To Wrangle A Witch (Southern Sanctuary Book 3) (3 page)

Likewise
Serena seemed to be looking better, less pale, though she still had dark
circles under her closed eyes and only food and rest would make those cheeks of
hers less hollow.  Once more a distant flicker of movement in the rear
view mirror caught his attention.  Goddess, looked like they had company,
time to open this baby right up.

Chapter
Three

Serena
came awake with a small start.  For the first time in what seemed like
forever the car was slowing down.  Opening her eyes she focused on the
T-junction sign as Locke took the turn off to the right.

“Umm
shouldn’t we be headed for Lubbock, or at the very least the state line?”

“Everything’s
under control. 
Don’t worry
.”

Serena’s
anxiety suddenly inexplicably dissipated.  Frowning, she glared at
him.  “Don’t do that!  If I want to worry I’m perfectly entitled to
worry.”

“Sorry.” 
Locke sounded distracted as he took another sharp turn, following the signs
posted.

“You
could slow down.” 

“No
really I couldn’t.  They picked us up about ten miles back.”

Serena
turned in her seat.  “I don’t see anyone.”

“They’re
there.  I need to keep the speed up and stay off the main roads in case
they get the local law to set up road blocks.  Not that I think they’ll
chance that.  It would raise too many questions about your identity if the
locals got hold of you first.”  Locke gritted his teeth, taking the car
smoothly through another tight turn.

“Why
are we headed for Guthrie?”  Serena frowned, as they whizzed past yet
another sign post.

“Not
Guthrie, Evanstowe.”

“Never
heard of it?”

“Hardly
anyone has except for a third cousin of mine twice removed who visits there
once a year for their annual hot sauce festival.”

“So
why are we…”  Serena gripped the door handle as they took another sharp
turn, “…going there?  Do they have an airfield?”

“Don’t
know about an airfield, all I know about is the hot sauce festival.”  Five
minutes later Locke hit the city limits of Evanstowe. 

Serena
glanced Locke’s way dubiously, something weird was going on here. 

In
fact the whole escape from the get go seemed kind of surreal.  Gorgeous
man turns up in a suit and rescues her.  Maybe she was dreaming.  But
if she were dreaming why would her subconscious choose to go to a tiny town in
the middle of nowhere whose only claim to fame was an annual hot sauce
festival?  Maybe it was time she started taking more control over this
rescue, if the man ever slowed the car down maybe she should consider jumping.

Two
minutes later they were in downtown Evanstowe, what there was of it, consisting
mainly of one wide main road that had a series of authentic looking Texan shops
that all appeared to be selling some sort of barbeque equipment, tools or
food.  It appeared Evanstowe had found its tourist hook and embraced it
with both hands. 

“We’re
looking for…”  Locke searched for their destination. “Ahh the Fire Breath
Inn.”  Not that he could have missed it.  The fifty foot plastic
bottle of hot sauce out front shooting balloon flames into the air was hardly a
thing of subtlety.

“What? 
Why are you stopping?”  Serena was horrified as Locke turned the car into
the courtyard parking area of the Inn.  “Locke, what are you doing?” 
She all but hissed as he parked the car in front of a fire engine red door with
the number six stamped on it. 

Locke
was already out of the driver’s seat and racing around the car.  Yanking
her door open, he clicked his fingers in command.  “
Undo your seat belt
. 
Come on.” 

He
grabbed first the briefcase he’d placed at her feet, nice to know where his
priorities lay, then he scooped her up, pot plant and all.  Turning he
came to a sudden stop, face to face with a middle-aged couple who were staring
at them gob-smacked.  Taking in the sight of the man in the expensive suit
hauling around a sickly looking girl wearing clothes one usually associated
with prison inmates.

“
Honeymoon
.” 
Locke stated forcibly.

And
just for a moment Serena could see it.  She was wearing a frothy off white
bridal gown, the pot plant had transformed into a bridal bouquet of dark red
roses and confetti drifted lazily to the ground, falling from her dress and
hair.  The couple were suddenly all smiles, a look of dreamy admiration on
the woman’s face.  Serena wondered whether it was for her fake dress or
the studly groom.  Then Locke was on the move, striding for the door to
room six.

“Seriously? 
They really bought that we’d spend our honeymoon here?  At a hot sauce
theme park?”  She shook her head in dazed wonder.

“Everyone
wants to believe in romance.”  Awkwardly with his hands already full Locke
managed to turn the doorknob.  “Who doesn’t love a happy ending?”

