A Lying Witch Book Four Read online

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A Lying Witch

  Book Four

  Copyright © 2016 Odette C Bell

  Cover art stock photos licensed from Depositphotos.

  www.odettecbell.com

  A Lying Witch

  Book Four

  This is it. Now it has to end….

  McCain has pushed through from the past, and he’s determined to hunt Chi down. She has to draw on every friend she’s made, every scrap of knowledge she’s learned, and every lie she can muster to fight him.

  If she can’t, she won’t just lose her life to McCain’s future, but she’ll lose Max, too.

  ….

  A Lying Witch Book Four is the thrilling conclusion to the A Lying Witch series. An urban fantasy cram-packed with action, it’s sure to please fans of Odette C. Bell’s A Frozen Witch.

  Chapter 1

  Max McCain

  He had to get the book.

  The contract of the so-called McLane curse. Without it, she’d have a chance. And he hadn’t come this far, waited this long to let her have a chance.

  McCain strode forward, boots slapping against the uneven bitumen.

  As he twisted his head from side-to-side, he noted the city around him. Words sprang to mind, and he subvocalized them under his breath. Street. Car. Building. Taxi. All words he’d learned from Max – his other side, his broken half.

  McCain grinned to himself, a wide smile spreading quickly across his lips as he tipped his head back and considered the sky above. Only moments before it had been roiling as a great storm cast the entire city into shadow. Now, the wind had abated, the rain turning into nothing more than a fine mist that left a smattering of water across his tanned hides and hessian shirt.

  According to common vernacular, he would have to ditch the costume.

  As he strode down the street, his sword shifting at his side and jostling against his leg, several cars slowed down, the drivers staring at him agape.

  He glared at them, his piercing gaze burrowing into theirs.

  Cattle. The lot of them. Nothing but a soulless, mindless herd. One ripe for controlling.

  For controlled they would become. But first things first, it was time to trap the seer.

  As he strode down the winding street, he saw an establishment to his left. Inclining his head to the side, he quickly realized the male garb modeled in the window by plastic humans would be appropriate.

  The store was closed, yet the lights were on. He flicked his gaze up to a small electronic box above the door, using his knowledge of the future to appreciate it was an alarm.

  It didn’t matter.

  He clutched a hand to the hilt of his sword, pulled it out in a strong move, and charged the blade. All it took was a single word muttered underneath his breath – a sharp, cold exhalation of air. Then the blade glowed with magic. Sparks poured down the metal, pushing through channels in the steel until the entire thing lit up like a line of pure fire.

  He thrust forward, slamming the sword against the glass, and the stuff melted. It splashed around his strong, sturdy boots in hot molten hisses.

  He ignored it as he pushed up and strode through the window.

  He considered the plastic human modeling male attire. It would do.

  McCain punched out a hand, wrenching the plastic human’s head off. He tore off its limbs, too, until the clothes it wore fell by his feet.

  He reached down, plucked them up, and considered them as the alarm blared through the shop. A red light flashed in the little electronic box above the door and passing cars sped up.

  McCain leaned down, plucked up the clothes, tucked them under his arm, and continued through the store.

  With a cursory glance at the racks, he wondered whether he would find any kind of tanned hide or the like.

  He didn’t. However, in the shop window beneath the counter, he spied several gold, glittering watches and something he had to search his memory before he identified – cufflinks.

  He walked up to the counter, spun his sword around in his hand, and slammed it down. The wood and glass shattered, melting into a pile of hot bubbly flame that splashed onto the carpet and instantly singed it to ash. The fire didn’t spread. Not without his command.

  He reached forward, considered the watches and cufflinks, and quickly grabbed up the most expensive.

  By now, the blaring alarm had increased pitch until it sounded like a new child.

  “Shut up,” he spat violently. Then, equally violently, he spun his sword around, twisting it in an arc. It sent a shot of red-hot flame blasting toward the door. Though the little electronic box that produced the alarm was outside, it didn’t matter. For, in one devastating blow, McCain destroyed the doorway, the wall around it, and the window on the other side.

  The alarm cut out and gave way to silence.

  Silence wouldn’t last.

  McCain sensed danger approaching. Or at least the little danger this modern city could provide. Its battles were banal, sedate, magicless.

  He searched his memory, a smile spreading across his lips. Something called the police would be coming – a weak, underequipped force ordained to protect the city.

  They would be no match for him.

  Let them come.

  Though McCain technically had time to walk from the store, instead he stopped, undressed and dressed in his new garb. Soon, he was standing before a tall mirror. On his sturdy legs, he wore a pair of pale brown, tailored trousers. On his torso, he wore a white polo shirt. He pulled the glittering, gold watch over his wrist and closed it with a snap.

  He stood back and considered his appearance. It would do.

  He had placed his sword on the ground by his feet, and now he leaned down and plucked it up.

  Just in time.

  He heard the screeching of tires from outside, the sound of cars riding up onto the pavement. Sirens, too. They split the air and shook the ground.

  McCain gave his appearance one last look before he turned the sword around in his hand.

  McCain knew from the memories of Max that in this time magic was a relative secret. Known only among the magical races, the ordinary populace was kept in the dark.

