CHAPTER NINETEEN

Elise arrived at the sanctuary shortly after dawn. Rain was pouring from the sky as though oceans were being dumped over the mountains, which left her soaked, but protected from the sunlight. She stopped the motorcycle on the top of the hill, looking down at the people in the streets of the sanctuary. They were continuing to build the cottages under tarp awnings despite the weather.

There had to be at least forty werewolves down there. Forty . That was a lot more than Elise had ever expected to find of a supposedly endangered species.

She kicked off and headed into the valley.

Seth and Nashriel were working side-by-side, shirts off and muscular backs glistening with rain. It was strange to see an angel getting into physical labor. Angels were intellectual creatures, and much more likely to be found behind the desk at a university than with a hammer in hand. But Nashriel was on top of the bare skeleton of what would become a cottage, hammering with abandon, and he gleamed with sweat and rain like his skin was encrusted with diamonds.

They looked up at the sound of the motorcycle. Elise approached them on a low gear, and the engine purred underneath her like a wildcat.

“What are you doing here?” Seth asked, wiping sweat off of his forehead. Elise would have had to be a lesbian or dead not to notice how appealing he looked while shirtless. He carried the muscles of a kopis well on a small-boned frame, and his shaven chest glistened with moisture.

“I’m looking for Rylie,” Elise said.

He appraised her with narrowed eyes, scratching the back of his neck. He probably didn’t even realize that he was reacting to Elise’s infernal energy. “Is everything okay?”

Was everything okay? She studied Seth even as he studied her, wondering what it was about this young man that James thought might attract Elise’s less-than-favorable attentions. “Nothing new is wrong. Where is she?” Elise asked.

Seth gestured with the hammer. “By the lake. I’ll show you.”

“Don’t let me interrupt you.” She revved the engine and swung around the cottage. Nashriel’s eyes all but burned a hole in the back of her shirt as she wound down the path to the lake.

The pack stopped working as Elise cut through them, watching her passage with apprehension clear on their faces. She didn’t give them long to look. She accelerated, leaving the silence behind her.

Rylie stood on the grassy shore facing the waterfall, relaxing in the mist with her head tipped back and her eyes closed. It was strangely calm in the field between the lake and the back side of the cabins.

Elise stopped at the bottom of the path and dismounted from the motorcycle.

“I need a favor, Rylie,” she said. “The deputy—”

“Can you help me with this?” Rylie interrupted, turning to face Elise.

She wasn’t just standing around after all. She had been momentarily resting, leaning on the handles of a post hole digger. Once Elise knew to look, she saw the supplies, too. Rylie had a stack of fence posts hidden behind the bushes. There were pegs in the earth with string stretched between them, marking where she planned to build. She had already built half of a split-rail fence around the back side of the sanctuary.

Elise hadn’t pegged Rylie, with her coltish legs and delicate bones, as someone that would get her hands dirty. But she had worked up as much of a sweat as Nashriel and Seth. Her shirt stuck to her back, and the knees of her baggy jeans were muddy. Rylie didn’t even have an awning to protect herself from the rain.

“Sure, I’ll help,” Elise said, shrugging off her jacket and taking the post hole digger.

“I used to work at my aunt’s ranch, when she still had one,” Rylie explained as she hefted a post over her shoulder, carrying it back to the hole Elise began to dig. “We kept a few hundred heads of cattle. Cows are cleverer than you’d think—they can be real escape artists. There were always fences to fix. You’d think I’d be used to how boring it is by now, but it’s still as miserable as it’s always been.”

“Why doesn’t your aunt have a ranch now?” Elise asked.

“We started using it as a werewolf sanctuary, and the Union raided us. She’s living in the city with her girlfriend now.” Rylie jammed the post into the hole and grabbed a shovel. “It’s probably better for a zombie to avoid hard work anyway. She’d break herself.”

Rylie scooped soil into the hole around the post.

“Zombie?” Elise asked.

“Diversity, thy name is my family,” Rylie said.

“I assume you’re counting Nashriel among your family.”

“Call him Nash. ‘Nashriel’ is too weird,” she said. “And yeah. He’s my…” She hesitated. “Actually, I don’t know what to call him. But he’s definitely pack.”

