Page 12 of Heart of a Witch
“No.” I rolled my eyes. Chester Blackwood and his entire family were already bringing unwanted attention to our town. “Thanks. I won’t be long.”
I pushed open the double doors, walking between a polished bar and cocktail tables. Humans and witches mingled, and the doors were spelled shut behind me by the woman. I ambled toward the back as pipe-smoking men stared at me. I hated feeling their gaze trickle over my figure, underdressing me with their eyes. Turning my back toward a group of them, I walked to the guarded door. The man, in his thirties, who had more muscles than was necessary on any person, looked at me. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but my sister is in there.”
He angled his head. “I can’t let you in if you don’t have an appointment.”
His hands were clasped over his stomach, his shirt buttoned to the top, and his cufflinks had been shined to an inch of their life. Most importantly, he didn’t have one of the rings yet. Most of the staff who’d been working there for over a year were gifted a green club ring, which gave them immediate entry to the club at any time.
His eyes darted to my breasts, but he looked away when he noticed my frown. I took a step closer, tentatively placing my fingers on his wrist. Tiptoeing, I leaned upward, letting my whisper dance around his ear. “I know the Blackwoods well. You must be new here. They won’t mind me going back there, and I would be so grateful if we didn’t cause a scene. Those men back there won’t stop gawking at me.” I stepped back, watching his tight expression loosen. “Please.”
He swallowed thickly. “I really should go check.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t want to be interrupted for something as small as this.” I knew Emberly would turn me away the second she heard my name. There was no way they’d let me back there.
He wrung his hands, a bead of sweat visible above his brow. “I don’t kn—”
“I’d really appreciate it. Maybe I’ll thank you with a drink after your shift. Only if you want.” I forced a smile, then traced a finger along my collarbone.
He cleared his throat, peering behind me, then moved his attention back to me. A smile unfurled on his lips. “What’s your name?”
“Victoria, but you can call me Tori.”
The corner of his lip tugged further upward. He opened the door behind him a crack. “I’ll make sure they don’t bother you.” He gestured toward the men staring from the table at the side of the room.
I placed my hand on his bicep. “Thank you.”
I swept inside and hurried down the long corridor when I heard the door lock behind me. I shook my head. I hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble, but I had no choice.
I peeked inside each room, but they were empty. Finally, I reached a closed door. Chanting whispered outward, and the dark magic in my veins sang back.
That couldn’t be a good sign.
I creaked it open, and my jaw slacked. A woman lay bare on a large mahogany table. Her paper-white skin was sliced into various black-magic symbols, blood spilling through the cuts like small rivers. She didn’t move when they knocked into her arm, hurrying to push me out and close the door.
Pockets of smoke hit my nose. An herbal, burning stench filled the room. The owner of the club, Katherine Blackwood, glared me down, her thin lips tightening into a hard line. She wrung her bony fingers together, her crimson robe swinging around her legs as she walked. Behind her was her husband. Richard watched me, his eyes narrowing.
The door shut in my face, and security appeared behind me.
I felt the blood drain from my face when I was forced out into the open air. The woman was dead; I was sure of it. Nothing alive was that still.
It confirmed my worries. They really were murderers, and my sister had gotten mixed up with them. I rubbed my forehead, pressing my lips together. Ember couldn’t have known what they were doing. She’d never have been okay with it. They were leaving her in the dark, but their son had to know. Chester was, at the very least, lying to her. Before letting my imagination get carried away, I turned and looked at the matte-black sky. I steadied myself, then pressed my lips together. I had to get back, to tell my family what I’d seen.
I ambled through alleyways until I couldn’t smell the ash-tinted air from the main street. A figure appeared at the end of a narrow road, striding with his fingers wrapped around the handle of a lamp.
A blue robe floated around him when he walked. On the front was the mark of a priest. I had seen both priests of our town, but I didn’t recognize him. Before he could get a good look at me, I slowed my pace and ducked down a side alley. I pushed my back against a rickety fence, disturbing a nest of spiders. A scramble of ivy and vines on the fence hid me from sight.
I heard footsteps near, then fade, crunching stones underfoot. Once I was sure he’d passed, I stepped out from the side alley and focused my eyes on the back of his robe. The magic in my veins tingled at his presence. He moved his robe to the side and pulled out a dagger, followed by a pair of shackles. I knew those shackles. Each town had a pair, gifted from the witches in Istinia as a show of peace. They disabled a witch’s powers. If he had them, it meant only one thing: he was the hunter.
I swallowed thickly, watching him fade out of sight. He was heading right for The Black Card.
Four
I walked back to the house, my heart racing as a carousel of scenarios flitted through my mind. The hunter was staking out the club. He wouldn’t go in there alone. The dagger and the shackles were a precaution; I was sure of it. I’d heard the stories. He was as dangerous as he was clever.
I was grateful Ember hadn’t been there after all. Wherever that Chester boy had taken her, I hoped it was miles from here.
I curved around a corner to where the ancient church stood. Stretches of grass surrounded the crumbling building, shadowed by maple trees carpeting the entrance with red leaves. Their low branches stretched out, contorted over pale tombs housing the dead. Among those graves stood a small group of ten holding oil lamps. They all wore blue robes, signifying they were priests in training.
