Chapter Three

“She thinks she can steal my magic?” Brandishing a wand, the young witch stalked backward and forward, anger and agitation pouring off her in waves. “Hex me?” Hysteria coated her words, and her eyes flashed crazily. “I’ll hex her. I’ll put her at the bottom of the river where no-one will ever find her. I’ll destroy her and her damn coven.”

My stomach tightened, but old training kicked in, and as much as I wanted to spin on my heel and walk away from the drama, I couldn’t. There was something about this witch with her wild hair and yellow floral dress, feet bare and bleeding. Something primal that throbbed through the air, burning my lungs with each breath.

“Is she the one?” Banks asked. “She looks like the one,” he added.

“Could be.” I agreed, for the witch in front of us sure looked like the cheese had fallen off her cracker. The way she was waving that wand around, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine a spell gone astray.

“What’s your name?” I asked the witch, voice calm, soothing. “I’m Midnight, this is Banks.”

The witch’s back arched, and she screamed in pain, her fingers releasing the wand and clutching at her throat. She writhed in agony for countless seconds before she doubled over, hands resting on her knees, chest heaving. “I’m Elsa LeBlanc,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “And that devil of a witch, she’s hexed me. Stealing my magic. Just like…” another contraction of pain seized her, her wailing rattling what was left of the broken windows as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

“Just like Bibi Rosenberg?”

“Yeah,” she gurgled, blood bubbling out of her mouth. She staggered backward before her knees buckled, and she dropped to the ground.

“Damn it.” I lowered the shotgun I’d had trained on her, keeping it gripped in one hand as I approached her lifeless body. “Look at that.”

Brushing her hair back from her neck, I examined the handprint that had emerged on her skin, branding her. Elsa LeBlanc had been right when she’d said she’d been hexed. This had all the makings of a blood spell.

Banks confirmed it, his fur standing on end. “Blood magic,” he hissed.

“Damn straight.”

The faint sound of a siren echoed in the distance as a bright cloud of smoke erupted. Her magic leaving her body, being called to whoever hexed her. Stealing her very essence.

“This is dark,” I muttered. “Very, very dark.”

Banks cautiously approached, fur still on end, tail puffed like a Christmas tree, sniffing around her outstretched arm.

Rage rose like an inferno, burning through me till I wanted to scream.

“Midnight?” Banks wrapped himself around my ankles, rubbing his face against my legs.

“I’ll be fine.” My voice came out like rusty nails. “I never expected to be back here, is all.”

“Are you going to… you know?” Banks nudged my leg again. “Before time runs out?”

“Yeah.” Kneeling by the girl's side, I lowered the shotgun to the floor, and with a hand that was only slightly trembling, reached out and touched her. Immediately she jerked to life, her brown eyes confused, her mouth opening and closing, like a fish gasping for breath, thrashing on the shore after being unceremoniously hooked by a fisherman.

“What’s happened? Who are you?”

“My name’s Midnight, and we don’t have much time. Do you know who did this to you?”

“What?” She frowned, struggled to sit up, but I pressed her down. We were running out of time. I couldn’t hold the reanimation for long, two minutes tops. Sadly a lot of that time was often wasted by the victim asking questions like who are you and what happened? That didn’t help when I was the one who needed answers.

“Who were you with? Where were you?” I repeated.

“Rhalanise Bayou,” she stuttered, eyes desperately seeking me, recognition dawning. Remembering. “There was a circle and then this pain… oh God… it hurt so much… like acid through my veins…”

“Who were you with? Who drew the circle?”

“The…” her voice trailed off, her eyes glazed, and her jaw hung slack. And just as quickly as she’d returned, she was gone. Releasing my connection with her, I grabbed my phone and snapped a photo of the mark on her neck that bound her blood to the witch who’d hexed her. Sacrificed more like, for I’d seen this before. Somewhere on her body was a talisman, one that bound her as part of the ritual. My eyes narrowed on the cord around her neck. Tugging, I snapped it free and held it up. Red and blue lights splashed against the wall, and in their glow, I made out a wooden sigil dangling from the strip of leather. Bingo.

The thunder of booted feet alerted me that we had company. Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed a shell loaded with pellets, slipped it into place, and yanked the stock. I raised the muzzle and shoved the butt hard against my shoulder. The shotgun was familiar in my grip, my reflexes second nature as if years hadn’t passed since I’d last held it like this.

The bark of a two-way echoed throughout the dilapidated house, and I lowered the gun. I had no beef with law enforcement. They weren’t the ones responsible for this. I was on the hunt for someone much, much, darker.

“Cavalry’s here,” Banks stood on his back legs and stretched his paws up to my hip. I slipped the necklace into my pocket and scooped Banks up, cradling him against my chest as the first officer rushed in, gun drawn, sweeping the room before zeroing in on the dead girl on the floor.

“Bout time you got here,” I said, ignoring the gun now aimed at me.

“Midnight?” The gun lowered, revealing the youthful face of Constable Daniel Perry.

“Hey, Perry,” I grinned. “Long time, no see.”

“Don’t lower your gun!” Sergeant Eric Pace snapped. “She could be the assailant for all we know!”

“Really, Pace?” I sighed. “We gonna do this again? I’m—” I’d almost slipped. Almost said SIA. But I was no longer a member of the Supernatural Investigation Agency. And Pace knew that. I’d run into Pace and Perry during a job in New Orleans years ago. Seemed Pace still hadn’t gotten over his dislike of me.