“Family,” Elise said. Rylie gave her a confused look. “You said ‘pack.’ I think you mean family.”

“Same thing,” Rylie said. “You know what’s nice about pack? We all work together. We’ve got each other’s backs. We pull in the same direction.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Rylie shrugged. Laughed. “Nothing, really. Just babbling. I am so stupidly bored of building this fence.”

Elise placed the next post, and then they set the joining rails together.

“What were you going to say about the deputy?” Rylie asked as Elise started to dig the next hole.

“He’s in danger. I need somewhere to hide him. Since you know the area, I thought you might have suggestions.”

“Bring him here,” she said.

Elise lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried about danger following him here?”

“Not really. You saw the pentacles we have on our cottages, right? We’re warded against unwelcome people sneaking in.”

“Like I did?” Elise asked.

“We carried you into the sanctuary, past the barriers, on your first visit,” Rylie said. “Otherwise, you never would have gotten in.”

“Pretty powerful wards.”

“We have powerful friends,” Rylie agreed.

Elise’s eyes narrowed. “The witches that helped you—what coven did they come from?”

“The Half Moon Coven. They’re based in California.” She waved in a vaguely westerly direction. “Two of my wolves, Bekah and Levi—their dad was with that coven. They hooked us up with some of their friends, and they did all the wards here. Why do you ask?”

She had been worrying that James had placed the wards, but his coven was from Boulder. If the wards were strong enough to keep someone like Elise out, then maybe it could stand up to James and a murderous cult, too.

Lincoln wasn’t going to love the idea of staying with a group of werewolves, but it seemed like the safest place in the area.

“Do you have any spare cabins?” Elise asked.

Rylie blushed a little when she smiled. “Of course. Like my aunt says, there’s always room for friends.”

Surprise jolted through Elise. Friends ?

“Hey!”

Rylie and Elise turned. Abel stood at the top of the path, waving at them to catch their attention.

“What’s up?” Rylie asked, setting down the shovel.

“Trevin called,” Abel said. “Father Armstrong is home.”



The clouds began to thin dangerously, so Elise decided to join Seth in the pickup instead of taking the motorcycle. Being confined to the roads made her feel helplessly slow in comparison to the werewolves sprinting alongside the truck.

“What are you, anyway?” Seth asked, shooting Elise looks out of the corner of his eye as he steered over the twisting mountain road. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Elise massaged her forehead, trying to stave off a developing headache. The clouds were patchy enough that she had to pull a jacket over herself to shield her skin from errant sunlight. “I don’t know. What are you , Seth?”

He laughed. “I’m just some guy.”

James wouldn’t have had any interest in “just some guy.” And, for that matter, “just some guy” wouldn’t be the only human in a pack of werewolves. There was something there, something beyond his kopis nature that Elise wasn’t seeing.

“So you’re an ordinary demon hunter,” Elise said.

“Werewolf hunter, actually,” he said. She gave him a questioning look. “That’s my specialty. Werewolves. Grew up killing them. Dad was the expert.”

That was why his name was familiar. “You’re Lucian Wilder’s son? The guy who wrote the manual on werewolf hunting?”

Seth seemed to be as fond of having his father’s memory invoked as Elise was to talk about her own father. He focused hard on the road. “My dad’s accomplishments don’t define me. Like I said—I’m just some guy.”

Wolves flashed through the trees ahead of them. He accelerated to keep up.

“Doesn’t tell me what you are, though,” he added.

Elise ignored him.

Rylie and Abel, both in their wolf forms, darted behind Father Armstrong’s mobile home as soon as Seth pulled up in front of it. If Elise hadn’t known they were there, she wouldn’t have been able to see them. Aside from the gentle buzz of werewolf energy tickling at the back of her skull, they were invisible.

“Where’s this Trevin?” Elise asked.

Seth jerked his chin toward the forest as he pulled his rifle off of the rack, slipping shells into it. “Gray wolf. That way.” If Trevin really was there, then he was equally as impossible to see as the Alphas.

“How can you tell?” Elise asked.

“You learn to see them after a while,” he said.

She couldn’t see the wolves, but she could see motion inside Father Armstrong’s mobile home. She stretched her senses out and tasted two heartbeats inside, both of them young and hale. They were standing near the place the Bible had been in the living room. Rylie stealing it must have tripped some kind of alarm.

