Demon Assassins! Urban Fantasy Romance with Hexes and Spells to Burn
Witch’s
BaneBy Ann Gimpel
Dream Shadow Press
66K words
Release Date: 9/6/16Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
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Urban Fantasy Romance with a heaping side of Hexes, Spells, and Magick!
Last
of the demon assassin witches, Roz, Jenna, and Colleen have escaped disaster so
far, but their luck is running low. Demons strike in the midst of Colleen’s
wedding, and Roz launches desperate measures. As she shape-shifts to keep one
step ahead of evil, at least it takes her mind off her other problems. Personal
ones. She burned through a couple of marriages and hooked up with a string of
loser men before, after, and in between. Though she wants to be happy for
Colleen, the jealousy bug bit deep and hasn’t let go.
In
Roz’s secret heart, she’s attracted to Ronin, one of the Daoine Sidhe. He’s so
profanely beautiful she can barely breathe around him, but he’s also headstrong
and arrogant. Not good partner material—unless she wants to end up dusting her
heart off one more time.
Ronin
set his sights on Roz the day he met her, and he can’t get her out of his mind.
Unfortunately, she’s so prickly getting close to her requires scheming. He
casts an enchantment to lure her at Colleen’s wedding, but she senses the spell
and calls him on it. Demons swarm out of the ether before he can come up with
another strategy. Killing them trumps everything.
Roz
is used to calling the shots. So is Ronin. Sparks fly. Tempers run hot, right
along with an attraction too heady to ignore.
Roxanne Lantry—Roz to everyone who knew her—paced up and down the sodden lawn outside the huge old Victorian that housed the Witches’ Northwest Coven headquarters in Seattle. Rain pelted her from beneath a gunmetal sky, but it was better out here than inside. She fought an unfamiliar thickening at the back of her throat and balled her hands into fists.
“I
will not cry,” she muttered to an inquisitive ground squirrel that ran across
her boot tops, but telling herself and controlling her emotions were two
different things.
One
of her two best friends, Colleen Kelly, would be getting married in less than
half an hour. Roz had been inside, in the midst of all the bride-craziness, but
seeing Colleen swathed in cream-colored lace sent her into a tailspin.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
She
kicked at a hummock of grass and yelped when it didn’t move, but the pain from
her stubbed toes helped her focus. If she was honest, not an easy task when men
were involved, she knew exactly what was bothering her.
“Yeah,”
she mouthed the words, lecturing herself. “Two failed marriages and a whole
bunch of loser dudes before, after, and in between. I’m jealous and I need a
good, swift boot in the backside. Just because Colleen finally stumbled across
Mr. Right doesn’t lower my odds of ever finding someone who’s gorgeous and
magical and worships me.”
Now if I could only believe that…
Roz
was happy for Colleen and Duncan, the Daoine Sidhe she was marrying. They made
a great couple, but surely there was enough connubial bliss in the universe to
sprinkle a little her way too. Her last go-round with a strikingly handsome
Oklahoman she’d met online had ended in fireworks when he’d admitted all he
really wanted was to tap into her magical ability. When the rubber met the
road, he didn’t even like women. Her stomach churned. She hated being made a
fool of. She’d turned the guy in to his Coven for false advertising and laying
a trap to delude a fellow magic wielder, but she doubted they’d done much to
censure him.
Water
dripped off her nose. She stuck out her lower lip and blew upward, but the rain
kept on dripping. Roz shook her fist at the low-hanging clouds, recognizing it
for displacement activity. What she really wanted to do was pound her fist
through the Oklahoman’s nice, straight nose.
Enough of this. Give it a rest. That happened
months ago.
For Christ’s sake, I need to get moving, go
inside, and trade my jeans and serape for fancy duds.
Roz
took a few deep breaths to settle her angst. She couldn’t show her tear-stained
face to the world. She’d never live it down. When she closed her eyes, the
Oklahoma asshole formed behind her lids, taunting her. Roz clenched her jaw and
summoned a calming spell. It seemed like cheating, but time was short. As the
wispy edges of magic caught her up, they soothed her frazzled nerves and she
turned hard right and headed for the house at a brisk trot.
