Devious Magic (16 page)

First though, I needed to know where Annalise was. Evan and Étoile had been right, Annalise could be dead already. To me, however, she existed in a state of limbo, nothingness, until I knew one way or the other. Concentrating on her, I started to send out my magic to see if it would recognise her signature and tell me whether she was in the house or not. I felt the magic in the grounds give way. It was no match for mine. Whatever witch had spun the charm of protection was not a strong one, I decided.

I was so busy concentrating on detecting Annalise, that I didn’t hear a thing until a twig snapped behind me. I started to turn my head to see what caused it, hoping it was probably the fox, or some other kind of small woodland creature.

A hand clamped over my mouth and another arm wrapped around my upper body, dragging me backwards. Then I was tumbling to the ground, my screaming muffled against the gag as I fought.

Nine

Instead of relying on my magic, I used my instincts and went for an old-fashioned elbow driven straight into my assailant’s kidneys. When he yelped and staggered back, I wheeled away and kicked him hard on the knee, following that with a thump that connected with his cheek, knocking him backwards. I didn’t waste any time waiting to see who it was or if I’d hurt him, instead launching into a sprint, not the least bit worried about the noise I was making as I crashed through the undergrowth.

I hadn’t gotten far when something barrelled into the back of me, sending me sprawling, face first, into the wet leaves. A body pressed onto me, pinning my arms to the damp forest floor and I felt a knee in the small of my back. I wriggled and bucked, trying to throw my attacker off me.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” hissed a furious male voice, his breath cold against my cheek. “I’m trying to stop you getting yourself killed. Calm down, okay? I’ll let you go, but don’t make any noise. If they hear us, we’re both dead.”

The hands released my arms, slowly. Then the pressure on my back was gone. I lifted my head and wiped off a leaf, probably leaving a streak of dirt in its place, and scrambled to my feet as quietly as I could, bracing myself to attack if I needed to as I turned around. “Who the hell are you?”

“Who are you?” The figure moved closer to me until I could see him in the moonlight, which pierced the shadows of the trees. He was dressed, head to toe, in black with a thick padded coat, and a cap pulled low over his forehead. His face was smeared black and brown; camouflage paint, I thought, but the whites of his eyes shone. He wasn’t particularly broad, but he was tall enough that I had to look up at him.

“I asked first!” I tensed, waiting for any sudden moves.

The man looked at me for a long moment, his shoulders dropping, seeming to relax slightly. “You’re a witch,” he said, at last. I must have looked shocked because he continued, “I don’t know you and I know all the witches here. I’m Anders. Anders Black and I’m not going to hurt you.”

I focused on him and observed the register of difference around him that told me he was witch too, or a warlock, but nothing else, nothing that alarmed me. He definitely wasn’t one of the Brotherhood, which gave me some relief. “What did you mean when you said you were stopping me from getting myself killed?”

“You can’t go in that way. It’s too obvious. I, uh, we’ve, been keeping this place under watch for months. Go in that way and you’ll set off an alarm that triggers a trap.”

“I know. It covers the whole grounds.” I hadn’t been planning on scaling the wall tonight, but if I had without realising what Anders was telling me... Well, he would have saved me. I appreciated him playing the hero card, even if he had no idea who I was. “Um, thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.” He looked at me expectantly.

“Stella,” I said, seeing as he’d made an effort to save me, even though I hadn’t actually needed it. “Stella Mayweather.”

“Let’s get out of here, Stella Mayweather, and you can tell me why you’re so interested in that house.”

“Presumably, you’re going to tell me what your interest is too?”

“Maybe. Depends.” But he didn’t say on what. “We can’t talk here. It’s too risky. Come on.”

He turned away from the wall, where I’d trampled in and moved off towards the woods, looking back to see if I were following him. He took us along a narrow path, barely noticeable through the undergrowth, to traverse the dark depths of the woods. Occasionally, he glanced behind him to check that I was still tagging along and hadn’t been yanked by the Brotherhood’s hands. Despite the twigs scratching at my clothes and nettles brushing my hands, he didn’t stop to help and I pushed on, grumbling internally.

