Page 88 of Witches Be Damned

The echo of a formidable melody swept through my chest at my Songbird asserting herself. On her return to her seat, I took her hand, planting it on my lap, proud to call her mine. The melody was gone as soon as it came, and as much as I longed for more, I didn’t need it because I had her.

Loco swiveled his chair and offered a subdued repentance. “I’m sorry, Knoxe. Things are a little tense. I don’t trust these assholes when they locked me up for ten years and stopped me from seeing my wife and baby girls. There’s no room for error. I want to get back to my family for Christmas.”

That made sense. We were all on edge, worried Vancor would uncover our secret investigations, exposing his vested interests, and have us stabbed in a hall with a blind spot on the cameras.

“I understand, sir.” Knoxe slipped the device in his breast pocket. “My teamis my family,and I won’t jeopardize them.Ever.”

“Make sure of it, son.” Loco got up, crossed to Knoxe and patted him on the shoulder. For good measure, he thrust out his hand, and Knoxe accepted it, shaking on it.

I wasn’t ready for that kind of exchange yet when Loco and I had worked with each other for a couple of months. It took me equally long to accustom myself to having Songbird on the team. When she sat at my dinner table and spoke with me and stood up for me against the prison’s bullies, it broke down a wall between us and established a flicker of trust that strengthened by the day. She took the time to get to know me beyond professional obligations, and I felt comfortable opening up to her.

Circumstances were different with Loco and Serena when they stuck together like they were a separate pack, merged with our team and forced to work together. A team by duty only. That said, I spent much of my energy on trusting my new leader when change wasn’t easy for me.

Loco needed to cross the bridge and come to the party. He took the first step by asking for a personal introduction the other day. The ball was in his court for whatever kind of relationship he wanted to forge long-term.

Still, I gave him credit for being the bigger man. Time would tell what kind of man he was to me, his daughter, and the team.

* * *

Serena’s bootscrept silently along the tunnel’s dusty floor. Our leader declared a strict no-lights policy and we relied on dim halogens that were better off in the sixties. By her dark outline against a backdrop of concrete, old wires, pipework, and bricks, she took prime position at the front. Loco taking up the rear wedged me between them when I lacked my magick to go on the offensive if we needed it.

I scratched at the bracelet on my wrist, the weight of it burdensome, the material burning me. I felt vulnerable without my magick to protect or defend me as Knoxe trained me to rely on for almost four years.

Loco tapped me on the shoulder and warned me to keep the aim of my stun gun trained over Serena’s shoulder to protect her. I bit back the fire I felt to my bones to sharpen my mind on the target.

Urgency mounted in the back of my skull to get it off me forever. Panic for my safety. Pressure to expel my power. A base need to protect my family and girlfriend. I felt helpless and useless on missions without my magick. Nervous even at Tor’s prediction that the warden painted a target on my back.

Spellwork learned at the Academy taught me the fundamentals of harnessing Veil energy to defend myself and volley offenses back if required. Nothing felt as natural as harnessing the sound frequencies of the Earth when I knew them in and out. Still, I battled on, moving in line with my leader and second-in-command.

Songbird was teamed with Knoxe and Tor, and they came at the tunnel from the opposite direction.

Historical tunnels existed below many cities and towns, some used for transporting gold, others used for telecommunications cabling, sewer systems, old underground transport, and criminal activities like bootlegging. Mads’ reports indicated multiple calls were made from this particular tunnel on different dates, and the lack of change in location—shown in other calls on the burner phone we took from James’ caravan—brought us to the conclusion that this was some sort of base for the fugitives or the traitorous officials supporting them.

Scrapes, grunts, and the sound of a radio up ahead sent my body into high alert. They were here, all right. Armed and dangerous, no doubt. Without my magick, we couldn’t get a sonar picture of the number of potential people we were about to encounter.

“Anybody got any smokes?” one grunt asked, his voice traveling through an air duct to our left.

Serena motioned for us to keep low and quiet.

“You keep bumming them off me and haven’t paid me back.” Another grunt, the nasally sound of his voice banging in my ears.

“It’s not like I can surface and grab another pack, asshole.” Grunt One.

“Here. This is your last one.” Grunt Two.

I squeezed and lifted my gun higher, ignoring the blistering heat in my wrists. Wariness burrowed under my skin that we might be walking into a trap. One way or another, this was going to end today.

CHAPTER 28 - RAZE

“What did you find?” Gable leaned in, examining the biker’s findings.

By outward appearances, Castor oozed charm, but I sensed the threat not to make him an enemy. He already threatened me not to harm his pregnant wife the first time we met.

From what Gable informed me, Castor’s god was smarter than everyone else in the room and one step ahead, and I made it my mission not to step out of line. I might be faster than humans, more agile, heal quicker and be proficient in Guild spells, but something told me I was no match for the biker, the healer, Aaliyah, or her other husband, Alaric, who stood guard in the corner.

We needed all the leads we could muster when our prisoners refused to talk. Magical interventions failed, since they’d dosed with Fae dust, which gave them immunity to confession spells. Hence why we traded with the Jackals for intel out of our reach. Otherwise, we had to wait out the four days until the dust passed out of their system.

Castor brushed his mate’s lap as he navigated the data flitting over his computer screen. “By the cell tower hits registered, it looks like they’re ferrying the gantii through a portal in an old underground telecommunications tunnel.”

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