  Though Max, the dullard, had appreciated and upheld this secret, McCain had no need for it.

  He heard the scattering of feet as men jumped up onto the pavement. Then they paused, no doubt in sight of the completely torn apart door.

  He heard weapons being pulled from their holsters.

  McCain stood in the middle of the store, burnt carpet surrounding him, glass and splintered wood strewn at his feet.

  Four police officers finally found the courage to throw themselves through the door.

  With their weapons held high, they pointed them at Max.

  “Stay where you are. Drop the… sword,” one screamed, hesitating when it came to mentioning the sword.

  For it was still glowing. Glowing with ethereal fire. The kind of fire that cannot be explained by the simple minds of these men.

  Max tipped his head to the side and cocked an eyebrow. “I will not drop the sword,” he commented in an even tone.

  And his sword? He sent a pulse of magic into it, and the blade glowed brighter until its internal fire was unmistakable.

  He watched the men’s anger give way to shock.

  Though McCain found the interaction amusing and would have liked to revel in these simple humans’ confusion – he didn’t have the time.

  So McCain strode forward.

  The police had no chance. If McCain had wanted to, he would have sliced through them, cut them from ear-to-ear, his burning sword turn
ing their bodies into ash before they had a chance to hit the floor.

  He did not.

  He whispered a sleep spell under his breath.

  The men fell. And McCain pushed on.

  There was much to do.

  Much to do.

  Chapter 2

  Chi McLane

  We barely made it to the car before Max collapsed. His hand had been flat and warm against my back, his fingers brushing down toward my coccyx. It had been a goddamn pleasant sensation, but it hadn’t lasted.

  Max, on account of my hardly insignificant injuries, had chosen to drive. Then again, who was I kidding? Max always drove.

  He walked around the side of the car, opened the door, and then the strangest turn overcame him. I’d never seen anything like it in my life. It was as if a massive storm cloud plowed over his face. At first, I saw it in his eyes. His usually deep, soulful brown eyes – the kind of eyes that always drew me in and held me even if I wanted to kick the bugger. But now those eyes – they did the strangest thing. They almost flickered as if they were a candle and somebody had just crossed in front of them.

  “Max,” I asked, voice hesitant. A touch of a frown spread across my lips. My lips were still tingling from our kiss, but there and then they stopped.

  Max staggered. He reached out a hand and clutched the door for support, leaning down and pressing his face against the window. I doubted he was smelling the glass.

  “Max?” I asked in a more insistent tone as I got out of the passenger seat and staggered around to him. My body was very much still bruised and broken, but that didn’t stop me from lurching forward just in time as Max fell. His legs simply cut out from underneath him, his body slamming against the door. He tried to hold onto the metal frame, tried to recoup his balance, but his broad, strong fingers simply slipped off.

  Max crumpled against the pavement.

  “Max,” I screamed as I reached him, shoved down to one knee, and grabbed him by the shoulders.

  He was out cold, except his eyes were wide open.

  A thrill of pure fear stabbed through my heart. I’d never felt anything like it before. It was as if someone was trying to gouge the muscle free from my chest. That pure terror told me those wide-open, sightless eyes could mean one thing and one thing only: Max was dead.

  I crammed the back of my hand over his mouth. With the other hand, I searched for a pulse. I felt one – steady, rhythmic, low, but there. “Max,” I said more insistently now, clutching his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. But no matter how hard I shook, he would not wake.

  My heart continued to thunder as terror gripped me harder and harder. Though Max had been attacked on plenty of our adventures, he’d never just collapsed like this. I had no idea, no idea—

  Suddenly, I felt something. The strangest sensation. It welled in my stomach, split through my chest, and shook into my head. It was such a strong, visceral feeling, I had to clutch a hand to my brow, fingers almost slipping against my sweaty, blood-soaked skin.

  I felt woozy. I shifted hard to the side, clutching the door for support so I didn’t face-plant the comatose Max. But just as soon as that splitting, woozy feeling spun through me, it stopped.

  With fingers gripping the door tighter, I pressed a hand against my mouth. “What the hell was that?” I whispered. But there was no one to speak to; there was just Max. I returned my attention to him, giving his shoulders one last shake. It became rapidly clear that he couldn’t be woken.

  I shoved a hand into my pocket to grab my phone. But then I remembered it wasn’t there.

  I shoved forward, ripped jeans snagging against the wet bitumen as I plunged a hand into Max’s pocket and removed his phone. I slid my sweaty thumb over the screen, and fortunately the thing wasn’t locked. Immediately, I rang Bridgette. Not the ambulance, mind you – because I wasn’t entirely sure if a human hospital could do anything for a conked-out fairy.

  As the phone rang, I shoved a finger into my mouth and chewed my nail down to a stump. “Come on. Come on,” I whispered under my breath. “Come on. Please pick up.”

  Suddenly, the call went through. “Max, what are you doing calling me?” Bridgette began defensively. She didn’t like Max, after all.

  “Bridgette, it’s me. Shit, you’ve got to help me. You need to help me,” I stuttered over my words so badly they sounded like nothing more than a jumbled mix of syllables and breaths.

