Hunted

Chapter 12

An unnatural silence settled over the Port of New York, devoid of wind or churn of sea. Cargo containers rusted in regimented order. Moira rested her hand against chinked steel. “We’re close.”

Conn cracked his neck. “I left you in silence the entire drive here so you could meditate. Now you tell me what’s going on.”

She needed Kell or Daire for backup, that’s what was going on. This was her first solo mission as an enforcer, and if the magic sparking through the air provided any indication, she might be out of her league.

“I appreciate the time to meditate.” She needed more time. “Basically, there’s someone here abusing magic.” A whole potful of it.

Conn frowned. “That explains the inactivity on the docks. Why does my skin burn?”

“Because my powers are yours.” She shoved back curls from her face. “When someone manipulates subatomic particles to a dramatic degree, the atmosphere changes enough that those of us with the correct genes can feel it like a magnet’s pull.”

“How do you know they’re abusing magic?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes they’re not. But to this degree, on the docks of New York, without any prior warning? They don’t want us to know something.”

“My backup is at least an hour away. How soon did Daire say he could get here?”

Moira drew in a deep breath. “Fifteen minutes. We can wait.”

Conn nodded, then lifted his head like a lion catching a scent. He gave a low growl—then a snarl. “We’re dealing with more than witches.”

An irritant pricked the back of her neck—awareness of a sort. “Kurjans.” A witch was working with the Kurjans? So much for waiting for Daire.

“Yes. I sense at least three.” Conn leaned closer. “You up to another fight?”

He truly had no idea. “Yes.”

Conn reached for his gun at the back of his waist. “Why is a witch messing around on the docks, Moira?”

Unease kept her still. “Ah, I don’t know.”

Irritation swirled through his dark eyes. “Let’s look at this rationally, shall we?”

“I’d rather not.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Something mined in Russia has the enforcers scrambling. And a witch is abusing magic at the Port of New York. Now, I’m no Kane Kayrs, but I have to wonder ... is this witch awaiting a cargo container with something from Russia, maybe shipped from Northern Europe?”

The vamp had a brain. “Quite possibly.”

“What’s in it?”

“I’m not sure.” The lie rolled off her tongue. “We harvest many minerals to use with the elements and practice witchcraft.”

“Bullshit.” Conn glanced behind him. “The Kurjans are moving in fast.”

“Do you think they sense you, too?”

“Probably.” He glanced up the twenty-five feet of stacked cargo containers. “They’re heading for the dock. Is that where your witch is working?”

“Yes.” Working seemed an apt description. “There’s a blanket shield over this part of the port.” Moira raised her palms to the sky. “Let’s put a dent in it, shall we? Get the witch focused on protecting the shield for now.” She rearranged oxygen molecules to electricity, shooting up toward the shield.

A pop sounded, and the pounding of the sea became clear. Lightning flashed. Rain began to batter their heads. The witch at the dock held enough power to keep a storm away from the area.

Moira needed help.

Conn placed both hands on the lowest container. “Jump on my back and we’ll climb to the top to surprise the Kurjans.”

Moira leaped onto his back, tucking her head into his neck and her legs around his hips. Air rushed through her hair. A whisper of thought later, she stood on the top of the three containers. “Vampire speed is so cool.”

“They’re coming from the north.” Gone was her mate. A warrior, all business, all purpose stood in his place. Hard lines cut into the sharp angles of his face, his eyes a dangerous emerald. He grabbed her hand, stalking gracefully across the container to the far edge. “There’s your witch.”

Salt from the sea coated Moira’s face. She peered over the edge to see a woman with long red hair standing next to a twenty-something man with a goatee. Both were witches, but the woman had the power. They waited at the edge of an open berth next to a rumbling semitruck.

Moira squinted her eyes at the dark ocean. Far in the distance a light flickered. “There’s the ship.”

The witch below swirled her head around, obviously looking for the threat.

