Soothed by Magic: Hidden Coven Series, Book 2 Page 6

  “He might sense the aether we lay down.” Abilene was right. They had no idea of Fain’s capabilities. But it was a chance they’d have to take. Molly wandered back to their circle, her expression composed but determined.

  Jane crossed her arms. “Even if Fain is Koro’s agent. We don’t know what he’s planning. The grimoire we used to call him was very vague on the subject.”

  “Where is this grimoire now?” Abilene asked. “Maybe it could give us some idea what kind of rite Fain is going to do.”

  “Lost,” Molly said. “Hannah had it last, but it was never found after the fire.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Quinn said. “I’m going to kill him before he lays a hand on Bobbi.” One way or another, Fain would never complete his rite, never bring Koro into this world. Never hurt Bobbi. Except he already had. He’d enslaved her, broken her and turned her will into his own. Would she ever heal from that? He had to put those thoughts out of his mind, had to focus on freeing her, then together they could heal the rest.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to break Fain’s soothing spell?” Quinn asked. Abilene bit her lip and nodded. “Then, you three go home and get supplies. We’ll meet back here in the morning. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Where are you going?” Gavin asked.

  “I’ll stay in town tonight. Maybe get a room.” Quinn didn’t want to be isolated on Coven Island, in case Bobbi somehow managed to break Fain’s hold. She might reach out to him and he wanted to be ready.

  As they walked to their cars, Molly slipped a hand around his elbow.

  “You’ll be staying with Emmett and me tonight,” she said. “No need to waste money on a room.”

  Quinn smiled and thanked her. With friends like Molly, Bobbi might have a chance.

  11

  Affliction

  THE DIRT ROAD TWISTED LIKE AN EVANGELIST’S SALES PITCH.

  The moon had long since set. No city lights penetrated this deep into rural country. Molly drove with a lead foot. Her taillights winked at the far limit of Quinn’s headlights. If he slowed to round a bend, he’d lose her. Finally, they turned onto an even more dubious lane, drove through a tunnel of overhanging trees and stopped in front of an old farmhouse.

  Quinn got out and shut the car door, an unnaturally loud sound in the dark. He’d never been to Emmett’s farm at night. It seemed even more isolated than it did in daylight. The house was hidden from the road by ungroomed forests on either side of the drive. These gave way to pastures and barns behind the house.

  “Emmett’s probably asleep,” Molly said. “Let’s try and keep it that way. I haven’t told him about Bobbi.” She paused. “Emmett can be irrationally overprotective when it comes to his children.”

  Quinn nodded, though he didn’t think Emmett’s concern would be irrational in this case. His daughter was about to be possessed by a gods-damned demon. But they didn’t need another civilian involved.

  Inside, Molly turned on the light above the stove, leaving most of the kitchen in shadow. She put on a kettle without asking if he wanted tea. Neither of them would be able to sleep right away. Quinn wasn’t sure if he’d sleep at all.

  He checked his phone for the tell-tale blip of Fain’s tracker. It was moving fast on Interstate 76, a hundred and fifty miles away from Ashlet. He slammed the phone down on the table.

  “Something wrong?” Molly asked.

  “It’s Fain. He’s halfway to Pittsburg.”

  “So?”

  “So, either he’s leaving town the night before his big reveal or he found the tracking device and put it on another car.”

  “Well, we might not know where he is now, but we know where he’ll be tomorrow night.”

  Quinn nodded. It would have to be good enough. Still, he didn’t like running blind.

  “I have to confess, I had an ulterior motive for inviting you here tonight,” Molly said. Quinn quirked an eyebrow and grinned.

  “Now don’t you flirt with an old lady. I’m already living in sin. I don’t need more excitement.”

  Molly and Emmett had been living together for over a year. Quinn didn’t know either of them well, but from what Bobbi told him, Emmett had been devastated when Ellen died. She was happy when he let Molly into his life.

  “There are things you need to know, things your mother won’t tell you.”

  “You mean there’s worse news than Bobbi is the daughter of the demon who’s trying to wipe out my coven?” He sounded like a smart-ass, and Molly frowned.

