Wild Cards and Witches Read online

  Wild Cards and Witches

  Pandora’s Pride, Book 4

  Annabel Chase

  Red Palm Press LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Also by Annabel Chase

  Chapter One

  I stood outside the wooden gates for the seventh day in a row. The gate was high enough to block any view of the village on the other side. The witches in Salem didn’t take kindly to strangers. History had taught them to be wary of outsiders and they’d taken that lesson to heart, erecting a physical barrier around the village as well as a magical one. I’d tested the ward on the second day of my arrival and decided it was best to wait. If I showed them I was determined, eventually they’d cave.

  I hoped.

  “Hungry?”

  I turned to see Nathaniel behind me. The werewolf held a crisp red apple in his palm. “Lots of orchards around here. I was spoiled for choice.”

  “And probably stealing, too.” Despite my suspicion, I accepted the apple and took a generous bite.

  “Anyone leave this morning?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but my money’s on Amity,” I said. The teenaged witch seemed to serve as the coven’s errand girl.

  Nathaniel gave me a pointed look. “Amity isn’t going to waver.”

  “Oh, I know, but I figure she might trip on her way out and leave the ward vulnerable for that extra second.”

  He chuckled. “And what? You’ll leap over her fallen body and barge your way in?”

  “Something like that.” I took another bite of the apple and relished the sweet, juicy taste.

  Nathaniel shook his head. “Not you, Callie. I know you better than that. You’d help her up first and make sure she wasn’t hurt.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I had an innate desire to help others. I blamed my father—or the mage I thought was my father until recently. My biological parents—Greta and Quinn Wendell—died not long after I was born. I was raised by a man named Duncan Waite who’d assumed my father’s identity. The revelation still burned and I shoved aside the ensuing thoughts so I could focus on the task at hand.

  “You hear about breaking out of a prison, but not so much breaking in.”

  Nathaniel lifted his brow. “Need I remind you this is a coven village.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” I leaned against the fence and continued to chomp on the apple. The coven could try their best to keep me out, but I’d wear them down eventually. I no longer had a job or any responsibility. I had nothing but time to kill.

  “Any attempts to contact you?” Nathaniel asked.

  I averted my gaze. “No.”

  “Can’t decide if you’re relieved or disappointed,” he said.

  “Me neither.” Was it possible to be both?

  “I think a clean break is best, at least for now,” Nathaniel said.

  I agreed, although it didn’t make it any easier. The members of Pandora’s Pride had become like family to me, maybe because they were—sort of. Once I made the discovery that I’d been magically imbued with the traits of all five species of the Pride’s inner circle, it was difficult to know how to categorize them. They’d employed me. Befriended me.

  Betrayed me.

  I melted against the fence, thinking of Saxon. He didn’t know the truth. He had to be confused and upset by my disappearance. Tate and Liam, too. Even Evadne. They had no clue as to my real identity. I wondered whether they suspected anything about themselves. Not Tate, of course. She was Abra’s granddaughter and, therefore, too precious to experiment on. Not me. I was expendable—until I became their only true success story. Now I was coveted, but only as a dangerous weapon to wield in the war against Plague demons.

  The gate creaked and I shifted to an alert position, chucking the apple over my shoulder. Amity slipped between the gap in the gate, toting a wicker basket. The coven had clearly decided we weren’t a threat because they continued to send Amity out each morning regardless of our presence. Today she wore her blond hair in two braids, each one laced with a white ribbon.

  “Good morning, Calandra. Nathaniel.” Amity offered a hesitant smile.

  “Morning, Amity,” Nathaniel said.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You’ve come to tell us that your fearless leader has decided to welcome us with open arms.”

  Amity looked down at the ground. “You know we don’t welcome outsiders.”

  “I already told you—I’m not an outsider. I’m one of you.”

  Amity chewed her lip. “Marie says that’s not possible.”

  “I’m sure she does. Tell her I would’ve agreed with her a couple months ago, but I’ve learned a few things since then.”

  Nathaniel snorted. “Leave the girl be, Callie. She has chores to do.”

  “I’m not harassing her.” I turned to look at the witch. “Am I harassing you?”

  She lowered her head. “No, miss.”

  “You’re getting old,” Nathaniel said. “She called you ‘miss.’”

  I shrugged. “Hey, at least it wasn’t ma’am.”

  “Would you like an apple, Amity?” Nathaniel asked.

  I frowned. “I think the witch is supposed to offer the apple to the innocent party, not the other way around.”

  “No thank you,” Amity said. “I’ve already eaten.”

  The witch continued walking but I glimpsed the hint of a smile as she turned away.

  “Maybe they’re testing us,” I said, once Amity was out of earshot.

  “Oh, I definitely think they’re testing us.”

  I smiled. “Not like that. I mean, they won’t let us in and we keep hanging out here anyway. What’s to stop us from grabbing Amity and using her as leverage to enter?”

  “Amity’s young and being tasked with errands. Maybe they view her as disposable.”

