Twenty-Six

Iris woke up blurry-eyed and aching from her scalp to her toes. The madness that was yesterday had caught up to her full force and she grabbed her head in agony. She struggled to remember what happened, but last night was one big blur. She knew she kissed Silos and remembered that Levana took her to a club, but after that … nothing.

She squinted at four fuzzy figures sitting at the end of the bed. She rubbed her eyes again to find Levana, Renpa, Anaka, and Silos. Iris bolted upright.

“Oh yay! You’re up!” Levana said gleefully.

Iris frantically looked around. She was in someone’s bedroom but didn’t know who it belonged to. The walls were pale pink with a lacey trim, and the queen-size bed was white and fluffy with a pearl embossed headboard.

“Oh my God. Where am I?” Iris shrieked, grabbing at the bedcovers.

“You’re at the lair. In my bed. Cool, right?” Levana said, all too casually.

“How did I get here?” Her eyes darted around the room. “Levana, did you freaking drug me?”

“Ew. No!” she shot back, curling her lip. “I’m not some pervy eighteen-year-old loser. But I may have made you black out with one of my venom spells. You didn’t have your glasses on all night, you know.” Levana winked and gave Silos a nod. Iris acted like she didn’t notice.

“Okay, Levana, that’s pretty much the same thing as drugging me.” Iris sighed with frustration.

“No it’s not,” Levana fired back..

Iris rolled her eyes. “Okay. Well, how did you get me past Belinda?”

Levana turned her head downward. “Well, that’s the thing, Iris. Belinda isn’t here. She never came home after Griffith Park.”

Iris’s stomach lurched. Her vision was spotty and she blinked hard to find her sight. “Wait. So you’re telling me she’s still with Arlo somewhere?”

“Yup. And that somewhere is the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

Iris’s pulse was racing so fast she thought she was going to explode. Arlo was with Belinda at a hotel? This had to be a joke. She knew he was trying to get information from her, but now he had taken it too far. She pulled Arlo’s necklace from her chest and threw it to the ground.

“Well … There’s something else.” Levana looked at Silos with a wide gaze. “You want to tell her or should I?”

“What? What is it?” Iris wasn’t sure she could take any more bad news. But then, what could be worse than Arlo being at a hotel with a witch?

“Well, I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Silos started. “There are some things that are just hard to explain and—”

“Just get to the point, okay?” Iris balked.

“All right. Well. Here goes.” He briefly paused. “I’m actually here because … I am a warlock.”

Iris burst into laugher. “No you’re freaking not.”

“Aye. Indeed, I am. I’m part of the last existing warlock coven in Wales.”

“Wales? I thought you were Scottish.”

“That I am. But I’ve been living in Wales with this coven for quite some time.”

Iris’s mind was moving fast. Did her dad know of the coven in Wales? Was this the “business” he was taking care of? Iris thought there had to be a connection, but at the same time, she didn’t really buy what Silos was selling. She wasn’t some stupid, gullible little girl. She was a Hunter.

“I’m just gonna be honest. This sounds like a load of crap,” Iris said setting her jaw. “I thought the warlocks were extinct?”

“Most are. But not my coven. We’re the last ones.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Iris focused her gaze, looking Silos dead in the eyes. The tension in the room grew thick. “How do I know you’re really a warlock?”

Silos put his hand on his chin and stared at the ground for a brief moment. He searched the room, pointing to a crystal-encrusted mouse sitting on Levana’s nightstand.

“May I?” he asked Levana. She nodded.

Silos plucked the trinket from the table and cradled it in his palm, placing his other hand on top to create a small enclosure. He closed his eyes and muttered something barely audible in a language Iris didn’t recognize. A dim, blue light glowed between his palms, pulsing with increasing frequency.

The light faded and a small tail jutted out from between his fingers. He opened his hands and there stood a curious mouse, sniffing at the air and squeaking happily.

Iris stared in awe, grabbing her chest in the process. He was telling the truth.

“See? Warlocks have different spell categories than witches,” he explained, as he gently petted the small mouse. “I’m a Curas with access to healing spells. I can bring life into almost anything, but of course it has its limits.”

“You’re a warlock,” Iris said, still in shock. Her mouth couldn’t seem to close. “Oh. My. God.” She gazed at the ceiling. “I made out with a freaking warlock.”

“And it was brilliant, wasn’t it?” He sensually bit her lip.

Iris turned pink. “Wait. This whole time, with the visions, and everything else. Did you know I was a Hunter?”

