Rage and Ruin (The Harbinger 2)

It wanted out, that rage. It hadn’t ended with putting Misha down. It had started there.

Roth was correct. I wanted revenge, because Faye and whoever else had taken part deserved to die.

Layla had been hurt.

Zayne had almost died. I had no idea whether, if they hadn’t sold us out, that night would’ve gone any differently, but they’d played a major role in what had happened and they deserved to suffer lasting consequences from that night.

Faye deserved whatever was coming to her, but...seeking revenge wasn’t right.

I’d learned that when I was six years old and I’d pushed a boy at the park who’d knocked me over to get to the swing set. Mom had taught me that. She’d sat me down and explained that two wrongs never made anything right. Thierry had reinforced it numerous times when Misha and I were younger and I’d retaliated whenever he bested me in training by hiding his shoes or taking his favorite chips or cookies and eating them or throwing them away.

Man, I had been a little terror.

But anyway, killing Faye and her coven wasn’t the same thing as hiding Misha’s shoes or throwing away his favorite chips. It was more like what I’d done to Ryker after he’d murdered my mother.

I’d killed him.

Immediately and without regret.

No one had punished me for that. I’d never thought twice about the fact that I’d killed him. What I’d done didn’t seem to matter in comparison to what he had done.

This wasn’t the same, though.

Or was it?

Killing Ryker had been an act of immediate retribution. The crimes were different. Just like killing...killing Misha. It was the same. I’d had to do it.

Low in my stomach, my grace burned and pulsed. It was the source of my strength and power. A weapon welded from Heaven’s own fire coursed through my veins, and it wanted to be used. For what Roth was requesting. Confusion swirled. Shouldn’t it be shrinking away from such a request? Or was I wrong? Maybe I was supposed to do this, not because I owed Roth a favor but because the coven was indirectly tied to this Harbinger. When they’d helped Senator Fisher obtain the enchantment for the humans who’d attacked the community I’d grown up in, they had helped Misha and Bael, who were both connected to the Harbinger.

I thought about the Warden who’d died last night. And I thought about all those innocent humans who’d been infected and left to rot in the abandoned building. The witches hadn’t done any of that directly, but they were still a part of it.

I took a breath. It went nowhere.

“What if I refuse?” I asked as I stared out the window, seeing nothing.

Roth didn’t answer immediately. An eternity seemed to stretch out between us. “I don’t think you will, so why ask the question?”

I’d been wrong about that breath I took. It did go somewhere. Air swelled in my chest. Pressure clamped down as my grace pulsed like a hot flash. My thoughts raced as I tried to come to terms with the crystal clear fact that...I wanted to take out the coven.

I wanted to make them pay.

I wasn’t even all that furious with Roth for making the request. Sure, I was ticked off. The bastard was using my need for revenge to do his dirty work, but I also understood his deadly desire and that understanding dampened my outrage.

I started to reach for my phone, tucked away in the pocket of my jeans, then stopped, wondering who I was going to call. Zayne? Yes. That was who I was reaching for, and wasn’t that bizarre? It had to be the bond, because I rarely thought to ask anyone for advice. I kind of just did whatever without talking to anyone. Not Jada. Not even Misha before...well, before everything had gone to crap with him. What would Zayne say? I doubted he’d sign off on this.

Knowing him, he’d come up with a less deadly alternative.

I opened my eyes and looked at Roth. He was watching me in a curious way, as if waiting to see what I’d say even though he’d already claimed I wouldn’t refuse. “What if I can make Faye release Bambi without killing her?”

One side of his lips curled up in a secretive half grin. “Well, why don’t we see how you might accomplish that?”

* * *

“How are things going with you and Stony?”

I cut Roth a sharp look as we walked down the rather ordinary hallway of the thirteenth floor of the hotel where Faye’s coven regularly hung out. “I’m not talking about Zayne.”

“Why not?”

Straightening the sunglasses perched on my head, I said, “The list of the reasons would be longer than the time it would take for us to walk the length of this hall.”

“Give me the CliffsNotes version.”

“The number one reason is that I’m not talking about Zayne with you,” I stated.

“Because I’m the Crown Prince of Hell?” He slid me a knowing look.

