Immortals After Dark 04 - Wicked Deeds on a Winters Night

bandaged forehead. “She called me selfish on more than one occasion—and she was right. If I’d made the smallest effort to understand her and her skills, she could have practiced her magick, honed it. She might have been able to save herself from this. But I was too stubborn, too prejudiced.”
    Bowe had been injured gravely as well, but he’d healed even though he didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. Hour after hour, he sat beside her, with her hand swallowed by his shaking ones, his eyes going wet whenever she whimpered in pain. “She accepted my nature, my needs. And because I dinna do the same for her, she lies... dying.”
    From what Lachlain understood, the only thing keeping her alive was the magick of united covens and sorcerers, feeding her energy.
    Her kind had wanted to take Mariketa back with them, but no one in the House would dare challenge the crazed male werewolf guarding her so fiercely. So since then, Bowe’s home had been overrun with witches, coming and going at will, bringing food, some of Mariketa’s clothes, and special potions. Bowe didn’t seem to give a damn about any of them, when two months ago, this would have proved a special kind of hell for him.
    But the donated magick couldn’t preserve Mariketa forever. She was too powerful. Her entire being was used to power and demanding of it. She was draining the others, and it was only a matter of time before they either let her go or followed her down.
    And for these last four days, uncanny things had occurred at the compound. Lachlain shuddered to recall them. The first night, hundreds of black cats had prowled around the house, mouths open but silent, watching intently. Another night, frogs had seemed to rain from the sky, hitting the tin roof, without injury...
    At sunset, when Emma traced to Lachlain, he left Bowe and joined her in the hall outside the bedroom. “Have the covens found the demon who did this?” He had his own men looking, too.
    “Literally thousands of witches are scrying for him,” Emma said. “He doesn’t stand a chance of escaping a net like that. He was probably working for someone, but the witches can’t figure out who would want to hurt them.”
    “Mariketa had booked the plane and the pilot before Bowe rejoined her. There are dozens who would want to take her out before she reached immortality.”
    Emma glanced at Bowe’s door. “What will happen to him, if she doesn’t... come through?”
    “Once he’s meted out retribution to whoever is behind this, then Bowe won’t live the week out. Unfortunately, he now knows exactly where to go to die—”
    Without warning, Bowe burst out of the bedroom with the witch in his arms. Lachlain winced again to see her leg missing. “Bowe, you canna move her.” As Bowe strode out the back door into the night, Lachlain called, “They said it could kill her! Where in the hell are you taking her?” At the doorway, Lachlain turned back. “For once, Emma, you stay inside!”
    When Lachlain reached Bowe, he became convinced his cousin had lost his mind.
    Bowe was painstakingly setting Mariketa into the green ivy at the foot of an oak. He seemed to await something, and when it plainly didn’t happen as he’d expected, he tore at the ivy, trying to bury her in foliage. “Too late,” he rasped, sinking down to his knees. “Brought her too late.”
    Lachlain ran his hand over the back of his neck when the air began to grow oppressive, and yellow lightning flashed out horizontally across the black sky. He scanned around them and spied unblinking, glowing eyes staring out from the nearby swamp.
    His hackles rose when vines began to grow over the witch, enclosing her. Biting out a curse, he lurched back.
    Bowe should be shuddering with unease; instead, once she was covered, he closed his eyes with relief.
    When Mariketa sighed, as if comforted to be among the vines, Bowe had to swipe his sleeve over his face. Then... her skin began to pinken and heal. As she regenerated from her injuries, Bowe ripped off bandages and sliced through casts. He gently unthreaded unnecessary stitches.
    Within a quarter of an hour, the witch was healed... completely healed.

    Mariketa blinked open her clear gray eyes, gazing up at Bowe.
    “Lass, are you all right?”—his voice broke an octave lower as his throat tightened—“Say something tae me.”
    When she whispered, “What’d I miss?” he just kept his emotions in check.
    He’d almost... lost her.
    With shaking hands, he tucked