“Not at first,” he said. His voice sounded sincere. “The visions I was having were real. But after we met at the Coffee Bean, I put the pieces together. You couldn’t hide what you were. The Hunter oozes from your presence.”

For a moment, Iris went mute. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she was flattered that he recognized her to be a Hunter.

She came back to reality, peering at Silos from across the bed. “This just … can’t be happening right now.” Iris shoved her face in her hands.

“Well, it is,” he whispered, grabbing for her hand. “And you can’t deny last night. How you danced, how we kissed. I don’t think you’ve ever been so alive before, have you?”

Iris pulled away. “So you spelled me?” She threw her hands in the air.

“No!” he spat. “I’m speaking figuratively, not literally.”

“Yeah right,” she shot back. “Between Levana knocking me out and you, who apparently ‘didn’t spell me,’ I’m surprised I didn’t end up on freaking Dateline.” She stopped to catch her breath. “Did you know who he was?” Iris yelled at Levana, causing the witch to slightly jump.

“No. I really didn’t!” she said as if she got caught. “He told me after you guys hooked up, but he hasn’t even told you the worst part.”

“For the love of—” Iris let out an exasperated sigh. “How can this get any worse?”

“Well, one of our warlocks is here, in Los Angeles,” Silos explained. “He’s the head of our coven actually. I’ve come to try to bring him back.”

“So, who is he?”

“His name is Helmer. He’s a Plagas, one of the most powerful warlocks in the world who can summon deadly diseases. He’s not to be trifled with.”

Iris couldn’t believe her ears. Helmer. Belinda’s ex-lover. Forget about Dateline NBC, this just turned into a daytime soap opera, or better yet, a staged reality show.

Iris tugged at her hair. “Why is he here?”

“I don’t know,” Silos said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I think he’s being forced to be here, or blackmailed. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I have a feeling it isn’t good. He is very powerful and has access to some of the most ancient spells.”

Iris suddenly remembered what the Nomad said. According to a prophecy by a Protas, a plague by a powerful witch is going to be released in L.A.

“So now what?” Iris asked, slumping her shoulders.

“Well, we think Belinda might be trying to use Arlo,” Renpa explained, finally chiming in. She was petting a large tarantula that was nestled in her hand. Unlike Levana, Renpa wasn’t aware of Iris’s disdain of Matas’ creatures. “Belinda is up to something,” she continued, “and we can’t figure it out.”

“I won’t let her hurt him,” Iris snarled. Arlo may have made out with a witch, but he was still a Hunter.

“We know you. That’s why we brought you here,” Anaka said, playing with her dirty blond curls. Iris half expected Anaka to have some sort of bug, reptile, or animal at her fingertips, but then she remembered she was a water Ethas. Thank God. “You’re the only one who would do something,” Anaka whined. “We didn’t think any of the other Hunters would care.”

Iris’s stomach flipped.

“So, change of plans,” Levana said in an upbeat tone. “Instead of using Arlo to get to Belinda, keep him as far away from her as possible so she can’t use him as some pawn,” Levana suggested.

“I’m all about keeping Belinda away from Arlo.” Iris paused to consider the situation. “Why exactly are you guys turning against her again?”

“We want Levana to be our queen now,” Renpa said. A few of her small spiders danced across her chest. “And if she’s somehow using Arlo to get more power, we need to stop her.”

“Is that amazing? Me, as the new Queen Bee!” Levana said, cheerily. She stood up, posing in front of her vanity mirror like a model at a photo shoot. She puffed her hair and applied some red lipstick, before blowing a few kisses at herself.

“Look. We just need Belinda back here and then we can figure out what’s going on,” Levana explained. “I’m going to get my nails done, but Silos is going to borrow our Range Rover to take you to the Beverly Hills Hotel so you can get Arlo out of there.”

“Borrowing your car, huh? Buddies, much? Didn’t you two just meet?” Iris added snidely.

“Well, yeah. But birds of a feather, you know. And Iris, looks like we’re buddies too. How about that?” Levana puckered her lips. “You’re friends with a witch and you made out with a warlock. I guess everything isn’t as black and white as you thought?”

Iris inhaled deeply. She wasn’t sure what to say. Her world of black and white was slowly shifting into endless hues of gray and silver. And though she still didn’t trust Levana, she couldn’t deny the witch had shown her more kindness in the last twenty-four hours than some of the Hunters had shown her in the last twenty-four days. It was unexpected, and surprising.

“Come on. We should get going,” Silos said, motioning his head toward the door.

She slid out of bed and yawned before stretching her hands above her head. Her body was still stiff from the night before. She moved toward the door, following closely behind Silos.