They
sailed into the room, Locke coming to an abrupt halt as the impact of the décor
suddenly overloaded his delicate senses.  From the wallpaper dotted with
little green and red bottles of hot sauce to the bedspread with the giant
bottle of tabasco sauce appliqued on it. 

“I
bet this room has seen any number of happy endings, but only if money changed
hands.”  Serena couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice as she eyed the
nightmare hidden behind door number six.  People actually slept in
here?  She’d be dreaming about heartburn all night.

Locke
laughed.  “Cynical much?”

“Locke,
seriously, why are we here?  Shouldn’t we be making a run for the nearest
airport?”

“Have
a little faith.”  Locke kicked the door shut behind them.  “I’ve
gotten you this far haven’t I?”

“It
would be a little easier to have some faith if this place didn’t look like a
room favoured by a serial killer with a spicy food fetish.”

Locke
laughed again.  “Whatever you do, don’t mention that to my cousin
Marvin.”  Five strides across the room, Locke came to an abrupt halt
in front of the closet.  “Get the door would you?”

Serena
sent him a look of sheer disbelief.  Through the thin walls she heard the
sound of tires squealing as their pursuers took the turn into the courtyard inn
too fast.  “Locke.”  Her heart was beating a mile a minute.

“Remember…
faith… in… me.” 

Funny,
she hadn’t realised in all the excitement of her escape that Locke Valhalla was
completely an utterly insane.  With no other option available she reached,
over opening the closet door. “This is turning out to be a very weird rescue.”

Locke
clucked his tongue, taking a step into the closet, ducking slightly to avoid
getting a couple of wire hangers in the face.  Holding Serena even closer
in the cramped space, he managed to turn them around.  “Not weird. 
Unique… stylish even.  Get the door again would you?”

“We’re
going to hide in the closet?”  Serena yanked the door closed, abruptly
encasing them in darkness.  “What are you ten?  It will take them two
minutes to find us in here.”
 
She could sense
Locke smiling in the dark.  Honestly, if the man wasn’t so good looking
and wore such expensive looking suits someone would have found a nice padded
cell for him years ago.

“We’re
really going to have to work on those trust issues of yours. Door?”

“What?” 
Serena was past confused and heading towards frozen disbelief.

Locke
just issued a heartfelt sigh, repositioned her slightly in his arms and turned
the doorknob himself.  Serena squeezed her eyes shut, unsure if it was the
sight of the room’s décor or the prison guards coming for her that she was
trying to block out, possibly both.

“It’s
okay Serena you can open your eyes now.”  Locke instructed in a soft
amused tone.  Serena was debating the wisdom of that when an unfamiliar
yet friendly voice broke into her silent decision making process.

“Hey
Locke, didn’t know you were stopping by.  And you bought a friend.”

“Hey
Marvin.”

Marvin? 
Locke’s second or was it third cousin twice removed?  That Marvin? 
What would he be doing in the hotel room they just vacated?  Serena opened
her eyes, drinking in the sight of unfamiliar surroundings, spicy, bordering on
eye-watering, scents filling the air.  She was in a kitchen of all places,
full of industrial sized ovens, cook tops and equipment.  Smack bang in
the middle of it was a man, standing over a large pot.  He was wearing an
apron that said ‘Hot and Smoking and that’s just the Cook!’ over a frayed dark
blue t-shirt, shorts and flip flops.  He looked to be in his late fifties,
with a buzz cut of grey hair and friendly light blue eyes.

“Marvin
this is Serena, Serena, my cousin Marvin.”

“Hey
darling.  Want a taste from my latest batch?”  He held out a spoon in
invitation.  “I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a winner.”

Was
that the spoon melting or just heat rising from the acid red liquid?

Locke
squeezed Serena lightly in warning.  “Sorry Marv, can’t stay.  Gotta
get this one back to her people.”

“Maybe
another time.”  Disappointment edged the older man’s voice.

“Definitely.” 
Serena couldn’t help but smile.  “Locke’s mentioned great things about
your hot sauce.”

“Really?” 
Marvin’s chest puffed out in a pride, a huge grin spreading across his
face. 

“Yeah
another time.  Later Marvin.”  Locke swung her around and they
stepped right back into… not a closet… a large pantry stacked full of canned goods
and warehouse sized tubs of spices.

“This
is so unreal.  How did we get here?”  Another thought had her
squeezing Locke’s arm. “Can they follow us?”

Turning
Locke awkwardly shuffled forward, grasped the doorknob and pulled the pantry
door shut.  “Don’t worry.  Only family and designated friendlies can
activate and use the portals.”

“Why
didn’t you just zap us out of the hospital?”

