Page 13 of Wolfsbane

It was what made my whole life a fight.

A witch came rushing out the front, and I tased her, pulling out one of the new guard’s tasers and shooting her a second time for good measure. It might kill her, since witches weren’t quite human, but their bodies were similar to them.

Killing witches had been part of the plan when I’d come, though, so I didn’t worry myself on her account. She’d have done the same to me in an instant, given the opportunity.

There was a shriek nearby, and more witches started pouring out of the house. Damn it. This had not been the plan.

I shot a second witch with both tasers at once, rushing up onto the porch and slamming the screened door into the head of one trying to come out of the house. She fell back inside, and I wedged my foot into the door, so no more could come out.

Not that they were less dangerous inside, but I had to try to stem the tide somehow.

I turned to the next witch who had managed to make it out, and hesitated.

It was the redhead.

The one with my wolf in him.

I’d learned better. I’d been taught over and over that hesitation was death, and those lessons had been taught in pain.

But still, for some reason, I hesitated to grab him and twist his neck around. He had my wolf. Of course I hesitated.

And as I’d always been warned, that hesitation was my undoing.

The smell of ozone preceded a massive force to the side of my head, and then blackness swallowed me whole.

CHAPTER 6

Daire

Ever since I’d let Altair out of his cage, Mother had eyed me with suspicion.

Not only had I failed to adhere to coven law, but when Ivan descended on us, she blamed me for it.

Frankly, she was right to. In my wildest imagining, I couldn’t have predicted that letting a vampire go after decades trapped in our basement would send his sire right to our doorstep.

Of course, I’d never thought to ask.

I’d never thought to have a proper conversation with Altair at all. I wondered if any other witch had.

Sounds lonely.

Yes, well add that to my list of crimes, including tolerating his imprisonment, letting him go, and in the meanwhile, getting witches killed either in the attempt to return him or simply at Ivan’s whim.

All I’d done lately was fuck up, and my fractured mind wasn’t helping any of it. I just felt terrible all the time.

Terrible for what I had done, and what I hadn’t, and that my mother wouldn’t even meet my eye anymore.

At first, I had wanted to think that she held me apart because she wanted to protect me from Ivan’s violent outbursts, but deep down, I knew better. Mother had never hesitated to inconvenience me, had never before kept me apart from her non-magical dealings. Because my time wasn’t taken up by magical pursuits, I worked with the service to schedule guards, kept the bills paid, ran errands. I’d always been the first person she sent on busywork.

If she wanted to push me away all of the sudden, it was because she blamed me for this. She no longer trusted me. And why should she?

I’d known that I was going against her word when I’d let Altair go. I’d let myself out of his cage before the sun rose, but when the others had discovered him gone, I hadn’t tried to hide what I’d done.

Once, I’d have lied about it to cover my own ass. I’d have said that he had gotten out on his own.

Now, lying felt . . . strange. Unwise.

I’d simply said that we didn’t need him anymore. Mother had called me a foolish child, and when Ivan had come, it’d been impossible to argue with her.