I wonder how many other covens he’s destroyed, how much magic he’s harvested, before moving on to the next town.
A wave of inevitability sweeps over me, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to escape the insidious presence of the council. Their reach seems to have invaded every corner of the world.
I allow myself to wallow in the helplessness for a few seconds, then I shake it off. Gramps raised me to overcome every adversity. He trained me to survive. I won’t let his death be in vain.
Even from a distance, the magic surrounding him is dark and twisted, the scent so strong that every breath tastes bitter. I peer around at the crowd, but they remain oblivious to the wrongness that hovers around him like a toxic cloud.
They don’t see the insanity sparking in his eyes or the way he leaks magic because his body isn’t built to hold it.
They probably assume it is a sign of power.
Avarice gleams in his eyes when he surveys me from head to toe, the sensation like a pair of slimy hands brushing over every inch of my skin. When he licks his too full lips, bile rises in my throat at the thought of him anywhere near me.
A smirk spreads across his expression at my reaction, a sadistic spark entering his eyes. The sick fuck no doubt takes pleasure in tormenting his victims before he goes in for the kill.
“Do you know why you’ve been summoned here?” he asks, his voice projecting to reach everyone standing in the square.
I can either accept my fate, or I can fight back.
It’s not a choice.
I refuse to be cowed by a man like him. I’ve spent too many years hiding, and it got me nowhere. I’m done bowing to those who think they can take what they want without consequences. I plant my hands on my hips and thrust my chin up. “I was asked to come here to help figure out where the witches of this coven have been disappearing, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened to them.”
“So you admit that you’re the culprit?” He cuts me off before I can continue, and I mentally sigh at his dramatic, triumphant expression. Clearly, this is how he’s been able to escape retribution after all these years—he’s been blaming it on innocents.
My eyebrows lift at his audacity, and my lips curl in disgust. “How many covens have you killed over the years? Traveling from town to town, stealing their magic to fuel your own? You’re not a wizard like you portray. You’re barely even a mage. If I research your past, will I find a trail of dead witches in your pathetic attempt to hold off your doom?”
His face loses its humor, rage darkens his features, and if he could strike me dead, he would do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for him, the council wants me alive.
“Let me guess, you’re losing your borrowed magic almost as fast as you steal it?” The townspeople fall silent, a few of them exchanging confused glances, and I push home my point. “You’re nothing more than a glorified bounty hunter, sent to collect witches for a promise of more power. Only you’ve beenskimming off the top, siphoning more and more of their magic to keep your tainted soul from consuming itself.”
Dante and Garth remain silent at my claim, probably wondering what the fuck they got themselves into by joining me, and I can’t really blame them.
A few men in the crowd slowly work their way closer to us, the handful obviously his henchmen, if the scowls on their faces are any indication. They don’t seem surprised by my declaration, which means they are just as guilty in my eyes.
“Geoffrey, what does she mean?” a man from the back of the crowd calls out, a hint of doubt coloring his question.
If I expected more people to step forward, I would be sorely disappointed. Geoffrey raises his hands for silence, shaking his head mournfully, his expression full of pity. “Remember what I said about her trying to weasel her way out of her crimes? Trying to accuse me! Can you imagine?!” His voice booms in the quiet of the square. “The only way your coven members will be returned to you is by fulfilling the ransom demand. We must capture the guilty party and turn them over to the authorities.”
Geoffrey’s answer is complete bullshit, but he has the townspeople so convinced of his righteousness that hatred gleams in their eyes. I might have planted a seed of doubt, but their fear and outrage have been nurtured to the point they’re unable to break away from the mob mentality.
The council must have contacted him, offering him a reward for my return.
He’s lived past his usefulness.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the council offered him a place in Kyperian in return for my capture, not that they would honor it.
No doubt he would meet an untimely demise within a few days of crossing the border.
Geoffrey’s lips move, and I brace for a spell to knock us on our ass. Instead, my ears pick up his whispered threat,something only a shifter could hear. “Surrender, or your shifter friend will die.”
The guys tense, wild energy crackling around them as they prepare to shift and fight. Unfortunately, it’s not a chance I’m willing to take. Geoffrey is nothing if not ruthless. If it takes his dying breath, he will ensure Tyler dies.
I grit my teeth at the thought of surrendering and reluctantly step back.
“It’s refreshing to see a woman who knows her place,” he murmurs with a cocky smile, like he thinks he won the battle of wills, and I nearly roll my eyes at the fucking idiot.
My hands itch to draw my blade and take his head, the need for blood like a siren’s song that is almost impossible to resist. As if sensing my wavering resolve, Geoffrey signals to someone behind him. Half a dozen men emerge from the chapel with very familiar chains in their hands.