Some minutes later, we came out near a part of the road that was completely unseen from the house, the woods crowding the space between. Anders went over to some bushes and pulled at them until I saw he was unravelling a net hiding a dirt bike. “How’d you get here?” he asked, glancing at me as I hovered by the trees.

“Car. It’s parked over there. I think.” I pointed to where I thought my car was, probably only a few hundred feet from where we stood.

“I’ll walk you to it. You can follow me into town.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you want to know what I know about the Brotherhood,” he said, though he held back from adding
obviously
. “And because a night in the pub is better than a night out here while nothing happens. For bonus points, we’re less likely to die, too.”

Well, he got me there.

He pushed his bike as we walked in silence to my car. I climbed in and turned the lights on because he said it would be more suspicious if I had them low, or off. Then I waited while he jumped astride the bike before sliding a helmet over his cap.

We parked alongside each other in the car park and I followed Anders inside, blinking until my eyes adjusted to the sudden light of the entry way. While Anders ducked into the men’s room to wipe off his camouflage paint, I took the time to visit the women’s bathroom to see the state I was in. It wasn’t great. I washed the mud off my face, but there wasn’t a lot I could do about the long smear that ran the front of my jacket. Losing, and/or ruining my outerwear was becoming an annoying habit.

Finally, we emerged into the light at the same time and I got a good look at him. Anders was a few inches taller than I, slimly built with sandy brown hair, cut so it waved around his head and eyes the colour of emeralds. He was easy on the eyes. His accent struck me as Northern, with flat vowels and a jocular, unpretentious way of talking.

The Rose and Crown was a typical English pub. Thick wooden tables and chairs, a garishly patterned carpet that had been trod on by thousands of feet over a decade or two, and the kind of regulars that prop up every bar throughout the country. A few of them sat at the bar, polished to a high gleam, while a few couples peppered the tables.

We settled into a booth in a corner, away from the regulars, and Anders paid for drinks and brought them over.

“What did you mean when you said you knew all the witches here?” I asked as he pushed a pint glass towards me, glad that he hadn’t thought I was a wimp and ordered me a half.

“I’m coven master of this area. I know every witch in my district.”

“I didn’t think there were any witches left in England.”

Anders raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his pint, looking over the brim at me curiously. “What made you think that?”

“Well... I was told that.”

“By whom?”

I took my time taking a mouthful, mulling over what I should say as I swallowed. Anders was a witch, I was sure of that, but I didn’t know him. Other than his not killing me when he had the chance, I had no reason to trust him. If I told him what I knew about witches, the Council, or the Brotherhood, he could use it against me, though I wasn’t sure how. On the other hand, if I told him what I knew, he might share what he knew. I wasn’t sure what to do.

“The Council,” I said, at last, thinking it was best to keep it simple. If he knew who they were, I wasn’t telling him anything fresh and, if he didn’t, I’d told him nothing.

“US branch?” he asked. “I’m guessing, of course, though you sound as English as I do. Londoner, are you?”

I nodded. “They said a few had gone underground, but all the witches of true magic left when the witch hunter killings started.” Again, all stuff he would know.

“True magic, hmm?” Anders took a larger swallow this time and then set his glass on the table, his hands circling it. “I don’t suppose it occurred to your Council that they don’t know everything about the witches here.”

I thought about that. It seemed at times that the Council didn’t know what was going on in their own backyard.

“Witches would be hard to stamp out,” Anders continued with an exasperated little sigh when I didn’t say anything. “Witchcraft here dates way back, before Pendle even.”

“Pendle?”

“Our version of Salem.”

“Oh.”

“The Council are insular, useless and badly organised. They need new leadership. Someone who can take them forward and put an end to the witch hunts,” said Anders in a burst of anger.

