Born to Raise Hell: The Owl Shifter Chronicles Book Three Page 3

  “Aunt, is there something you want to share with us?” asked Michael.

  The woman nodded, but she wasn’t talking yet. It took her a full minute to walk through her idea before she snapped her fingers and cleared her throat.

  “I’m not saying it’s a magic bullet,” she started. “And I’m still in favor of killing them. But I think there’s a way we can make a weapon that strips a magician of his or her powers.”

  She smiled somewhat maniacally. “The ritual is a pretty simple one. The only issue with it is that the ingredients need to be offered willingly. And the weapon is only specific to a genetic link or a magical lineage. If we make a weapon tailored to one of the Alfred kids, it means that—”

  Michael jumped in, “In fact, this one we’re making will be a weapon that can strip all the Alfreds of their magical power.”

  “Good!” Aunt Anastacia beamed. “We already have one of the ingredients we need.”

  “What’s that?” asked Emily, genuinely curious.

  “The nexus,” chirped Aunt Anastacia. “The Russos are the first of the three things we need. I don’t know who spelled them, but I do know that Marion broke the spell. He willingly infused them with his magic to save you. It was an act of love and not selfishness.”

  “What?” Michael and Dad blurted at the same time.

  “What’s she talking about?” John Davies looked to his daughter.

  “Long story. I’ll tell you later.” Emily shook her head, returning her attention back to her aunt. “What are the other ingredients?”

  “Weapons,” said Aunt Anastacia. “Five at the minimum. Weapons that are non-lethal and that can be used for either long range or short range or both.”

  “We have an armory,” said Dad. “That shouldn’t be a problem. A long knife. A short knife. Two assault rifles with sleeping darts as bullets. Then maybe a pistol with live rounds, in case we need to . . . ya know.” He made a shooting motion with his fingers.

  Everyone nodded their agreement with Dad’s chosen lineup, including Emily.

  “What’s the last one?” Emily asked her aunt.

  “That, my dear, is where you come in,” the rove woman said in reply. “The last ingredient is the blood of the magician we’re targeting.”

  “Holy hell!” Kendrick blurted. “No magician will willingly give his blood knowing it’s going to be used to strip him of his magic.”

  “It’s a lost cause then,” Everet added.

  “Not necessarily,” said Michael. “We can create a scenario. Maybe mortally injure one of the Alfreds. Or do something that’s going to get one of them sent to the hospital. And when the particular Alfred is at the hospital, we have her sign a form that allows her to donate her blood for tests or whatever. Voila!”

  “Could that work?” Emily pondered. She noticed Michael had used “her,” probably hoping for the Alfred in question to be little Alice, which didn’t even make sense because Alice could regenerate; she wouldn’t need to go to a hospital for anything.

  Aunt Anastacia shook her head, unsatisfied. “No, you don’t understand how it works. The magician has to give it to you willingly. It’s a very strict requirement.” She turned to Emily. “Marion is the best candidate. He infused his magic into the Russos to release them from the nexus spell willingly. If we use the Russos as ingredients in this spell, we’ll need Marion to give you his blood on purpose.”

  “Marion isn’t going to give me his blood,” Emily retorted. “If he sees me the next time, he’ll apprehend me and hand me over to his father for the ritual!”

  “But you and I both know that’s not true.” Anastacia slammed her hands onto the table as she leaned over it and fixed her niece with a pointed look. “He saved you in that house. He could have killed you. He could have apprehended you. He could have alerted his sister and brother to your presence. But no. What did he do? He saved you. He broke the nexus spell and sent you and the Russos out.”

  Aunt Anastacia breathed and chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the boy is rooting for his family to fail because he loves you and wants you to live. We can exploit this. We can help him!”

  5

  Emily was stunned speechless. How could Aunt Anastacia suggest they use Marion’s supposed feelings for her against him like that? She still suspected there was just no way Marion could have any kind of romantic feelings for her—let alone be in love with her. But despite how much she kept denying it to herself, and, as Aunt Anastacia laid it out for them all, Emily knew there was some truth to it.

