Mated By Fate by Christa Wick

Chapter Fourteen

Lana woketo the muted sounds of torture and sizzling cracks of electricity. Bright, erratic light played against her eyelids, but she kept them shut, relying on her other senses to assess just how much danger she was in.

Mortal danger, she determined. The space around her smelled of a slaughterhouse that had never been washed down. Cold, damp air crawled over every inch of skin to reveal that her clothes were gone. So was the hood from her abduction.

The duct tape across her mouth remained. A heavy, chafing rope snaked tightly around her body from her shoulders to halfway down her shins, binding her to a flat surface that scratched against her backside like rough stone.

Following the anguished groans that had woken her, Lana let her head sag to one side then carefully opened a small gap between her eyelids.

Her gaze landed immediately on Esme, the woman's naked body centered beneath the source of the crackling that sounded like a blown transformer. It was a huge crystal formation attached to the ceiling. Lana recognized some of the stones Esme had instructed her on earlier in the week. Ametrine, alexandrite, black opals—gems that were sacred to the shifters and powerful conduits of magic when used by witches. But, instead of the small pieces they had used to cast with, the stones above were huge. One priceless piece of ametrine was as long as Lana's forearm and there was a black opal the size of a watermelon.

Thin blue streams of witch light strained from Esme's body upward to the crystal structure—as if it were sucking the magic out of her.

Magic and life, Lana determined as the witch's feet jerked and her throat convulsed with a choking motion. A fresh surge of light poured from where the skin covering her right cheekbone must have been split from a blow and elsewhere from other wounds too smooth and even to be from anything other than a razor or finely-honed knife.

Lana spotted other signs of torture on her friend's battered and bruised body. Every last finger visible was bent at an awkward angle that was impossible unless it was broken. And there were edges of fabric poking from beneath the duct tape across Esme's mouth.

Someone clearly wanted to keep the witch alive a little longer, but with no chance of her spelling.

Not with her words, not with her hands.

Proving Lana wasn't alone with her friend, a masculine voice chuckled at the battle being waged between the unconscious witch and the crystal structure trying to drain her.

"Like bottled lighting," he said, moving into view, his back to Lana as he bent down and licked across a wound on Esme's bicep. Straightening, he staggered back with a sigh.

"Nothing like her in generations. Those animals had no idea who or what they were sheltering all this time. But I know. I've always known."

Lana didn't need to see the speaker's face to recognize him as the man who had ambushed her in the van—the one who had proclaimed he would be a god after draining Esme of her power.

Was such a thing even possible?

Knowing she didn't have time for such questions, Lana gritted her teeth then surreptitiously flexed her fingers. No pain screamed through her at the effort. There was no wad of cloth in her mouth, either, just the duct tape. That meant she could still spell. Playing dumb to keep from hurting Gordon's feelings had paid off.

Speaking of the whiny rat bastard, he stepped forward from the shadows to stand by the other man. The healer's already curved spine was further bent in servitude as he kept his gaze on the ground.

"The latent is awake. I ask you to pay the price you promised. Give me her power now."

The man turned to study Lana.

"First let me see if she is as you promised, old timer."

Cracking his knuckles, he crossed to stand alongside her. Reaching one arm out, he placed his fingertips on her opposite shoulder, then mirrored the position on her other shoulder. His touch skimmed like something clammy and dead down her arms, lingered over her stomach, then moved down her thighs and shins to grip her by the ankles.

"I promised to give you the power of a weak latent, which is what you claimed her to be!"

"Quentin…" Gordon tried to bend his body into an even more subservient pose, but his joints were too calcified to save him.

Quentin bellowed a string of words that Lana didn't recognize as names until four men rushed into the chamber.

"Seize him!"

The nearest two took hold of Gordon, each wrapping a big hand around one of the old man's frail biceps. Their other hands rested on the curve of his shoulder and neck, their thumbs meeting atop his larynx and pressing down.

"You!" Quentin demanded of another. "Bring me my torch!"

Esme began to convulse more violently as the lackey ran from the room. Lana drew her gaze from the helpless Gordon to look at her friend.

Something was different.

The fingers were healed, their movement following the restless pattern of the twitching toes.

No, not twitching toes…witching toes.

Witching, not twitching…

Witching…

Deaf and blind to the blow torch that had been brought into the room, Lana concentrated on the movements of Esme's feet and the one hand she could see. As she mirrored Esme's efforts, the witch light stopped flowing upward toward the crystal.

Quentin remained oblivious, his expression ravenous as he moved toward Gordon with the lit torch.

"Don't make deals with the devil, old man." Quentin slashed the torch upward from Gordon's groin to his face, fabric disintegrating and skin melting with each inch the flame swept higher. "I promised you'd get yours. This is it."

A spear of witch light shot past Quentin to slice through the necks of Gordon and the two men holding him. They fell as one to the ground, the fire leaping from Gordon's clothes to consume all three bodies.

Quentin spun around, his gaze bouncing between Esme and Lana. The witch had freed both hands and was working to remove the duct tape over her mouth. Quentin lunged forward, the torch still burning as he shouted at his two remaining helpers.

"Grab the other bitch! Cut off her fucking fingers and rip out her tongue!"

Lana's bindings had loosened, probably as part of the spell she had mimicked she thought as she pulled her legs up, aimed, and kicked at the first man rushing toward her. She caught him straight in the face, his head snapping back with the force of her own muscles aided by the witch light tinting her skin blue.

Quentin paused, looked over his shoulder and smirked.

"Your sister Hannah didn't fight half as hard."