  “I’ve kept silent for too long. And I’m ashamed to say Jane bullied me into that silence.”

  Quinn understood. Jane bullied everyone.

  “Is this about your baby?”

  Molly sighed and seemed to deflate. The kettle whistled. She rose and filled the teapot, then fussed with milk, sugar and mugs—a delay tactic. Finally, she sat, poured the tea and looked him straight in the eye.

  “This is about Bobbi.”

  “What about her?”

  “Do you know how her parents died?”

  “In a house fire.” Bobbi had told him, but not the details. “She was very young.”

  “Five. Her sister was only three. But they were already dead when the fire started. It was a cover up.”

  “For murder?”

  “For kidnapping. A man named Edward Wallis took Bobbi. He was Koro’s agent at that time. But Hannah and Ben Cole were waiting for him. They died trying to stop him from taking their daughter.”

  “They knew what he was? What Bobbi is?”

  Molly nodded. “Ben was Paragon.”

  Quinn nearly dropped his mug. Paragon was the group of scholars and warriors who patrolled the underworld of the supernaturals, keeping regular humans safe from forces they wouldn’t even believe. Paragon was legend. They were the superheroes every witch child aspired to be. They took only the elite, witches with powers off the scales. And aether wasn’t their only measuring stick. A paragon warrior went through boot camp that would put the Navy Seals to shame. Their scholars had access to archives going back thousands of years.

  Paragon had set a dedicated agent for Bobbi, an act that spoke volumes about their concern for Koro. He posed a serious threat to all mankind, both witches and mundanes. Or maybe they thought Bobbi would one day be the threat. Did Paragon have agents watching Gavin too? Jane had close ties to the group. That’s probably why she adopted Gavin. What would she have done if Gavin had embraced his demon heritage? Would Jane have turned in the boy she considered a son? Quinn didn’t want to look too closely at that question.

  “Ben was tasked with protecting Hannah and her child,” Molly said. “They fell in love and married. Paragon thought it was a good resolution for a long-term problem. Koro would never stop hunting his children.”

  “Why?” Quinn felt warm. He loosened his collar.

  “I’m not sure. I remember something in the grimoire, the one we used to call him that first time. His children—or the blood of his children—can help him to manifest on earth. The exact wording was vague.”

  But the grimoire was lost to them now. No help there. He rubbed his face. Gods, he was tired.

  Molly had confirmed his suspicions. Koro needed his child in order to manifest. But why Bobbi and not Gavin? Because Bobbi was an easier target, living alone without the protection of a coven?

  Koro couldn’t directly affect their world as long as he was trapped in his. He could only use naive witches to do his bidding. That was how he’d trapped Molly and her friends. William Fain was another of his victims, though Quinn had a hard time feeling sorry for him. Koro might work through him, but Fain enjoyed the work. Quinn had seen the lust in his eyes. Koro had probably promised him power and riches for his service.

  Fool. If Koro manifested, there would be no haven for any witch. Koro drank aether. The wraiths that had attacked the coven this past summer were the remnants of witches he’d drained. All he needed was one foolish enough to call him and the demon could kill an entire coven. And e
ach death made him stronger. It might already be too late to stop him.

  Gods, it’s hot in here. His hand trembled as he raised his mug.

  “Does Bobbi know?”

  Molly shook her head. “Wallis ran. He had Bobbi for three weeks before Paragon agents found them. She doesn’t remember any of it. We don’t know where they went or what he did to her.”

  “We?” Molly spoke as if she was intimate with Paragon’s inner circle.

  Molly’s mouth moved in answer, but a roar like a train rushing through his head drowned her words. His vision blurred, darkened at the edges. Pain shot through his limbs into his chest, a red hot poker right to the heart.

  No! Not now. Not here.

  He was having an attack. He’d felt the signs all night, but hoped…

  Aether flushed from him in a massive surge. The lights flickered. He swayed in the chair.

  Molly reached for him, her face concerned.

  He clutched the petrified cockroach, but the amulet was dry. He’d expended too much aether this week with no time to replenished it.