“Is that why you were at the house? The Brotherhood’s place? You said you’d been watching it.”

“Not exactly. We know what they are, and we want to stop them. The Brotherhood are a danger to us all, so we’re gaining intel before we make a move against them. Aside from you being a witch, what’s your problem with them?” he asked.

“They asked me to come to the house. When I refused, they kidnapped my friend as retaliation, or bait. I’m trying to find her.”

Anders chuckled and looked over me. I fought the urge to shrink into my seat. “And you thought you’d just break in and rescue her? All by yourself?”

Yeah. It didn’t sound so great when he put it that way. I stared at the table and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Pretty much,” I admitted.

Anders laughed again. “You’ve got guts; I’ll give you that. How do you know she’s even in there?”

“I don’t for certain. All I know is they brought her to England and this is where they wanted to meet me. She might be dead already, for all I know. I was trying to find out when you grabbed me.”

“What does this friend of yours look like? Is she a witch?”

I shook my head. “She’s a little taller than me, blonde with little pink streaks. She’s a werewolf.”

Anders whistled. “Haven’t seen her. Don’t get many werewolves around here, you know. The local pack is pretty small and spread across the whole county. If you can confirm your friend is there, they might help.”

“Do you know how to contact them?”

“Of course.”

“What about you? Will you help me?”

Anders looked uncomfortable. “I can’t jeopardise my mission.”

“What if your mission and my mission were one and the same? We both want to get rid of the witch hunters, and I want my friend back as an extra. We could help each other,” I suggested, clinging to the rapid hope that our meeting might end up being fruitful. I hoped I wasn’t being misguided.

“You’re just one witch and I have a lot of backup,” said Anders, sounding unconvinced.

“I have a lot of power. I’ve been training.” I’d have liked to add that I had a daemon and a powerful witch behind me, too, but they were both probably pissed off in Texas right about now. I hoped I wasn’t going to have a lot of explaining to do, but like so many other things, I’d deal with that later. “I can help you,” I offered.

“You don’t even know what we’re planning to do.”

It was my turn to hold back the
obviously
. “You want to take out the Brotherhood, and I’m going to help you do it.”

“Interesting proposition.” Anders looked thoughtful. He looked me over like he couldn’t quite work me out. “I’ll have to put it to the rest of the coven, of course.”

“Of course.”

“While we’re talking about covens, where’s yours? Why aren’t they helping you?”

“I don’t have one. I’m... a free agent.”

“Is there any such thing in our community?”

I stifled a smile. “So far.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Let’s see. I was abandoned as a young witch, through no fault of my parents who were killed when I was young. Then left to try and manage my own power alone, rescued at the last minute from the witch hunters, attacked by the Council’s psychotic former leader, parted from my friends and Evan, which was partly my fault, and then targeted by a power-hungry necromancer witch who now had it in for me. And the Brotherhood kidnapped my best friend and wanted me dead. “Not too bad,” I answered.

“Right,” agreed Anders, his voice holding the slightest hint of scepticism. “Your name sounds familiar, you know. I’m sure I’ve heard it before.”

“I can’t see why. I’ve never been here before.”

“Hmm, it will come back to me. Where are you staying?”

“Actually, I don’t know. When I got here, I just went straight to the house to look it over.”

“The pub has rooms, if you ask the landlady. Mrs. Peters is her name.” He nodded towards the blonde woman cleaning the bar with the enthusiasm of someone who loved to polish. As if she heard her name being mentioned, she flashed a smile in our direction and Anders waved.

“Thanks for the tip. Do you live nearby?”

“Just outside the village.”

“And the coven?”

“Here and there.”

“I’m not a threat to them,” I said, cautiously, wanting to set Anders at ease. “I’m here to get my friend, that’s it. I’ve no interest in supernatural politics, and I’m not a spy trying to get access to your coven.” Okay, maybe I sounded a little paranoid but Anders wasn’t exactly forthcoming.