Page 16 of Samhain Savior
Starting with the slippery little witch hiding right under my nose.
When I reached the chancel I paused, as I always did when I came to Trinity, taking a moment to bask in the beauty that rose above.
The altar and the Astor Reredos behind it loomed large before me, imposing and striking as it was meant to be. It was a beautiful piece, exquisitely carved in the finest marble and perfectly designed to compliment the stained-glass windows behind it. As I stared at the frozen scenes and figures carved across its face, I couldn’t help the familiar pangs of homesickness that stirred deep in my chest.
It had been so fucking long.
Shaking away the lingering sorrow, I took another deep breath, once again seeking out my prey. The soft scent of her was muted here, buried beneath the overpowering notes of Frankincense and stale sweat.
“Come out, come out, little witch,” I called, ignoring the sounds of the guys moving up the aisle behind me. “Or don’t. It’s so much more entertaining when you run.”
She didn’t respond, but the sound of scrabbling came from behind the reredos. Turning to the guys, I jerked my head to one side, instructing them to go that way and indicating I’d go around the other, trapping her between us.
As I rounded the reredos, there she was, crouched on the floor and pawing at the back of the marble piece, her fingers pressing rapidly against the intricate carvings.
“What are you doing, little witch?” I asked, and her head snapped toward me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe; the fire in her blue eyes was captivating, and all I could do was stare. Inside, the thrumming sensation in my chest reappeared, as though my very soul were vibrating within me. The feeling was so intense I pressed my fist to my sternum, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. Every instinct I possessed was screaming contradictory orders—kill her, protect her, claim her, run from her.
On my hand, the ring warmed, feeling like a hot coal wrapped around my finger. The metal pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, as though it were alive and responding to her presence. The crossroads magic that had lay dormant in the ancient band was stirring, recognizing something in this witch that I hadn’t yet begun understand.
It wanted her. To claim her soul for its own.
That much was perfectly clear.
I had the overwhelming desire to touch her. To feel her skin beneath my fingers and know what that connection between us could possibly become.
But then those wide, wild eyes narrowed with hatred, and she turned away, back to her searching, and those sensations fled, leaving me cold and hollow once more.
“I’ll grab her, boss,” Vine said, taking a step toward the witch from where he stood on the far side of her. Seeing him approach, I snarled at him without thinking, only knowing I needed to stop him. I could feel my true form rising, my back itching as my wings fought to escape their confines, and it wasn’t until Vine stopped moving toward her that I was able to wrestle myself back under control.
Exhaling, I ran a hand through my hair, then straightened my suit jacket, trying to get a handle on myself. This fucking witch was driving me crazy, and I’d barely been in her presence.
The sooner we killed her the better.
“I’ll handle it,” I replied roughly, moving forward, once again overwhelmed by the enticing scent of her. “Hello there, little witch.”
“Stay away from me,” she whispered, spinning on her knees so that her back was to the marble. “I mean it. Get back.”
“Oh, you mean it, do you? What a convincing argument you make.” She shifted, and I lifted one hand, shaking a finger at her. “Ah ah. I’ll thank you to keep your hands behind your back and away from that sneaky little satchel you wear.” Offering her a vicious smile, I added, “I don’t need any more of your surprises tonight.”
Pausing for only a moment, she slowly moved her hands behind her, and I was surprised by her easy compliance.
Surprised and suspicious.
“Now, I’m going to ask you some questions and the more honest your answers, the longer you’ll live, alright?”
“As if I could ever trust the word of ademon,” she spat, shuffling backward as I approached, retreating from me until her back was pressed flat against the marble.
“I think you’ll find it is your kind who are untrustworthy, my feisty little witch.” She frowned at my words, but didn’t disagree with them. “Tell me, what were you doing in the churchyard?”
“Paying my respects to Alexander Hamilton,” she replied, the lie rolling off her tongue easily. “Big fan of his work.”
Moving fast, I crouched before her, one hand on either side of her head, my nose nearly touching hers. Up close, I could see she was even more alluring than I’d thought before, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. She lookedwild, like the most beautiful kind of chaos, and I realized that I wanted to taste her, just once, before she died.
“That’s strike one, witch,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to her lips when her tongue darted out to lick them. “Don’t push it. Now, tell me what you were doing skulking around the place where my friend was recently murdered.”
“You knew Father Phips?” she blurted, her eyebrows rising. “But, you’re—”
“Let’s move it along,” Corson cut in, his voice tight. “We don’t want any company here.”