  I winced. Another young woman who seemingly didn’t matter. I would expect better from a coven.

  “You might want to consider a different tack,” Nathaniel said. “You can’t stand out here forever.”

  I circled my shoulders to loosen the muscles. We’d been sleeping rough all week and the absence of a warm bed was taking a toll, at least on me. I’d spent most of my life sleeping outdoors in the Rocky Mountains. You’d think I could handle a week in Massachusetts, especially when it wasn’t even winter yet. Nathaniel had accused me of getting soft during my time in Atlantica City. If it weren’t for all the training and fighting I did while I was there, I might’ve been inclined to agree with him.

  I leaned my forehead against the fence and listened for movement on the other side. A few of the younger witches sometimes came to whisper and giggle. They weren’t skilled enough to break through the ward, but I had a feeling if they were, they would’ve sent over a couple of toads just to mess with us. Ah, kids. They were the same in any species.

  A gust of wind blew past us, scattering golden leaves in the air. It was a beautiful image, like watching a sunburst.

  “Good thing her dress goes all the way to her ankles or Amity might be showing the town her underpants,” I said, although right now her exposure would be limited to the trees and a host of woodland creatures.

  Another rush of wind kicked up dirt as well as leaves. I glanced at the sky, which was a solid sheet of blue. Not a cloud in sight.
/>
  “It almost feels like a storm is brewing,” I said.

  Nathaniel sniffed the air. “I don’t smell rain.”

  The back of my neck pricked. “Something’s wrong.”

  He shot me a quizzical look. “Vamp?”

  I shook my head. “No.” I glanced at the path Amity had taken through the forest. “I think we should follow her.”

  Nathaniel nodded mutely and we abandoned our posts. The forest was strangely silent as we stepped onto the path. No birdsong. No chittering. It seemed like the calm before the storm.

  A blast of air streaked through the trees and sent twigs and leaves flying in all directions. Nathaniel ducked to avoid getting knocked in the head by a particularly thick branch. He and I exchanged looks of alarm. This wasn’t Mother Nature’s work.

  A scream pierced the air and I rushed forward. The wind grew stronger the deeper into the woods I went and I squinted to keep the debris out of my eyes. Ahead of me mighty oak trees bent and twisted.

  “Amity,” I yelled.

  Another scream answered me.

  I leaped over a fallen tree and into a clearing where a cyclone had formed. It was about twenty feet tall and eight feet in circumference. The handle of Amity’s basket was stuck to a nearby bush. I gasped in horror when I realized that Amity was trapped inside the maelstrom.

  Nathaniel joined me at the clearing. “A matangi demon?”

  I nodded. I hadn’t seen one of these in a long time. The ‘whirlwind’ demons had more of a presence in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, but a couple had made their way to the forests of the Rocky Mountains over the years. Apparently, some had made their way all the way to the East Coast.

  “I’ll leave this one to you,” he said.

  “That would be wise.” A werewolf was no good in a fight with a matangi demon, not when magic was required. Although Amity was a witch, she was young and the coven likely had no experience with this type of demon.

  Whatever I did, I had to be careful not to injure Amity in the process. That meant no fire magic, not that I would use that in a forest anyway. I decided to play it safe. I pulled an enchanted Wild Card from my pocket and focused on the demon.

  “Inertia,” I said.

  Nothing happened. Okay, this demon required more than a basic enchantment. I tapped into my elemental magic. The matangi demon was essentially made of wind, and if I could manipulate air…

  I concentrated on the demon and tugged. Hard.

  I didn’t want to pull the entire cyclone toward me. Instead, I wanted to unravel it like a spool of yarn.

  This time I yanked from the opposite direction that the cyclone was spinning. The whirlwind collapsed in on itself like a dying star and a wall of wind blasted away from it in a circle. The force knocked me off my feet but I quickly recovered. I spotted Amity in a heap in the center of the clearing and raced to crouch by her side.

  “Amity.” I touched her shoulder, afraid to move her in any way. I didn’t want to exacerbate any injuries.

  The young witch blinked. “Am I dead?”

  I laughed. “Nobody would dare put me in charge of greeting shades in the afterlife. Are you hurt?”

  Slowly, she pulled herself into a seated position. “Sore.”

  “That’s understandable. You got sucked into a whirlwind demon.”

  She looked at me and frowned. “That was a demon?”

  I nodded. “I take it you’ve never encountered one of those before.”

  “No.” She hesitated. “I’ve never encountered any demons before.”

  I balked. “Never? Not even a feral vampire?”

  “Only the occasional wolf,” Amity said, “but I know a spell to keep them at bay.” She gave Nathaniel a guilty look. “No offense, sir.”

  I helped Amity to her feet. “Maybe you should skip errands today. I’m sure Marie will understand.”

  “You are correct,” a voice interjected. “Marie understands.”

