The Witch's Protector [The Protectors 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  A sea of faces met her in her living room. Not a space was unoccupied, and several people sat on the floor or leaned against the wall. An air of expectancy filled the space, and power surged through Joanne, as she fed off the emotions of the assembled paranormal beings in the room. Rebecca smiled at her, and Joanne’s spirit lifted, seeing Rebecca’s husband cradle her daughter’s tummy.

  Rebecca’s worries were unfounded. Her lion loved her to distraction and this time, their baby would stay. It was not information she was going to share with Rebecca, but, judging by the huge grin Leon wore, he knew that, too.

  The crackling fire drew her and she held out her hands to warm them. An ember fell, sparks singeing the rug, and Henry’s eyes appeared in the dancing flames. Just like the first time she’d seen them they drew her in, and Joanne fell back under his spell. When she blinked he was gone, and she turned around to see Ronan and Tina had slipped into the back of the room. One of the duck shifters blanched when Ronan’s bear growled at him and the man hastily offered his chair to Tina. She sat down with a grateful smile, and Denver James hurried off, and found a spot on the floor as far away from the bear shifter as he could. Amusement bubbled up in Joanne. Ronan was the village Protector and thus sworn to protect all of them, but folks still got wary around him. With good reason, to be fair. Ronan Bernhard had managed to do what countless Protectors before hadn’t. He had eradicated the particularly nasty cell of vampires that had plagued the village for the last fifty years, by taking out their queen. It had almost cost him his life at the time, and a shudder went through Joanne at the thought of what could have happened. After all, she knew first hand of the power that evil bitch had held. She pushed the disturbing thought away and concentrated on the people in the room, instead.

  Their village was unique in more ways than one, and today was the day she told the story of how they all came to be. She smiled at her friends and neighbors and spread out her arms.

  “On this Hallow’s Eve I welcome you, my friends, to celebrate our village and all of its uniqueness. On behalf of the council let me extend my gratitude to the Protectors here.” She paused to give a little bow to them all. Ronan, Leon, Eva, and Sasha. “We truly appreciate all that you do.”

  A murmur of agreement went through the crowd, and Joanne continued.

  “As those of you who’ve heard me tell this tale before, will know, this unity we now enjoy was hard earned, and thus we protect it with all of our being. Everyone here in this room has and will contribute to this in some way. Be it small or large, let’s continue to do so, and embrace all beings alike, as long as they wish us no harm.”

  Again that collective murmur could be heard, and Joanne took her seat in the big plush chair by the fire, and began her tale.

  “This all began on All Hallow’s Eve fifty odd years ago, when I…”

  Chapter Two

  All Hallow’s Eve 1957

  Cumbria, England

  Joanne watched the clouds gather in the sky, pulled the collar of her thin jacket higher with one hand, and peddled faster. She shouldn’t be out now, not with a storm brewing, and the shadows lengthening. Hence she’d taken the shortcut across the field to get home faster. No one in Middle Brook dared to be out after dark, especially not on All Hallow’s Eve.

  She knew the risks better than most, but she couldn’t avoid coming to the aid of Mrs. Beasley in labor. Joanne had stayed with her all through last night and the long arduous day today, until, Amy had finally given birth to a bouncing baby boy. It wasn’t often that Joanne’s midwifery skills were called upon, as most women chose to travel to the hospital to deliver. Amy Beasley, however, had had all of hers at home, and she’d completely refused the notion to attend the hospital when Dr. Jackson had suggested she might consider it for her fifth.

  “Why then would I be doing that, doctor? Miss Lilley has been here for all the others, and I’m sure she’ll manage just fine with this one, too.”

  Dr. Jackson had rolled his eyes and positively glared at Joanne. The good doctor and she did not see eye to eye. Many of the villagers chose to rely on Joanne’s herbal remedies, instead of calling out the doctor. They paid her in eggs, and livestock, and it was an arrangement that worked well, and meant that Joanne could live quite comfortably in her little cottage. Even now her basket was filled to the brim with fresh eggs, homemade bread, and smoked salmon, caught and prepared by Mr. Beasley’s own hand.