  But why? What did Marion like about her? Marion didn’t even know much about her. And she didn’t even know him that well, except, of course, for the fact he belonged to a family of psychopaths who all wanted to end the world.

  Nevertheless, there was this inexplicable desire she had for him. She wanted to be near him so badly. To know he was all right. That he wasn’t mad at her. She wanted to be in his arms. She wanted a lot of things, all of which were forbidden. All of which would probably end with her lying on that altar to be sacrificed.

  And at that thought, Emily was reminded of the vision she’d had. And even Michael’s dream. Apparently, she was fated to be captured—and Adopted, chained at the Altar of Saka, ready to be slain in a ritual that would release the Son of Perdition—the beast that would raise hell. But what if she wasn’t captured? What if love drove her to turn herself in, just like it drove Marion to betray his family?

  That thought scared her. Could she trust herself to remain objective? What if she turned on her family? Especially now that they were talking about murdering the whole Alfred family? Could she go ahead with a plan that required harming Marion?

  Aunt Anastacia made a tsking sound. She came over to Emily and towered over her. Her presence was preeminent and domineering, even to the point of putting shivers of fear in Emily’s shoulders.

  “The question is, will you be willing to do it?” Anastacia’s voice was hollow and distant. Her eyes seemed to press past Emily’s skin into her very soul. “Will you lead your lover boy astray?”

  Emily shook her head. She reared from the woman, bumping against the chair behind her. She was able to stabilize herself before she fell on the ground. Suddenly, there wasn’t enough air in the atmosphere. She found herself breathing hard. It was a panic attack, and it was settling in fast.

  Dad noticed this. “Are you all right, Emily? Breathe.”

  Emily tried to follow her dad’s instruction. But it was difficult.

  Aunt Anastacia touched her, and there was a jolt of magic that ran through her mind. Instantly, the panic attack was destroyed. But the rambling thoughts remained.

  “I don’t know if I can,” Emily whimpered breathlessly.

  “Emily, this is serious shit!” Kendrick said in an angry tone. He made to say more, but Everet raised a cautionary hand, and the big man calmed down.

  Everet turned to her and said, “What Kendrick is saying is that there is no time to debate your emotions at this time. It’s either we use Marion to strip his entire family of magic, or we kill them. The choice is yours.”

  Tears came to her eyes. “Why does the choice have to be mine? Can’t we find some other way?”

  “There’s no other way now,” Aunt Anastacia crooned. “Time is of the essence. By the time we find another way or have had time to execute Michael’s plans, it will be too late. So it’s either you help us get Marion’s blood, or we kill them. Your choice.”

  Emily struggled with herself. She struggled with her anger, because she was seeing over and over again how Aunt Anastacia didn’t care about what people felt. She only cared about eradicating this evil that had befallen them.

  No, Aunt Anastacia didn’t care about her. She only cared about winning. She was willing to use Emily to achieve this purpose. Right from the Adoption to using her to get to Marion and the Alfred family.

  “Emily,” Michael said, calling her attention to him. He was standing, too. He had a cautionary look on his face,
which he leveled on her. Just by looking at Michael, she knew she had unfinished business with him. It wasn’t all water under the bridge yet.

  She shut her eyes and groaned.

  “Emily, this is the right play,” said Michael. “If you care about him, you’ll do this for him. Otherwise, the alternative is death. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. He’s our peer.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Emily said with a strained voice. “It’s not like I can waltz into his house and ask for his blood.” She turned to look at the others.

  “My relationship with Marion is a . . . bit strained.” Then she went on to tell them about her encounters with the second heir of the Alfreds. She told them about their meeting in class and how he’d invited her to his party, which turned out to be a way to lure her to the house for them to capture her.

  She, in turn, used it as a means to get into the house, where she’d intended to save Michael. Guess who accosted her when she’d found Michael and was on her way out? Right, Marion. And he’d sent a blue flame her way.