She froze, only her gaze moving as it landed on Esme just as the witch pulled the rag from her mouth.

"Can you hear the wolves?" Esme mocked with a voice as ominous as it was hoarse. "So eager to humiliate us with our bared flesh, you stripped away our cloaking charms. Now her mate is going to take your head and rip what's left of you in half!"

Time threatened to freeze for Lana, everything moving in slow motion. Even the words from Esme emerged distorted. Was she telling the truth or trying to distract as her newly healed fingers continued to cast?

"These walls have charms of their own," Quentin said.

His attempt at a cocky smile failed miserably as Esme looked up at the crystal structure.

"Maybe," she rasped. "But you gave me an antenna."

Pure, snarling hate ripped from Quentin's throat. He launched forward, crimson light flaring around him as he jerked one arm back and formed a fist. His fist shot forward. Esme's head snapped back, her body falling limp.

Lana opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. The terrified scream that had been building died in her throat, choked off by a familiar sense of safety. Her head jerked right to stare at one wall.

"He's here," she whispered, not quite believing that Seth had found her. Disbelieving yet praying at the same time that the rescue wasn't too late to save her friend.

The last of Quentin's helpers still on his feet sank to his knees. He seized a great iron ring attached to a metal plate in the floor, groaning and straining to lift it.

"We must escape, Q!" he screamed, the heavy plate finally relenting.

"It's never we," Quentin said, reaching beneath his shirt to pull out a pistol. "It's only me."

He shot the man by the opening first, then the one Lana had knocked unconscious with her kick. Aiming the gun at Lana, he smiled then disappeared down the hole, a final taunt echoing behind him.

Waste not, want not.

A fresh chill ran through her as she recognized his words as a parting threat. This would not be their only meeting. Quentin would wait until he had drained her power before he killed her.

The sharp knock of metal hitting stone whipped Lana's attention to her right. A second later, the wall on that side of the room was in pieces, two high beam headlights illuminating the dust-clogged air.

It took another second before she realized that none of the bodies near the vehicle were human. A shifter stepped into the light, his frame too big for her to believe she knew him. But she recognized his scent, the warm drip of caramel subduing the pure terror clawing at her mind.

The shifter contorted as he moved, bones popping and snapping, his size diminishing until it was clearly Seth standing in front of her, as naked as the night he had taken her in Esme's house.

His arms were around her in an instant, crushing her against his chest. "Lana, say something, baby."

"Esme…"

A low, howling whine drew her gaze to where the witch sagged in the arms of another shifter. The high beams bounced off red-gold fur. The strangled cries coming from Denver's throat reminded Lana of a dog she had found on the side of the road, the poor creature the victim of a hit and run. It had taken ten minutes to reach the vet's office. She would never forget those sounds.

Lana tried to fight her way out of Seth's embrace. "We have to get her to Camille. Right now!"

Seeing her intent to reach Esme, Seth shouted a command for the van's driver to take Lana and put her inside the vehicle. She kept fighting. She had to touch Esme, had to use whatever amount of healing magic she'd learned to keep her friend alive until they reached the witch's mother.

Seth tried to calm Lana. "Baby, his wolf is in lockdown, he'll shred you if you go near her."

"No." Sagging in Seth's arms, she looked at Denver. "Please, you have to let me help her. You love her. Don't let her die."

The change came over Denver with none of the grinding bones or popping cartilage that had marked Seth's shift.

Even human, he still seemed feral. Lana twisted to escape Seth's grip. His hands never left her shoulders as she cautiously approached Denver. Risking a light touch on his arm, she guided him toward the van. Climbing in first, she told Denver to place Esme so that she could cradle the witch’s head in her lap.

He obeyed, growling lightly when Lana brushed the hair from Esme's cheek and the witch winced. Seth tensed, the van's cargo door closing behind him. Trying to ignore the tension running through the two shifters and the third one driving, Lana focused on Esme.

There was swelling. Blood leaked from her ears and nose.

Too much blood.

Seth threw a blanket around Lana's shoulders then handed her a wet cotton square. She cleaned Esme's face, forcing the magic down through her fingers and into the split skin at the same time she drew power from the press of Denver and Seth on either side.

"You knew." Denver's voice was hollow, the accusation empty of any threat or anger.

"Quiet." Lana ran her fingers through the thick blonde curls matted with blood. Gently, she explored the scalp. Lana's hands tingled, more magic seaming to leak from Esme’s injuries into Lana than she could offer the witch in return.

The van took a turn too sharply. Denver threw one leg out, bracing his body to keep Esme from being jostled. Looking at the witch, his gaze slowly died.

"All these years, baby. You should have told me."

Lana fixed him with a hard stare. "Don't! She can feel you, even if she's unconscious. Don't accuse her. Tell her to stay with you. Tell her you need her to come back."

He nodded slowly, fire reigniting in his eyes. His hand caressed Esme's hip, slid under her back.

"No," Lana cautioned, sensing that he wanted to take the witch and cradle her close. Two weeks ago the glare Denver threw Lana would have frozen the blood in her veins. But not now.

She shook her head at him. "She stays exactly like she is until we reach Camille. You will obey me in this."

She looked at Seth on her other side. "How long?"

"Five minutes, Camille is meeting us at the nearest border house."

Closing her eyes, Lana lightly cupped the back of Esme's head and concentrated on the swelling at the base. She willed it to recede, her magic pleading and coaxing, her touch a gentle vibration disrupting the building pressure inside the witch's skull but never managing to make it recede.