She,
Colleen, and Jenna Neil were the last of a long line of demon assassins.
Witches with specialized powers, they lured Irichna demons, immobilized them,
and sent them packing to the netherworld. When things worked right, she and her
sister witches—along with Colleen’s familiar—shanghaied the demons and locked
them behind the gate guarding the Ninth Circle of Hell.
The
demons didn’t go without a fight, though, which was what had killed off the
other demon assassin witches. It didn’t help that demons as a group had been
gathering power these last fifty years or so. Witches lived a long time, but
they were far from immortal, and demon assassination ability was genetic. She,
Jenna, or Colleen would have to produce children or that strain of magic would
die out. None of them had a shred of domesticity, so no one had signed up for
motherhood. At least not yet.
I can’t put two weeks together without a major
demon battle these days. How the hell could I take time off to raise a kid?
Rain
ran down her neck and Roz shivered. Thinking about demons chilled her bones.
Realizing she’d stopped walking, she plodded toward the house again and forced
her thoughts to the magicians’ supply store she owned with Colleen and Jenna in
Fairbanks, Alaska.
The
other two witches had moved there months ahead of her. She hated the idea of all
that snow and cold and winter nights that lasted twenty hours, but she’d boxed
herself into a dicey situation and hadn’t had much choice. Her temper, never
very controllable on a good day, had gotten the better of her, and she made
short work of her cheating husband and his two—yup, count ’em—girlfriends.
After that, she’d packed up and headed her aging Subaru north. Next stop,
Fairbanks…
That
had happened a few years ago. So many, it was almost time to move on before
anyone noticed she and the other witches didn’t seem to grow any older.
Roz
shook her head, not wanting to go there, either. She forced her mind back to
the special skill she shared with Colleen and Jenna. She hated to admit it, but
demons held the high cards these days, and she had no idea how to even the
odds.
Aren’t I just the queen of cheerful?
She
gave herself a mental shake with instructions to snap out of her funk.
Roz
made it to the huge house and tugged on one of the ground level doors. When it
didn’t open, she hit it with a jolt of magic, and the deadbolt snicked aside.
She stopped long enough to shake water off her and then loped down a long
corridor with a concrete floor toward one of the old mansion’s many stairwells.
Fluorescent lights, recessed into the ceiling, gave off a sickly yellow gleam
that matched her sour mood.
She’d
just begun climbing upward when a rush of footsteps sounded from the hallway
below.
“There
you are,” Bubba, Colleen’s familiar, cried out and leapt up the stairs after
her.
Roz
glanced over a shoulder and saw he was in his normal form: a three-foot-tall
changeling with oversized feet, long arms, and a bow-legged gait. His shaggy,
black hair had been brushed until it shone, and his dark eyes glittered
mischievously. Colleen had a hell of a time keeping him dressed, but today he
sported black pants and a black jacket over a white shirt.
“Yes,”
Roz countered, still feeling out of sorts. “Here I am. The question is why
aren’t you upstairs with everyone else?”
“Colleen
got worried. She sent me to hunt you down.” Bubba crossed his arms over his
chest, looking pleased with himself.
Roz
rolled her eyes. “Bubba, look—”
“Uh-uh.”
He uncrossed his arms and waggled a finger at her. “Niall. Remember, you all
promised to use my real name from now on.”
“So
we did. Crap! I don’t have time for this.” She unkinked her neck and trudged
upward.
“No
kidding,” he agreed. “Everyone’s here, and you’re not even dressed yet.”
Rather
than focus on her shortcomings, Roz changed the subject. “You’re looking pretty
spiffy, bud.”
“Do
you like it?”
“What
I saw of it. It’s sort of like a black tuxedo, but with Velcro instead of
buttons.”
“I
hate buttons.”
Roz
grinned in spite of herself. “I know you do, sweetie.”
