that had golden crosses on it. In his hand was an old, weathered, leather-bound book, from which he read, and Caitlin realized he was probably chanting Latin. Beside her, the fury boiled off Logan as though he were a furnace.
“Don’t touch her!” Caitlin yelled.
Darren’s lips twisted into a crooked smile.
“You don’t have the power here, witch. I’ve been meaning to finish the job I started over ten years ago.”
His words hit her as though it’d been a blow. Logan’s hand steadied her. She blinked, and then rubbed her eyebrow, her fingers trailing over the scar. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was.
“But you’re not that old.”
He grinned wolfishly.
“You have no idea.”
“Let her go,” Logan said. “Your quarrel is with me.”
“Oh no,” Darren said. His upraised sword glinted as he moved. “It’s a package deal. I’m going to kill the whole Wiccan family.”
She blinked. “But my parents were–”
“On the run from the Magus Corps,” he said grinning. “Maybe you need to ask yourself why some day.”
Caitlin glanced at Logan. Sweat was trickling at his temple. He was working on a spell. Maybe she could buy him time.
“I won’t let you hurt her,” she said, standing as tall as she could.
Darren laughed, and how she’d ever found that sound even passably attractive from him on the porch, she’d never know. Now that sound cut like glass into her stomach.
“Well, I don’t think that seeing the future is going to affect me much. Your powers are basically useless in battle. So keep talking.”
“She doesn’t have to!” Logan bellowed, his deep voice booming in the small room.
Darren’s ears flexed back flat along his head, and the cleric dropped his book.
What luck.
Caitlin didn’t wait. Running forward for all she was worth, she slid low to avoid the descent of the sword, and dove head first into her sister. It was enough to slide both of them across the floor.
A few inches from her heel, the broadsword crashed into the floor.
Sheila screamed beside her, and Caitlin forced herself not to panic. Darren was raising the sword. That didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting Sheila out of here. Caitlin worked furiously to unknot the collection of cords. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Logan landing a hard uppercut on Darren’s chin.
Silently, Caitlin said a prayer to the Goddess to keep Logan safe.
Beside her, Sheila was shouting again, and it was only then that Caitlin noticed the tape on her sister’s lips and that the noises were coming out muffled. As much as Sheila might want to speak, right now she just had to get the damn bonds around the ankles loose.
“Shh!” Caitlin said, her nails scrabbling against unrelenting cords.
Her sister shook her head and gestured to her mouth with her shoulders. “Mmmrph!”
“I’ve almost got it.”
She heard the clash of metal on metal and glanced sideways. Darren had abandoned his sword. He and Logan were going back and forth with ceremonial blades, parrying and thrusting.
Her fingers tore at the cords. They were starting to come loose.
Then, as though a thunderclap had been loosed in the room, a deafening boom assaulted them. It was the cleric. He was on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, and his head thrown back. His mouth gaped open, the ear-splitting sound pouring from it. Though Caitlin tried to cover her ears, she found she couldn’t move. Sheila seized up below her, and Logan fell with a loud thunk.
A feral sneer washed over Darren’s face as he rushed toward Logan. The cleric took a deep breath, and let loose with another shrieking word. They were outmatched, and she had no powers, nothing to offer.
Logan was able to roll just enough so that the blade dug into his stomach and not his chest. Thick red blood bubbled forth. Darren howled in frustration and brought his arm back up again for another blow.
“Stop!” Caitlin
“Don’t touch her!” Caitlin yelled.
Darren’s lips twisted into a crooked smile.
“You don’t have the power here, witch. I’ve been meaning to finish the job I started over ten years ago.”
His words hit her as though it’d been a blow. Logan’s hand steadied her. She blinked, and then rubbed her eyebrow, her fingers trailing over the scar. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was.
“But you’re not that old.”
He grinned wolfishly.
“You have no idea.”
“Let her go,” Logan said. “Your quarrel is with me.”
“Oh no,” Darren said. His upraised sword glinted as he moved. “It’s a package deal. I’m going to kill the whole Wiccan family.”
She blinked. “But my parents were–”
“On the run from the Magus Corps,” he said grinning. “Maybe you need to ask yourself why some day.”
Caitlin glanced at Logan. Sweat was trickling at his temple. He was working on a spell. Maybe she could buy him time.
“I won’t let you hurt her,” she said, standing as tall as she could.
Darren laughed, and how she’d ever found that sound even passably attractive from him on the porch, she’d never know. Now that sound cut like glass into her stomach.
“Well, I don’t think that seeing the future is going to affect me much. Your powers are basically useless in battle. So keep talking.”
“She doesn’t have to!” Logan bellowed, his deep voice booming in the small room.
Darren’s ears flexed back flat along his head, and the cleric dropped his book.
What luck.
Caitlin didn’t wait. Running forward for all she was worth, she slid low to avoid the descent of the sword, and dove head first into her sister. It was enough to slide both of them across the floor.
A few inches from her heel, the broadsword crashed into the floor.
Sheila screamed beside her, and Caitlin forced herself not to panic. Darren was raising the sword. That didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting Sheila out of here. Caitlin worked furiously to unknot the collection of cords. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Logan landing a hard uppercut on Darren’s chin.
Silently, Caitlin said a prayer to the Goddess to keep Logan safe.
Beside her, Sheila was shouting again, and it was only then that Caitlin noticed the tape on her sister’s lips and that the noises were coming out muffled. As much as Sheila might want to speak, right now she just had to get the damn bonds around the ankles loose.
“Shh!” Caitlin said, her nails scrabbling against unrelenting cords.
Her sister shook her head and gestured to her mouth with her shoulders. “Mmmrph!”
“I’ve almost got it.”
She heard the clash of metal on metal and glanced sideways. Darren had abandoned his sword. He and Logan were going back and forth with ceremonial blades, parrying and thrusting.
Her fingers tore at the cords. They were starting to come loose.
Then, as though a thunderclap had been loosed in the room, a deafening boom assaulted them. It was the cleric. He was on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, and his head thrown back. His mouth gaped open, the ear-splitting sound pouring from it. Though Caitlin tried to cover her ears, she found she couldn’t move. Sheila seized up below her, and Logan fell with a loud thunk.
A feral sneer washed over Darren’s face as he rushed toward Logan. The cleric took a deep breath, and let loose with another shrieking word. They were outmatched, and she had no powers, nothing to offer.
Logan was able to roll just enough so that the blade dug into his stomach and not his chest. Thick red blood bubbled forth. Darren howled in frustration and brought his arm back up again for another blow.
“Stop!” Caitlin
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