“That’s fine. As long as you can assure me that you’re all right.”
“As I said, I’m fine.”
A forced smile tells me she’s lying, but I let it go. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Thank you.” She yawns, so I turn away, stopping just outside the doorway.
“I’m here for you, Bronywyn. You can’t lie to me.”
Her expression hardens. “Goodnight, Tarnley.”
With that, I head out the door, back outside, and go to retrieve my car.
* * *
“That was short-lived.”
I’d barely grabbed my car and made it to my damn bar before Delaney was calling to tell me of more dead witches.
“Tell me about it,” Walker says dryly, as we approach the back parking lot of St. Vincent’s hospital. She’d apparently called him, too, just as he was about to climb into bed.
My team is already on-site and working to clear up the mess, so I head over to them to check in, while Walker tosses a pair of jeans at the naked shifter.
“Busy night tonight,” Matt comments, as he watches one of the team members—a woman I don’t immediately recognize—zip up a black body back over the dead witch. “She’s dark,” he whispers. “Not entirely sure how Astor managed to take her out, but I’m impressed as hell.”
Even if he hadn’t told me she’d been dark, I would have known. Other than the fact that she’s obviously one of Lucy’s witches who escaped earlier, her dark power clings to the place like a parasite. Remnants of it are everywhere since the kill is fresh.
“Get it cleaned up as quickly as possible,” I tell him. “This is a fairly trafficked area.”
“You got it, boss.”
After offering him a brief wave, I head over toward Delaney.
“How did you manage to kill her? It’s impressive. Not many can take out a dark witch. Actually, I’ve never heard of a light witch successfully killing a full one.” I glance back over, inhaling deeply. “I can still sense the dark magic.”
“I didn’t.”
Brows drawn together, I turn back to her. “She looked pretty damn dead to me.”
“Bronywyn killed her.”
At the mention of her name, the pain in my chest increases. I stiffen, trying to quietly stretch the muscles of my chest and alleviate the pain. How the— “Bronywyn was here? I just saw her thirty minutes ago.”
Delaney nods, then glances up, meeting my gaze. Her body language is off, and I can sense the anguish. “There’s something you need to know, Tarnley.”.
“What? Is she—”
“She’s alive,” Delaney interrupts. “But she’s no longer the same.”
I lose the ability to breathe, the simple action momentarily stolen from me as I clench my hands into fists. If something happened to her— “What happened?”
“When Rainey and Elijah were attacked, he was hit with a ton of dark magic,” Delaney says. “It was killing him, so Bronywyn tried to pull it out.” She swallows hard. “When that happened, she was unable to destroy it because it seeped in and mingled with her own magic.”
I hear her words, the accusation in them, but it still doesn’t fully set in. Even combined with the shift in her I’d noticed earlier, I still don’t want to believe it…I can’t believe it. “What are you saying?”
“Bronywyn embraced the power, Tarnley.”
The pain in my chest, the unease I’ve felt all evening, the strange detachment from her earlier—is it possible that it’s linked to this? That everything I’m feeling is because Bronywyn has lost herself? “You’re trying to tell me that the witch I’ve known for over a century sacrificed her soul?”