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Usually when Elodie camehome from a kill, she felt dirty and unworthy and wrong. She didn’twant to see anyone else for days. Not until she’d showered athousand times and finally slept soundly.
She had never, not once inher two hundred years, thought she’d smile after one. But she foundherself doing just that, though it felt weary on her face. “It’scertainly worth a try.”
Chapter 13
The call had come in themiddle of the night. Chance had taken it, telling Ellie to sleep.Delilah had tracked down the witch.
Which was how he foundhimself watching from the edge of a snowy clearing in the rollingmountains of Vermont as Elodie, bundled up this time at least,pretended to creep toward a small cabin.
The cabin itself wasinnocuous. Cozy even, with firelight flickering in the windowsinviting a passerby in for warmth on such a cold night. Not thatthey’d get any passersby here in the middle of nowhere.
What was inside wasn’t soinnocent.
He glanced at Alasdair andDelilah, both positioned beside him, watching intently. They hadn’ttracked the minotaur, but they had found the witch he’d been using.Cretan’s lover, apparently. She was inside.
And Elodie was bait.
This was a stupid fuckingplan.
“She’s in there, but heisn’t?” he whispered at Alasdair. “You’re sure of it?”
The warlock nodded, not taking his eyes fromElodie and the cabin.
He’d barely finished themovement when, with no warning and only a stirring of the snowaround her, two people appeared beside Elodie.
Two. Not one.
The witch and the minotaurboth. Unmistakably, the man already shifted into his half-bullform. Every muscle in Chance’s body went so tense he might as wellhave been turned to stone by Medusa. But the three of them didn’tmove. Elodie was supposed to change. Supposed to attack.
Except the monster inside her didn’temerge.
The minotaur shot out ahand, taking her roughly by the throat and lifting her up so thather feet dangled in the air. Kicking and struggling, Elodiewrestled with his hands. But the fucker only smiled at herefforts.
“Screw this…” Chance movedhis hands in a fluid motion like he was drawing his bow. That wasall he had to do to call it to him. Immediately, it manifested inhis grip, already nocked and drawn.
This one wasn’t goldenthough. Still glittering, it was gunmetal grey. The arrow was oneof lead. He rarely used this kind. They weren’t very fun to fire,but they were effective.
“What are you doing?”Delilah whisper-hissed at him.
“Taking away his love. Thewitch will be less likely to help him if she finds himabhorrent.”
Alasdair flicked a glance his way. “Remindme not to piss off any cupids.”
“It only works if the loveis weak,” Chance muttered through clenched teeth, taking carefulaim.
“How do you know itis?”
“I don’t. In fact, if it’san obsessive, Bonnie and Clyde style relationship, this won’t dojack shit. But it’s worth a try. If nothing happens, stepin.”
Alasdair nodded.
Without hesitation, hefired his arrow. The glittering gray shaft was silent and swiftarching up before shooting back to earth.
Which was when things went…weird.
Time seemed to slow to acrawl all around him, even the breeze was slower, the rustle of acreature under the brush dragged out. And his arrow hung suspendedin the air, barely moving.
The witch turned her headwith agonizing slowness to connect with Chance’s gaze across thefield, despite his hiding spot.