“No.” I stopped. “Because you’re the boyfriend of the girl he loves, and talking about anything personal that deals with him seems wrong.”

“Hmm.” Roth halted. “Loves? Or is it loved?”

I met his amber gaze. “Aren’t you the one who not too long ago told me that he was still in love with her? That he would step over me to save her?”

“But he didn’t, did he?”

My head jerked back. “What?”

“The night at the senator’s house. When Layla was injured, he did not leap over you to get to her,” he pointed out. “He remained in the battle, fighting at your side—and that was before he was bonded to you.” He paused. “At least, in the metaphysical sense.”

I opened my mouth to tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about, but he was right. Zayne hadn’t left my side for Layla. What did that mean?

Nothing.

“You were wrong?” I challenged. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Roth shrugged. “It would be the first time.”

I snorted. “Really?”

He smiled.

“Look, it doesn’t mean that,” I told him. “And even if it did—and that’s an if as big as the entire continent of North America—we can’t be together. It’s forbidden between Trueborns and their Protectors.”

“What fun is it if it’s not forbidden?” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he wheeled around and started walking. “You coming?”

Making a face at his back, I hurried to catch up. He was humming a vaguely familiar song that was going to drive me crazy until I figured out what it was.

“You got a plan?” Roth asked.

I almost laughed. “Of course I do.”

That was mostly a lie. I had no plan other than to hopefully scare the Jesus into Faye.

Wait. Did witches even believe in Jesus? I had no idea.

“This should be interesting to watch,” he commented. “Nearly as interesting as watching you and Zayne train.”

I shot him a dark look as we followed the hallway around a curve. The restaurant came into view. All I could see above the tinted glass windows and walls of the restaurant at the end of the hall were dim ceiling lights.

How many people were inside? Were all of them witches?

Roth stopped, lifting his right hand. He snapped his fingers, and I heard a sharp cracking sound. The smell of fried plastic filled the hallway. “Camera,” he said, jerking his chin toward the corner of the hall. “Want to make sure there’s no evidence, just in case.”

Just in case...

I shuddered.

“Just remember, you can’t kill her while Bambi is on her—it will kill Bambi, too. Don’t do that.” Roth reached for the door.

“Wait,” I called, and he looked at me. “Was this something that just Faye would’ve decided to do—”

“Unless they went behind the Crone’s back, the coven is a democracy. No decision is made without the full support of the entire coven,” he answered. “They are not just complicit.”

Dammit.

I didn’t know a lot about covens, but I knew how powerful a Crone, the leader of the coven, was, and how insane it would be to go behind their back.

Taking out one witch would be easier to deal with than an entire coven, if it came down to that. Come to think of it... “How many witches are in this coven?”

“I really don’t know.” He turned away from me. “A little over fifty, perhaps.”

A little over fifty?

Fifty?

Sweet Jesus and baby llamas everywhere. Maybe all of them wouldn’t be here. I doubted Roth expected me to hunt down every one. That would be too time-consuming, and there was no way I could get that done before Zayne returned.

Sort of horrified by myself, I shook my head. Here I was, thinking about how time-consuming it would be to kill fifty or more witches.

What bad life choices had I made that had led to this moment in my life?

My eyes narrowed on the back of Roth’s black shirt. Oh, yeah. There. Right there. Agreeing to owe a favor to a damn demon prince. This was Zayne’s fault. Sounded about right. I mean, he’d introduced me to Roth. I was going to throat punch Zayne when I saw him.

Come to think of it, how had Roth known Zayne wasn’t home? Was it a lucky guess and that was what yesterday had been about? Roth hadn’t been bored, but had come hoping to find Zayne absent? Before I could ask, Roth opened the door, and the sound of jazzy music drifted out, along with the hum of conversation. The same dark-haired woman who’d been there the last time we’d come stood behind the hostess table.

She opened her mouth as the door slid shut behind me. I heard the click of the lock and knew that had been Roth’s doing.

“We’re not expected, Rowena. I know.” Roth stopped her with a raised hand before she could speak. “And we don’t care.”

The witch snapped her mouth shut, and something unholy burned bright in her eyes. A gleam that wasn’t entirely human. Sort of like me. Her gaze shifted to me and then away, as if I wasn’t a concern. “I’ll let Faye know you’re here.”