of how she’d once been captured and imprisoned. She’d needed the aid of an Eternal, of all things, in order to break free. Fine. She would be as circumspect as Fender.
“Excellent,” she said, laying one hand on the cool iron railing. “You have news, then?”
“A few nuggets of information, but sadly, our latest … guest … was devoid of anything interesting involving our ongoing project.”
Fabulous, Kellyn thought. The man was the most gifted torturer she had ever known and considering her background, that was truly saying something. If Doc Fender couldn’t get information out of a captured witch, then there was nothing to be found. Another dead end. Well, there were plenty of witches running around out there.
“Do you have any other guests scheduled to arrive soon?”
“Yes,” Fender told her carefully. “As a matter of fact, I’m expecting two friends later this afternoon.”
“Good. Be sure to tell me if they give you anything special.”
“Of course,” he said and his tone was even more unctuous.
Kellyn rolled her eyes and told herself she wouldn’t have to deal with him forever. “You’ll see that your current guest is taken care of?”
“Naturally,” he said, a whisper of insult creeping into his voice. “My assistant will see that she gets to her destination safely.”
Translation: One of Fender’s henchmen would kill the witch and dispose of the body. Apparently this latest witch wasn’t even worth holding on to at Fender’s lab. She knew very well that the good doctor had a holding area where at least a dozen witches were kept in captivity. They were the rare few whose genetic memories could be mined again and again through the judicious use of drugs and physical encouragement.
Those unfortunate witches would be held indefinitely as Fender searched for clues that would lead Kellyn and her partner to their own holy grail.
The focus needed to channel demonic power.
The Artifact forged by witches and fired by the flames of hell itself.
Once that priceless relic was recovered, there was simply no limit to what Kellyn would be able to accomplish. The world would be hers. Billions would kneel in supplication. Adoration.
And all that stood between her and her goal was a few paltry earth witches.
Chapter 23
“Bruja!”A shout in Spanish that needed no translation. Witch.
Rune instinctively grabbed his knife and crouched between Teresa and whoever was coming at them out of the darkness. His blood pumped furiously and if his heart could have beaten, it would have been pounding against his rib cage. Eyes narrowed, he split his attention between the witch he must protect and those who meant her harm.
He didn’t feel the presence of another immortal and that was good. At least he knew there was no Eternal lying in wait with the mortals determined to kill Teresa.
Three men charged from the shadows. Armed with knives, silver blades shining in the pale light that poured from the store windows, they came at Rune and Teresa in a rush.
Rune caught the first man with a shoulder in the stomach, then stood up quickly, tossing the attacker into the air to land hard on the dirt. He spun around to face the next man, big, with a scar on his cheek and dark eyes slitted in determination. Rune braced himself, all the while hearing his witch shouting in fury and her damn bird screeching.
He caught the man with the jagged edge of his blade but didn’t have time to enjoy the spread of red across his shirt. Already the fallen attacker had regained his feet to join in the strike again. The third man was heading around him toward Teresa, but the bird screeched, flew up and came at the guy’s eyes, claws extended. The man howled and dropped, lifting both hands to protect his face.
Rune grunted in appreciation and threw himself wholeheartedly into the fight. In hand-to-hand combat, his immense strength was an advantage that mortal men couldn’t hope to match. In his peripheral vision, he saw people racing into the narrow street to watch—or to help their fellow villagers. He didn’t know which. All he knew was he had to protect Teresa.
How had they all discovered so quickly that he and Teresa were there? Fixing his gaze on those still threatening them, Rune realized how it had happened. It was the old man in the store. Teresa’s magic had set off the radio and television and the old man had picked up on the presence of magic. He had sent the boy out to alert the other villagers. Or maybe