Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)(97)

When he chuckled, it made the whole car vibrate. “Ain’t you been listenin’? I got giant’s blood in me, girl. Literally. And giants are as close to immune to magic as most creatures get.”

I blinked at him. “Really? So it just… doesn’t work on you?”

“Pretty much,” Roy said with a shrug. “‘Course, it did sting some, and I think you singed my eyebrows a bit.” He brushed a finger over the tail end of his brow demonstrably. “But then, I’m not a purebreed, am I?”

I smiled a little, then turned to the window again. “You know what they say about mutts, though.”

He nodded knowingly. “Yeah. They make the best dogs. I’m sure your boyfriend would agree.”

I went to tell him that wasn’t what I meant to imply, but judging by Roy’s smirk, he already knew that.

The door to the safehouse opened, and I sat up so hard and fast I bumped my head into the roof.

Carina was the first out, dusting off her clothes and adjusting the sleeves of her blazer with a look of vague disinterest. A few Guardsmen followed her, and then Aleric, but my heart didn’t resume its normal rhythm until Warin filled the doorframe, a scowl on his face.

He said something to the others, then headed straight for the Lexus. Roy rolled down the window on my side.

“They’ve been moved,” Warin said. “But they definitely were there.” He scrutinized me for a moment before adding, “There were signs of a struggle.”

The bottom of my stomach dropped out. Joana could probably handle herself, but Raven? It was so easy to imagine her broken and bloodied, maybe worse. Too easy.

I sat back in my seat, trying to clear my head as Warin reached through the window and took one of my hands. “We’ll find them, Liv. I promise.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. But what state would they be in when we did?

His gaze softened, as it always did around me. “Do you have any idea where they might have gone? Where the skinwalkers might have taken them? I know you and your friends from the shop were close, and then… there is the matter of your boss…”

“He didn’t say anything to me about his plans,” I told him, looking up into his face. “I mean, he ranted about some things, but nothing that would hint at where he’d be stashing a collection of witches.”

Warin sighed. “I will make inquiries. But you must understand, getting answers at this stage may take a while.”

I closed my eyes. “And that’s time they might not have.”

Warin didn’t answer me, but he covered our joined hands with his free one.

I sat, thinking. Mostly I thought of what Raven and Joana were going through. The pain they must be in, and the terror. I thought too of Dennis, of his betrayal, not just where I was concerned. He had betrayed all of us.

We’d trusted him. He’d spent months, if not years, cultivating that trust. All so he could take advantage of it in the end. Every kind word, every smile, every morning where he brought donuts and coffee to the shop—it was all a long-con. Our whole relationship had been based on nothing but deception.

Was this why Warin and his brethren hated witches? Was Dennis an outlier, or a symptom of a more systemic problem running throughout the witching world? It wasn’t as if he was the first witch I’d run into who’d tried to harm me. There were the other skinwalkers, of course, and Kevin was an absolute dick, and then there was—

My train of thought came to a sudden halt, and I sat bolt upright again. Warin made a noise of concern, but he needn’t have worried, because I’d had an epiphany. I knew exactly where my friends had been taken.

I turned to him, clutching his hands. “The slaughterhouse. Where everything started. Where I met that witch who tried to make me tell him about you. That’s where they are, Warin. I’m sure of it.”

Warin regarded me for several long moments, his eyes searching mine. The level of my certainty and determination must have been reflected there, because at length he nodded firmly, gripping my hands right back.

“Then that is where we will go, my love.”



* * *



The first time I’d arrived at the slaughterhouse, I’d gotten a bad feeling. Some sixth sense had twanged like a guitar string pulled too tight, and all I’d wanted to do was run.

Now, that feeling was amplified a thousandfold. Roy pulled us up into the back lot at the same time Warin and his Guardsmen were slipping in through the back, as silent and dark as the shadows.

“There they go,” Roy said, his eyes fixed on Carina heading up the back. As second-in-command, it was her job to both protect the other Guards and the Night Lord himself. “This is bound to get messy.”

It was already a mess—the skinwalkers had made sure of that. Nothing they’d done had been clean. Whoever was pulling their strings might have intended to be more subtle than this, but if that was the case, they’d picked the wrong minions to do their bidding. They were sloppy. Forces of sheer destruction. Sure, Dennis had been calculating, to some degree, but in the end, it seemed they all went the same way: absolutely bat-shit crazy.

“How do you think they’ll do it?” I asked Roy. “I mean… you’ve seen them do this before, right? How does it usually go?”

Roy shifted, leather seat creaking in protest. “It’s usually a massacre. Occasionally, a vamp gets hit, maybe even taken out, but… for the most part, what you have to look forward to is a lot of blood. And it ain’t usually theirs.”