Witch Blood - By Anya Bast Page 0,5

what she’d just done made her a flat-out warlock. Thomas Monahan held no power over her.

“Give me your hand,” said Jack.

She unlocked her jaw and raised her hand, shifting gingerly on the floor of the limo and snagging the heel of her shoe in the carpet.

He took her hand between his palms. Jack was a fire witch and, therefore, could heal. She’d always found it odd that the power resided in such a destructive element. Her hand grew warm, tingled, and the pain receded. When he released her, the skin was pink and healing quickly. He jerked his chin at the seat. “Sit down with your back to me.”

Carefully, she pushed up and slid onto the seat. Ripples of pain shot through her back and down her legs. She blew out a careful breath as nausea swamped her.

Jack sat behind her and placed his palms along her spine, one above the other. His hands, completely businesslike on her back, grew warm. Her twisted back improved immediately. “I don’t remember your hair being this dark a shade of red or your eyes being green, Isabelle.”

“I colored my hair and I’m wearing contacts.”

“All the better to stalk your prey, hmm?”

“I guess. Stefan prefers redheads.”

“Good disguise. None of us recognized you in the tabloids. We didn’t know who you were, or that you were even a witch. It wasn’t until tonight, when we saw you up close, that we realized your identity. All we knew was that this evening Stefan’s flavor-of-the-month had finally convinced him to shed his bodyguards for sex.”

She let out a small laugh. “You guys were piggybacking my seduction as a way to take Stefan hostage?”

“Yep. We were watching, waiting for an opportunity. You gave us a surprise when we opened the limo door. Never saw that one coming.” He paused. “I’m sorry about your sister. I understand why you went after Stefan.”

She had a million questions, but they all caught in her throat. They were questions for the head of the Coven, anyway, not Jack McAllister, Thomas’s right-hand man. “I hunted the demon for a month and couldn’t find it.”

“We’ve been hunting it, too, without any luck.”

“I went after the cause for the demon’s existence instead.” She swallowed hard. “I just…needed to do something, and Stefan can’t be allowed to bring any more of those creatures into our world.”

Jack slid away and she turned toward him on the seat. Her back still ached, but the worst of the pain had faded.

“Isabelle, I get that. I do. But you should have come to us instead of playing vigilante. We’d always planned to take down Stefan and we’re going after the demon.” Jack shook his head and tch tched. “Bad, bad girl.”

“So what’s new?” she muttered in response. Angela had always been the good one. Isabelle had always been the one getting into trouble.

He must’ve known she wasn’t asking what was new with him, but he answered that way all the same. “I’m going to be a father.” The words were spoken with such pride that she smiled.

She fussed with the hem of her skirt, happy to change the subject. “I heard that. Knocked up that little air witch of yours.”

“Mira.”

Lady, the look in his eyes when he said her name. Such love. Such devotion. A man had never looked that way while speaking her name, at least not that she knew of, and Isabelle had to admit that a part of her regretted it.

“That’s right, her name is Mira,” Isabelle answered. “Everyone’s hoping she’ll turn up with a baby air witch of her own.” Of all the elemental witches, air was by far the rarest and most powerful. “What do you think, air or fire?”

“I think she’ll take after her mom and be an air witch. We’re going to name her Eva, for Mira’s mom if it’s a girl. David, for her dad if it’s a boy.”

Eva Hoskins, maiden name Monahan. She had been the air witch who’d been sacrificed in the circle that had brought the demon into existence over twenty-five years ago. Four witches—one for each of the elements—had been killed to bring in the demon who had murdered Angela. How poetic one of their names should be spoken on this night.

She patted him on his shoulder. “Good luck to you both.” She scooped up her purse from the floor of the limo and exited the vehicle.

Isabelle found herself on a darkened side street in a commercial part of town. The front of the limo had been rammed