“Drop your shields!” a feminine voice full of power yells from the building across the street.
Instead of revealing our army, Saoirse crosses into the open with Rorik by her side.
“I have something you want,” the coven leader says.
A bitter laugh sounds ahead of a figure emerging from the entrance door.
The woman is beautiful. Dark red hair in loose curls fall over her shoulders, and her green eyes glow—literally. Herlight skin is dotted with freckles. She’s slender, wearing black pants and a black tank top.
“You think I want that abomination?” The witch sneers. A light bounces off what appears to be a nose piercing and necklaces she wears around her neck.
“He’s your creation, is he not?” Saoirse asks.
“He was a mistake.”
“Give us the hunter’s daughter,” Rorik demands.
The witch chuckles again. “Sure. Hand over the sphinx and a gargoyle, then you get the plump blonde woman.”
Xander holds me back because I was seconds from flying over there to snap the witch’s neck.
I notice he’s also holding Thorne back. Vara and Layla stand with us at the rear, prepared to join the battle if needed. Before we made our way over here, Thorne literally got down on his hands and knees, begging them not to participate. Aside from being his mates, Layla is royalty, and Vara is wanted for her golden feathers. Neither should be here, but I knew they wouldn’t agree to go into hiding. This fight is just as much theirs as it is mine.
“You are outnumbered, Ciara,” Saoirse says.
The woman smiles. It’s sinister. Evil. “Finally! Some recognition. How did you know?”
“I always suspected it was you, great-great-great-grandmother,” Saoirse explains.
Ciara.
We have a name.
And she’s related to the coven leader for New York City witches.
Ciara lifts her arms and jerks her fingers. Hunters emerge from the building and surround her. There’s dozens of them, still a fraction to how many supes we have prepared to fight. They hunters are armed with guns that I have no doubt are adapted to fire wooden bullets or can shoot ammo that’s infused with UV rays.
A few hunters have swords, and I can smell the iron from where I stand at the back.
“Why are you doing this?” Saoirse asks.
“Boredom.” She shrugs. “Or maybe it’s to prove a point.”
A burst a black light shoots from her hands like a lightning strike, zapping the shield put in place to mask the battle from the human world.
Fuck.
The hunters seem confused and nervously fidget on their feet but fail to stand down from fight mode.
“What are you doing?” a man who appears to be in his late forties growls at the witch. “This wasn’t the plan!”
“Oh, Dean, did you really think I’d listen to a powerless human like yourself?”
Dean. That’s Farrah’s brother. I scan the line of hunters, but I don’t spot Mally, the patriarch.
Dean’s face turns red. He’s a big guy like Mally, with light red hair that falls to his shoulders. He’s got the same nose and round blue eyes as Farrah.
“We’re stronger. More powerful. Humans are beneath us!” Ciara yells, making sure the hunters and supes can hear. Our shield is down, which is something we anticipated. The witches on our side are already working to restore it. “Do you really think this plan to reveal our world to them and become equals will work? They will always be the prey.”