  I twisted to see Marie with five other witches fanned out behind her. Her sun-kissed skin rippled with signs of age and her white hair was pulled into a thick braid. She wore a plain grey dress that brushed the forest floor. The only sign of her authority was the jewelry around her neck—a hazelnut, which signified her divine insight and magical knowledge.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” I said quickly. If the coven thought for one second that I’d hurt Amity, my chance to talk to them would vanish in the air like the whirlwind.

  “We know,” Marie said. “We were alerted to the presence of the demon, but a little too late, it seems.” The witch shifted her attention to Amity. “You may continue your duties. There was only one demon detected and it’s clearly no longer an issue.”

  Amity tugged her basket free of the bushes and bowed respectfully before hurrying away.

  “You’re welcome,” I called after her.

  Marie clasped her hands in front of her. “Come with me, Calandra Wendell.”

  My brow lifted. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to follow her. If you say there’s only one demon, then I believe you.”

  “And if you say you are one of us, I believe you.” She turned and left the clearing with her entourage directly behind her.

  I cut a quick glance at Nathaniel. “What just happened?”

  “Congratulations. I think you’ve earned her trust.”

  I scurried after the witches, my heart pounding in my chest. Hallelujah! All my stubborn stalking was about to pay off.

  When we reached the gate, the witches let me pass but blocked Nathaniel’s path.

  Marie turned to address him. “Not you, I’m afraid.”

  Nathaniel bowed his head. “Understood.”

  I gave the werewolf a cheerful thumbs up before trailing after Marie.

  The village was more primitive than I expected, a far cry from the decadence of the hotels and casinos in Atlantica City. The land was dotted with thatched-roof cottages, extensive herb gardens, and even a blacksmith shop.

  “I feel like I’m stepping back in time,” I said.

  Marie stopped walking and waited for me to catch up. “This place was intended as an interpretation of early life in Salem. A living museum created by humans. Ironic that it now serves as our true home.”

  “What happened to the humans?”

  “They abandoned Salem and most of Boston after the Plague and we reclaimed this entire area all the way to the Berkshires, one of the few bright spots of that unfortunate event.”

  “Why not stay in Boston?” I asked. Although it wouldn’t have the same level of sophistication as a pre-Plague city, Boston would still have a slew of advantages over a rudimentary village.

  Marie surveyed the village with a satisfied smile. “The forest. The ocean. So much magical energy surrounds us here. No, this is home.”

  Looking around at the well-kept cottages and the little girls running amok in their dresses, I felt a sense of peace wash over me.

  A witch rounded the corner of one of the cottages and bowed her head.

  “The Stone House is ready, Marie,” she said.

  “Excellent, Ophelia. Thank you.” She turned to me. “I thought it best to talk there. It’s the better option in the village for private conversations.”

  “Because it’s made of stone?”

  She wore a vague smile. “Because it’s under a spell that prevents eavesdropping.”

  Everyone had secrets they wanted to keep, it seemed. Abra had come by her methods honestly.

  The Stone House was exactly as described. The building was smaller than the cottages and the interior contained fewer amenities than my hotel room at Salt.

  “This building was designed for meetings only,” Marie said, seeming to notice my reaction. “No one ever lived here.” She gestured to a brown leather chair opposite a coffee table. “Please, sit.”

  Marie sat opposite me and a knock on the door interrupted us. A witch nudged open the door with a teapot and two cups on a tray.

  “Shall I
leave it by the door?” the witch asked.

  She looked slightly younger than Amity, with a single red braid hanging down her back and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Seeing all these basic witches made me wonder when and how Abra had adopted her elegant fashion sense. Nobody in this village would be caught wearing pearls.

  “The table, please, Helena,” Marie said.

  Helena took her time crossing the room with the tray and I got the sense that she’d suffered a delivery mishap in the recent past.

  “Is it true you’re a long-lost member of our coven?” Helena asked, eyeing me with childlike curiosity.

  “Her status is yet to be determined,” Marie said. “I’ll pour the tea. Be on your way now.”

  Helena hurried from the room with a final backward glance.

  “She’s Amity’s sister,” I said. Although their coloring differed, they shared the same slightly upturned nose.

  “Half-sister,” Marie said. “Same mother. Different fathers.”

  “I was wondering how you managed to add to your stable of witches. Do you invite the men inside the village once a year for a special gathering?” I used air quotes for ‘special.’

  Marie offered an inelegant snort. “We do nothing of the kind, although it would make for an interesting evening.”

  “How do you keep your numbers up?”

  Marie filled each cup with tea. “You’re as observant as you are powerful. You’ve been taught well.”

  “I’ve had a lot of teachers.” More than most, in fact. “I notice you didn’t answer the question.”

  “There’s nothing exciting about the answer. The adult witches are free to go in and out of the village. Most of the time they choose to stay, but occasionally they’ll get the itch to seek company.”

  “And the men aren’t looking for a nuclear family?” I’d heard my father use that term many times during my childhood. He’d bemoan the fact that he couldn’t offer me a ‘nuclear family,’ as though the phrase had some profound meaning and its mere existence would automatically make me a better person.