Heart of the Witch (4 page)

The first thing Jay Haleck noticed was the smell of Betadine. When he opened his eyes, he saw the brass ceiling fan with the frosted globes. He was in his bedroom. Or maybe he was dead and just
thought
he was in his bedroom.

A face materialized in the center of his vision: Marshall Weindot, the gay doctor from the hospital. The man had made it clear he had a thing for Jay. So what the hell was Jay doing with
him
?

Suddenly, Jay remembered. He had called Marshall after the incident, just before passing out.

Marshall gazed at him out of striking gray eyes framed by thick eyelashes most women would kill for. A lock of dark hair fell over his tanned forehead. He was almost too pretty to be a man. If Jay
were
a homo, Marshall was the type he'd go for.

"How do you feel?" Marshall's voice was the most masculine thing about him—oddly deep, in spite of his effeminate appearance.

"Not sure," Jay grunted. Then he knew. Pain seared deep inside him, ripping him apart. That bitch. She'd done this to him. But how? "Hurts. God, it hurts."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll give you some morphine. It's only been a few hours since the last dose, but with that injury—" Marshall broke off and walked away. He came back with a syringe.

"How long have I been out?" Jay asked as Marshall prepared the injection.

"A couple of days. You called me in the wee hours on Saturday morning. Today's Monday. I called the hospital. Told them you had an emergency and they'd need to have someone cover for you."

"Thanks," Jay whispered. Instant relief coursed through him as the needle sank into his vein. He floated on a sea of pleasure.

"You feel like talking? Like telling me what the hell happened to you?"

What
had
happened? Jay didn't know. But even as he figured it out, he knew he couldn't say. He remembered the agony of the flames, the terror rendering him immobile, fleeing the cabin, dropping to the ground to put the flames out. Then, the rustle through the woods. Someone was coming. He'd jumped into his car and fled, then… That was it. Next thing he knew, he was calling Marshall.

His hand went to his face as for one terrified moment he remembered the beard. It was gone. Yes. He'd removed it while he waited. Even in his pain-racked nightmare, he'd thought of that.

"It's… uh… a little embarrassing." His voice sounded thick, slurred. As if his mouth was filled with oatmeal. "I was with a… friend. She likes it a little rough. Know what I mean?"

Marshall nodded, and Jay saw the jealousy in his eyes. Maybe he should have told him he'd been with a guy. Marshall still might be jealous, but at least he'd think they both swung from the same side of the plate. Jay needed him right now. Needed his medical expertise and his discretion. But it was too late to change the story now.

"We were playing around. She tied me to the bed. There was a candle. The bedsheets… I don't know. It all happened so fast."

"You were alone when I found you. You called me. She didn't even bother to help you, call nine-one-one? Why were you in your car?"

So many questions. Damn. He couldn't think straight. "It's all a blur. She freaked. I freaked. I guess I took off. She was probably scared she'd get into trouble."

Marshall crossed his arms and shook his head. "And well she should. She nearly killed you. Those burns…"

Jay saw a delicate shudder move over the other man, who was clearly repulsed. And who could blame him? No telling what the damage looked like. If nothing else, this should cool his ardor. The guy probably wouldn't be so enamored of him now.

Jay slowly nodded. "I know."

"You really should go to the hospital. I've done all I can, but it's bad."

"Surely you understand why I can't do that? My reputation, my career…"My freedom,
my life
… but he couldn't say that out loud. "I can't."

Marshall shrugged. "I'll do the best I can, but you're in bad shape. Your penis was…" He looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath. "You won't have the same function you had before. Urination will be about all you can manage, and that will be difficult. You need treatment."

Jay choked through the ball of fear in his chest. "I'll be okay."

Marshall stood looking down at him for a few moments, then mercifully left him alone with his morphine-filled body and thoughts of the woman.

Ravyn Skyler. What in blazing fuck did you do to me? And how did you do it?

That was just it, though. She couldn't have done it. No possible way. So, what had happened? Had he simply stumbled into the fireplace? Lost his balance and fallen?

Yeah, right. Happens all the time. Not.

Besides. He remembered. Those eyes. Jesus Christ, those eyes! A whimper tore from his throat. Terror raced through his body, leaving tremors in its wake. Sweat beaded on his flesh. She was a demon. A demon sent from hell by his mother.

But that couldn't be. He had found
her
. She hadn't come after him. So, what was she? The question burned like the flames that had nearly devoured him.

It was a question he would get an answer to as soon as he recovered. He would ask the bitch face-to-face.

Ravyn clenched the phone against her ear and closed her eyes as Sheriff Whitehall fired questions at her. She'd regretted answering the call the moment she heard his voice.