Moira smiled. “She knows we’re here.” Smashing a hole in the shield had been a decent calling card.

Conn stiffened, then pointed to three shadows moving rapidly. “The Kurjans are closing in on the witch.” He rubbed his chin. “Either they’re too focused to sense a vampire, or they’re assuming we’re with the witch. Maybe we should wait a minute and see what happens.”

The witch below was going to pay. But Moira couldn’t allow the Kurjans to take her.

Just then, the witch pivoted, her gaze slamming up. Flashing an angry smile, she formed a green plasma ball.

“Get down,” Moira hissed, yanking Conn flat. The ball impacted the side of the top container. Sparks rained into the air and metal scraped against metal as it skidded across the lower container. Halting, the massive load teetered precariously on the edge. Gravity was about to win.

“Damn it.” Conn grabbed her, throwing them backwards into the air to flip several times before landing on his feet, yards from the witch. Solid ground. The massive container behind them smashed into the ground with a loud boom! He shoved Moira behind him just as the redheaded witch threw another plasma ball.

Moira pushed him to the side. The ball smashed into a crane, sending the metal beast sliding several feet along the wet pavement. High pitched, the screech tortured her eardrums. She swirled air into a ball, throwing it as another glowing weapon was volleyed in their direction. Moira’s ball sizzled, then captured the green glow. The energy spit like water being poured over fire. Steam rose and both energies puffed out.

The Kurjans leaped into the clearing, purple gazes taking in the scene.

For a moment, no one moved. Time stopped. Moira panted and blinked the rain out of her eyes. The three groups eyed each other, angled like points of a triangle. Thunder bellowed from over the sea. Lightning flashed in response.

She centered herself. “I’ll take the witches.” A tiny part of her didn’t want Conn to see her in action. The man would want to jump in. She could handle herself. And if the big men in her life didn’t stop trying to shield her, she’d never have any authority—on the council or as an enforcer.

She widened her stance. “By the power of the Coven Nine, you’re found guilty of violating Canon 34a and are sentenced accordingly.”

The female witch smiled. “My name is Gena McMurphy.” A light smattering of greenish electricity began to dance across her arms.

“So?” Moira glanced at the younger male witch. He’d gone pale. Scattered freckles stood out in disarray across his pasty skin. His gaze swiveled between Moira and his friend.

“So, I thought you should know the name of the witch about to harness your power, Seventh.” Gena jerked her head at the Kurjans. “We should let the vampire and Kurjans take care of each other.”

“Of course.” So the witch had heard of Moira. Being the Seventh made her almost royalty.

Lighting zigzagged from high above.

The Kurjan sporting the most medals on his shoulder cleared his throat. “We’re just here for the witch.” His smile flashed sharp yellow canines. “But we’ll take two for the price of one.”

Thunder ripped across the sky.

Conn exhaled slowly. Time to even the odds. Why the hell did everyone feel the need to chat? In a rush of speed, he grabbed his gun from his waist and shot the closest Kurjan in the neck. The guy went down.

The second Kurjan bunched and leaped in a fierce tackle before Conn could get off another shot. They hit the pavement with a boom as loud as the thunder, leaving a vampire-sized dent in the asphalt. Pain cascaded across his shoulders. His gun skidded out of reach. Levering his legs around the Kurjan, Conn swung and reversed their positions. Grabbing his knife from an ankle holster, he cut off the guy’s head in one clean slice.

The remaining Kurjan leaped onto Conn’s back, knife aimed for the jugular. The guy weighed a ton. Fury rumbled through Conn’s chest. He grabbed the soldier’s hand, fighting to keep the blade from piercing his skin. From the corner of his eye, he could see Moira battling Gena. Hand to hand. Gena had some moves, but Moira had speed and agility. The male witch angled around behind Moira.

Conn threw an elbow back, connecting with cartilage. Blood spurted, burning his cheek. The Kurjan growled, sinking a fang into Conn’s earlobe and yanking.

