Darius cuffed the back of his head. “I’m not your brother, you filth. Keep talking. How’d he find her?”
“Tracked her, most likely. Seemed to know a lot about witch magic. Signatures. I didn’t really get all the details—I was too busy countin’ the cash.”
“Did you see him again after that?”
“Not till a few days back. He asked me if I wanted to earn a little more green, make a little blood donation for his cause. Said his current connection was getting cold feet, and he couldn’t complete his plans for the witches without vamp blood. One of the panthers on the west side told me he was after shifter blood, too. Don’t know what that was all about.”
“And tonight?” Ronan asked.
Hollis shrugged. “A little more cash in exchange for an ambush—take out everyone but the witch. Should’ve been easy money for me and my crew.”
Darius nodded toward the pile of vamp bodies behind them. “Next time, get a better crew.”
“Let’s go back to the blood a minute,” Emilio said. “He wanted your blood for the witches, but did he ever say anything about you takingtheirblood? Turning them?”
“Nah. If you ask me, the guy seemed a little unhinged. Ranting about wars and elemental magic and rightful guardians. Real crusader.”
At his words, a creeping doubt crawled across my skin, slowly worming its way into my mind. I’d been trying so hard to convince myself that the killer wasn’t a Hunter. Other than the end result—dead witches—nothing about the crimes seemed to fit a Hunter’s M.O.
But this stuff Hollis was talking about? Hunter propaganda at its finest.
According to the lore, when humans first crawled out of the pond and starting showing survival potential, the Elemental Source had selected the strongest bloodlines to become witches and mages—female and male human guardians of Earth’s magic. They were given equal power and equal responsibility, but over time the mages turned into assholes, stripping the earth of much of her innate magic, hoarding power for themselves. The Source finally revoked the mages’ duties, leaving witches the sole guardians—and wielders—of Earth’s magic.
The neutered mages could still sense the magic though—a connection that just couldn’t be severed. Eventually it drove them mad, and their once honorable bloodline evolved into a vicious order of men determined to eradicate witches and reclaim the magic they believed was rightfully theirs.
These days, we called them Hunters.
“What else can you tell us about this man?” Darius asked. “What did he look like?”
“Built about like you,” Hollis said. “Guy was a fucking ginger, too. Greenish eyes. Wore some charm around his neck—got real touchy anytime someone asked about it. That’s all I know. I swear.”
Dark eyes? Ginger? Charm?
Fear gripped my spine, and I felt the blood drain from my face. My hands and feet began to tingle as panic edged closer.
I sucked in another deep breath, trying to feel the beat of Ronan’s heart against my back, trying to steady myself.
It couldn’t be him. It had to be a coincidence.
You don’t believe in those, remember?
“What kind of charm?” Emilio asked, and somewhere deep in the brittle bones of my heart where only the blackest memories lived, I knew what was coming next.
“Some witch bullshit.” Hollis sketched shapes into the air. “Sideways crescent moon on the bottom, an eye made out of shiny shit on top.”
“Shiny, like silver or gold?” Emilio asked.
“Nah. More like—”
“Opal,” I said, my hands completely numb now, my heart jackhammering. Magic tingled in my gut, slithering around my heart. I closed my eyes, every intricate detail of that eye coming into sharp focus in my memory. “With topaz and black onyx in a silver setting, cradled in a silver crescent moon.”
Hollis snapped his fingers, then pointed at me. “Bingo. Looks like we’ve got our witch killer right here, Beaumont. How else would she know about the—”
Darius didn’t give him a chance to finish. Just lit another match and tossed it.
Hollis ignited so quickly, he didn’t even scream.
It was over in seconds, Emilio dousing the charred mess with a fire extinguisher from under the sink.