  Yes, as long as she made it home in one piece, she would have a lovely meal tonight. A chill wind whipped up around her, and she willed her legs to move faster. The corn stalks whipped her bare legs as her skirt rode up further, and her front wheel hit a rut. The bike lurched sideways and she almost lost her balance.

  “Heavens above.” Joanne managed to right herself and continued cycling at a more sedate pace. Things that went bump in the night would be the least of her worries if she fell off her bike and broke her neck. She murmured a protection spell as she cycled. Her powers were far too unpredictable, until she met the right man to help her channel them, but it made her feel better to try. At this rate she wouldn’t manage to latch the gate to her haven until it was dark, and goodness only knew what lurked out there.

  Without having to be told, even the humans locked their houses tight, and stayed inside at nightfall. According to the authorities a serial killer was on the loose. Joanne smirked. She guessed you could call it that. The creature which had chosen to terrorize this sleepy English countryside didn’t seem interested in procreating, just feeding and killing the humans, and shifters alike it happened to find.

  When her foster mother had first explained the reality of their life here to a wide-eyed and heartbroken Joanne, her sixteen-year-old self hadn’t known what to believe. It was one thing to know the woman she called mum was a white witch, but to be told she wasn’t her mother, and that Joanne was destined for great things—yeah, that, she hadn’t signed up for.

  “Your mother was a great and powerful witch, my dear, from a long line of single witches, who can trace their ancestry back to the beginning of time. It makes what I can do a mere party trick. I was honored that she placed you with me to keep you safe. She left you a letter. I was supposed to give it to you when you came of age or found the person you’re destined to meet, but this illness has robbed me off time. Promise me, you will read the letter when you turn twenty-one or meet him—whichever comes first, and keep your emerging powers hidden. He will protect you when the time comes, but, until then, there will be many who will wish you harm, so hide your true self, sweet girl.”

  With her last breath, Rebecca Lilley had pressed the dog-eared letter in her hand. True to the promise she’d made, Joanne hadn’t opened it until her twenty-first birthday the previous year. What she’d learned had rocked the very foundations of her beliefs. At least it explained why she could now move things without touching them, and her hands could heal people. It had certainly helped Amy tonight, when her baby had refused to turn.

  Mind you, there was no sign of whoever she was destined to meet and that was just fine with her. Who had time to put up with the follies of men?

  The bicycle lurched again, as it hit another rut, and Joanne swore under her breath.

  Concentrate, and stop being maudlin over the past. You need to get home.

  A fox screeched in the distance as though to mock Joanne, and the long drawn-out howl of a lonely wolf sent shivers down her spine. Wolves were no longer native to the UK, but this part of Cumbria had plenty of them—the shifting kind that was.

  If one of the humans spotted them they usually thought they were wild dogs, a myth the two warring wolf packs were keen to circulate.

  That was another reason to make it home, and fast. Where there was one, more were sure to follow, and Joanne had no wish to encounter either the Mongrels, or the Lupines.

  Really, what had Middle Brook ever done to be right smack in the middle of those two motorbike gangs’ territory? It was bad enough to see them roar through the quiet villa
ge during the day. Encountering them in their other form was not on Joanne’s to-do list. No thank you.

  She smiled grimly as the edge of the field came up and she could see the strip of road that would take her home.

  The roar of an engine being gunned to the max and the dull thud of something hitting the ground fast sent adrenaline rushing through her system. What on earth had just happened? Someone was hurt, and hurt badly, she could tell that much. The wind brought with it the coppery smell of blood, and her senses picked up the agony of whoever was injured.

  By the time she reached the road, she saw the old army truck shoot past her. To her horror whoever drove the thing slammed the gears into reverse, and proceeded to drive back at high speed, right to the spot where either a wolf or a dog lay in a pool of blood.

  Not thinking of her own safety, considering the twilight that had now descended, Joanne dropped her bike, and ran out onto the street, waving her arms.

  “No, stop, you can’t. No!”

