The circle chanted in Latin, the fervor growing as the high priestess pulled a dagger from her robe. David set the goggles aside and drew his revolver, keeping the woman in the red robe in his sights.
She lifted the blade over her head, and David’s finger caressed the trigger.
Suddenly the woman screamed, dropping the dagger in the dirt and gripping her hand as she spun away from Agent Henderson. What the hell?
Greyson stepped out of the darkness into the flickering light of their torches and spat on the ground before lifting his gaze. “Consider this the only warning yer goin’ to get. I don’t give a shit what kind of dark magic ye conjure here, but if any of it touches Drake Cole or Heather Storrey again, I’ll be aiming for your head next time.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I don’t miss.”
Damn it. David lifted his wireless mic to his lips, whispering, “I’m coming in. Don’t blow your cover. We can’t lose the figurehead.”
Creeping in closer, he flicked his gaze from the circle to the pirate. David’s heart raced, sweat beading on his brow. This fucking pirate was not going to screw up this mission.
Greyson walked right past the high priestess to retrieve his throwing star from the ground. When he straightened, he also had the witch’s dagger, examining the handle.
David made his way around the circle on the edge of the torchlight, sticking to the shadows.
“How’d you get this?” Greyson held up the witch’s blade.
“None of your fucking business.” The high priestess focused on the coven, her voice taking on an animalistic hiss. “Binding spell. Now.”
Greyson reached for his gun, but the Latin chants froze him in place. Fuck. David wiped his brow. He had to get involved. Even if it meant losing the relic, he couldn’t be a silent witness to a murder.
“Everyone freeze!” He came forward into the circle like a freight train, gun raised and aimed directly at the leader. “I’m a federal agent. One move and you’re under arrest.”
The high priestess put her hands up and slowly turned to meet his eyes. Something about her face struck a chord. She looked familiar, but at the same time, he knew he’d never met her.
She lifted a brow. “You don’t look like a cop.”
“Special Agent David Bale.” He didn’t bother to remove his identification wallet. “You’ll need to come with me.”
“I have other plans.” She whispered some words in Latin, but before she could finish, Agent Henderson had a gun to her head.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” The high priestess lifted her hands again.
The circle was broken as the rest of her coven scattered, but David kept his gun aimed at the leader. She was the key to finding the figurehead. “You’re under arrest.”
Her lips pulled into a thin smile. “I don’t think so.”
David’s ears popped. He blinked. She was gone, leaving him and Agent Henderson pointing their guns at each other. “Fuck.” He lowered his Glock, shaking his head.
Agent Henderson holstered her weapon. “What happened?”
“Judging by my ears popping, it was most likely a blur spell.”
“I never saw her move, sir.”
David nodded. “A blur spell actually blurs time. To us it was the blink of an eye, but I’d guess she blurred at least five minutes to get a good head start.”
“What about him?” She pointed to the frozen pirate.
David mumbled a few Latin words under his breath, and Greyson stumbled forward.
“What the hell was that?” the pirate grumbled.
Agent Henderson stormed toward him, poking her finger into his chest. “That was you fucking up my undercover mission.” She took off the black hooded cloak, fire burning in her eyes as she turned toward David. “We should get back to headquarters and check the database. At least we both saw her face. Maybe we have her in our records someplace.”
Maybe. That would explain why she seemed so familiar, but…he was missing something. He could feel it. Usually he had a solid memory for details. If he’d seen her face in one of their databases for wielders of magic, he would’ve remembered. This was different. It was like she resembled someone he knew. If that were true, he should be able to recall the connection.
He ground his teeth, watching Agent Henderson’s back as she walked away. He’d figure this out.
“The woman in red.” Greyson came to his side. “She looked like Drake’s lady only…more color.”
That was it. Being in the dark and hyperfocused on protecting his agent, he hadn’t been able to place why she looked familiar. David rubbed his forehead, processing the information. She looked like Heather. Except Heather didn’t have a sister.
At least not as far as he knew.
…
Drake’s eyes snapped open. Someone was knocking on the door downstairs. He glanced at the angel dozing on his chest. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. What if the witches had attacked him?
But they hadn’t. And something about having Heather in his arms settled his tortured soul. She gave him a taste of hope for the future, which both terrified and intrigued him at the same time. He knew better than to get entangled with mortals. It wouldn’t end well.
But she made him forget about all that.
Another knock from downstairs.
Damn it. Maybe he could get rid of the knocker without waking Heather. He carefully slid out of the bed, settling her head on the pillow. She hummed but never opened her eyes. Satisfied she was undisturbed, he picked up his jeans and pulled them on then jogged down the stairs.
He cracked the front door and found Agent Bale staring back at him. The agent scanned Drake from his bare feet all the way to his lack of a shirt.
A muscle in his cheek clenched. “I need to speak with Heather.”
“Too bad.” Drake’s entire
