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Chapter Eighteen
Xander
What I’m about to do is absolutely a horrible fucking idea, but I’m running out of options. I’ve got two men still bound and gagged on my property, and the body count keeps rising. I don’t trust these local police not to bungle the whole investigation, or at the very least take their sweet-ass time figuring it out.
Further, I know they can’t handle the evil that’s behind all this. I’ve seen it. Felt it. And it’s like nothing I’ve ever encountered before. As much as I dislike the sheriff, he and his men don’t deserve the kind of fate that awaits them if they get between this demonic force and its prey. No, this one I go alone. I’m the only one who can take care of it.
It’s not hard to jimmy open the window at the back of the police station, where I know the file room is located. It’s across from the sheriff’s office, but he won’t be here at this time of night. Once I get the window open, I climb inside, my dragon eyes helping me see in the dark. The door to the room is shut and locked, per normal procedure. I hope a copy of the investigative reports for the deaths of both witches is in here, though no doubt the sheriff has the originals in his possession.
I look for close to a quarter hour. At one point I hear footsteps in the hall and prepare to launch myself back out the window, but it’s just someone going to the bathroom. I’m beginning to think there’s not a copy of the file after all. I grind my teeth together and let out a low groan of frustration.
That’s when I feel a flare of magic not a foot to my left, and very suddenly there’s a witch standing in the dark with me.
What in the holy hell…
I act on instinct as I see the witch’s eyes widen, her mouth flying open to scream. I can see perfectly well who it is with my enhanced eyesight, but she clearly cannot. Grabbing her, I spin her into the corner furthest from the door, hand over her mouth.
“Do you have a death wish, Rowan?” I growl. It rumbles in my chest, the dragon within clawing at the surface. A surge of heat spreads through me. I can smell the jasmine scent of her skin, feel her heartbeat in my blood. God damn it, why does she have this effect on me?
The day before, I’d nearly lost myself to her. I’d been keeping an eye on Raven Manor after chasing off the horned beast the night before. Then, I’d felt a swell of magic stronger than just about anything I’d ever felt before. But also different. Not a dangerous power, like what I’d dealt with from witches in the past. No, this was a raw, sweet power. A song of earth and fire. Her song.
I’d felt drugged, called to her like a planet circling the sun. I’d never surrendered to anyone in my life. Not ever. But when this witch called me, I came. Gave myself to her gladly. A sweet lamb to slaughter, and a thousand deaths I would happily endure. Saying no had been the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life.
Well, almost the hardest. With one exception.
Rowan’s sharp stomp on my foot brings me back to the present moment. I realize I’m still holding her tightly against the file cabinets. “I’m going to remove my hand now. Don’t scream.”
She glares at me and as soon as I remove my hand, she snaps, “Do you mind not crushing me?”
I take a small step back. I can still hear her heart beating. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and I realize she has a large book in her hands that she’s hugging beneath them.
“Is that your grimoire?”
She pauses a half-moment. “Yes.”
“And why exactly are you lugging that around in the dark inside the police station?”
“Apparently the same reason you’re here. To steal files.” Her look dares me to judge her.
I shrug. “Fair enough.” She’s foolish as hell, but then, so am I. And her stubborn determination is sexy as hell, though I’d never admit it to her.
“Why do you want the files? Why does the death of a couple witches mean so much to you?” She says it nonchalantly, but there’s an edge to her tone.
It bothers me that she thinks I wouldn’t care. “This is my territory,” I say, another growl forming in my chest. “I won’t tolerate evil. Of any kind.”
She looks at me, silent, assessing. “What did witches do to you in the past?” she asks softly.
I feel a strange compulsion to tell her everything, but I shove it away. The less I share with this witch, the better. “This isn’t the time for a heart-to-heart. We’d better get out of here before we’re caught.”
“Not without my aunt’s file,” she says. “And the other one.”
“I’ve already looked,” I begin, but she points over my shoulder.
I turn and see the faint glow of something in the darkness. Rowan steps around me, her hip brushing against mine as she goes. Just that slight touch sends a rush of sparks up my body. My dragon is way too close to the surface now for comfort.
Rowan picks up a file in her right hand, and as she touches it, her grimoire begins to glow from where she has it wedged under her left arm. She stiffens, and a moment later the glow fades from both the file and the book. She sets the file back down where she got it and lifts her book in both hands. I can tell it’s heavy from the way she handles it. The pages flutter open, a soft light springing from them.
