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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Xander
I can smell Rowan’s jasmine and sandalwood scent the moment she enters the police station, even though the jail cells are in the back corner of the building. What the hell is she doing here? It hits me then—the sheriff will want to tell her they’ve found the killer.
He’s always hated me since he came to this town a couple years before. But this? It’s taking things too far, even for him. Does he really think I murdered all those witches? His judgement is obviously clouded. Or maybe he’s so determined to get into Rowan’s pants that he’ll jump to conclusions just to look like the hero of the day.
The bigger question is, will she believe him?
I don’t like the way that question eats at my core. It shouldn’t matter. She’s a witch, now an official Society member. It doesn’t matter what my dragon thinks, or my out-of-control feelings for her. The opinion of my sworn enemy means nothing to me. Or at least, it shouldn’t. So why is the thought of her in his office making my blood boil?
Several minutes pass and I realize I’m stalking around the inside of my cell without conscious thought. The deputies had given me clothing to wear since I was naked from my shift when arrested, scratchy gray coveralls like prison inmates wear. It just adds to my irritation. I have to get out of here. Even if the sheriff is too dumb to realize it, the real killer is still out there. With all these extra witches in town for Sybil’s funeral, it’s easy pickings, as evidenced by last night. Every minute that passes puts more people in danger.
And then, abruptly, another smell hits my nose. Acrid, foul, unmistakable.
Sulfur.
The demon is here. In the police station. There can be only one reason the creature would come here. Only one witch in the building. Rowan.
My dragon surges to the surface. I stagger against the wall, squeezing my fists to keep from shifting right here, right now, inside my jail cell.
“Hey!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I bang on the bars of the cell and yell again, a bellow that shakes the walls.
One of the deputies comes striding down the hall. “What the hell are you hollering for?”
“Listen very carefully.” I look into his eyes, willing him to see reason. “You have to let me out of this cell. Right now. Someone is in danger.”
“Who?”
I grind my teeth together and smash one of my fists into the bars. The deputy jumps back. “Rowan Stonecroft,” I growl. “You have to trust me.”
His eyes are wide, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Trust the murder suspect? I don’t think so.”
“Just go check on her! Don’t let her out of your sight!”
The guy backs up, rolling his eyes as he goes. “You’re obsessed, man.” Then he turns and walks away again quickly.
“Get the hell back here!” I yell, banging the bars again. Fuck!
I realize I can’t smell the sulfur anymore. Or Rowan. They’re both gone.
My dragon rages to the surface again, and I realize what needs to happen. I’m going to have to shift inside the police station.
My dragon magic ripples over me and my body changes form. Skin turns to scale, and heat rushes off me as I grow five times bigger. With a roar that shakes the earth, I crash through the exterior wall of the building. Bricks and cement fly everywhere.
I dive into the woods. I run flat out for a minute, and then I realize I don’t have time for that. My wings flare out and I launch into the sky. The flight I had taken at dawn enters my head, and I know where I have to go. The fifth point of the pentagram. It has to be where the beast has taken Rowan.
Climbing the sky, I pause for a moment when I reach an elevation that allows me to orient myself. My eyes roam over the earth, figuring out the location of each of the previous killings. With those in place, I pinpoint the fifth. Then I dive through the sky.
It’s on the opposite side of my territory, so even with the advantage of flight, it takes me about ten minutes to reach the area. Then I spend another ten minutes skimming low over the trees, trying to find the exact spot. Where the hell is she? I’m beginning to think I’m mistaken when I see it. The first curls of smoke coming up from the tree line.
Oh God. Am I too late?
I plunge from the sky. Rowan is there, tied to a post, completely engulfed in flames. A figure in a red cloak stands a few feet away, and the horned monster is there, too. Horror washes through me. She can’t possibly survive the burns this will leave. She’s completely consumed by fire.
Except, she’s not burning. Her clothes are burning off of her, only tatters left of them. The wooden post she hangs from is blackened by the flames. But Rowan herself stands in the middle of it, flames up to the crown of her head, white skin naked and exposed, black hair floating around her. And she looks…luminous.
She stares down at the red-cloaked figure like a goddess of vengeance. Soot covers her face and her chest and her legs. A deadly smile plays over her lips, and magic sings around her, a golden glow that almost hurts my eyes.
