Page 16 of Werewolves and Witches AU

She takes a step forward, closer to Guardian, and nudges the box toward him. “Look, I have the Luna trinket. It’s old. Roman old. And I was promised a cash reward. I can’t take it back down there because they’ll know what I did. So we need to hurry. Where’s my money I was promised?”

Guardian holds his hands up, palms facing out. “Miss…” he begins, but he doesn’t say anything further because my wolf detects the sound of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door only seconds before it opens. They soundproofed it.

Another female, maybe a few years older than Georgie, comes to a dead stop with her hand still on the door. Mouth ajar, she glances between us all, then rushes to wrap her long fingers around Georgie’s wrist before she notices the box in her palm.

She freezes then. “Georgie? What’s going on?”

“Oh, erm. I’m just… I thought you were helping set up for breathworks because Ray is with the Coven Leader.”

Confirmed: at least two more witches downstairs.

The new witch risks taking her eyes off us to look at Georgie. “I was, then I thought we could get a tea before it starts.” Then her gaze lands on the hairpin. “Why do you have one of our historical vault pieces? And why are there werewolves here?”

“What? No. These aren’t…” Georgie’s brown eyes flick between us all in turn. “Werewolves.”

Two things happen at once. The new witch presses a button on an alert pendant that triggers an alarm to blare, and Thriller leaps past both witches to slam that internal door shut and prevent any others from joining us.

Heavy metal shutters roll down over the retail unit, plunging it into darkness. Bear snatches for the box in Georgie’s hand, but the witch who still has hold of her activates some kind of hidden warding and he’s flung violently backward.

Guardian’s purple eyes provide the only light in the unit, and Thriller’s growl announces his partial transformation to wolf form as he snarls and snaps his teeth at the pair.

“Do you realise what you’ve done?” hisses the witch.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding…” I aim to defuse the situation before someone gets hurt, but the door to the rest of the coven suddenly explodes off its hinges, and splintered fragments blast through the air.

“Shit,” I mutter, instinctively putting an arm over Bear’s head.

Sheltering him from the explosion, I drop to the floor and command my unit. “Clear out!”

“Bummed you didn’t invite me to your cake and arse party, Ranger.” Tuesday, with his bright and breezy Australian accent in my ear, can fuck off.

I growl down the line. With those shutters down, and the door to the coven proper unsecured, there’s only one remaining extraction route. “Delilah?”

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s this roof made of?”

Thriller’s low warning growl is swallowed by the heavy buzz of defensive magic. A bright flash of red precedes a flurry of white sparks.

“Resin tile. Did you know they can withstand wind speeds of up to one hundred miles per hour?”

Guardian’s wide, white and gold wingspan blocks the access to the coven. As an angel, he’s immune to most forms of human magic, but not when the bastards use it to blow stuff up. A steady flow of blood trickles from a wound on his right arm.

We need to get out of here without any more casualties. “Tuesday, we’re going out through the roof and need a distraction. Ye’ve got three minutes.”

“Roger that. Next door is a party decorations store, and their compressed gas tanks will malfunction in two.”

“Guardian, we need to get up there.” I point to the low ceiling, and he looks back over his shoulder. If he moves, whoever else is down there will be able to get through.

Thriller, in partial wolf form, widens his stance and squats, setting up a stirrup with clawed hands. Bear takes a running jump, foot landing in Thriller’s interlocked palms before he’s boosted up high. The lightest of us, he pushes through the false ceiling with ease.

I stare at the hairpin in the box in Georgie’s likely dead hand. Blood is splattered over the silver and pearl. My gut tells me this isn’t what we’re after, and I fold her fingers over it so the witches will know what she did.

“I’d get away from the joining wall if I were you.” Tuesday’s warning is gracious. Means we have less than ten seconds before shit hits the fan.

Wedged into the rafters, Bear leans down to take Thriller’s arm and hoist him up, where the pair combine their strength to punch through the boarding that supports the roof.

At the last second, Guardian charges toward me, and with a boost from his wings, lifts me up and through the opening right as Tuesday’s bomb detonates.