Seth unlocked his door, but Elise grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” she said. “Not yet.”

He gripped the rifle tightly. “But he’s right there. We can get him now.”

She didn’t want to get Father Armstrong now . She wanted to get every single person responsible for those ruined bodies in the morgue. And, maybe more importantly, she wanted to find the person responsible for Lucinde Ramirez.

“Pull the truck off that way,” Elise said, indicating a copse of trees. “I want to see where Father Armstrong goes when he leaves.”

Seth did as she asked. They sat under the shade of the trees for several silent minutes, and Elise never saw a single flick of a werewolf tail, even though she sensed that they were somewhere beyond her line of sight.

Father Armstrong emerged from the mobile home fifteen minutes later. Elise was disappointed to realize that it was a man at his side. She had been hoping that it would be the coroner, Dr. Stephanie Armstrong.

“Who is that?” Seth asked. “I think I recognize him.”

Elise narrowed her eyes, watching the man move through the sunlight. He was brown-haired with tan skin, an average build. She thought that she recognized him, too. Maybe he had a common face—she hadn’t exactly become familiar with many citizens of Northgate in the three days she had spent in town.

The men walked from the mobile home to Father Armstrong’s sedan, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Father Armstrong looked angry. He kept gesturing, pumping his fists, cheeks flushed with blood. He wasn’t wearing a cassock anymore. He could have been anybody off of the street in his jeans and blue t-shirt. Elise was tempted to roll down the pickup’s window to listen to the conversation, but she didn’t want to lose what little protection the glass provided from the sun.

They got into the car, started the engine.

“Follow them,” Elise said.

They waited a few seconds before following the sedan onto the road. Seth kept a couple of car lengths behind them as Father Armstrong drove through Northgate without stopping, then took a road higher into the mountains.

Elise craned around to watch the road behind them, searching for any sign of Rylie and Abel on the heavily-forested shoulders. “They’re there,” Seth said.

“I don’t see them.”

He gave her a half-smile. “You wouldn’t.”

Traffic thinned as they took increasingly deserted roads, and Seth had to fall back to keep the priest from realizing that he was being followed. But he let the sedan get too much of a lead. They lost sight of Father Armstrong around a curve, and when they reached a straight part of the road, it was empty.

Father Armstrong was gone.

“Shit,” Seth said. “Where did he go?”

“Turn back,” Elise said. He flipped a u-turn and backtracked slower than before. A turnoff was concealed within the shrubbery on the curve. “That way.”

Seth decelerated, guiding the truck over the bumpy shoulder and onto a dirt road that cut through the mountain. The trees were thick. Elise dropped the jacket from her legs.

After a few minutes, the road opened into a small clearing between the trees. A cabin stood snugly against the face of the mountain, with a decorative well out front and a well-tended garden along the side. There was even an above-ground swimming pool surrounded by a deck.

“Doesn’t exactly scream ‘evil cult,’” Seth said.

Elise had to agree. If not for the list and the weird Bible, she might have thought that Father Armstrong was just trying to go on a fishing trip.

But he wasn’t carrying a tackle box when he emerged from the car again. He had pulled a bag out of the back seat of the sedan, and it was leaking blood. The scent of it made Elise’s nostrils flare. There was meat in the bag. It wasn’t packaged as if it had come from a butcher’s shop.

Elise’s heart skipped. The bodies had been found with missing parts.

She needed to get that bag before he could hide the evidence.

“I’m going in,” she said, opening the door.

But the wolves beat her to it.

Abel and Rylie erupted from the trees, pounding across the clearing. Twin streaks of lightning tackled Father Armstrong and his accomplice before either of them noticed that they weren’t alone.

The accomplice struggled under Rylie, kicking her away, and freed himself. She snarled as he broke into a run, hauling ass back toward the road.

Rylie looked torn—stay with Father Armstrong, or chase his friend?

“Get him,” Elise urged. “Go!”

The Alpha didn’t need to be told twice. She gave chase, disappearing into the trees.

Abel stood over Father Armstrong, nosing around the bag of meat without actually getting into it. He had one heavy paw on the priest’s chest. But it didn’t seem to be necessary. The man wasn’t moving.