Pain slashed through his head. The asshole had bitten his earlobe off. Conn snarled, throwing the Kurjan off and jumping to his feet. “You prick.” He ignored the blood washing down his neck as he circled the soldier.

Red stained the monster’s incisors when he smiled. “I came for a witch and killed a Kayrs. A good day, I think.”

Did the Kurjans pass pictures of Conn’s family around for fun? How the hell did these guys always identify him? Rain splattered against his face, cooling the blood. “You’ll be just another random kill for me. A typical Tuesday, if you will.”

The Kurjan charged. Conn grabbed the soldier by the ribs, allowing the momentum to throw them back. Landing hard, he swept his arm out, grabbing his gun. The monster’s eyes widened just as Conn swung back and shot him in the ear. “Yeah. Payback’s a bitch.” He rolled the unconscious enemy off.

Flipping to his feet, he whirled in time to see the male witch grab Moira from behind. The female witch shot forward, slamming her hand against Moira’s chest. His mate shrieked. Her entire body went rigid. Rage beat through him harder than the pounding rain. Two strides had him across the asphalt and grabbing the male witch in a headlock. The jerk struggled, then slowly gave in as Conn increased his hold.

“Thanks,” Moira muttered as she hit Gena’s hand away.

“You got this?” Conn asked.

“Yep.”

A groan sounded from behind him. The Kurjan he’d shot was gaining consciousness. “Good. I have two down but not completely.” Dragging the male witch, Conn angled his knife and decapitated first one and then the other still breathing Kurjans.

Then he turned to watch his mate.

Moira moved faster than a whisper, leaping forward and taking Gena to the ground. Gena howled in protest. The male witch trembled against him.

The tackled woman fought back, throwing punches. Moira batted the fists out of the way. Then her jaw tightened, and she thrust her palm against the witch’s chest.

Conn had taken hearts that way but doubted Moira had the strength to get past the rib cage. The man in his grasp went limp, giving up any pretense of fight.

The witch on the ground shrieked, both hands grabbing Moira’s arm. Her eyes went wide in panic. His mate held tight, throwing her head back, closing her eyes. Oxygen popped around them like balloons too full of air. A green glow traveled from the downed witch, up Moira’s arms to her chest. Then it disappeared. Inside her?

The wind swept the area, scattering pebbles and the scent of burnt wire. Green mist smoked along the witch’s skin, dying out with a whisper. The witch struggled, her body convulsing, then stilling. Her head dropped back to the ground and she went limp.

Moira stood. Green energy flitted along her skin, slowly shifting to electric blue. She turned toward Conn, her eyes deep and fathomless. Jesus. Two steps closer and she placed her hand against the skinny guy’s chest. He cried out, his body shuddering. Seconds later, his body sagged and Conn let him fall.

He eyed his mate. “You took their power.”

She nodded, shoving curls off her face, sucking in air. Her chest panted with the effort. The line of her neck throbbed. “Yes. Absorbed it.” For a witch, losing powers was worse than death.

“Could she have taken yours?”

Moira gave a tired smile, her small body still vibrating. “Maybe.” She eyed the young man on the ground. “He’ll have at least a century to learn from this mistake. Hopefully he won’t make it again.”

Conn surveyed the two unconscious witches. “The power can develop again? Someday?”

“Yes.”

Conn reached out and grabbed Moira’s hand, needing to feel her. Static electricity raced up his arm. “Are you all right?” Taking someone else’s power had to hurt, at least a little. Yet another gift the witches had failed to share with the world. Though Moira’s ability to fight and adapt impressed him once again.

“Yes.” She leaned into him. “Sometimes I need to work off the energy.” The words came in short gasps. “Too much power can burn.” Her eyelashes fluttered against her skin. Then she was out.

Burn indeed. Conn caught his little mate, wondering what other surprises she held.