"No, I haven't thought of anything else. No, you can't drive up and see me. It won't do any good. Yes, I heard they figured out he abducted women from all over the metro area and took them to the cabin in Cotton. No, I have no idea why he chose me." But I
bet he regrets it almost as much as I do
.

Whitehall said good-bye after extracting a promise from her that she'd call if she thought of anything. He also issued a warning that he wasn't giving up.

She replaced the receiver and sighed. Normally she enjoyed the solitude of her lake house, but tonight loneliness pervaded her soul. Dusk crowded the windows, bringing with it her favorite time of day: nightfall, when her secret seemed safer. Though lately nothing felt safe.

Afghans, handmade by the grandmother she barely remembered, adorned the black leather furniture, vivid splashes of bright color among the mostly black and red decor. The flames from several candles danced in the shadowy room, giving off the warm scent of cinnamon. The candles were the only source of light. Her upstairs bedroom loft, an open floor above the living area, was steeped in darkness. A red sheer curtain billowed with the cool breeze drifting in through the open window.

Ravyn curled her bare feet beneath her in the black papasan chair. Resting her head back, she closed her eyes. The Tin Man's face appeared on the inside of her eyelids. Her eyes snapped open and the image disappeared.

You have to stop him before he talks to someone.

Once again she felt the pain of hot steel on her flesh, and she shuddered. No. She couldn't face him again. But if she did, if she ever had the chance… Rage sank deep and sharp, a knife in her heart. The bastard should pay—not only for what he'd done to her but also for what he'd done to the others.

She hadn't taken much notice of the newspaper articles about the murders. Not beforehand. She seldom concerned herself with anything outside the small scope of her own world. But now she recalled the stories. The horrible things he'd done to those women.

Maybe he'd stop now. After what she'd done to him, how could he ever kidnap a young girl again? Also, there was a chance he had died from his injuries. But if that was true, she'd broken a law of her people: under no circumstances shall any member of the coven willfully take the life of another, be they witch or mortal.

A shudder ran through her. The truth was, he wasn't dead. She could feel him out there. Could sense his evil.
The evil I allowed to escape
.

I could go back, touch the room he held me in, see what kind of vibes I get.

But she couldn't do that. She needed to actually touch the person, to connect with their heart.

Sometimes it works without touching them. Sometimes you can just touch where they've been…

Needing a distraction from these tormenting thoughts, Ravyn uncurled her legs and stood. She opened the back door and stepped outside, breathing deeply of the fresh air. She walked across the yard, her bare feet sinking into the lush, damp lawn. Crickets chirped, harmonizing with the nearby sounds of laughter and rock music from late-season campers. They were probably on the other side of the lake, but sound carried quite a distance across the water.

Ravyn stood at the back of her property and stared out over the lake. The moon shone behind a narrow bank of clouds, a starkly white orb in a blanket of black. Large oak trees bent toward the water, the leaves glinting from the reflection of moonlight. She closed her eyes, lifted her arms to the heavens. The slow steady rhythm of her heartbeat calmed her mind.

An owl hooted, barely registering on her consciousness. A breeze pushed from the lake, caressing her skin. She could smell a campfire from across the way, mingling with the scent of moist earth. Behind that pleasant smell was the odor of something dead. She ignored it, concentrating instead on the healing scents nature provided.

"O gentle Goddess, bend to me thine ear. My thoughts are not one with our teachings. I have anger in my heart. Death has touched me. Be with me now. Cleanse me. Heal me. Ease my rage."

She stood silently, not moving. Time became something separate from her world. She had no idea how long she waited, but finally lightness filled her heart as peace settled around and inside her.

Opening her eyes, she squatted and plucked a handful of grass from her yard. She sprinkled the grass into the wind. A few errant blades blew against her lips. She flicked out her tongue. The grass tasted of earth and moon. Content for the first time in days, Ravyn murmured a prayer of thanks and turned to head back inside.

She caught a movement from the corner of her eye, someone just on the other side of her fence.

It's
him
.

The peace she'd found in her ritual left her like air from a punctured tire. She whirled toward the movement, her steps rapid and determined.

"Come out! I know you're there."

Her heart thumped in her chest as she ran on unsteady legs. The flicker of movement came again but quickly disappeared around the corner of her property. Ravyn quickened her pace.

Opening the gate, she stepped through just in time to see a figure disappear down the dirt road. A small figure. Much too small to be
him
. Ravyn recognized the intruder now—a strange old woman who lived down the road. They'd passed at a distance from time to time. Ravyn had caught the woman's gaze upon her more than once and thought she might be mentally challenged, because she always just stared and never said a word. Until now, Ravyn had never caught the woman on her property.

Why had the old woman been watching her like that? Ravyn didn't know. Maybe she needed to keep a better eye out. The woman might just be a harmless old busybody, but if she became too meddlesome, she might discover things she shouldn't.