  Molly shook him. He wanted to tell her he’d be fine, but his arms trembled, fingers tingled and pain lanced his spine in waves.

  The floor crashed into him and the world went silent.

  12

  Prescription

  MOLLY FELL TO HER KNEES AND SHOUTED FOR EMMETT.

  Quinn spasmed, legs and arms locked straight and rigid. His eyelids fluttered, showing only whites underneath. Should she hold him down? Would that hurt him more? His complexion went from white, to purple, then to a sickly grey-green. Sweat popped up in beads on his forehead.

  “What the hell happened?” Emmett rushed into the kitchen in his pajamas, hair spiked on one side.

  “I don’t know. He’s having a seizure.”

  Quinn’s flailing leg kicked the table. A mug smashed on the floor, spilling tea.

  Emmett laid his hands on Quinn’s chest and closed his eyes. Molly couldn’t sense magic, but she knew Emmett was pouring his aether into Quinn in an effort to heal. The flailing slowed. Quinn’s head thumped against the floor, then he lay still.

  “That’s no ordinary seizure,” Emmett said. He left the room and returned with his kit. Emmett was a med-mage, though he rarely practiced anymore. In the year-and-a-half she’d been living at the farm, Molly had never seen him take this kit from the shelf in his closet.

  He opened the black leather bag and took out a small glass cup rimmed in gold. He filled it with a clear liquid from a dark bottle, then opened a leather case and chose a blade from the array of gleaming scalpels. He hadn’t used this equipment in years, but it was spotless.

  He nicked Quinn’s finger and let blood drip into the cup.

  The blood swirled, turning the water faint pink.

  “He’s dry.” Emmett stirred the mixture with a glass stick.

  “What do you mean?”

  “His aether. He’s running on empty.”

  “But he hasn’t done any magic. I’ve been with him most of the evening. He just fell over.” Molly chewed on that for a moment. He’d been fine, then his color drained and he hit the floor.

  “Is it a curse?” she asked. Maybe William Fain was on to them and he was already wiping out the competition.

  “Not a curse.” Quinn’s voice rasped like chalk on sandpaper. He tried to sit up, but Emmett held him down.

  “Take it easy,” he said. Quinn lay back on the linoleum and closed his eyes. Emmett prepared a syringe, talking as he worked.

  “It started off as a curse though didn’t it?”

  Quinn nodded and grimaced as Emmett stuck him with the needle. “But the curse was only the carrier for the disease. You’ve been infected with Mawr.”

  By the gods. Molly sat back on the floor. She might only be a mundane, but she’d lived with witches for long enough to know that Mawr was deadly. A mystical illness, Mawr was likened to leukemia for supernaturals. An entity of unknown origin lived in the host, feeding off aether. Fifty years ago, it was considered a myth. There wasn’t enough magic in the world to sustain a Mawr infection indefinitely. But the world had changed, was still changing. Magic bled from the ley-lines, boosting the powers of witches and other supernaturals and carving a new habitat for mystical viruses.

  Mawr was painful, frightening, and there was no cure.

  Quinn opened his eyes and pinned Emmett then Molly. “Don’t tell Jane.”

  Molly shook her head. “How can you keep it secret?” The symptoms of Mawr ranged from seizures to hallucinations. And pain. Horrible pain.

  “Amulet.” Quinn touched the strange bug at his throat. “A friend…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “A friend gave it to me. A voodoo master. It’s a receptacle for storing aether. I use it to give myself a boost when I feel an attack coming on.”

  “Didn’t help much this time,” Emmett said.

  “It’s empty. This is my second attack this week. With everything going on…” His voice trailed off. Molly tensed. He almost spilled the beans about Bobbi. Thankfully, Emmett was too busy fussing with the bottles in his case. After a moment he selected one and put it on the table. He helped Quinn back into his chair. Molly poured more tea and he topped off the cup with the tincture.

  “Drink.”

  “You’re Paragon too.” Quinn sipped the brew and made a face.

  “Drink it all,” Emmett ordered, then his tone softened. “I was Paragon. Med-mage of the First Order. I’m retired now.”

  “You’re the one who save Bobbi after the fire all those years ago.”

