Roar (Witches & Warlocks Book 3) (3 page)

Lucy knows what Daya’s doing. Nancy basically said as much. None of us are going to be safe while Lucy’s still alive. And as crazy as it sounds, I still have my heart set on a happily ever after with Noah. If I’m ever going to get that, Lucy’s gonna have to die, whether or not Daya gives us the order.

Chapter Three

Almost as soon as my eyes close, my alarm goes off. At least that’s what it feels like. But, I can tell by the blaze of light at the window that I’ve slept through into the afternoon and it’s time to get up and go to work. I’ve only slept a few hours and I still feel like shit. The whole purpose of getting these ‘throw away job’s’ as Daya calls them was so it wouldn’t matter if I had to miss days and end up getting fired because of it.

Thing is, I’ve never missed a day of school or work in my life for anything short of throwing up. And I actually kind of like this job. So, I’ll be going to work today, aching head and body and all, even if I did kill a vampire last night. I didn’t leave much time to get ready, definitely not enough time to wash my hair, so I pull it back, wash my face, throw on some clothes and head out into the living room.

Luke’s sprawled out on the couch, a pair of warm up pants sliding dangerously low on his hips, his bare chest looking chiseled and spectacularly massive above his trim waist. He’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. Although now that I know him, it just makes me mad that he looks so good.

“Kitchen’s still a mess,” I say as I bend over to lace up my boots.

“Sure is,” he replies, sitting up and raising his eyebrows. “You’re not going to work, are you?”

“Sure am.”

He shakes his head, disdain written all over his face. “You guys are something.”

And that’s the end of that little conversation. I pull on my coat and gloves, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head out the door. The world is blinding. I guess those flakes that started to fall last night were just the precursors to the first actual snow of winter. There’s about three inches of the stuff covering every visible surface, reflecting the sun into the most painful thing ever for a girl with a headache. I look down and blink my eyes into focus. Fresh boot prints lead away from our door, out onto the sidewalk, and off towards the little shopping center where Noah and I work.

So that’s what Luke meant.

I guess Noah didn’t call in today either.

The walk to work is brisk and the cold does me good, making sure I’m fully awake when I press open the doors to Sir Perks-a-Lot, the coffee shop where I work. Michael Buble’s crooning through the speakers and the now familiar scent of coffee and baked goods brings a smile to my face. Don’t judge. People can change. So it wasn’t too long ago that I hated the smell of coffee. It also wasn’t too long ago that I didn’t even know I’m a witch.

“Woah…” Krystal — the barista with the ever changing hair color — says as her eyebrows hit her hairline. Her now cherry red hairline. “You look rough. Bad night?”

“You could say that.”

Krystal’s already making me something with too much caffeine, so I go hang up my coat and purse in the break room. The place is kind of dead — which is strange — and the two of us chat away as we get a lot of the busy work out of the way. I’m not gonna lie, it’s really nice to pretend I’m just a normal girl, doing normal things. As the customers start to roll in, stamping snow off their shoes and blowing on their hands, I forget about vampires and werewolves and witches and Noah and Luke and stalking bad guys down dark alleys. I lose myself in the routine of taking orders and making drinks, of laughing while Krystal sings along with the radio, dancing and smiling as she hands drinks over to customers.

Outside, the sky darkens and snow begins to fall again as the sun goes down. It’s gonna be a cold walk home. The bells above the door jangle again, and there’s the now familiar stamp of boots on the mat.

Krystal nudges me. “You guys a thing again?” Her eyes light with realization as I look at her, confused. “He’s the reason you look like you didn’t sleep last night!”

I look towards the door and my heart does that little stutter step it likes to do. Noah’s standing there, brushing snow out of his dark hair. He smiles a little when he sees me, points at the clock on the wall, mouths the words
I’ll wait,
and has a seat.

“He is!” Krystal’s whisper really isn’t a whisper and I whirl on her.

“No. It’s nothing. There’s nothing.”

“Sweetie,” her voice gets all serious. “I’ve seen you two together, even before you started working here, and there’s no way you’re going to make me believe that there’s nothing between you.”

