear his own instincts. They didn’t always agree with Bartholomew.

Someone knocked at the door. Decker collected the amulets and destroyed them all, one-by-one. Claiming the souls made him high. He ordered his shadows to take him back to the dorm. They complied, and he materialized in his room.

“Oh, my god,” Alexa breathed from the bed. “Are you okay?”

His gaze fell to her, a new hunger rising hard and fast. He stripped out of his clothing and strode to his bed.

“I thought I told you to bring a friend,” he growled.

“I can handle you,” she said, a mix of fear and desire on her face.

She’d never outlast him. That much he knew. She pulled her to him, and he went willingly, losing himself in her scent and warm skin. Within moments, she was writhing and crying out in ecstasy beneath him. His lust wasn’t so easily satisfied, and he licked, nipped, touched and buried himself inside her over and over. She was exhausted long before he was ready to quit, but he rolled away at last. She kissed his face and sank into sleep.

The fire still burned too strong. He didn’t bother with the valium tonight. Nothing was going to take the edge off. The blood high wore down, followed by the sex high. He waited for both to settle before taking a long shower.

He’d killed Light witchlings. There was no going back.

Beck would know. As Master of Light, he’d sense when a member of his herd was threatened by magick just as Decker knew when a soul went bad. He let the hot water wash over him then shut it off.