  Emmett gave Molly a sharp look. He didn’t tell other people his secrets without good cause. Molly nodded. Quinn needed to know.

  “And I’ve been watching over her ever since,” Emmett said. “Just like your mother watches over Gavin.”

  “I always knew she had some other reason for taking him in.” He leaned back in the chair. His color was returning, but he looked like he’d been ravaged by weeks of illness.

  “Don’t be too quick to judge her,” Molly said. “The gods know, I’m not Jane’s biggest fan, but she can be as harsh on herself as she is to others.”

  Quinn didn’t look convinced. What must it have been like to grow up under Jane’s stern gaze? Molly hoped he’d get the chance to know the affection he deserved. That might never happen if they didn’t stop Koro.

  At least Molly could make him understand his mother better. She’d told Gavin the truth. Time for Quinn to hear it too. She looked at Emmett, the old dear. The story wouldn’t surprise him. They had no secrets, but he didn’t like talking about Koro. He was a lot like Quinn and he’d never forgiven himself for letting Ben Cole’s killer get away.

  Men. Sometimes she thought they carried around their guilt like trophies.

  “Koro hurt Jane the worst…” she started. A loud thump came from above. Quinn held up his hand. All eyes looked up. Above them the hallway lead to the bedrooms and above that only attic.

  They waited in the heavy silence, straining to hear. Quinn put a finger to his lips and stood, careful not to let his chair scrape against the floor. Another dense silence.

  “Could be a broken branch hitting the roof,” Emmett said. They all looked to the window and the wind-blown trees outside.

  Every lightbulb in the kitchen exploded.

  13

  Disruption

  THE KITCHEN FELL INTO DARKNESS.

  Quinn’s ears rang with that peculiar tingling silence after a dramatic explosion.

  “Not a branch,” he said. He’d done enough security details to know the thud came from inside the house. Someone dropped a heavy tool, flashlight or screwdriver, then panicked. Someone with kinetic or electrical magic strong enough to blow every bulb in the place.

  Someone who was still inside the house.

  Quinn stepped around the table, feet crunching on broken glass.

  “Stay here,” he said quietly. Molly followed him as far as the doorway, pulled a knife from the butche
r’s block and handed it to him. Quinn mouthed a thanks and slipped into the dining room. Beyond, the front foyer lurked in shadow. A bit of stray light gleamed off the stair railing. He could chance the stairs, but if someone waited at the top, they’d have a clear advantage.

  Emmett’s tincture boosted his aether enough to get him standing, but he didn’t like his chances if it came to hand-to-hand combat.

  He listened to the dead silence from above, deciding if he should make a move. A black figure leaped down the stairs and tore open the front door.

  Quinn flung the knife, but the intruder was already gone and the blade ricocheted off the open door. Kitchen knives were lousy for throwing.

  Outside, the strange hot wind screamed through the trees. Quinn’s gaze scanned left and right, catching flying leaves and tossing branches, but nothing else. He stepped off the porch. The wind died. Nothing moved.

  The tunnel of trees loomed in the driveway, enticing like a road to hell. Somewhere in those shadows, the intruder hid, assessing his pursuer.

  Quinn had no weapons—no gun or knife. And his aether was dry. No magic to launch an attack either. He couldn’t even soothe the guy, maybe drench him in fear until he collapsed in a quivering heap. It had worked for him before, but Mawr left Quinn vulnerable. Of course, the intruder didn’t know that.

  Stepping onto the drive, Quinn winced as his shoe scraped gravel. He was an open target now. He crouched and waited. The world spun. He had enough for one burst of energy, before his body gave out on him. He’d have to use it wisely.

  He listened. Leaves whispered as they settled. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. From his right, something rustled. A branch cracked.

  A figure shot from the bushes and sprinted down the drive. Quinn gave chase.

  His limbs were rubber. He had nothing to give to this pursuit. The figure ahead, dressed all in black, weaved between the trees lining the drive, gaining ground even with this twisted path. Quinn stumbled down the long drive, hoping now for at least a glimpse of the intruder, though he had little doubt to his identity.