  The truck roared past her and then screeched to a halt mere centimeters away from the dazed-looking animal. The dog, wolf, whatever it was, struggled to get to its feet, but it would be no match for the truck, the driver of which seemed determined to finish the job. The fact this seemed to be a deliberate act of violence made bile rise in Joanne’s throat and she swallowed hard. She couldn’t make out the driver in the growing gloom, barring a white face and a shock of dark hair and then she was blinded completely, when he chose to put on his headlights.

  The unknown driver gunned the engine again, this time aiming straight for her, and Joanne managed to throw herself out of the way just in time. The impact with the road stung, and she was pretty sure she left several layers of her skin behind on the rough ground, but at least she was alive. Thank all the elements, the driver also kept on going and disappeared around the bend as the road twisted.

  This left the injured animal, which gave an almost human grunt of pain, as it tried to get to its feet again and failed.

  Lying in the middle of the road like that, it would get itself run over by anyone else coming down this street. It was quiet, too quiet in fact. Even the birdsong had stopped and Joanne felt a shiver of foreboding travel down her spine. This couldn’t be good. She had to get that beast off the street and herself home.

  Joanne approached the animal cautiously. It lifted its head and she was struck by the human quality in its expressive eyes. They seemed to look straight through her, and her heart beat faster at the jolt of recognition that seemed to hit her.

  No, it can’t be. Not here, not now.

  The wolf shifter, for she was quickly beginning to realize that was who this must be, struggled to his feet, and she surged forward.

  “No, don’t do that. You’re hurt. You’ll injure yourself further. I can help. Let me.” She fell heavily to her knees and winced at the sharp pain that shot up her legs at the impact. There went whatever skin she had left on her lower legs then.

  Joanne reached out to touch the side of the wolf, and a bolt of electricity shut up her arm. The wolf whined, but didn’t move away either. Undeterred she sunk her hands into his fur, and a wave of nausea hit her as they became covered in his blood. So much blood. They were sitting ducks here.

  Before she could close her eyes and concentrate on stopping the flow, the wolf growled and shook her off. Joanne ended up in an inelegant heap, sat on her bum. The last view was of the animal’s haunting eyes, as he turned his big head to look at her.

  In a flash he disappeared into the forest lining that side of the street, and Joanne cursed.

  Shifter or not he would never make it home to wherever he called home. She struggled to her feet, walked back to her bicycle and swore anew. All the eggs lay cracked on the ground, and the salmon was covered in mud. At least the bread seemed ok under its cloth covering.

  Night was drawing in fast now, and she looked longingly up the road. So close, yet so far, there, just past a few bends of the twisty road, sat her cottage. She would be safe there. Heavy protection spells set up by her birth mother would make sure of that. Joanne started moving in that direction until her feet slipped in the blood left behind on the road. Her gaze swung to the tree line, and the trail of blood she could see.

  By all the saints, she couldn’t just leave him like that. It went against everything she believed in. Besides, if he was who she suspected him to be, considering the instant connection she had felt to this shifter, then she had to make sure he was okay.

  Joanne sighed and, murmuring protection spells again, set off to follow that trail of blood into the forest.

  * * * *

  Fuck it, the witch made enough noise for a herd of elephants, as she followed him deeper into the forest. Every instinct Henry possessed urged him to turn round and protect her. His wolf was basically salivating with the need to touch the woman again, but that would just freak her out. Even in his pain-filled haze Henry had recognized the flame-haired beauty. Everyone around here knew Joanne Lilley. She was a regularly seen figure, as she cycled about on her little bike, helping those in need. Why, oh why did she have to witness this?

  Henry was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he owed her his life. There was no doubt in his mind that the truck driver meant to kill him. The only question was why, or rather, who would do such a thing. Henry had his suspicions, but right now he had more important things to worry about. Namely, why the fuck he wasn’t healing as he should, and how to stop his little witch from freaking out when she saw him shift.

  My little witch?

