Page 2 of Exes, Hexes, and Strategy
Whereas Morgan Rhys had made ground-breaking strides in allowing females to join the Hunters, Kane Fletcher had been instrumental in establishing not only peace among the supernaturals in his territory, but equality. Something Nina knew was a rarity, the majority of Born leaders preferring to subjugate those they saw as lesser supernaturals, which was pretty much anyone and everyonenotBorn.
Nina shuddered as she thought of the Born that ruled her home state of New Jersey. She’d met the man once, and she hoped never to come face to face with him again. Vincent DeMarco. Cruel, vindictive, and in possession of a massive god complex, he was part of that majority. While they didn’t have a shifter population back home, the witches had long been treated as less than by the vampires – scorned, ridiculed, and up until not too long ago, hunted for sport.
The reason they were no longer being hunted was even now being introduced. Destin Jourdain, leader of the US branch of the Order of Witches who called New Orleans home. Of Haitian descent, Jourdain was incredibly tall, with mahogany skin and intense, hawk-like features. He was a powerhouse, a legend, and Nina couldn’t help but fangirl as he addressed them in a deep bass voice. The story she had been told was that Jourdain had decided he’d had enough of vampiric oppression, and in one night, he’d single-handedly taken out an army of vampires that had been hunting witches. He’d done enough damage to have the Court of Elders, the ruling body of Born vampires, running scared and quickly rescinding their hunt order. When news of his victory had reached her coven, the celebration that had followed had lasted days.
“I hear he’s single,” Mel whispered excitedly. Her smile turned sly, and she wiggled her eyebrows. “Do you think he likes eating Italian?”
Nina choked, her attempts to hold back her laughter at the risqué double entendre sending her into a coughing fit that had others turning to stare.
Mel gave her a couple of hard whacks on the back while assuring those around them, “She’s fine. She’s good.”
Finally, back in control, Nina quietly hissed, “He’s old enough to be your father. No, wait,” she amended, “I’m pretty sure he’solderthan your father.”
Mel merely shrugged, an unabashed grin on her face and Nina shook her head, grinning as well as she returned her attention to the front of the room and the woman being introduced. Keegan Bishop. While not a legend like Jourdain, the woman, who didn’t look much older than Nina, obviously had to have some power to be hired to teach combat magic.
Nina was looking forward to that. Eagerly anticipating all the things she’d be learning soon. While her coven met once a month, they didn’t exactly do much more than drink coffee, eat donuts, and gossip. They’d occasionally call the corners, or celebrate a holiday with a bonfire and some dancing, but they were pretty tame overall. Experimenting with magic was encouraged, but they didn’t really have anyone in their coven willing to properly instruct younger members.
With the last of the instructors introduced, Morgan continued her speech. “Over the next several weeks, you will be trained, you will be tested, you will be pushed to the edge of your endurance.” The vampire paused for effect, her eyes meeting Nina’s as well as those of several others. “Not all of you will make it, this life isn’t for everyone, but those who do,” she stated pointedly, “will be part of a team unshakeable in their loyalty to you and to each other. They will become your family and they willalwayshave your back.” Morgan took a beat before a smile lit her features. “Welcome to Hunter training.”
Cheers arose, some of the trainees stomping their feet, and Morgan Rhys raised her hands to bring them back to order. Grinning, the vampire said, “All right, all right. Let’s get you guys settled into your rooms.”
As Nina bent to grab her luggage, eager to see where she’d be sleeping, she heard Morgan speak once more. “Mister DeMarco, a word please.”
She froze. There was a rushing sound in her ears, a sudden tightness in her chest, and a prickling under her skin.No. Impossible. Slowly straightening, she tried to see, to confirm her fear, but Mel was suddenly blocking her. “You need to calm down,” her friend told her, but it was already too late. The storm was building as Nina’s anxiety spiked and suddenly, it was raining inside, the drops pouring down from a dark cloud overhead.