I glance at Noah and he’s staring right at us, that little smile growing ever so slightly. When he catches me looking, he drops his gaze to his hands. “Well, maybe there
was
something between us,” I whisper to Krystal, turning my back to Noah, “but there’s not anymore.”

“Whatever, my friend. He’s here now, isn’t he?”

She has a point. He’s here now. I’ve got another half an hour before my shift ends and it’s the longest thirty minutes I’ve ever lived through. He’s busy trying not to watch me and I’m busy trying not to see if he’s watching me and of course, the whole world finally decides they’ve had enough coffee and there’s like, nothing to do.

“Go on,” Krystal says, while there’s still ten eternal minutes before I’m officially off work. “I’ve got this. There’s no one here and this is hella awkward.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. Besides. Even if I get slammed, it’s only for ten more minutes. If that. I’m sure Melissa will be here any minute.”

Grateful, I slide into the break room to grab my stuff. I don’t know if I’m thrilled or terrified that he’s here. That’s silly. I do know. I’m both. I’m totally ‘thrillified.’ I manage to get my coat and gloves on despite the tremor in my hands. I’m not even sure why I’m trembling except it’s been quite a crazy twenty-four hours and I’ve had a lot of espresso.

Noah’s already at the door, waiting for me when I emerge. Krystal catches my eye and gives me a cheesy little thumbs up. I’m sure she thought she was being inconspicuous, and I guess, honestly, she was. For her. Me? I’m blushing and embarrassed and only manage a tight little wave before Noah opens the door and ushers me out into the cold.

I can’t help but shiver. The temperature’s dropped significantly. Noah wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and I just about die. What the hell is happening? I’m all wrapped up in those golden pings of contact, that luscious connection that I’ve missed oh so much and I’m afraid to speak or move or do anything that might ruin it all. I’d love to lean my head on his shoulder, ask him about his day, just let myself soften into his strength. But that’s not gonna happen. Not til I understand what’s going on.

We walk in silence for a bit and just as I’m about to give up on the whole being strong thing and lean into him, he drops his arm and frees me. “Better?” he asks. “Warm now?”

Oh.

My heart crashes into my stomach and swirls around with all the caffeine and exhaustion. I just nod and murmur a thank you in his direction.

“Did you get that text from Luke?”

“Left my phone in my purse in the break room.”

“Ahh. Well. Just when you thought the day couldn’t get any better…” he sighs. “Daya’s dropping by tonight.”

Shit.

A visit from Daya is … well it isn’t bad. But it sure isn’t fun. She asks a bunch of questions about the mission — that still sounds so weird … mission …

Anyway. She asks us about what happened. We fill her in. She asks us some more prying questions. Uncomfortable questions about our mental state, our home life, those kind of things. Sometimes, she’ll set up a time for us to go to Windsor Manor or the ranch and go through a series of tests to make sure our skills are still sharp. Once, she brought food. Trays of homemade dinners, frozen and sporting labels and reheating directions in Daya’s flamboyant handwriting. Another time, she’d brought a set of dishes. They were clearly expensive, probably custom made, and way too colorful for our little apartment.

“She’s bringing Barnabe Withers,” Noah says, his voice going all tense and taut like it does every time he mentions that name.

Double shit.

I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Barnabe Withers, but both Noah and Luke know enough about him to look all hunted whenever they mention his name. And to make it worse — as if there actually is anything worse than two strong men looking a little petrified — I don’t think they realize how they act when they talk about him.

Daya is supposed to be head witch, just like Lucy is captain of the vampires and Albert is the werewolf boss man. But because vamps and weres are sneaky, Daya’s actually
not
the head honcho of the witches. She’s a … what’s the word? A plant? A decoy? Ya. A decoy. Barnabe Withers is
actually
the leader of the witches. If you ask me, I have to wonder if that doesn’t make the witches as sneaky as the vamps and the weres.

We finish the rest of the walk in silence, all the excitement I had over seeing Noah walk through the door of Sir Perks-a-Lot bleeding away into anxiety. As if I didn’t have enough reasons for my hands to be trembly tonight.