  His wolf howled his agreement, and Henry stopped dead. The answering howls and yips of his pack surrounded him. They were closing in on the little witch, and his wolf growled low in his throat. He sensed the fury of his pack, as they realized his state, but he couldn’t worry about that now. As furious as they were they wouldn’t harm the witch, even covered in his blood, not without his say so. He sent out a warning to them, and concentrated on setting one paw in front of the other. If he could just get to the safety of the pack house, then he could collapse, shift and hopefully heal. Every step he took hurt like the fucking bitch and it was sheer bloody mindedness that kept him going. That and the image of one little flame-haired witch whose touch had made him feel more alive than he ever had, despite the pain, and the worry gnawing at his insides. He knew what that meant, had felt the pull to her even from afar, but Henry had kept his distance. These were dangerous times and being associated with him and the Mongrels would get her killed.

  Pain shot through his middle and he almost crumpled as he cleared the last line of trees and hit the dirt track that led to the pack house and safety.

  A few more steps that was all. A female shriek from behind him made him swing his head round. His sensitive hearing picked up the sound of her bicycle being thrown to the ground, and then the frantic steps as she hit the ground running. The menacing growl, not belonging to one of his pack, set his hair on end.

  Fuck it, not now, not here on his territory. The night creatures were getting bolder, but then again with all this blood in the ether it was hardly a surprise. Nose in the air, he sniffed. His little witch’s terrified scent hit him square in the gut and made his wolf whine, but she was safe. Flanked by several of his men, they would make sure she got to the house safely, and that thing couldn’t enter.

  Henry picked up his awkward limp and huffed his relief when the house came into view. He shifted the minute he went past the threshold and collapsed.

  Chapter Three

  Oh, this was such a bad idea. Joanne picked up her pace, frustrated with her lack of progress. She wasn’t imagining the crackle of leaves and the snap of twigs behind her either. Someone or something was following her. At best it was members of the Mongrels, whose territory she stumbled into. Joanne didn’t need the warning signs to tell her that. There was something about this forest. It called to her on a primitive level, just like the injured wolf-man had called to her, too. She had no idea who he was, having kept herself
well away from either motorbike gang.

  Joanne had no wish to get involved in local politics, and besides, the letter her real mother had left for her had been full of warnings.

  As you come into your powers, you will find them hard to control. There will be those who will want to use you for their own nefarious ends. Stay away from the paranormal community until you know how to use them. Stay safe, my child, and never doubt that I loved you with all my heart. Giving you up was the only way to keep you safe.

  Dammit, why was she remembering all this now? Maybe because she hadn’t heeded those warnings, today of all days. Then again, the letter had also told her to trust in her instincts, and every one of her cells had urged her to help the injured wolf.

  It was all far too confusing to wrap her head around. She winced as she stepped into a hole and her ankle almost gave way. That was all she needed. The flash of white she caught in her peripheral vision made her freeze and drop her bike. It slid down the incline and from view, and made far too much noise. Holy moly she hadn’t even known there was a drop there. She couldn’t see much past a few feet in the gloom surrounding them. A wolf jumped up to the side to her—beautiful for sure—but also deadly. The gray eyes of the animal regarded her with an icy coldness that made her stumble on faster. Teeth bared, the wolf growled low in its throat, but it didn’t make a move toward her, even though it was close enough to touch.

  A movement to her other side made her swivel her head that way, and sure enough two more wolves circled her on that side, and judging by the heat she felt on her back. There were several lupines behind her, too.

  Oh shit. Joanne mumbled the expletive under her breath, and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted the dirt track. That had to lead somewhere. Hopefully to the man she was foolishly attempting to rescue. More animals came into view as she stepped on the track. It was as though the very forest came to live around her. Birds, rabbits, a couple of deer, even a beaver appeared on the track. It stood right in her way, in fact, and only moved at the snarl from the big white wolf still next to her. Everyone froze at the inhuman growl that sounded far too close, and then charged up the track. Joanne didn’t need telling twice. She ran, dimly aware of the animals around her. By the time the huge white structure of an old farm house came into view, her lungs were burning and she slowed, as the big white wolf next to her morphed into a man. A huge, muscled, naked man, whose expression was murderous. Before she could even grasp his intentions, his large hand was around her throat, and she dangled off the floor, futilely clawing at his hand to let her go.