Witch Infernal (Infernal Hunt Book 3) Read online

  He wasn't wrong, but I wasn't going to admit something like that to him.

  "Keep things on topic, Az."

  His expression shifted in the blink of an eye, his hands tightened and his eyes narrowed.

  "I am not called ‘Az’."

  I smiled sweetly. “Shame, it suits you."

  His mouth spread into a grin once more. "You should let me have some fun with that hound of yours, we could come to some sort of beneficial arrangement. I have many things you'd enjoy."

  "I am here," Lysander snarled.

  "So you are," Azfin said breezily.

  "Are we done?" I said, crossing my arms.

  The Sidhe was doing nothing more than irritate Lysander. My mood was dark enough without the bullshit. He gave a small shrug and wandered off as though he didn't have a care in the world.

  Lysander leaned closer to me. "I do not like that creature."

  I laughed despite myself. "I'd rather noticed."

  He huffed, and I stood. What choice did I have but to speak to Elise? I consoled myself by thinking that the celestials may be of some use; they could have some useful information. I hated leaning on other people, having nothing more than a pair of blades to offer. Quin had the connections and increasingly the alchemical talents, Elise had her lady and the connections that came with it. I was lost, and I'd brought it on myself. It wasn't the first time that I'd regretted my self-made path in life. I'd wanted to protect Quin, to give him the best life possible. People had seemed like too much of a risk, more so after I'd caught Christian, the supposed love of my life, in bed with a nymph.

  Quin had such a way with people, an ease about him that I lacked. I couldn't help but be envious of that.

  "There's time yet," Lysander said softly.

  I frowned before I hissed, "Did you read my fucking mind?"

  He gave me a broad smile. “I didn't need to."

  Seven

  Once we were in the park on our approach to Elise's church, Lysander pulled me off the path and slumped down on a large boulder. I raised an eyebrow and waited for him to explain himself.

  "I heard what the Sidhe said... what if it's my old master? I can't go back to that life, Evelyn. I can't be under him again. Do you know what he'd do to me?"

  His worry slithered along the back of my mind; it filled my throat, choking the air from my lungs. I pushed aside my fears of his being subjected to that and stroked his hair. My fingers slipped through his thick black hair and down his strong neck again and again, until he took a breath and relaxed some. I hooked my finger under his chin and gently pulled his face up to look at me.

  "I told you, you're mine now."

  He brow furrowed and his mouth tightened; he swallowed hard before he finally smiled.

  "I lived with him for so long, Evelyn, I never thought I'd have a chance at freedom. I had no idea that happiness was a possibility, and yet here I am."

  I ran my thumb along his jaw and allowed him to settle his mind.

  "He was a brutal master, even as his kind go. I was born to him, I knew nothing else. You have shown me such kindness, I can't lose that. I can't lose you."

  "You won't,” I said matter of factly.

  Once more, his eyebrows knitted. "How can you be so sure?"

  I smiled. "Because you're mine, and I have defeated demons before, have I not?"

  It sounded so easy in my head. Yet I remembered the great hulking beasts with the thick hides. It was no easy feat, and certainly not something I could do alone.

  "I am a marrok, Evelyn; I was owned by a demon far greater than those creatures that came through the hellmouth."

  There was some pride to him when he spoke of being a marrok; I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I didn't quite understand the meaning. A sensation of it fluttered in my mind. A sense of worth, of having worked for a position of respect.

  He nuzzled against my hand and stood slowly. "Thank you for your reassurance."

  I gave him a small nod before he slipped his hands around my waist, leaving them to sit on my lower back. "We still need to have that talk."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "Need is a strong word."

  He shook his head and stepped away. "Elise is waiting for us."

  I smirked. “Perhaps the celestials will be there, you did so enjoy their company last time."

  He snarled at me. I grinned back at him; the poor thing was easy to play.