There’s this aura of dread around our apartment. Of heavy expectations and important revelations. It weighs heavier on my shoulders with each step up the walk. Or maybe that’s just me, wishing I could turn around and go back to work. Keep pretending I’m just a normal twenty-three year old woman and not a witch wrapped up in conspiracy theories and charged with saving the world.

I’ve imagined Barnabe so many different ways. Sometimes he’s a wizened old man in a wizard’s robes, complete with white scraggly beard and kind eyes. Sometimes he’s tall and rail thin. Black haired with a narrow moustache swirling underneath his aquiline nose. Other times he’s wearing a tux and has a butler scurrying after his every move, bowing and scraping and offering him drinks in crystal glasses on a silver tray.

I’m so not prepared for the ball of energy that’s waiting for me in my living room. He’s young. Maybe just a few years older than me. Blonde and not very tall, but lithe and slim. A smile lights up his broad face as Noah follows me inside and closes the door behind us.

“Ahhhh,” breaths Barnabe. “The infamous Zoe.” He crosses the living room in just a few quick steps, moving with the coordination and grace of a trained athlete. His hand darts out and grasps mine.

I gasp.

So much power.

I can’t even begin to understand it all.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until he releases my hand.

Barnabe leans in close and his eyes make me uneasy. “This is where you say ‘pleased to meet you, Mr. Withers.’” If his eyes made me uneasy, I can’t even begin to describe how I feel at the change in his voice.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Withers,” I manage and his face lights right back up again.

“As it is you.” He turns to Noah and it’s clear I’ve been dismissed. I hang up my coat and purse while he claps Noah on the back and asks him a few questions as if they were the best of friends.

Daya swoops in for a hug and I almost jump out of my skin. Daya’s many things, but she’s definitely not a hugger. “Shhh.” She whispers into my ear, holding me tight so I don’t pull away. “Stay calm. Treat him like a god. Answer truthfully, but make everything sound like it’s a good thing. You’ll be fine.” She releases me and, damn it, my legs go all gooey again.

“Come! Sit!” Barnabe indicates the sofa while he hops up to sit on the dinner table and waits for us to gather in the living room. “Now. Tell me all about everything. Don’t leave out one single detail.”

Somehow, out of all the ways I’d envisioned Barnabe Withers, the vibrant young man perched on my dinner table with his Cheshire cat grin is worse than all of them.

Chapter Four

Mr. Withers eyes me, his legs swinging below him like a child’s, and I know exactly why Noah and Luke look the way they do when they say his name.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” he asks Daya. “In a kind of accidental way.” He surveys me, his gaze traveling the planes of my face, lingering on my chest before he brings his eyes back to mine. I want to wrap my arms around myself, duck my chin, do my best to hide in plain sight. I don’t, though. Somehow Daya’s warning makes me think it’d be best to consider his attention a compliment. I lift my chin and smile broadly. “Oh, and proud, too, isn’t she? Did you have anything to do with her appearance? Pick the best looking parents?” He’s still addressing Daya.

“She was the first, Mr. Withers.” Daya’s eyes are downcast, her hands clasped in front of her, her voice almost muted. Hell, even her dress is only one color.

“Oh! The accident!” Barnabe laughs. “See, that’s funny. She
is
pretty in an accidental way.” His eyes twinkle with merriment and I swallow hard. I’m not finding him the least bit funny.

He lets his gaze slide over me again. I watch him take in the space between me and Noah, and then the same space between me and Luke. The fact that we’re not only not touching, but definitely doing our best to keep it that way. “You think there’s a chance of any
accidents
happening here?” he asks Daya. “I mean could you imagine the child that comes from a union in this household?” Both guys tense beside me. I’m surrounded by deep sighs and clenching jaws and tightened fists. Sharp as ever, Barnabe notices the reaction. “Oh that’s right. They’ve each had a taste of her already, didn’t they? Didn’t like it very much.”

My jaw drops. I force my mouth closed and swallow, getting ready to tell this guy just exactly where he can go. I don’t care if he is the witch king. Apparently, my distress is more evident than I’d like it to be. Noah puts his hand on my thigh and Luke touches my hand and their magic rolls into me, each of them trying to support me and calm me down.