Read Online A Witch's Fury by Kim Schubert - Free Book Online Page A

historical district close to downtown. I
hadn’t thought to call ahead. I probably should have.
    I had stopped mid-knock, waiting outside on
their porch, listening to the slamming and the yelling. I could
feel the anger, fear, and pain radiating from the house. I was
debating coming back later when the door flew open and Mark fled
the scene. If he saw me, it didn’t slow his progress.
    I waited off to the side of the open door,
expecting Jerry to run after him. I think Mark did as well, as he
stared at the open door from his car, with misty eyes and labored
breaths. Slamming a hand against the steering wheel, he threw the
vehicle into reverse and fled the quaint house they shared
together.
    Blowing out a breath, I secured my own
emotions behind thick barriers before crossing the threshold
uninvited.
    “Go away,” Jerry groaned, standing at the
cart bar and pouring himself a drink. His bloodshot eyes took a
moment to focus on the fact it was me and not Mark.
    “Wanna talk about it?” I asked, closing the
door softly behind me. His eyes followed the door painfully until
it clicked shut.
    “No,” Jerry whispered, his dark skin a
contrast to the cream sofa he fell onto.
    He no longer resembled the carefree youth I
had met not too long ago. Before me now was a weary soul who, like
me, had done and seen too much. The scars left behind didn’t leave
much room for the love of a good partner, like Mark.
    Even if we were both trying—well, he was
trying. I was trying to forget.
    “What do you want?” he asked, dragging his
bloodshot eyes to my own.
    I sat at the edge of the sofa, facing him.
“The witches are up to something.”
    He scoffed, standing and throwing his glass
in the same movement. It shattered against the far wall. The effort
threw him off balance. “I don’t KNOW ANYTHING, Olivia. Why are you
here?” He rounded on me, bellowing, “Why can’t you go kill
something, torture someone, to get your information? Why do I have
to be your liaison to the witches because your piss poor manners
and ‘poor me’ excuses grant you leave to do anything you want?” He
moved to make another drink, stumbling. “Oh right, I forgot, your
boyfriend—” heavy emphasis of, “ left you . He finally
realized you were more trouble than a fuck was worth.”
    I was aware he wasn’t really angry at me, but
the digs stung, anyway. In that moment, hurting him would have felt
wonderful. Clenching my jaw, I stood. I really wanted to tell him
where to shove it, but I wasn’t risking the tears that would make
me weak, so instead I just turned and left.
    He called after me, “Shit, Olie, I’m sorry.
Mark wants to adopt a shifter and I—“ I closed the door on his
words, exhaling a ragged breath.
    I’d forgive him, but not today.
    I slammed the door of my SUV and called
Becky. My fingers clenched the steering wheel with deadly
force.
    “Yo boss,” she greeted me, chomping on
something probably high in sugar.
    “Prep the trespassers. I’ll be there in
thirty.”
    I could hear the grin in her answer, “Yes
ma’m.”
    …
    I don’t typically keep prisoners. But when a
space was needed for interrogation in the short term, we had an old
farmhouse outfitted with soundproof rooms and all the toys a girl
like me could ask for.
    I had both vampires strung up by their
wrists, toes brushing the old concrete flooring. Running my fingers
over cold metal blades of various sizes, I hummed soothingly to
myself. The third one had died shortly after I arrived in town.
    Having made my decision, I sat down in front
of them on the tacky vinyl chair liberated from the ramshackle
farmhouse kitchen.
    “So, who would like to speak first?” I asked,
pointing the blade between the two of them.
    Stiff shoulders and clenched jaws met my
request, eyes riveted behind me.
    I sighed happily. “I was really hoping you’d
say that.”
    …
    Six hours later, both the vampires were dead.
I had wanted to prolong their demise to send a message, but I