  His concern over his old master remained wedged in my thoughts. No matter how hard I tried to push it aside or to override it, it remained steadfast. The idea of facing such a foe didn't sit well with me. We had lost many good men, and beasts, the day of the hellmouth. I hadn't dealt with demons before, but I didn't want to do it again. I whispered a prayer to the moon goddess to guide and watch over us; I'd never considered myself a religious person before, but I was quickly becoming one. The world was changing at a breakneck pace, and I felt as though I needed someone, or something, to help. I couldn't carry the entire city on my shoulders.

  Elise was kneeling before her altar when we slipped into her church. Her long pale hair flowed down her back, the pure white dress hugged her slight figure and hid her legs that were tucked beneath her. I felt as though I was intruding, and yet I walked as quietly as possible to the closest seat, bowed my head, and allowed the peace to wash over me. Praying was still a new sensation for me, something I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. I'd never felt the need before the hellmouth incident. I wasn't entirely sure I even knew how to pray, and yet, I did my best. I tucked my hands into my lap and asked the moon goddess to help and guide my hound, to watch over him and protect him. I couldn't shake the feeling that I couldn't do it alone, and I couldn't face losing him.

  Lysander knelt by my legs on the stone floor, his head bowed and his shoulder gently pressed against my knee. His breathing settled into a slower rhythm, and his muscles began to relax. I couldn't help but wonder how the moon goddess felt about him, as an infernal beast. Elise had always spoken about her as a kind and loving goddess, a warrior with a beautiful soul. I hoped she was right, and that she'd watch over Lysander. I stroked his hair and embraced the sensation of sanctuary, allowing it to wash away my fears and concerns. I didn't know how, but everything would work out. It had to.

  After some time, Lysander tensed a little, and I stood; we were both ready. Elise remained at her altar, head bowed. Concern riddled me. I hadn't known her to spend so long in such a position. We left the church without a word; she would tell us everything we needed to know when the time was right.

  After a short while, when we started to re-enter the city, Lysander said, "Thank you Evelyn."

  I reached up and brushed the back of his neck, allowing my fingers to linger on his collar. No words were necessary for the sentiment presented. He smiled, his muscles relaxed, and his steps lengthened a little. He was mine, and I'd never really learnt how to share, nor did I have any intentions of starting.

  Eight

  My breath caught in my throat, pressure formed on my chest, blazing heat surrounded me on every side. The dream felt so real, too real. I stood with flames at my back as I watched Lysander, yet he wasn't my Lysander. He carried two fearsome-looking blades coated in blood. His chest was bare, with fresh raw lines criss-crossing it. More marked his back. His expression was dark, he bared his teeth at a trembling young man who wept and fought against the metal restraints. Lysander grinned before he slowly dragged the tip of one of his blades down the man's stomach, drawing fresh blood. The man screamed and arched sideways, trying to pull away from the blade to no success. Lysander's expression turned to one of disdain. He plunged his blade deep into the man's stomach and pushed it upwards before pulling it back. The man choked and screamed before he died an agonising death, with Lysander watching in boredom.

  The image flickered and twisted; this time Lysander beat a man to within an inch of his life while other hounds laughed and jeered. That man died a bloody, gruesome death mere moments later. It continued on. Lysander
carrying out atrocious acts with no regret, no concern on his face.

  I woke with a start. My heart thundered in my chest, and the feeling of betrayal wrapped around me. Lysander groaned softly and went to put his arms around me as he'd done many times before. I pulled away. I couldn't. The images were burnt into my mind, his lack of caring, the disdain at the weakness of the people he tortured and killed. There was no compassion, no empathy. He was a cold-hearted, brutal killer. I walked into the living room and tried to clear my mind, to come to terms with it. At a logical level I knew what he was, but he'd become a sweet, caring, loyal pet in my thoughts. The visage of the torturer was in direct opposition, and I couldn't accept it. I couldn't remain close to such a beast, a murderer. A marrok.

  I watched the sun rise over the red rooves, a rose blush creeping along the horizon before the oranges burst upwards and the crisp blue reclaimed the sky. Lysander walked up behind me, his hands slipped around my waist, his face went to nuzzle my neck. I couldn't do it. I pulled away from him without a word and crossed my arms over my chest trying to protect myself. It was his past, I knew what he was, but seeing it in that form added another dimension to the entire thing. Somehow, it made it more real.