“Because.”
Locke opened the pantry door; they were in another kitchen this time, empty,
homey, full of warm woods and lots of light.  “We can only go to locations
that have been previously mapped.  Like the closet at the Fire Breath Inn,
thanks to Marvin.”

Serena
noted just before Locke shut the door one more time that their surroundings had
changed, they were still in a pantry, but a smaller one, less organised than
Marvin’s.

“Where
are we…”  She halted abruptly as the door was snatched open.  Dash’s
gorgeous familiar face staring back at her, the smile of relief on his lips at
odds with the concern filling his gold edged hazel eyes and the gun raised and
pointed in their direction. 

“One
witch as requested.”  Locke shouldered his way out of the closet.

“Thank
Maat you made it.  By the Sun Serena you’re a sight for sore eyes.” 
Dash flashed her a heartfelt grin of welcome before a shuttered serious look
swept over his features.  “We need to hit the conference room.” 

Locke
shook his head, holding Serena out for Dash to take.  “If you’ll just take
Serena off my hands I’ll get out of your hair.  Tell Vaughn my bill will
be in the mail.”

Serena
swallowed a snort.  Wasn’t that just lovely, the man couldn’t wait to dump
her and run.  She should be grateful.  He’d rescued her.  Saved
her life really.  So why did a sense of betrayal swamp her at the thought
Locke was not only willing but all too eager to get away from her? 

Well
she could be a mature woman about this.  Politely thank him, then find a
nice safe soft bed to curl up with her pot plant and have a good cleansing
cry.  And it wouldn’t be because Locke Valhalla had hurt her feelings she
told herself, no it would just be the sheer… relief, yes relief at finally
being safe.   

Dash
shook off Locke’s attempt to hand over Serena, the warrior stood combat ready
alert, his gun still raised, a positively grim expression on his features.
“Xander’s dead!  We need you both in the conference room, now.”

Chapter
Four

Locke
had been in countless conference rooms over the years where he and his
colleagues ‘got the knives out’ verbally, but Maat’s warriors had taken a
much more literal translation of that saying when they’d chosen to decorate the
walls of their large meeting room.  It was Dexter meets Salvador Dali;
everything was sharp, serrated, hooked, barbed or jagged, yikes.  Half of
the objects he could barely name, let alone actually use. 

“I
suppose you’ll be sending Vaughn the dry cleaning bill?”  Hadleigh groused
from her seat next to his at the humongous conference table as they waited for
Rafe to return with the official report on the events surrounding Xander Marr’s
death. 

Locke
turned to look at his sister, grateful for the distraction.
 
Anything was better than watching six over
grown line-backers fuss over one tiny Earth Witch, who was currently huddled in
one of the extra wide padded chairs at the far end of the table, wrapped in a
blanket, surrounded by an eclectic group of potted plants the warriors had
hurriedly snatched from the hallway and nearby offices.  Locke noted out
the corner of his eye that despite her fatigue Serena was smiling and laughing
with the group of hovering over attentive lugs. 

Locke
gripped the sides of his chair, random and wholly surprising questions running
through his head. Goddess, had Serena ever dated any of the over-sized
Elite?  Perhaps more than one? Not that it was any of his business he
reminded himself.  With more effort than he was comfortable admitting too
he forced himself to focus on his sister.  Sprawled in the seat next to
his she seemed entirely unperturbed that her husband was kneeling beside
Serena’s chair currently holding her hand.  The man was married now for
Goddess sake, did he have no shame?  Again, not any of his concern,
mentally Locke gave himself a brisk mental slap, priorities man, where are your
priorities?

“I
was thinking I’ll have to replace this suit entirely.”  He cast a glance
down at the wrinkled material, wondering why he wasn’t a little more upset that
one of his favourite suits had gone to the great moth cupboard in the
sky. 

“It
probably just needs a good steam and a lint brush.”

“Your
lips to the Goddess’s ear but I don’t think so.  Should I send the bill to
Vaughn personally or to Maat Enterprises?”

Hadleigh
shook her head, a smile on her lips.  “Do you want to be buried or
cremated?”

“Put
me down for a Viking funeral at sea… I always did like a good bonfire.”

Hadleigh
laughed.  He’d noticed she’d been doing a lot more of that recently,
smiling, laughing.  He supposed he had Vaughn to begrudgingly thank, not
that he’d ever say anything out loud, the man was already way too smug.

“You
did a good job out there today.”  Hadleigh acknowledged, her eyes flicking
to the end of the table where Serena huddled amongst her forest of greenery and
the warriors fought over who would pour Serena’s herbal tea.  “Very… smooth.”

“That’s
me, all about the finesse.”

