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Chapter Thirty-Four
Claire
It had been close to ten p.m. when I’d gotten the call. Since it was a number I didn’t recognize, I’d nearly ignored it. I’d spent days watching Jack’s number appear on my screen, only to ignore him. All calls beyond that were just a nuisance.
When I’d answered the phone, all I’d heard was breathing. Then the voice came over the line.
“You’re the only one who can help me,” the scared voice said. “He said it has to be you.”
The witch on the phone sounded young and terrified. My heart thundered as I thought of what may lie in wait for her and me.
In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I should be given the circumstances, but I was beyond caring. I told myself I was prepared. That if I ran into Sven, the warlock who had gotten away from me a second time, I could deal with him now.
That’s what I told myself, anyway. There was no way in hell I would call Jack Beaumont. I considered contacting Sebastian Cavanaugh. He would have sent me with several goons, but he also would have told Jack.
Seeing Jack seemed more dangerous at this point than facing down a horde of witch trafficking warlocks.
At least this time, whatever confrontation awaited me wouldn’t take place in a small, neglected cabin. There was only one cabin I ever wanted to be inside again. A large, comfortable, luxury cabin with a warm warlock who had, until a few days ago, attended my every need.
I parked the car near the curb where I was told the witch waited for me. The thought that there was no witch to save crossed my mind. In my heart, I knew I was stepping into something ugly. Something designed only for me. A trap.
I took a deep breath and opened the car door. I didn’t slam the door back, closing it until the door latched with a softswick. I wasn’t sure why I was trying to hide. No doubt Sven was already aware of my presence.
And I was already feeling that swift, vibrant anger surging through my veins. He had been the architect of eight years of pain. No matter how much joy I had derived from the few days of bliss I’d experienced with Jack, I’d spent far longer wishing things could be different. Far longer training my body not to react to Jack.
Now, maybe there would at least be a reckoning. If I could save another witch in trouble, all the better.
The house where I’d been directed was in a seedy part of town. While Mystic Springs wasn’t a big town, it still had those parts of town that had become neglected over the years. This little neighborhood near the southeast end of Mystic Springs had been all but abandoned. Most of the houses on the street appeared neglected and forgotten.
The house was dark as I approached the door. I reached out with my senses, trying to discern if someone was waiting for me, ready to pounce. After what I’d endured years ago, I’d done my best to hone my skills to recognize a threat before it recognized me.
And that was how I realized, a few seconds too late, that the warlock was rapidly approaching to my right. As he plowed into me, my breath pummeling out of me as I went down on my side, my elbow cracked against the pavement. I steadied my hands and sent the searing anger toward the big warlock.
Even in silhouette, I knew it was him.
And as the magic surged out of my fingers, I heard his low, nasty laugh.
“Really, bitch, if you want to best a warlock like me, you can’t keep relying on the greatest hits. You didn’t think I wouldn’t see that one coming?”
His big arms scooped me up, jostling me onto his shoulder. Unlike when Jack had thrown me over his shoulder, Sven’s movements were crude and rough. My hips hit the edge of the door frame as he pushed through the door and then tossed me onto a ragged old sofa in the little house.
However much money the warlocks were making off trafficking witches, they didn’t seem to be worried about spending it on furnishings.
I winced as I straightened against the sofa, cataloging all the things I could use against the warlock. I couldn’t even be annoyed at the predicament I’d gotten myself into. I’d known that this was very much a possibility.
And even though he had impaired my magic, I was determined to walk out of it.
“They didn’t want me doing this,” he said, hovering over me. His hands were poised at the ready, as if he might be ready to push some sort of devastating magic my way. I hadn’t seen him display any such ability, but still, I worried. Perhaps he hadn’t shown his hand yet. Despite the smugness on his face, I had to believe that if he had something up his sleeve, he would have already used it on me.
“They said I should let it go. Let you go. That fucking around with you again would only bring more trouble down on the organization.”
“What organization?” I managed, my journalist mind still going to work.
“I want to break you.”
His hand met my cheek with a crack of his knuckles. Pain exploded along the left side of my face. My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes, more from the stinging blow than any reaction to the pain. I reached up, cradling my cheek in my hand, the skin feeling hot to the touch.
“So that’s what I’m going to do.” He looked down at me with a mixture of pleasure and determination. “Break you. Do you know how godsdamned bad my head hurt after what you tried to do to me that day? You nearly killed me.”