  "Evelyn?" he asked softly.

  "I saw some of your memories last night," I said in barely more than a whisper.

  Tears prickled my eyes. I took a deep breath and willed them to go away. I was stronger than that.

  "Evelyn, please."

  His hand ran down my back.

  "I'm going for a shower," I said.

  I couldn't face him. His pain echoed through my bracelet, it shimmered around the edge of my vision. I needed time, and space.

  The hot water scalded my cool skin, but it didn't wash away the emotion. I scrubbed every inch of myself in butterscotch-scented shower gel, trying to remove all trace of him. It didn't work. The screams, the desperate whimpers, remained etched in my thoughts. A glance in the mirror confirmed the haunted expression to my eyes. He was still my hound, I tried to remind myself, to cling on the things he'd done since he'd become mine.

  "Everything ok, Evie?" Quin called from the kitchen.

  I gave him a half-smile. "Sure, breakfast done?"

  He grinned at me. "Two minutes."

  I pulled on the closest clothes to hand; it didn't matter what I looked like as long as they fulfilled the job of covering my body and offering some protection. I picked up my plate of waffles and sat at the small table, where I picked at them.

  "Kadrix apologised, we had a good talk actually. Elves have a very different view on relationships to us, did you know that? They're pretty enlightened actually."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "Sounds like he's trying to con you."

  He frowned before he forced a smile. "He really makes me happy. I want to try, for him."

  "Is he trying for you?" Lysander asked.

  Quin bit his bottom lip and looked away. "He does, in his way."

  I continued to pick at my waffles. He was happy enough. It wasn't perfect, but then it was never going to be. Elves weren't like humans. He should have fallen for a nice human. Male or female, it didn't matter.

  "Love is a funny thing, it rarely worries itself with social boundaries," Lysander said with a growl.

  I ignored him. I couldn't do it.

  Quin looked between us and said, "So... what did Evie do this time?"

  Lysander's mouth quirked into a smile. "She saw my past."

  Quin's brow furrowed, his put his elbows on the table and leant his chin on his hands.

  "How did that happen? What was it like?"

  I glared at him. "It was much like a dream, and I don't know, I'd rather not discuss it."

  His face fell, but he let it drop. "Oh, I have the details of another hedgewitch you could talk to, he's better connected than the other one."

  "Kadrix does have his uses,” I muttered.

  "He's expecting you at ten," Quin said

  "Are you not coming?"

  "I'm almost done with my experiment,” he said absent-mindedly. "Lysander will be with you."

  That was what I was afraid of; I didn't want more time alone with him, with those memories.

  Nine

  The hedgewitch was in Florenc, the geographical heart of the city. The area around the metro bustled too much for my tastes; it was a hub, with the international bus station not far away and a meeting ground for both metros and trams. I'd thrust my hands down into my pockets and marched down the path towards the more open, green part of the district. I wove my way between the people as they watched their phones and gazed idly into shop windows. Lysander remained a few steps behind me, his mood dark. Thoughts swirled around my mind, regrets and concerns mingled with desires and needs. I knew that I'd brought it on myself, but that didn't make it any easier to bear.

  I double-checked the address that Quin had given me as I looked at the plain white wall, the purple heather perched on the external window sill. It sat neatly between two far more traditional buildings, with their ornate plasterwork and faces staring down at us with peculiar serenity. I opened the modern white door and stepped into a bright and airy space with white walls and white-washed wooden flooring. The shelves were carefully stacked with brightly coloured hardback books and powders displayed in elegant bottles with twists and ornate stoppers. The floor space was optimised, with only a couple of large tables, each with arrangements that clearly displayed all of the wares. I looked around, wondering if I'd fallen through a portal to a different time or country.