“Stop
being such a sarky know-it-all and just take the compliment.”

Locke
nodded abruptly.  “Thanks.  I must admit I caught a glimpse today of
why you like it so much, the adrenalin kick alone is kind of addictive.”

“What’s
she like? The Witch?”

“Serena?” 
Locke fought hard to keep his tone indifferent.  “Nice enough I suppose.”
Though she was much more than that wasn’t she?  Strong, focused, witty,
and hot… way hot despite her current fragile state. 

“She
seems….”  Hadleigh searched for an appropriate descriptive word, absently
toying with the hilt of a knife she had hooked onto her belt. “…tiny.”

“Everyone’s
tiny to you Gigantore.”  The words were barely out of Locke’s mouth when
an abrupt cuff to the back of his head almost sent him slamming face first into
the conference table.

“It’s
like you have a death wish.”  Vaughn commented, collapsing into the empty
chair on the other side of Hadleigh.

“It’s
an affectionate nickname.”  Locke protested, rubbing the back of his still
ringing skull.

“Well
find a new one, something a little more respectful like Angel, Princess or
Kitten?”

Locke
slapped his thigh.  “Kitten?”  Hooted a laugh and then grinned. 
“Kitten?  Wait til I tell the boys.”

Hadleigh
cast an exasperated look in her meld mate’s direction.  “That was you
trying to be helpful I assume?”

“Sorry.” 
Vaughn shrugged just as Rafe entered the room, taking a seat at the head of the
table. 

Rafe
ran a fatigued hand through his over long auburn hair.  His green eyes warmed
up just for a split second when he spied Serena before returning to an icy
remote colour as he surveyed his fellow warriors as they quickly took their
seats.  “Okay, I’ve just returned from the hospital.  As near as I
can tell the timeline goes something like this.  Serena escapes, seven
minutes elapse before anyone raises the alarm.  Twenty minutes later, Dr
Kenton, head of the facility sends an email to an unknown proxy address. 
Five minutes later Xander is killed.”

“What
was in the email?”  Drum looked towards Marcus, knowing his hi-tech
warrior colleague would have the information at his fingertips.

“Notification
of Serena’s escape and a file attachment.”  Marcus looked up from his
tablet briefly, continuing to tap away.  “Give me another minute to access
the attachment.”

“We’re
sure Xander was murdered?”  Nate queried.

Rafe
gave an abrupt nod.  “Vampires.”

The
noise level in the room spiked abruptly, questions volleyed across the room but
it was Hadleigh’s that got everyone’s attention.  “What kind of sucker?”

“There’s
more than one?”  Flynn looked torn between thinking this was the coolest
conversation ever and the creepiest.

“All
kinds; dream suckers, youth, life force, memories… blood.  If we know
which kind maybe we can work out why.”  Hadleigh frowned.

“Blood…
definitely blood.”  Rafe stated categorically.  “Xander barely had a
drop left in him.”

Hadleigh’s
frown deepened.  “Assassins then.  Sek and Mot must have had them on
standby.”

Dash
looked just as torn by the topic as his twin.  “Vampire assassins? 
Why couldn’t they just be regular vampires?”

Hadleigh
heaved an audible sigh.  “Because regular suckers… of any kind, generally
only siphon off a little bit of whatever they need to survive, leaving their
‘donors’ alive and kicking with a hazy gap in their memory.  This includes
the blood suckers, well… except when they have young to feed, then they tend to
take a little bit more of what they require and regurgitate it later, like
birds do when feeding their chicks.  But ideally they don’t kill their
victims if at all possible, too messy, draws too much attention.”

“I
think I’m going to be sick.”  Serena closed her eyes, waiting for the
dizziness to pass.

“Yuk,
I might join you on that one.’  Flynn looked horrified.

“Why
would they send in vampire assassins? Draining the body completely like that
must take time.  If they just wanted his blood, why not just take a litre
or so and then inject Xander with poison or an air bubble or something? 
With the state Xander was in we might not have known it was murder until we saw
the autopsy report.”  Vaughn mused out loud.

Drum
added his own questions to the mix.  “Why kill him at all?  And why
now when it so clearly links his death to Serena’s escape?”

“I
can tell you that.”  Marcus looked up from his tablet, his blue eyes laser
sharp.  “They think Serena is dying.”  A buzz rose up around the
table and died just as abruptly allowing Marcus to continue.  “It’s in the
attached file that the head of the facility sent out.  I assume he was
trying to negate the news of Serena’s escape by detailing that in his opinion
she was mere weeks... perhaps days away from catastrophic organ failure.”