“And Iris,” Levana called after her, “just don’t let Belinda win. I know you don’t think so, but you’re better than that.”

*

The witches’ Range Rover was just like their nails, perfectly manicured and shiny. The beige leather seats were soft and supple, the carpets were vacuumed and perfectly clean, and the interior still had the new-car smell. Iris wondered how the witches acquired their vehicle. Did they just spell the salesmen? Or, did they actually purchase the cars with money, which they always seemed to have plenty of.

“So, have you thought up some master plan yet?” Silos asked from behind the wheel. Iris gave him a sidelong glance. His Scottish accent was making it difficult to tell if he was being serious or sarcastic.

“Not really,” she answered honestly. “Just to get Arlo away from freaking Belinda.”

“Why do you like him so much?”

Iris jumped. That was the last thing she expected Silos to say. “Excuse me?” She fumbled her words. “Why do you—”

“And I must say, I don’t get it. You’re brilliant. You don’t need to be chasing after a Hunter who just cheated on you.”

“Well, he technically didn’t cheat on me ’cause we’re not together.”

“Still. Why go after someone whose heart is with someone else?”

Iris was at a loss for words. Arlo’s heart couldn’t be with Belinda. He was just using her, right?

“Look,” she started. “This is bigger than me or how or even what I feel for Arlo. He is a Hunter. I will always intervene when it comes to his safety.”

Silos shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Iris found herself staring at Silos as he continued to drive. His scruffy face and hard jaw looked even more statuesque in the daylight. Her eyes stopped at his toned arms and she examined his tattoos. They looked tribal. Lines and circles that Iris was sure meant something important to the warlock.

Iris peered out the window. “So, you warlocks,” she started, “in Wales, do you sacrifice humans?”

“No,” he quickly replied. “We’re not under the same curse. We can use different spells to keep us young; we don’t need to kill people to do that.”

“But why have we always thought you were extinct?”

Silos let out a loud breath. “Before The Curse, a group of Hunters came to the UK—that’s where most of our kind reside—and started a warlock genocide. They slaughtered all but a few of my brethren; my family, my closest friends. Those of us who were left were forced into hiding.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. She always knew the Hunters killed witches because they sacrificed humans. It was protection. A necessary evil. Something that had to be done. But she never knew her kind brutally murdered warlocks who weren’t killing people.

Iris placed her hand on his. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He smiled. “It was a long time ago. So what about you?” Silos changed the subject. “You’re the only girl to carry the Hunter gene, or so I hear. Does it suit you?”

“I mean, I like it,” she said, picking at her fingers. “I love it actually. It’s just … It’s hard for me. People don’t always take me seriously.”

“I’ll tell you this, Iris Maria Bently: You are an extraordinary woman. I feel it.”

“Thanks.” She smiled weakly. Even though it was coming from a warlock, she enjoyed the compliment.

They pulled to the side of the street near the Beverly Hills Hotel and Iris unbuckled her seat belt. “Thanks for the ride.”

“It was my pleasure.” He cracked a playful smile.

“And it was nice … um … ‘seeing’ you again.” Iris flushed as images of them making out flooded her brain. She couldn’t deny she enjoyed herself.

“It was lovely to see you again as well,” he said, his eyebrow shooting up.

She opened the door and Silos quickly reached over and closed it. “Iris, wait,” he said with haste. His breathing was labored. “Come with me. To Wales. I can show you around our coven, we can travel the countryside. We don’t kill humans so there’s no need for your kind to hunt us. We can be allies, friends, maybe even … more than friends.” His foxy smirk returned.

Iris’s body stiffened. “Come with you? To Wales?”

“You’re not truly living your life here. You’re underappreciated. And because of your sex, the Hunters will never treat you equally. Is that any way to live?” He paused and sucked in a breath. “Is there even one Hunter who treats you with any sort of respect?”

She rested her face in her hand as she contemplatively peered at the sky. “Well, my brother and cousin seem to believe in me, even though they tease me a lot.” She looked at the ground. “But, honestly, the only one who treats me like an equal is Arlo.”

“I see.” Silos pursed his lips into a thin line. “Well, if you change your mind the door is always open. I’ll be in Los Angeles for a bit trying to find Helmer. If you need me at all, just give me a ring.”

He leaned in to give her a hug. She wrapped her hands around his toned body, taking in his smell of spicy musk and oak moss. He didn’t just look like a model in a cologne ad, he smelled like one too.

She relinquished her grip, giving him one last smile before leaving. She didn’t want to say good-bye, but she had to.