“If they won’t lift the curse, I’ll kill them,” I asserted eventually.
William simply nodded. “And Cirrian. Do you think he’ll be forgiving once he’s released?”
I sucked in a sharp breath as he voiced an issue I’d already considered. What exactly would I say? “Sorry about the imprisonment. My bad. But my friend is safe now, please take these parting gifts as an apology.”?
“It’s a wrongful death. He’ll understand,” I said.
William glowered, his eyes dragging over my face and inspecting my expression. It made me stand taller and present more faux bravado. Perhaps Cirrian was more benevolent than rumor made the shadow gods out to be. After all, they were wrong about the gender.
“If anyone can diffuse the situation, it’s you,” he assured with a faint smile that didn’t make it to his troubled eyes. It was a simple comment of assurance and placation. I wondered if he’d start working on my replacement once he returned home.
My hand covered Amelia’s as I offered reassurances I hoped she could hear.
“I will fix this. I promise.”
5
After making sure Amelia was in a comfortable position, I called Rachel again and gave her an abridged version of the situation, including William’s use of his ring to disrupt the course of the magic. Rachel didn’t seem surprised by William having the ring, or else the urgency limited her usual questioning. I excluded the kinborn witches’ involvement and my intentions to imprison Cirrian.
“Why would anyone curse her, Kara?” The frantic cadence of Rachel’s voice destroyed all the efforts I’d made to calm myself before calling her.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s because of her mother, isn’t it?” Rachel was the only other person who knew about Amelia’s connection to Vina. It surprised me last year when Amelia confessed to her. But Rachel had proven to be a vault when it came to secrets.
Rachel quickly answered her own question. “No, that wouldn’t be it. They’d leave a message like ‘bring your ass to justice or your daughter dies’ or something equally villainous.”
I envisioned her pacing and chomping on her nails, her typical nervous response when things didn’t go as planned. She was a talented witch but lacked crisis management skills.
“Could she have been the unintended victim?” Rachel asked.
Rachel’s outside the box thinking often came in handy. She had a brilliantly divergent mind, but I couldn’t imagine how she’d come to that conclusion.
“What?” I was not ready to reveal that we believed I was the target.
“William?” she whispered. “Everyone hates him— Well, maybe not him, but the House of Knight. Maybe the intention is to take them out one by one until the major players are gone and they’re too weak to be a threat. And a drive-by cursing would be the best option.”
I was good at situational awareness and made it my business to gauge the mood of the covens, houses, and packs when it came to my employers. Hate for the House of Knight was news to me.
“I don’t think people hate them,” I said thoughtfully. “The House of Hollows and House of Knight are standing between complete chaos. They maintain order and protect humans and the supernaturals.”
“Is that what people want? They’ve designated themselves as the unelected authority of the supernatural world, doling out threats and punishments. And while they hold others accountable for their misdeeds, who holds them accountable for theirs? Not everyone agrees or likes their self-appointed role. This could be a warning.”
Rachel was right. My knowledge of the vampires’ actions was from the perspective of the houses. They appeared to only get involved when sects failed to rein in their problematic witches and werewolves. Part of me didn’t think it was just vampire involvement that bothered others. It was the proficiency with which situations were handled. It made the other sects appear inept and weak.
And it deprived them of members. There was strength in numbers. Vampire intervention meant there wasn’t a chance forrehabilitation or probation. The problem was met with a swift, violent, and often gruesome punishment that seemed primarily to be a deterrent. I didn’t agree with their methods but couldn’t ignore its effectiveness.
Part of me wanted Rachel’s claim to be true. There had been too much distance between us for Amelia to be mistakenly hit if William was the target. If the curse was meant for him, it would be to initiate true death, not to siphon magic.
I shared my thoughts with Rachel.
Exhaling a slow breath, she agreed. “It’s good that William was quick to respond. The situation could be so much worse. What do you need from me?”
“Can you find the person who cursed her? Your coven’s link could be used to locate them.”
After several moments in contemplative silence, she said, “I believe I have the perfect spell for that. But I can’t do it alone. Give me an hour to gather some members, ingredients, and material.” Her easy confidence made me relax significantly. Rachel never displayed arrogance or unsubstantiated confidence just to reassure. If she could do it, she’d let you know, and if it was beyond her abilities, she had no problem admitting that, either.
I changed into black joggers. The numerous hidden pockets, comfort, and material that helped prevent scrapes and scratches during physical encounters had made them among my favorites. I paired them with my favorite oversized threadbare teal hoodie and white tank that I’d gotten for the same reason. The moment we located the owner of the curse, I planned to grab my weapons and head out. I was dressed for a confrontation and—worst case scenario—murder.