She
came to the third floor landing and pushed the stairwell door open, holding it
for the changeling. “Run and tell Colleen I’ll be there in about fifteen
minutes.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked briskly halfway down the
long hall and let herself into her bedroom. Locking the door behind her, she
unlaced her wet boots and toed them off. Next she shucked her sodden clothes,
ducked into the bathroom, and gathered strands of coal black hair, pulling it
into a ponytail with both hands. Once she had her hair together, she wrapped
her head in a towel. She didn’t believe in hair dryers, so once she’d soaked as
much water as she could into the towel, she grabbed her comb, made several
sections, and plaited her knee-length, straight-as-a-stick hair, weaving it
into a pseudo-French braid.
Before
she left the bathroom, she inspected her face in the mirror. She never wore
makeup because it made her look like a clown. Her bronzed skin and stark bone
structure declared her Native American blood more clearly than words could
have. She smoothed her eyebrows with a few drops of water and considered which
of two outfits to wear. Colleen had said it didn’t matter to her, so long as
Roz didn’t show up in her usual tattered blue jeans and combat boots.
With
a snort of amusement, she padded back into the bedroom and pulled a long,
beaded black buckskin skirt off a hanger. She stepped into it and laced the
side fastening. Next came a turquoise deerskin top, also beaded, that clung to
her like a second skin. In addition to not bothering with makeup, she also
didn’t care for underthings, so the outline of her breasts was clearly visible
through the soft leather. She slipped a heavy silver and turquoise necklace
over her head, arranging her braid on top of it, and grabbed a matching ring
off the dresser.
The
only thing left was her moccasins. Roz wriggled her feet into them, enjoying
the way the deerskin warmed and hugged her feet. Jenna always wore high heels,
but Roz had never understood how she could tolerate them. They’d had a few
heated discussions years ago before Roz finally gave up.
“To
each her own,” she told the mirror. Satisfied she looked presentable, she
focused the threads of her calming spell, strengthened it a bit to make certain
she’d last through the ceremony without breaking down and bawling like an
idiot, and let herself into the hallway.
The
buzz of a crowd reached her from the main floor. She glanced toward the stairs
and then the other way, wondering if Colleen was still up here. Figuring it
couldn’t hurt to find out, she walked two doors down and knocked. The door flew
open almost immediately and she looked into an accusing set of pale blue eyes.
“It’s
about fucking time,” Colleen exclaimed. Auburn hair with lily of the valley
woven into it swirled around her, falling to waist level. At six feet, Colleen
was normally a good four inches shorter than Roz, but today she wore heels and
they were of a height.
“Huh?”
Roz murmured, confused. “I almost went downstairs. I had no idea you were
waiting for me.”
“We’d
planned to all go down together.” Colleen sounded sullen. “You know, like a
proper wedding party.”
“If
we were all that proper,” Roz said, “Jenna and I would be wearing matching—”
Jenna
made chopping motions with both hands and unfolded her well-rounded frame from
off the bed. Blonde hair, hacked off at shoulder level, framed a gamine’s face
with shrewd, hazel eyes. Rather than her standard, thrift store couture, today
she wore a short beige silk skirt, a lacy blouse, and her trademark high-heeled
boots. Huge, golden hoops graced her ears.
She
walked to Roz’s side and looped an arm through hers. “Don’t think anything of
it. The bride—” she waved an airy hand Colleen’s way “—has been antsy as a
scalded cat all day.”
Colleen
closed her teeth together with an audible clack. “Maybe I’m making a mistake.”
Roz
and Jenna turned to stare at her. “What?” Jenna asked, incredulous.
“Hey,
if you don’t want him—” Roz began.
“No
shit,” Jenna interrupted. “Tall, blond, drop dead gorgeous. Those green eyes
are to die for and those shoulders.” She made panting noises. “The couple of
times I saw him without a shirt, I almost came just watching his muscles rustle
beneath his skin when he walked.”
Colleen
rolled her eyes. “You two are impossible. Can’t a bride have a case of jitters
without her two closest friends turning into vultures?”
“No.”
Roz looked down her nose at Colleen. “Considering how long and hard I’ve hunted
for decent partner material…” She let her words trail off before the extent of
her jealousy leaked out.
The
door blew inward and Bubba marched in, hands on his hips. “Come on. Everyone’s
ready.” He lowered his voice, but not by much. “I think Duncan’s worried that
you—” he pointed at Colleen “—got cold feet.”