Elise stretched out her senses.

No heartbeat.

“Shove over,” Seth said, nudging Abel with his knee.

The wolf backed off, and Seth checked Father Armstrong for a pulse. It was only a formality. Elise could already tell that he was dead. “What happened?” Elise asked.

Seth slipped a hand underneath the priest’s head. His fingers emerged bloody. “Hit a rock, looks like,” he said. “Accident.”

Elise kneeled at his side and pulled the meat out of the bag, grimacing at the texture in her fingers. It looked like any cut of steak she could get at a grocery store. Could have been pork, maybe.

She dropped the meat back into the bag and licked her bloody forefinger. “It’s not human,” Elise said.

Abel had just killed the priest over a slab of pig.

Great.

The black wolf’s body rearranged, losing its fur. Abel stood, naked and human, and gaped at the unmoving priest. “I didn’t… He wasn’t… I jumped on him, is all.”

Seth grabbed clothes out of the pickup and tossed them at his brother. “Get dressed.”

“Fuck,” Abel said with heat. He jerked a pair of jeans over his hips and belted them.

“He was probably with the cult anyway,” Seth said, resting a hand on Abel’s shoulder. The bigger man looked pale and shaking. Almost like he might faint.

Abel shoved his brother off and paced into the trees.

Rylie raced back into the clearing, sides heaving with exertion. She stepped behind the truck and changed even faster than Abel had. When she emerged again, she was already dressed. “I lost him,” she said. “His smell totally disappeared by the road. Someone must have picked him up.”

And if his first stop was the sheriff’s office, they would be well and truly fucked.

Rylie frowned. “Where’s Abel?”

Seth jerked his thumb at the trees. Rylie gave Elise an apologetic look, then chased the other Alpha.

Elise threw Father Armstrong over her shoulder and stood. “I’m moving him inside,” she said. “I want a look around.”

“Should we do that? Mess with a crime scene?” Seth asked in a whisper, as if trying to keep Abel from hearing him.

Her plans were much worse than disturbing the crime scene. Elise planned to swallow Father Armstrong’s body. No cadaver, no evidence.

The inside of the cabin was as nice as the outside. The living room walls were covered in shelves, which held dozens of antique, leather-bound books. Ceramic vases held potted plants, and the air smelled like damp soil and cleaning chemicals. The glass coffee table glistened, as if recently washed.

Elise dropped Father Armstrong on a couch in front of a brick fireplace.

“Get into the kitchen,” Elise told Seth when he followed her inside. “And shut all the doors. I don’t want to get confused and swallow the wrong person.”

He paled. “Swallow?”

“Close the doors.”

Seth did as she ordered, locking Abel and Rylie outside before retreating into the kitchen. Elise drew the curtains.

Once she was alone, she lit a cigarette and sucked deep. The smoke settled her nerves.

She was going to go incorporeal for the first time since her exorcism. Elise had to do it sooner or later—she couldn’t remain in her human form all the time.

But what if she flung herself back into Hell and didn’t return?

Elise took a long drag, letting the smoke curl out of her nostrils. It was going to be fine. She only needed to disappear long enough to make the body disappear.

She dropped the cigarette in one of the potted plants, pushed her doubts away, and relaxed.

Elise released her skin.

She filled the room with her presence, blacking out the indirect light and flooding every corner until there was no air left. She traced the shape of the couches, the coffee table, the wine racks, the antlers on the mantle.

Then she settled on Father Armstrong.

His body was cooling rapidly, quickly becoming unpalatable. If Elise had possessed a stomach in that form, she would have been nauseated by the idea of eating something without a beating heart, flowing blood, a mind filled with sparkling neurons.

She didn’t want to eat the dead—especially not when there was a perfectly appealing heartbeat the next room over.

Can’t eat Seth. Concentrate.

Elise contracted over Father Armstrong, condensed, and swallowed.

When she popped back into her corporeal form, there was no body on the couch. The only indication that he had been there was a smear of blood on the arm rest. A decorative throw pillow had also gone missing.

Elise picked a blue thread out of her teeth.

“Crap,” she said, spitting it into the waste basket.