The
entire table turned looking Serena’s way, her pale cheeks tinged with a
becoming flush of pink.  “Give me a few days… a week tops and I’ll be
fine.  Promise.”  She reached out absently to caress the dark green
leaves of a nearby peace lily. 

“But
the Chaos brothers don’t know that.”  Marcus mused.  “As soon as they
saw the file they instigated a pre-emptive strike on Xander, the blood of the
ancestor.
 
And for some unknown reason
they wanted it all.”

“Leaving
only the blood of the witch to acquire so they can conduct the ritual to awaken
Apep from his long sleep.”  Vaughn finished.  “They’ll be desperate
now.  They believe Serena’s dying, she’s the only witch they know.”

“So
they’ve given up on the whole imprisoning me for eternity idea and decided to
just go for broke and get my blood?”  Serena gave the table a resigned
look from her dual coloured blue-purple eyes.  “You think they’ll send
those assassins after me next?”  Great, out of the frying pan and into the
fire.

“They
might send the whole kiss after you, at the very least two will come.” 
Hadleigh spoke first.  “One to drain.  One to stand guard.”

“Kiss?” 
Marcus was the first to voice the query, his bright blue eyes brimming with
curiosity.

“A
vampire enclave is traditionally a matriarchal society.  In their culture
the women are stronger and considered more deadly.  Most vampire clans are
peaceable and very careful about their feeding methods and keeping their true
natures hidden.  They are governed by a Queen who is ultimately a maternal
figurehead for the community.  The problem comes every few generations or
so when a potential Queen is born lacking the maternal, politically savvy
ability to lead the community but craving power and blood.   Often
when they enter adulthood and their actions begin to threaten the community
they are humanely put down.
 
Occasionally
though one will escape or strike out on her own, luring as many males as she
can to join her, that group is known as a kiss.  To get by they invariably
contract out their services for money, travelling the world living it up in
expensive hotels and leaving behind a trail of inexplicably drained bodies in
their wake.”

Vaughn
stared at his wife, golden eyes banked with heat.  “Sounds like you have
first-hand experience.”

Hadleigh
shrugged.  “I dealt with a vampire assassin kiss two years ago.  We
fought and killed all the male serfs but the Queen got away.  It took me
over a month to track her down and make the kill.
 
I’ve done my research since then.  The
one thing you need to know is that an assassin kiss takes great pride in
completing a contract, at any cost.  In their line of business, reputation
is everything.  If Sek and Mot have identified Serena as a target then the
kiss won’t stop until she’s dead or they are.”

“How
much time do you think we have?”  Vaughn queried.

“They’ll
need time to regurgitate and store Xander’s blood.  Twenty-four hours at
least, maybe forty-eight if we’re lucky.” 

Vaughn
stood up and started barking out orders. “So we don’t have any time to
waste.  Rafe, order in a ton of medical equipment and round up some
medical personnel A.sap.  Make a production out of it and bring them
through the front lobby.  Nate prep one of the spare apartments. 
Marcus set up a tight security perimeter, then I want you on the
monitors.  Flynn and Dash you have the roof.  Rafe and Nate will take
the lobby.  Hadleigh, Drum and I will set up in the room itself.” 
The moment Vaughn stopped speaking the room cleared of everyone but Hadleigh,
Locke and Serena.

“You’re
seriously going to use Serena as bait?”  Locke was appalled at the
thought.  “Look at her.
 
I doubt she
can stand on her own two feet yet.”  Her colour was definitely improved
but she still had that half-starved emaciated look that only food, time and a
stress free environment could cure.   “If something goes wrong and
the vampires get past you she won’t stand a chance.”

“That’s
why you’re going to take her home with you.”  Vaughn clipped out in a
commanding tone.

“Get
serious. I’m a lawyer not a trained bodyguard.”

“And
I don’t appreciate being discussed like a helpless child.”   Serena
protested, forcing herself to sit up straight even though that small action
alone caused sweat to break out across her forehead.  “I don’t need a
babysitter.” 

She’d
be damned if she would continue to be a burden on Locke Valhalla. 
Especially when he’d made it very clear where his feelings stood.  He’d
all but wanted to throw her at Dash when they’d first arrived and make his
escape.  Oh by the Earth… had he sensed her attraction to him? He must
think her the saddest and most pathetic of creatures.  Weak little Earth
Witch making goo goo eyes at her rescuer.  How clichéd.  How
embarrassing. 

“Sorry
Sera.”  Vaughn looked her way.  “But it’s the best possible option at
the moment.  You can’t stay here, it isn’t safe.  Sending you away
with Locke, it’s only temporary until we get these blood suckers.”