“She
nearly did,” Jenna muttered.
“Aw,
crap. Guess I need to go tell everyone the wedding’s off.” Bubba did an about
face, but before he could sprint through the open door, Colleen snatched him
up.
“You’ll
do no such thing.” She swallowed audibly. “I’m ready. I guess.”
“Let
go of me.” Bubba writhed in her grasp.
“Not
before you promise to keep your mouth shut.”
Roz
smirked. Circumspection was not exactly the changeling’s long suit. She walked
to Bubba’s other side. “I’ll take him.” She held out her arms.
“I
can walk,” the changeling said with a great deal of dignity, “as soon as
Colleen lets go of me.”
“You
haven’t promised,” Colleen said. “Please, sweetie. It’s important to me. A girl
needs to have some things stay private.”
He
blew out an annoyed sounding breath. “All right. I promise.” Colleen relaxed
her grip. Shaking himself like a dog might have, the gnome-like changeling
chuckled. “Too bad. Something like that’s a prime piece of gossip.”
Colleen
broke into a broad grin. “Right up your alley, eh?”
Roz
made shooing motions. “Let’s get going. You don’t want all that food the Sidhe
catered to get cold do you?”
“I
don’t care about food,” Colleen mumbled. “I’m so nervous I probably won’t be
able to eat a thing.”
“Well
I do,” Jenna said. “I’m with Roz. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Have
a couple belts of whiskey,” Roz suggested. “It’ll do wonders for your nerves.”
The
hallway air brightened and shimmered. When it cleared, Titania, Queen of
Faerie, shook floor-length silvery hair out of her ice blue eyes and pushed it
over her shoulders. A diaphanous gown, more jewels than fabric, floated around
her tall, thin frame. “Is there some problem?” she inquired with asperity, and
her gaze zeroed in on Colleen.
Colleen
half curtseyed.
Roz
considered it, but didn’t because Titania wasn’t her queen.
“No
problem at all.” Colleen inclined her head. “We were just on our way.”
The
Queen of Faerie’s severe expression softened. “Thank the goddess. For a minute
there, I was afraid you were going to break Duncan’s heart.” She strode forward
and thumped Colleen’s chest with a bony forefinger. “If you ever hurt that boy,
I’ll hunt you down and make you very sorry.”
“That
boy—” Colleen held the queen’s gaze
“—is a thousand-year-old man.”
Titania
furled her perfect silver brows. “Details. Besides, it’s rude to contradict me.
Privilege of age and rank and all that. Let’s go. I haven’t performed a
marriage in centuries. I’m quite looking forward to it.”
Colleen’s
eyes widened. “I thought Naomi, the leader of this Coven, was going to join
Duncan and me.”
“We
both have roles to play.” Titania’s mouth twitched. “Surely you didn’t think
I’d let one of my own be bound in marriage without my magic involved.”
“I
have no idea what I thought,” Colleen managed, but she looked ready to throttle
the queen.
Before
things got any tenser and Colleen started in about it being her wedding, Roz herded them out the
door and down the hallway. Colleen stopped for a moment at the head of the
stairway, tension rolling off her in waves.
Roz
wrapped an arm around her. “It will be fine,” she whispered. “Just fine.” After
a quick hug, she let go.
As
if those six words did the trick—or maybe it was the hug—Colleen swept down the
long, curved staircase, looking regal. Roz, Jenna, and Titania jostled one
another as they made their way down the twenty-five steps. Bubba made an end
run around them and fell in behind Colleen, where he picked up her lace train.
They
marched through the dining area where caterers and witches bustled about laying
out a spread of food that smelled delicious, into a large, luxurious room that
took up much of the bottom floor of the old Victorian. At one point, they’d talked
about having the ceremony outside, but the weather put the kibosh on that idea.
Roz wondered why they’d wasted their breath even considering an out-of-doors
event. It was the winter solstice in Seattle. She bet there’d never been one
when it wasn’t raining like crazy—or snowing.
