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WHAT I EXPECTED, I don’t know. Probably a big pentagram written in blood on black stone, with hooded figures and a lot of candles that had green flames. As I said, I make a point not to study magic, and so even though I knew magic was more complicated than Disney movies, they were sort of all I had. That, and those death metal covers with satanic symbols. Normal humans dabbling in “magic”—ridiculous, but it’s what I expected.
What I saw was something else entirely, both better and far, far worse. There’s a strange kind of horror that comes from rituals. It’s the waiting, I think, the idea of being the sacrifice and listening to them speak and just knowing that the blade is going to fall, and you’re going to die. It’s the worst part in movies, right? But the ritual also adds some weight to it, makes it feel like it has a purpose.
A lone man torturing someone in an empty parking lot is a different kind of evil. Because when we came around the corner and saw him, a body lying on the rain-slick concrete and magic heavy in the air, it was clear that what was going on here was not for money or power or immortality. This warlock was not trying to see the future or raise a dragon or any of the stupid reasons people use blood magic. He was doing this for fun.
Beside me, Tony was nearly sick, and I felt the same heave in my stomach as I had earlier. The man lying on the pavement was arched in pain. He didn’t seem to be aware anymore, but even though his mind had fled—I could only hope temporarily—his body still knew what was happening to it.
How I kept moving, I don’t know. I yanked my phone out of my pocket and sent another group text, praying that people were still close enough to get back: found him. Parking lot by Difacio’s Deli. Come quick.
“You take him out,” I whispered to Tony. “I’ll do what I can for that guy.” Which was not much at all, but the fact was that I could do even less against the warlock. The truth was, I should just melt away and let Tony fight on his own—the warlock could use me against him if he was cruel enough, and it seemed pretty evident that he was.
But I couldn’t do that.
So as Tony charged, silent but deadly, red power growing at his fingertips, I ran to grab the body and get as far as I could, away. It wasn’t easy; this victim wasn’t a tiny twenty-year-old woman, but instead a six-foot-plus man. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his body slumped, unresponsive in my arms as the magic released him.
The warlock yelled in surprise. Just one yell. One. All of us here knew what it meant to get the cops called; we’d end up in the loony bin, and that would be the end of it for us. No witch or warlock wanted to end up on the grid. Then there was only the sound of their breathing, the footsteps on concrete, and the crackle of power in the air.
“Stay with me,” I whispered to the man in my arms. His dark skin was in contrast to my own, his body heavy against mine. “Can you hear me? I’m a nurse. I’m going to get you help.”
Soon. As soon as the warlock was taken care of. I couldn’t take the chance of calling an ambulance until then. I pressed my fingers over the man’s pulse and felt a wave of dizziness. How long since I’d eaten last?
I pushed my instincts down and tried not to look at the magic going on nearby. I needed to keep dragging this man away, far enough away that neither of us could get caught up in one of the warlock’s spells. I was stumbling over the concrete, listening for the pounding of feet from the other coven members.
Tony gave a whimper of pain nearby and nearly dropped the man’s body. A whimper of fear lodged in my throat and emerged as a tiny, strangled sound. I froze as the warlock turned. Distracted by Tony at first, he hadn’t noticed me—but now his blue eyes narrowed at the sight of me, and I saw something predatory in his gaze, a hunger I rarely saw in witches and warlocks. No, that kind of thirst for blood usually came out in immortals and shifters.
“What have we here?” he asked. He might not know why I wasn’t using my magic, but he knew—with a predator’s keen eye for fear—that I was hiding something.
He doesn’t know I’m not a witch. I stood my ground, stepping over the man’s body to shield it with my own. I could feel terror coursing through my blood. He was going to hurt me. I didn’t know if even magic could undo the spells this warlock wrought, and it occurred to me now that I was afraid to die.
Odd. I’d spent my whole life afraid of seeing other people die. You’d think it would have occurred to me that combat was one of the only things that could take me down, but up until now I’d been blessedly unaware of that fact.
We’re the only ones that can stop this. My thoughts echoed in my head, and I stepped forward to meet him bravely.
“I will end you,” I said simply. “You don’t get to come to my city and do this to people. You don’t get to—”
Tony’s magic caught the warlock in the back, and I ducked, shielding my eyes so I wouldn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to. The pound of feet caught my ears, and I watched as the rest of the coven streamed into the parking lot, their eyes fixed on this warlock.
For all that I was terrified, and that he was a warlock stronger than anyone there, it was over quickly. He’d used a lot of power to torture the man who lay nearby, and he could not fend off a whole group, who knew how to fight together. It was Kendra who ducked out of the fray and came to my side, kneeling down by the man.
“Can he be saved?” I whispered.
“I think so.” She watched me until I looked away, and then began a slow chant. I could feel the magic rippling out of her, and it took all I had not to yearn toward it. In this place of battle magic and torture, her magic was like a soothing balm, moonlight made liquid, sweet as honey. I felt the man stir.
“We have to go now.” Maurice’s voice was low. Beyond him, members of the coven were dragging away the mage’s body. I nodded and fumbled for my phone, dialing 911 as the rest of the coven melted into the shadows; Maurice clamped his hand around Tony’s arm and dragged the man with him.
I was not worried. When the ambulance arrived, there was only me and the man. His eyes were fluttering though he was not conscious. From the lack of bruising to his size measured against mine, no one was going to believe that I was responsible for this. I was even still in my scrubs, and the police accepted my excuse that I’d heard him screaming.
“It’s good you found him when you did,” one of them said bluntly.
I swallowed. “I think so.” He had no idea how true his words were.
“Well, we’ll take it from here.” He took in my uniform and patted me on the shoulder gruffly. “Looks like you’ve spent all day doing this. Get some rest, miss.”
“Thank you.” I watched the man get loaded into the ambulance and then I left, walking quickly, my hands in my pockets.
For the first time, it occurred to me that I was grateful that I couldn’t practice magic. I’d seen the raw anger in the warlock’s eyes, and I wondered what it would feel like to face that down in a battle. I wondered what it would feel like to kill—and if that’s what would happen when they tried him in the informal court used by all of the covens. With a newfound respect for the witches and warlocks I knew, I pushed open the door to the abandoned warehouse we used for meetings and slipped inside.