Marked By Magic by Christa Wick

Chapter Six

"I'm telling you,"Jet whispered from where he stood to the right of Denver as the shifter teams converged near an old mansion built from sandstone. "She didn't lose any power taking out those Hunters. It all snapped back to her."

Ready to slap a gag on the young wolf, Denver turned his head just enough so he could glare him into silence. Whatever had happened with Esme in the woods during her unsanctioned walkabout, Denver felt the massive increase in her strength. Maybe it was the wolf hearts held close to her body in the satchel she wore.

All that mattered to him was that she was safe and healthier than when he had left her at the van. She didn't need to draw on a wolf's energy just to walk. As far as Denver was concerned, if Esme needed to suck every last Hunter dry to stay alive, he would hold the bastards down himself.

A pickup truck whipped off the ground and flew through the midnight air. He jerked, his rifle sweeping to the right in search of a target and finding only his sweet, fierce mate. She indulged in a small smile as the vehicle her magic had flung hit the side of the mansion, caving in the wall.

"No more!" someone shouted from inside the building.

The voice sounded masculine, but pitched high in excitement or terror. The mansion's front door jerked inward. A Hunter emerged, the tip of his pistol pressed against the temple of a latent named Tavi.

Denver could detect no trace of tears on her bruised and dirtied face. She looked pissed. The fingers on one bound hand moved in familiar patterns. The fingers on the other bent at odd angles and didn't move at all.

"Just let me go," the Hunter shouted. "And you can have the women back."

Calculations flipped through Denver's mind. The man sought only his own safety. That could mean the other Hunters were dead, he was a coward, or he was stalling until a trap could be sprung or reinforcements arrived.

Denver looked at Esme. She shook her head as images began to fill his. The other latent from Himrod was dead inside the mansion, her body broken. The Hunter holding his gun to Tavi's head had killed Kahlea for pleasure.

"Your boss won't like losing the woman," Esme shouted. "But then, you've already failed to bring him the cub and wolf hearts."

As the Hunter heard her words, fragments of the last few minutes flashed through the man's mind. Esme caught and re-broadcast them to Denver. The entry hall in which the Hunter sheltered was scattered with two dead compatriots, their bodies shriveled to the point they looked like mummies.

That likely meant Quentin was still in the building—unless the coward had fled into the woods.

"Tavi," Esme called to the young woman. "Whatever you feel next, don't be afraid."

Blue light poured from the latent. The Hunter's first response was a startled step back, his face drawn tight and his lips peeling away from one another.

Kill him.

The words buzzed in Denver's head. He had a clear shot as the man cringed away from the protective veil of energy surrounding Tavi. Denver squeezed the trigger, felt the recoil first, then heard the shot. The bullet knocked the Hunter backward into the house, the round piercing his heart.

The veil dropped and Tavi ran toward the location where Philia took cover next to Colt.

"Quentin is here," Esme shouted. She nodded toward the mansion. "Somewhere inside and he had freshly fed on at least two of his men."

Denver felt a collective shiver run through the wolves under his command. Tightening his grip on his rifle, he moved to intercept Esme before she could enter the mansion alone.

"You're not going in first, love," he said.

She slowed her pace. Iris and Cade caught up.

"Grab your team and bring the vehicles up," Denver ordered Fray before turning his attention back to Esme.

Immense power continued to ripple through her. The sensation brought him hope that she was actually healing from whatever malady had taken hold of her body and not just feeding off the energy emanating from the satchel strapped across her chest.

"It's the wolf hearts," she said, dashing his hopes. "For a time, they will hold more power than Thane or Zeke contained while they were alive."

"I wonder what he was going to do with them," Iris said, her voice pitched low.

Esme didn't reply, just moved to step over the dead Hunter. Denver intercepted her before she could cross the threshold. She cupped his shoulder, tried to convince him with the flow of her magic to let her lead.

"I can see ahead of us," she said when he still wouldn't budge.

"Then you can stick close, love, and whisper in my ear."

Relenting, she gave him a nudge forward.

Cade and Iris followed in second position, Fray and Colt close on their heels and checking each desiccated Hunter to make sure there was no life left in the dried husks.