  “Did you say a blue flame?” Aunt Anastacia quizzed.

  Emily rolled her eyes, wondering what the issue was now. “Yeah, blue flame.”

  “A blue flame is symbolic of a form of magic that’s not destructive,” said her aunt. “Honey, if you saw a blue flame, then he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He was trying to help you.”

  “I don’t think . . .” Emily was about to refute the claim, when she remembered what the blue flame had done to her. It had caused her fire demon side to awaken. And that was how she’d escaped the house, put the Alfred seniors in a regenerative coma, and effectively saved her family from the Alfred kids later on.

  “Say, when the boy broke the nexus and sent you out of the Russos’ mansion, what color flame did you see?” Aunt Anastacia asked.

  Emily didn’t have to think about it. “Blue.”

  “See?” her aunt said. “The kid has never once tried to harm you. When others use magic—like the girl, Alice—what do you see?”

  “Sometimes tendrils of like . . . ,” Emily started but trailed off as she tried to think of how to describe it.

  “. . . of electricity,” Michael finished for her.

  “There you go.” Aunt Anastacia leaned back and placed her hands on her hips. “Blue flame is often symbolic of healing magic. Helping magic. Whereas electricity, red flames, and black smoke are often symbolic of destructive magic. Evil magic.”

  Emily reminded herself of the time Alice had almost taken her down when they were back at the cottage. The only reason she escaped was because Marion alerted her. That was the first time she’d really begun to believe that Marion, maybe, just maybe, didn’t want to kill her.

  Emily told them this little fact, and Michael confirmed it.

  “At first, I was confused,” Michael agreed. “I guess I didn’t think much about it since I was still getting over the fact I’m a warlock.” He glared at Emily when he said this, as if it was her fault.

  “A fact you seemed to have accepted pretty quickly,” Everet grumbled.

  Michael heard it and glared at his father. “I’m not the only monster here, Dad,” the young man spouted, his mood suddenly foul. “I know what you did. I know who I am!”

  Everet’s face descended into a mask of disdain. “And who told you? Whoever it was, it wasn’t their secret to tell.”

  At that moment, Emily felt like sinking into the ground.

  “Does it matter?” Michael matched his dad’s raised voice decibel for decibel. “What matters is that you screwed another man’s wife and had an illegitimate child with her! ME!!!”

  “How dare you?!” Everet roared as he surged to his feet.

  “Enough!” Aunt Anastacia interjected, her voice sharp like a whip. A tendril of electricity snaked out of her fingers and struck out into the air.

  Everyone immediately looked dazed.

  Silence.

  “As long as you all are under my roof, there shall be no fighting!” The woman was still angry. Her eyes looked like pure white light with streaks of electricity snapping out of them intermittently. She was currently charging destructive magic, and nobody dared cross her.

  Emily was terrified. Simply because she knew what Aunt Anastacia was capable of, and she knew that her aunt had the moral willpower to make terrible decisions. If she thought someone’s death was the right way to go to win this war, she was going to flat-out kill the person without a second thought.

  So far, they were all alive because they were still vital to her plan. However, Emily was certain that the moment their lives were all that was standing between her and victory, their lives would become forfeit. Yes, Emily was immune to Aunt Anastacia’s magic—and all forms of magic, for that matter. It didn’t mean Emily was immune to a hurricane or the roof collapsing in on itself.

  She had to be careful. She had to be wary of this woman. Her own aunt.

  Anastacia finally let go of her magic and calmed down. Her eyes returned to normal. A wan smile spread across her face as she attempted to defuse the situation.

  “Now, I know that everyone here has a bone to pick,” the woman huffed. “We’re an unlikely match of heroes, and if we aren’t careful, we’re going to spend all our time trying to kill the next person, while we’re supposed to be focused on stopping the Alfreds. It’s what they’re expecting from us. We can’t give in to that.”