The back of her mouth tasted sticky, like she had eaten a heavy meal and it was trying to come back up. She was suddenly, desperately thirsty.

She pushed into the kitchen.

“Father Armstrong?” Seth asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Gone,” Elise said. “Don’t ask. Water?”

He handed her a glass from one of the cabinets. “You need to see what I found while you were…busy,” he said as she filled it in the sink and knocked back a good twelve ounces in one guzzle.

She set the glass on the counter with a sigh. “A Jacuzzi?”

Seth grimaced. “A basement.”



Rylie and Abel were quietly grim as they followed Seth into the basement. Elise drifted behind them, rubbing her aching stomach.

Abel’s mind was wracked with guilt, twisted and tormented. But his guilt vanished the instant that he saw the giant, bloody pentagram painted on the basement wall.

The cabin above was the kind of place that people would pay hundreds of dollars a night to vacation, but the basement looked more like a dungeon. It was bigger than the cabin itself, probably carved into the mountain, and cavernously dark. They couldn’t see into the far end of the room—only the wall with the pentagram.

Elise pressed her hand to the bloody symbol. Through the barrier of the warding ring, she could feel the burn of power, hot enough to scorch her palm.

If she tilted her head the right way, she could see lines of magic streaming through the walls, into the earth, and funneling toward…something else, something beyond the perimeter of the cabin. But what?

“What is this place?” Rylie asked, hand over her nose, as if trying to block out smells.

Elise dropped her hand. The table beside her held large jars of colorful fluid. “Looks like an embalming room,” she said, lifting one of the lids to sniff at its mouth. She pulled a face. It reeked of formaldehyde.

Seth flipped a switch, and the lights came on. Elise immediately regretted being able to see.

She had been in autopsy rooms before, but nothing quite like this basement. It was a medical facility twisted by nightmares, a hellish pit of scalpels and jars of bone fragments. There was no hospital with candles placed around the floor at equidistant points. The iron cages on the left-hand wall, big enough to hold seated adults, weren’t typical hospital fixtures, either.

The stainless steel tables had been wiped clean, and their glistening surfaces seemed like an insult to the horror of the rest of the room—the crust of blood staining the concrete floors, the barrel of discarded gristle, the dripping brown pentagram painted on the wall. A trio of tables were aligned parallel to each other in the center of the room, waiting to receive bodies.

Elise edged along the wall, taking in the sight of what had to be some kind of ritual space, though she had never known a witch that was quite so…gruesome. Even the necromancer she had once faced preferred a homier setting; her ingredients had been kept in Tupperware, with clean floors and a dining room table for the sacrifice. The industrial nature of the room only made the gore that much worse.

She held her breath as she peered into another plastic barrel. The glistening black mass at the bottom seethed with maggots.

Rylie clapped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes watered. She kind of squealed as she stifled a scream. Her Alpha toughness didn’t seem to extend to bloody symbols inscribed on the walls of a torture pit.

She let Abel fold her into his arms, burying her face against his chest.

A low growl tore Elise’s attention away from Rylie.

Chains rattled. Claws scrabbled against concrete.

“What is it?” Seth asked, lifting the rifle to his shoulder as he circled around the tables, taking the left while Elise took the right.

She jerked a silver throwing knife from her boot.

The light didn’t quite reach the far end of the room, which was shadowed by another row of cages. Elise’s night vision was superior, so she realized what she was seeing in the back of the room before Seth did.

It was a huge, four-legged creature, with a box-shaped head and jaws that would have made a shark proud. Splayed paws dug into the ground as it strained against a chain, which had dug a bloody furrow into its neck. A ratlike tail thrashed from side to side. It was big enough to be a small werewolf, or some kind of imp from Hell, but Elise quickly realized that it was nothing quite so exotic.

“The pit bull,” she said, heart sinking. The dog growled in response.

They had found the pit bull that had been chewing on cadavers post-mortem. It was certainly big enough to fool the average person into thinking its bite was a werewolf’s, although it was still only half of Rylie’s size.

“This is where it happened, isn’t it?” Rylie asked in a tiny voice. “This is where everyone got sacrificed.”

She was right. The room was set up like a one-stop sacrifice shop, from the holding cells to the tables in front of the pentagram and the dog to destroy the evidence of cutting marks.