Spotting a side corridor along the entry hall, Cade swept his rifle in its direction and approached.

"What the hell is that stink?" he said, gagging and pressing his nose against his shoulder.

"Curious," Iris said, then glanced at Esme. "Can you smell it? "

"Quentin went this way after he killed his men," she answered. "The magic is so dark and pervasive in this place that you're no longer the only one who can smell it."

She pointed at a rune carved into the side of the wall. "It's charmed as one of his safe passages, as well."

Denver shook his head as the others looked at him for instructions

"It's a tight squeeze," he said. "We're sitting ducks moving down it single file."

Esme turned a slow circle at his reply, her eyes closed and her arms outstretched. The tips of her fingers glowed with witch light. The wolves could feel the flow of air as it began to whip around her.

"There's another way," she said, coming to a stop and pointing at the open doors of a large room filled with dirty mattresses and Nadine's dead body.

She pointed at a door leading out of the other room.

Fray and Colt swept the area, Colt's steps slowing as he passed the latent's body.

Reaching the door, Fray opened it and huffed.

"This is every bit as narrow."

"But it doesn't stink," Denver said, taking lead once more. "Guard our six."

The short hall led to another one, with a series of steps and landings going down.

Denver signaled for Fray to hold position at the top.

Reaching the last set of steps, he stared at the iron door at their end. Esme gestured left.

"He's on that side. There's another exit."

Her fingers danced and her face wound tight.

"I feel it, but don't see it. Some kind of cloak on it."

"Baby, why are you crying?" Denver asked, his voice almost too low for her to hear.

She swallowed roughly, shook her head, then gently straight-armed him until his back was flat against the wall, her magic working to hold him there as she sensed danger.

"Nooooo!"

The howl of terror came from the other side of the door, the voice masculine. Denver recognized it, his blood heating at the memory of Quentin taunting him. He would never forget what the bastard sounded like. It didn't matter if Quentin was crowing or pissing himself in terror.

Before Denver could decide how to breach the door, Esme blew it off its hinges. She surged into the room, her magic still pinning him in place. A bolt of witch light flew from her fingertips, her target out of view.

Feeling her magic release him, Denver raced into the room. Esme's dart had missed its mark, the wall behind where Quentin stood cracked and blackened. In front of the man, something rested on a stone altar with a knife lodged in what could only be described as its stomach split open.

As Denver took aim at Quentin's head with his rifle, he had time to think the thing looked like a slimy red version of the dummy humans used to teach first aid.

He pulled the trigger just as the floor dropped out beneath Quentin.

"Escape hatch," Cade said, rushing to the spot and aiming his rifle down a square hole.

"Stop," Esme ordered before Cade and Iris could chase after him.

Approaching the altar, she removed the satchel holding the wolf hearts and opened it. Denver watched her body slump as she lost physical contact with the hearts.

"Love, what the hell—"

He stopped as Esme worked the hearts into the dummy's belly.

"There's a cub inside her," she said, her voice hollowed out. "He wanted to harvest it before he left."

Her hands covered the surgical line Quentin had cut, magic flowing from her palms to seal the wounds.

The dummy started to thrash on its altar. Iris joined Esme, mirroring the words Esme spoke until the creature quieted.

Denver caught Esme as she collapsed.

Iris got on the radio and ordered Jet to bring the latents inside and down to the chamber.

"No," Denver argued, a thick brush of hair erupting along his chin as he reasserted his authority. Turning to Esme, he rested his hand on her back, pushing his energy into her.

"Baby, can we move it?"

"Not it," she answered, sinking to the floor. "Her."

Still examining the creature, Iris shook her head. "If we move…her, the cub will die."

Jaw set, Denver looked at the thing, then at its stomach. Moving upward, his mind recoiled at the almost face with its sea-green eyes. His first impulse was to destroy it, but the cub would perish and he had no idea what the physical effect would be on Esme.

"I need to study this place," Esme said, looking up at the others at last. "There are wards all over the house and property to keep us from seeing it. Harrow Mills and the site Quentin took me and Lana to after kidnapping us had no wards. Neither was a permanent location. This one is."

She paused, made sure she had the attention of everyone in the room.

"And it's right outside the clan's doorstep."