  “Chi?” Her tone instantly switched from one of defensiveness to outright worry. “What’s wrong? Where are you? The last I heard from Jim, the Lonely King had you.”

  “He doesn’t have me anymore. He’s dead. None of that matters. None of that matters,” I kept repeating as if I couldn’t think of anything more pertinent to say like that Max was broken at my feet.

  “Whoa, slow down. Chi, slowdown,” Bridgette said calmly. “Start from the beginning. Where are you, and why are you on Max’s phone?”

  “That’s the point. He’s… he is….” I took a shuddering breath. “Something happened to him. He fainted or something. His eyes – his eyes.”

  “Just slow down. Slowdown,” Bridgette said calmly. “What are you talking about? What do you mean he collapsed? Did he use too much magic?”

  “No. Yes. Possibly. But it wasn’t like that. He was walking to the car, and then, and then his eyes started to flicker as if a shadow crossed them.” As I said the word shadow, a truly cold feeling welled in my gut. I pushed backward, almost lost my balance and fell against Max.

  “Hey, are you still there?” Bridgette asked, voice quick.

  “Yeah. Still here. But you’ve gotta come and help me. I don’t know what’s happened to Max. He’s out cold, and I simply can’t wake him. He did use his magic, but it doesn’t seem like that caused this. Something happened to him, Bridgette. Something happened to him.”

  “Okay, stay where you are. I’ll come get you.”

  It sounded like a reasonable demand. I was hardly in any state to drive considering my injuries. So why did I suddenly frown? Why did I suddenly shake my head? “No,” I said in a strong tone that was miles away from the fear pounding through my gut. “I don’t want to stay here. I’ll drive the car to you.”

  “You sure?” Bridgette questioned in a tight tone.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I made my point by locking one hand over the door and heaving myself to my feet. I even managed to stop myself from crying out in pain. “I’ll come to you. Get the witches ready – Max needs help.”

  “It sounds like you need help, too, Chi. How did you get away from the Lonely King, anyway?”

  “Look, that doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you when I get there. Just have some kind of healing magic ready or something to save Max,” I begged one last time. Then I turned the phone off and concentrated on hauling Max and myself into the car.

  It wasn’t as hard as I originally thought it would be. Call it a mix of my frantic desperation and leftover adrenaline from my fight. I managed to open the door to the passenger seat, drag Max over, then haul him up in a single move. It was quite a feat considering my small frame.

  As soon as Max was in the back, I made his comatose, crumpled form as comfortable as I could. I lingered as I stared at his face, gazed into his soulless, open eyes. The description I’d given Bridgette had been no mistake. As I stared into Max’s dead gaze, it honestly looked as if shadows had permanently filled his irises, like squid ink engulfing an ocean. “Oh god,” I mumbled to myself. It better not be him.

  McCain.

  I thought of the incident that had transpired in Mary’s house, how I’d broken free of the spell and the warning McCain had given me.

  I winced, a few tears falling from my eyes as I shifted hard on my foot, planted a hand against the smooth metal of the car, and used it as purchase to shift around to the driver’s seat. I hauled myself in, groaning as my body felt like nothing more than a collection of broken bones and bruised flesh.

  I did my seatbelt up, gunned the engine, and pulled out o
nto the street. Just as I did, I shifted my head to the side. I saw… I saw a figure off toward the factory doors, marching with some purpose in the opposite direction. But just at that moment, a car passed me, and I had to turn my attention to the road. By the time I shifted my gaze back to the figure, he was gone.

  An unsettled feeling plunged through my gut as if I’d swallowed ice. I shook my head and concentrated on getting Max to help.

  “Just hold on. Just hold on. Max, please. Just hold on.” I kept begging, even though it was patently clear he couldn’t hear me.

  If I’d had the time to pause and reflect, I’d realize how much I’d changed in such little time. From the day Max had plonked himself on my doorstep and attacked me, my soul had told me he was my destiny. I hadn’t believed it until a few minutes ago. Until the kiss. But now I couldn’t hide from that conclusion. It was all I had.

  By the time I finally made it through town and reached Bridgette, I was a complete shuddering, jittering mess. It wasn’t just the after-effects of the adrenaline. It was something else. This building, niggling, ominous sensation climbing my back and spreading into the furthest reaches of my mind. One that told me my troubles were just beginning….

  Chapter 3

  I reached Bridgette. She was waiting outside for me and practically threw herself at the car by the time I pulled up to the curb. Then again, who was I kidding? I was in such a distraught state, I rode up on the pavement, tires spinning, smoke actually curling from the rubber.

  I managed to turn off the ignition, undo my seatbelt, and open the door. Then I pretty much collapsed. My knees chose that exact moment to give way.

  Bridgette was by my side. “Holy shit, kid. What happened? Crap, you’re covered in blood. How the hell did you manage to get away from the Lonely King?”

  “Like I said, I didn’t get away from him – he’s dead. That’s not the point, though. Help Max.” I shrugged out of her cast-iron grip. “Help him. I’ll be fine.”

  Bridgette shot me the kind of look that told me I definitely wouldn’t be fine, but she didn’t fight me on this, thankfully. She shifted past me.