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She put the jeep in motion once more then drove to the medical entrance of the building. She worked at calming her heart.
She hated Five Bridges and hated even more being an alter witch. Alfonso said she’d get used to it in time. Maybe she would. She’d only been transformed a year-and-a-few-months. Worse, still, she turned out to be a witch of considerable power. Veyda and her dark coven had come after her, trying to get her to join up. They’d even abducted her. But their plan had backfired and two of Veyda’s top witches had died at Maeve’s hand.
Against Maeve’s will or her understanding, she’d been initiated into the coven through a potion that contained a small portion of emerald flame. But the drug had acted like a booster shot on steroids and she’d gone mad with rage. Her killing power, common in witches, had ramped up. In the process, Maeve had destroyed the initiation room and killed at least two of the witches.
Veyda and her coven had left her alone after that.
With a need to somehow make her life in Five Bridges tolerable, Maeve had learned of the horror of the Graveyard and had started her rescues.
Tonight, she had an alpha shifter in her Jeep that Veyda wanted dead. Maeve had no idea why, but it didn’t matter.
Alfonso, an EMT by training, called for his staff and several came running. As an alter shifter, he’d spent the first months of his new life in Maeve’s compound by expanding his medical knowledge and developing surgical skills. Few doctors ended up in Five Bridges. But it hardly mattered. Alter medical work was a different thing altogether anyway. Each of the five species in her world could self-heal, which helped a lot. But each also required different types of treatment in extreme cases.
Maeve stepped back and let them work. Alfonso had trained several of her rescues to serve as medical support for her compound.
Given the condition the shifter was in, she didn’t have much hope he’d survive.
The Landing had a large staff, a sizable central building, and in the distance, she could hear the construction on her new apartment complex. Most people she and Alfonso brought here, didn’t want to leave. She didn’t blame them since her spells kept the location secure and her people safe.
She had a trained therapist on staff who worked long hours in both individual and group settings. She needed to bring another in to help with the effects of the PTSD they all suffered.
The Landing had a well-equipped kitchen and serving staff since s
he fed everyone who lived here, permanent or not.
She followed Alfonso and his team into the infirmary, a wing she’d added three months into the project. Five Bridges was full of houses like the original home she’d bought when she’d been sent here. She’d soon expanded into several adjoining abandoned properties. Most of the shifters she’d rescued had stuck around to do the work for her. They’d formed a pack and she hoped they’d never leave. Her wolves gave her a lot of comfort and made the Landing feel even more secure.
To pay for everything, she ran a candle shop from the street side of the property, in a remodeled house that sold expensive, candles and other items she’d imbued with spells. The spells were basically designed to give the buyer an endorphin rush of pleasure. She’d never seen a customer leave empty-handed. Several of the female rescues worked in the shop. She even had two assistant witches who now used her spells and infusions to create the candles and other products. Her shop and online sales brought in a small fortune.
The proceeds from her sales plus donations from her wealthier rescues sustained the Landing. At this point, with her life ripped apart because of the alter serums rampant in the U.S., she didn’t care what it took to keep the cash flowing, so be-spelled candles it was. She saved lives, she paid for medical equipment and she did her best to rehab victims back into their corrupt, difficult world.
She was all about the Graveyard.
At night. Every night.
With the shifter now being treated by Alfonso and his team, she returned to the rescue entrance. She’d had her unusual, belowground apartment constructed on the opposite side of the tiled foyer. She had a powerful spell protecting the entrance.
She didn’t know the why of it, but after she’d killed the witches, she’d needed to live holed up in the earth. It gave her comfort, she could be private and her spell kept her secure.
She excelled in security spells like the one around her entire property. As much as any creature in Five Bridges could be secure, Maeve was.
Once she crossed the spelled boundary of her apartment, she headed down the spiral stone staircase that led to the first belowground level. The bottom step opened up to a large, high-ceilinged living room. Straight ahead was her bedroom and bathroom.
Sheba, her black cat and witch muse, met her at the bottom step and meowed at her.
“Hello to you, too.” Maeve was surprised. Sheba didn’t usually greet her like this. But Sheba was her own cat and expressed herself freely around Maeve.
With her clothes filthy from handling the shifter, Maeve wanted a shower. Sheba followed her into the bedroom, meowing the entire time.
Maeve slid her shoes off then unzipped her jeans. “What’s gotten into you?” Sheba sat right in front of her, but continued to yowl. Maybe she was out of food.
Just as Maeve pulled her shirt over her head, her cell rang. She plucked it from her jeans pocket. Alfonso. Oh, no.
Sheba let a long and almost hoarse meow flow from her furry throat.
She stared at her cat as she spoke to Alfonso. “What’s wrong?” He never called during a procedure. “Did he die?”
“No, our guest is very much alive. But he’s in bad shape and there’s something you need to know.”