There was nobody in the room now. And their invasion probably meant that the cult wouldn’t dare use it again. Elise wished she had known what they would find when they followed Father Armstrong there. She would have waited to act until the next moon and tried to catch the entire cult in the act.

“Careful,” the Alpha said.

Elise turned to see that the pit bull was leaning against the end of its chain, lips peeled back in a growl. Tags jangled from its collar.

“I’m putting it down,” Seth said, angling the rifle to its skull.

Elise grabbed the end of the gun, covering the end with her hand. “Wait.”

“Shit, don’t do that,” he said.

“Don’t shoot.”

Elise released the rifle and stepped forward, hands out, fingers spread, shoulders hunched so that she would look smaller. The dog’s growls softened as she approached.

“Hey, there,” Elise murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It shied back, shrinking against the wall. Not an “it,” she noticed—the dog was a very impressive, unaltered “he.”

“Elise…” Seth said warningly.

She reached for the dog’s collar.

The pit bull’s jaw clamped shut on Elise’s arm, and he jerked. It felt like having a car roll over the left side of her body. The immense weight made her shoulder pop.

Elise grunted, falling to her knees. The crushing pain was bad, but not quite as bad as having an Alpha’s teeth in her throat—which was like saying that suffocating to death wasn’t quite as bad as being skinned alive.

Blood smeared the dog’s muzzle. He threw his head from side to side, thrashing her arm.

She slammed her free fist into the pit bull’s eye. His growls peaked, but he didn’t release. A vein bulged on his forehead.

“Let me go ,” Elise said, jamming her knuckle into his eye again.

He released her. She shoved his head to the floor, hand in his throat, and his paws scrabbled wildly against concrete. His tail whipped against her bare legs hard enough to leave welts.

Seth appeared at her side, looking for a good shot. Elise kept her body between them.

She panted as she studied the dog, considering the tawny brown saddle on its back, white-furred hips, and pink underbelly. He was a beautiful creature. The scars on his face didn’t diminish his big eyes, uncropped ears, and pink button nose.

If he hadn’t been caked in blood, he would have been a beautiful animal. He was built sturdy, a working dog. It wasn’t his fault that the job to which he’d been applied was perverse. His proportions were all off, though. He didn’t seem to be finished growing.

“You’re a puppy, aren’t you?” she murmured, stroking her knuckles down his flank. The muscles rippled under her hand. Stress had coated its short fur with sweat.

“It’s eaten human meat,” Seth said, revulsion twisting his features. “It’s not a dog anymore.”

Just like Elise wasn’t a human anymore.

She unsheathed her sword.

“What are you doing?” Rylie asked.

Elise pulled the leather wrappings off of her falchion’s hilt with her teeth, then wrapped the cord around the pit’s short muzzle. He fought against her, but she kept him pinned under her arm until his mouth was sealed shut and the cord was knotted.

“You’re kidding,” Seth said. He hadn’t lowered his rifle, and the muzzle remained aimed steadily at the pit bull’s skull.

“Drop it,” she said, jerking her belt through the loops. The dog glared at her with wet eyes. “You’re not shooting him.”

“Let’s talk reason,” Seth said. “Even if you take him out of here, he’s been eating cadavers, and maybe even trained to kill people. He’s evil.”

A dog couldn’t be evil. Dogs were eager to please their masters, and that could be turned either way. Evil came from the black heart of the man that had trained his pit bull to eat human flesh. The dog was neutral.

The chain around his throat had carved a wound into his thick neck. Elise looped and locked the belt over the back of its head, at the base of the spine, and then peeled the chain free. He yelped.

Elise released her weight on the dog and stood, holding the end of her belt like a short leash. He jumped to his feet and lunged against the belt. As strong as the pit bull was, Elise was stronger, and she held him tight.

The dog strained to get at Abel, whose lip was peeled back with revulsion.

“Animals don’t like werewolves,” Rylie explained from the other side of the room.

It appeared to go both ways, because Abel was growling back at the dog. Elise hauled the pit bull upstairs.

She may have arrived too late to rescue the first seven sacrifices, but at least there was one victim she could save.

Magic After Dark Boxed Set
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