Startled shouts, a few screams as people ran for cover. Ms. Bishop, her new instructor, said something and with a flick of her wrist, the cloud dissipated, and the rain stopped. The noise level in the room increased, speculation as to who had caused the storm running rampant, but Nina heard none of it, her eyes – her entire focus – locked onto someone she’d hoped she’d never have to face again. Raphael DeMarco.
Chapter Two
“Well, that was exciting,” Morgan Rhys wryly stated as Rafe followed her into what he assumed was the woman’s office.
Opening a cabinet, she pulled out a towel and tossed it to him before motioning for him to take a seat. “Ms. Bishop hadn’t mentioned one of her students could control the weather.” The woman’s expression turned speculative. “Might come in handy as a distraction on a hunt I guess.”
Nina couldn’t actually control the weather, per se. Last Rafe knew, she hadn’t been able to control that aspect of her power at all. She’d always had an affinity for water, but making it rain had only happened two times that he was aware of – well, aside from today. And he knew exactly what had flipped her switch just now. Seeing him. And didn’t that sting like a bitch. Oh, he hadn’t expected her to be thrilled to see him, she’d dumped him after all, but the rain had only ever, to his knowledge, accompanied extreme grief.
He hadn’t personally witnessed either of the other times, but she’d told him about them. The first had happened when she was thirteen and learned her grandfather had died suddenly of a massive heart attack. She’d been alone with her family that time. The second occurrence had been much more dramatic. Upon learning her father had been hospitalized after a work-related accident, she’d rushed to be by his side. Seeing the man she’d always adored hooked up to all those machines had tipped her over the edge, resulting in a storm that had encompassed the entire fifth floor of the building. Only her mother had been able to talk Nina down enough to halt the rain.
Her father had lost a leg, but otherwise, had made a full recovery. The hospital, however, had been forced to shut down that floor for extensive repairs. The cause of the damage, a source of much speculation and had even led to a few ghost stories – or so he’d heard.
As for today’s storm, he agonized over the thought of what he possibly could have done, what pain he must have caused her, that the very sight of him had elicited that sort of response?
“I’m curious, Mister DeMarco,” Morgan said, breaking into his tumultuous thoughts, as she took a seat at her desk, “why you’re here.”
“You said you wanted to speak to me, ma’am.”
“Please don’t call me ma’am,” the woman said with a grimace. “It makes me feel ancient.”
Rafe almost smiled. Almost. From what he knew of Morgan Rhys and her long history as a renowned Hunter, she was at least three-hundred years old, but he wasn’t stupid enough to point that out, nor did she give him the chance.
“And I’m well aware of why you’re in my office, Mister DeMarco, just not why you’re at my facility.” She eyed him for a moment. “Raphael DeMarco, only son and heir of Vincent DeMarco, territory-holding Born of the state of New Jersey.”
Holding his tongue instead of pointing out that he knew exactly who he was, he waited for the woman to get to the point.
“We don’t get heirs in the Hunter program. We get the spares, the younger sons with little hope of ever gaining a territory of their own. We get the daughters who aren’t looking to be a well-behaved commodity willing to marry and push out little Born to propagate the line.” There was an unmistakable edge of bitterness in her tone as she spoke that last part, but her voice leveled out when she added, “We get Turned vampires who’ve fulfilled their contracts and have a certain skill set they wish to utilize.”
Leaning forward in her seat, she continued pointedly, “So why are you here instead of in New Jersey, carving out a section of your father’s territory to cut your teeth on?”
Rafe had no idea how to answer that question. He hadn’t been expecting it, so he hadn’t prepared a reasonable excuse. Having received the email acceptance of his application weeks ago, he’d assumed it was a done deal. Admitting he’d come to get away from a woman, a woman who, ironically, was even now getting settled in at this very facility, would make him look weak and foolish. Confessing why his father wanted him here, however, was a sure way to have him booted out post-haste.