  A broad man with a sparkling smile and thick straw-blond hair approached us. I couldn't help but notice the slight sway to his hips and the way his lips were a soft blush colour; how I wanted to run my fingers along them before I kissed him. His navy blue shirt hugged his muscular form, the rolled up sleeves displaying his strong arms. I chewed on my bottom lip; the visit was looking up. Lysander growled behind me. I took a step towards the man and smiled.

  "Lucian?" I said hopefully.

  His smile broadened as his placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned down to give air-kisses on either side.

  "And you must be Evie,” he said.

  Lysander kept shifting his weight behind me, growls rumbling in his throat.

  I ran my hand up over Lucian's arm. "Did Quin say why we're here?"

  I couldn't help but fall into his pale brown eyes; I was about ready to break my own rule about not sleeping with anything magical. I'd heard delightful things about witches and their quite literal magical touch, too.

  His mouth tightened a little, but his eyes danced. “Your brother? Said that you're here to speak about the new witch in the city."

  I grinned and ran my tongue over my lips. "He's my brother, yes. Do you happen to know anything?"

  Lucian gestured towards a set of padded stools around a small table at the front of the shop. "Would you like some tea?"

  "Just water, thanks," I replied.

  He may have been sexy as sin, but he was still a witch; there was no reason to risk anything unnecessary.

  Lysander refused to take a seat, leaving me dangerously close to Lucian as I leaned my forearms on the table and watched him closely. He smiled and placed his hands on the table on either side of mine. He hadn't even acknowledged Lysander's presence.

  "There is a new witch in the city, a rather unusual thing, as it happens."

  I tilted my head a little, listening to the lyrical nature of his voice and the unusual accent. There was a distinct musicality about it that I couldn't quite place; it wasn't local. I quickly concluded it didn't matter where he came from as long as he continued to talk. I slipped between his words and reveled in the pleasure buried in the notes.

  "She came to the city entirely alone, without a coven."

  I sat up a little taller; as far as I understood it, witches were intimately connected to their covens and their bloodlines. For a witch, particularly one strong enough to concern the celestials, to move alone was unheard of.
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br />   Lucian's fingers brushed my temple. "You shouldn't frown like that, you'll get wrinkles."

  "You never gave us the water," Lysander growled.

  I smiled sweetly and squeezed Lucian's hand as he pulled it away. "No worry, we can survive. You were telling us about the new witch."

  His hand paused with mine. A small electrical current ran between us. So what they’d said about the magical touch was all true. I shifted my weight, trying to focus on the task at hand.

  “I’m sure you’re aware that the coven witches are very attached to their covens. They bond early in life, and it takes a lot to break those bonds. I’m afraid I don’t know much more.”

  “That was still helpful, thank you,” I said.

  Lysander muttered something under his breath.

  Lucian pulled out a notebook and made a show of writing his number down for me. “I’d love to see you again, Evie.”

  I ran my fingers over the back of his hand when I took the piece of paper. “I’m sure we can arrange something.”

  With that I stood and left. Lysander was out the door before I’d turned to look for him.

  "Was that really necessary, Evelyn?"

  I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall; I wasn't moving until everything had been resolved.

  "I could ask you the same thing,” I growled back.

  "You have no interest in non-humans, why is he so different?"

  I took a deep breath and calmed myself. "This is not a public discussion."

  He ground his teeth together, but gestured towards the tram stop. “Than let us go home."

  I pushed off from the wall and headed to the tram stop; the conversation was bubbling away within me, and there was no escaping it that time.

  Lysander sat in the seat behind me on the tram. I looked out the window and watched the city go by. People wandered down the streets and looked in the windows, admiring the latest fashions and delicious-looking foods; it looked so simple for them. The tram lurched to a stop. Everyone groaned when the driver hit the brakes for the second time in as many minutes. I had to assume that it was his last route of the day, given his erratic driving, for lack of a better term. Not that that helped my mood any. An older woman tried to push past me on my way off the tram, almost knocking my balance. By the time I opened the gate, my mood was darker than the incoming storm, which seemed very fitting as Lysander growled and grumbled behind me.