Chairs
lined the wood-paneled great room, and a fire burned merrily in a huge stone
fireplace that took up one end of the sumptuous space. Old-fashioned
chandeliers were festooned with hundreds of blazing candles. Witches sat on one
side of a center aisle, Daoine Sidhe on the other. Roz guessed between three
and four hundred people were in attendance—more Sidhe than witches. Everyone
turned in their seats to stare at Colleen, and a collective aaaaah surged through the room.
Roz
clamped down on a grin. Colleen really did make a lovely bride, with her Irish
complexion and red tresses. The creamy lace dress was perfect. White would have
made her look washed out. Titania strode around all of them and took her place
at the head of the room. Roz noted with amusement that Naomi held her ground
when Titania tried to push her to one side.
Before
she and Jenna left Colleen to find their seats, her gaze landed on Duncan—Lord
Regis—and her heart nearly stopped. All Sidhe had an ethereal beauty, but
Duncan practically glowed. Dressed in a black tuxedo with a crimson cummerbund
and diamond studs, he cut an impressive figure with his high forehead, sculpted
cheekbones, and strong jaw. Longish blond hair had been braided in tight rows,
but the severe style suited him and make him look like an ancient warrior.
Roz
averted her gaze, afraid he’d catch her staring, but he only had eyes for his
bride. She said a quick prayer asking the goddess’s blessing on their union and
turned toward the witches’ side of the room.
Because
Ronin came up from her other side, she didn’t notice the Sidhe leader until he
wove an arm around her shoulders. “I saved you a chair next to me.”
Her
heart slammed into double-time rhythm. She’d met Ronin two weeks before at his
castle in northern England, and they’d shared several spirited conversations
over meals. Something magical and electric had sparked between them, but she’d
chalked it up to everyone’s emotions running full tilt. She’d just escaped
demons by the skin of her teeth, and he was dealing with shame or guilt—or
whatever he felt—about forcing witches into being demon assassins two centuries
before. While his attentiveness had been welcome—and more than a little
flattering—she’d been more focused on her relief at being alive than anything
else. Besides, after the Oklahoman, she’d sworn off men—forever.
Ronin
smiled, not looking anything but glad to see her, and her heart did a funny
little flip-flop, in addition to beating much too fast. Dark hair hung loose to
his shoulders, and his blue eyes twinkled warmly. Every bit as handsome as
Duncan, he was dressed in formal clothing, black with a blue cummerbund, and
what might have been ruby studs.
“I
can’t,” she whispered. “I’m supposed to sit over there.” She gestured in the general
direction of the witches’ side of the room.
“No
one will notice,” he assured her and hooked his hand beneath her arm.
Roz
didn’t fully understand why she let him guide her to a padded straight-backed
chair near the front of the room and help her into it, but there was something
irresistible about his energy. Too late, she recognized a mild compulsion
spell. Anger spiked, but now wasn’t the place to give in to it. With every
shred of self-discipline at her disposal, she forced her attention to Duncan
and Colleen reciting their vows, and to Naomi, who’d muscled her way in before
Titania could get rolling.
When
Ronin draped an arm around her shoulders, she shot him a harsh look that made
him move it damned fast. Good, she
thought. It’s about time the Sidhe
realize their days of pushing witches around are over. Yes, he was
gorgeous, and he seemed interested in her, but the last thing she needed was
some overbearing mage mucking things up. She still wasn’t quite certain how
Colleen’s marriage to Duncan would impact her and Jenna. They’d always been
kind of like The Three Musketeers, demon style. The permanent addition of a
Sidhe was bound to have some effect. Exactly what was hard to gauge.
Who am I kidding? We didn’t just get Duncan.
We’re stuck with his kinfolk now too. All of them.
She
bit back a sigh. If the series of meetings a couple of weeks before in the U.K.
was any indication, she, Jenna, and Colleen would have to fight to be
recognized as anything remotely close to equal.
Roz
snuck a glance at Ronin. He sat straight in his seat, his profile
heartbreakingly beautiful. His
long-fingered hands were clasped together in his lap. She couldn’t stop herself
from wondering what they’d feel like stroking her body. Warm. Electric.
Compelling.
Maybe I should give him a chance, a
tiny, inner voice piped up.
Bosh.
Roz
tried for a stern note, but the other part of her brain wouldn’t shut up.
*****'
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