He took a step toward me, curling his top lip. “What was that?” he sneered. “SIA? That’s what you were going to say, right? Only you’re not. SIA, I mean. You’re a civilian. Which means you no longer have their protection. You’re fair game. What’s the bet I’m going to find a match between this here dead girl, and you?”

I met his hateful stare head-on. “A match? Tell me, genius, how do you think she died? And you’re right, I’m not SIA. I’m with Bounty.”

Constable Perry, who’d been watching our exchange with round eyes, stepped closer. “What’s Bounty?”

“Magic Bounty Hunter Bureau.”

Pace barked out a derisive laugh. “They’re nothing but renegades.” He reached for his handcuffs, and I rolled my eyes.

“Just like old times.”

“Drop the cat,” he ordered.

I rubbed my face against Banks' fur and whispered in his ear, “stay close,” before lowering him to the floor. He promptly sat on my feet, and I chuckled. “Maybe not that close.”

Pace snapped one cuff around my wrist then spun me around for the other. I didn’t resist. What was the point? This whole mess would be cleared up soon enough, and I’d be leaving Pace in my rearview.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Pace demanded.

“Hoping you’d spontaneously combust,” I whispered under my breath. Only Constable Perry heard me and barked out a laugh, earning himself a barrage of abuse from Pace.

New Orleans Police Department was a hive of activity when Pace dragged me through the building to the front desk. No surprises there. With the lead up to All Hallows Eve, tensions—and magic—were running high.

A movement caught my attention. Striding through the precinct with an undeniable air of authority, black pants molding muscular thighs, a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, sleeves pushed up muscular forearms, a head of gray hair and dazzling green eyes. An NOPD badge clipped to his belt.

A silver fox. He wore it more than well, and I tried to keep my eyes off the swell of his chest but failed. I almost swallowed my tongue when he stopped and did an about-face, his gaze zeroing in on me. I dragged my gaze from his abs to his face, feeling a blush of heat crawl up my neck. One brow climbed as he waited for me to finish ogling him, a slight curl to his lips.

He headed our way. “Who’s this?” he asked the desk officer, coming to stand behind him and peer over his shoulder at me. Then his eyes landed on my hands behind my back.

“Un-cuff her, Pace,” he commanded.

“But—” the Sergeant protested, not moving.

Silver Fox’s jaw clenched, the muscles flexing. “Now.”

Pace leaned toward me, but before he could free my hands, I handed him the cuffs with a sweet smile. “Not that it hasn’t been fun,” I drawled.

“I’ll take it from here,” Silver Fox said. The two men stared at each other for a solid minute before Pace spun on his heel and stormed off.

“Er,” the desk officer cleared his throat. “Name?”

“Midnight,” I leaned against the counter with one elbow, watching as he typed my name into his computer.

“Midnight, who?”

“Midnight Alden.”

“Oh, like the Salem witches?”

I nodded. “Exactly like that.” I lifted my eyes from the desk officer to the silver fox, who was watching our exchange. “Your turn,” I invited.

“Detective Jaxon Lincoln, Paranormal Division. Everyone calls me Jax.”

I arched a brow. “New Orleans PD has a Paranormal Division now?”

“You’ve been here before?” He turned his attention to the monitor. Had the desk officer pulled up my rap sheet? Interesting, since I didn’t have one. The SIA had taken care of that.

“You’re still going to have to empty your pockets.” He jerked his head toward the desk officer whose gaze was bouncing from him, to Pace’s departing back, to me.

“Fine.” I didn’t raise my gaze, just reached into my pockets and pulled out a tape measure, pepper shaker, a bunch of toothpicks, and a mousetrap. “I’ll be wanting all of this back. All of it. Including my shotgun.”

The Detective leaned closer, glancing at the objects on the counter. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” I lied. The sigil in my pocket practically burned a brand into my skin at the untruth.

“You want me to process these?” the desk officer asked, clearly taken aback at the odd assortment of items in front of him.

“And I want my cat,” I added. Banks had ridden with me in the back of the police car, but Sergeant petty Pace had separated us on arrival. “If you’ve done anything to him…” the snarl that crept into my voice was unmistakable. If they’d harmed one whisker on Banks’ head, I’d skin them alive. Every single one of them, Jax Lincoln included.

“You still have Banks?” Jax’s head jerked as if surprised.

I frowned. “Of course, I still have Banks. He’s my familiar. And how do you even know that? Do you have a file on me?” I leaned over the counter to try to get a glimpse at the monitor.

“Oh,” the desk officer joined in. “If he’s your familiar, he’d have been placed in a containment cage.”

Bile rose, and my throat muscles worked overtime. A familiar heat wove its way up from my chest, blooming up my neck and over my face. My hands clenched into fists, and I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable fallout of the hot flash, the hot flash brought on by the wave of outrage that they’d caged Banks. I knew what it felt like to be unfairly imprisoned.

“Release the cat.” I barely heard the order over the pounding in my ears. Sweat dotted my forehead. Any second now, I’d detonate and blow up the entire building. Thank the Goddess the bracelet Baba Yaga gave me kicked in. As the surge of heat reached boiling point and electricity danced over my skin, the leather strands absorbed it.

“Midnight? You okay?”

I wanted to say something pithy to hide the internal inferno ravaging my body. Still, all I could do was stare at Jax. He stared back, eyes full of concern and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me? Did he see the woman I used to be? The SIA operative, whose profile had no doubt popped up on the monitor. Or the woman I was now, with purple hair and a burning resentment for being dragged back into a world I’d turned my back on.