  Aunt Anastacia flipped her hair over her shoulder, looking haughty as could be. “We must look beyond our differences and whatever has gone before us. It’s hard. It’s almost impossible, but remember what we’re facing here. Remember what failure means. And think very hard before you say something that will piss off your partner.”

  She gave them time to think through what she’d said before she continued. “Because the moment this team starts to unravel, that means we’ve failed, and the Alfreds have won. That means Emily and Michael will suffer a fate worse than death, and they will definitely die afterward.”

  She paused at that again, and this time the men—Everet, Dad, and Kendrick—got the message. Emily heard every one of them sigh.

  “So what do we do?” Dad asked.

  Everyone turned to Emily.

  “You’re our only hope,” Michael said to Emily. “Would you do it? Would you get Marion to give us his blood so we can use it against them?”

  “Yes,” Emily said without thinking. “I’ll go right now.”

  6

  Emily knew not to let herself think about what deceiving Marion would entail; it was better to go along with it and think about the implications after.

  “Good,” Aunt Anastacia jerked her chin down in a curt nod. “So here’s the plan. We need to rally the troops. John, Everet, Kendrick, head over to the vigilante station. Get everyone to come in. Onboard everyone and explain the threat we’re currently facing.”

  “That’s a bad idea, Ana,” Dad warned, using his sister-in-law’s nickname no one else used anymore. “From what I’ve heard so far, the Alfreds are really pissed at us. Popular targets will be the first hit. For instance, the vigilante office by the lake. I’ll wager they’ll hit that place soon, if they haven't already.”

  “That’s right,” Everet agreed.

  Again, Emily didn’t know if Everet really agreed with Dad or if he was simply sucking up, considering the truth about him and Mom. This time, Dad didn’t seem upset by the man’s response. He only nodded.

  “Be that as it may, we need to take that risk,” Aunt Anastacia asserted. “We need the troops rallied and on board, so that when it’s time to strike, we can strike once and hard and fast.”

  Emily’s irritation sparked at her aunt’s response. “You mean putting dozens of lives in danger of decimation is a risk you’re willing to take?”

  Aunt Anastacia glared at her. “Don’t interrupt me, Young Lady.”

  Emily scoffed at her. “And what do they do if the Alfred kids come knocking? You said it yourself, nothing short of a hole in
the heart, explosion, or decapitation can stop a witch or warlock. And I doubt they’ll come to the vigilante building unprepared.”

  “She’s right, Aunt,” Michael said, jumping in. “We can’t leave our dads and Kendrick and a host of other honest people with families in the building to be slaughtered like pigs. We need another plan.”

  “Not necessarily,” Everet said.

  “What do you mean?” asked Aunt Anastacia.

  “I mean, we can rally the troops without going back to main HQ,” reasoned Everet. “We have a secondary HQ. It’s a secret facility that was built last year. Not even the Russos know about it.”

  “Where is it?” Anastacia looked interested now.

  “It’s underneath the high school,” said the vigilante boss. “It’s a basement facility that we turned into a hideout-slash-secondary-base in the case we’re overrun by supernaturals. Plus, I don’t have to make any call to anybody. We have a signaling system. Once it’s triggered, every trained vigilante knows to assemble in the basement. All I need to do is go to the HQ and trigger the system.”

  “But that doesn’t solve our problem,” Emily voiced. “Even if we successfully rally everyone to the basement without tipping off the Alfreds, they have magic. They can easily trigger a location spell and locate us in the basement.”

  “I can cloak the basement,” said Aunt Anastacia. “But for it to be effective, everyone would have to be scanned for magical tracers. Some of your people might have been tagged by the Alfreds already. If they are not assessed by me or Michael, they might lead the Alfreds to our hideout.”

  “How about a barrier?” asked Michael. “Like the one you set up in the cottage.”

  “That’s going to take all my energy to set up,” countered Aunt Anastacia. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be unconscious at such a time as this . . .” She paused. “That settles it. Emily, Everet, and Kendrick, you’ll go to the vigilante building and trigger the signaling system. You’ll also grab all the supplies you can and meet us in the basement.