What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery Read Online Free Page B

to see if they listen.
    Adam lies face—well, what’s left of it—up on the bed, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. I close the door before rushing over to him to survey the damage. He is a hot mess. His blood is already seeping into the bedspread. His right eye is swollen, a nasty gash at the hairline is still bleeding, and bruises discolor his entire face. His wrists are raw and blistering from, I’d guess, silver restraints. Nasty, but nothing compared to his swollen right arm, broken without a doubt. My biggest concern is the huge red wet spot on his left side. I pull up his shirt and remove his makeshift bandage made from soaked napkins. Sure enough there’s a gaping wound. “Someone stabbed you?” I ask in shock as I press the towel against the gash.
    “It’s shallow,” he says through the pain. “Didn’t hit anything major.”
    “Will you be able to heal this?” Vampires and werewolves have super-healing, but I’m not entirely sure how much damage that encompasses.
    “N—no,” he stammers. “Used silver. Gave me something. Can’t shift.”
    “A potion? Who? Who did this to you? They didn’t follow you here, did they?”
    “No. I made sure of it.”
    Well, at this point if they come, they come. We’ll cross that bridge later. “Adam, you need a doctor. I’m calling Jason. He—”
    Adam grabs my arm to stop me. “No! He can’t know I’m here!”
    Jason Dahl is the Alpha, or head werewolf, of the Eastern Pack up in Maryland with, at last count, twenty-four werewolves under his protection. He’s also a member of the P.C.O., or Preternatural Co-Op, which is having its annual meeting a week from today. And guess who pulled the short straw for hosting duty?
    The P.C.O. was the brainchild of the head of the preternatural police (the F.R.E.A.K.S., or Federal Something for Extra-Sensory and Kindred Spirits), Dr. George Black, after the Goodnight Massacre and Vampire/Werewolf War in the early eighties. He recruited Granny soon after. Since all of us preternaturals don’t “exist,” we tend to stick to our own kind, thus the co-op. We meet once a year to talk about potential threats, concerns, or needs. This way if a Lord vampire (the ruler of a vampire territory) needs a spell or advice, he knows a witch to call. It’s probably why Adam chose my doorstep. But I thought Adam was Jason’s Beta, or second-in-command. He must be in a whole heap of trouble to not want his Alpha to know he’s here.
    “Adam you might bleed to death. Whatever you did—”
    “No! No,” he says with enough force to knock over a mountain. “I just need to change.”
    “You—I have to wait eight hours to add the last ingredient in a transmogrification potion. I don’t know if you have eight hours.”
    “It looks worse than it is, I swear it to you,” he pleads with both his tone and blue eyes. “You cannot call him. No one can know I’m here. No one. Promise me. Please. Please.”
    “Adam, I have two small children in this house. Whatever trouble you’re in—”
    “Mona, I swear on my pack, you won’t be in more trouble by having me here. I would never put your life in danger. Never. I swear it.”
    And the weird thing is, I believe him. I trust him. Don’t know why, but I do. What I do know is this is a bad idea. Very bad. I’ll be in the center of a shit storm if I’m not already. If Adam’s going against his leader and I assist, Jason might never forgive me, and he’s not the warmest of men in the best of circumstances. In fact he’s downright scary. His posture, the hard angles of his face, and especially the ice blue eyes that are always sizing you up as potential prey still freak me out. I’ve known him—we’ll I’ve known them both—for eighteen years, and I wouldn’t call either a friend. I only speak to Jason twice a year, once at the pack Christmas party and the other time at the summit, and that is more than enough. But Adam’s his best friend; whatever he did, Jason will