Bittersweet Blood (The Order #1)

“I’ve got her in the holding cells. She’s ranting that she hasn’t done anything, and that she didn’t know about the lockdown.”


“Maybe she needs to believe that’s the only reason she’s being held. I need the information she has first. Let me talk to her.”

“I’m going with you,” Tara said. “This is about me, and Chloe was my friend. I promise I’ll be good, stay quiet.”

She held her breath, waiting for his reply. After a moment, he nodded. “Okay.”

Piers led them into a lower area where the walls were bare concrete with fluorescent strip lighting. He stopped in front of a door and asked the guard, “Has she been quiet?”

“No, she’s been screaming to let her out. But there’s not much she can do about it—these cells are warded.”

Piers unlocked the door and Tara followed Christian into the room. Piers closed the cell door behind them and leaned against it.

They were in a rectangular room, empty but for a table and two chairs. Ella stood in the corner of the room. She was dressed in tight black leather pants and a black T-shirt and her skin appeared white against the darkness. Her eyes fixed on Christian briefly, then flicked to her, and Tara saw again that same malevolent hatred. But mixed with the hatred was shock. It was obvious Ella was surprised to see her.

Tara knew the witch was guilty—responsible for Chloe’s death.

Hatred welled up inside her. Her vision narrowed so all she saw was the other woman. She took a step forward, but Christian halted her with a warning hand on her arm.

It took a force of will to stop. Blood thundered in her veins and her breath came in quick, sharp pants. She calmed and stepped back to stand beside Piers, who took her hand in his and pulled her against his side. He stroked the skin of her palm with his thumb, which calmed her. Christian sank onto one of the wooden chairs. “Sit,” he ordered Ella.

She hesitated for a moment then sat in the second chair.

“So,” Christian said, his voice devoid of emotion, “do you have the information I asked for?”

Ella frowned as though it wasn’t the question she had been expecting. “The information?”

“The name of the warlock who made Tara’s talisman.”

Her face cleared, and she nodded. “I think so.”

“Think so?” Now his voice sounded deadly.

“I have it. I just can’t think straight in here.” Her eyes darted back to Piers. “Why am I in here? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Don’t worry,” Christian said and now his voice was soothing. “I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. You didn’t know about the lockdown. You won’t be here for long.”

Ella relaxed and it occurred to Tara that Christian was using his vampire powers on the other woman. It obviously occurred to Ella as well because she jerked herself upright and panic entered her eyes.

“The warlock, Ella, give me a name.”

She fought the compulsion hard. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. When she opened them, except for the nervous twisting of her hands on the tabletop, she appeared back in control. “You’ll let me go if I tell you?”

“You know that’s not up to me, but if you’ve done nothing wrong there’s no reason for Piers to keep you here.”

She seemed to come to a decision. “Jonas Callaghan,” she said. “The warlock who made the talisman was Jonas Callaghan.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded, the movement jerky. “We have a file on him. He lives in London. There, I’ve told you. Now can I go back to work?”

Christian sat back in his chair. The mask dropped from his face, taking with it all signs of civilization.

“Hey,” Piers muttered, and Tara realized she’d gripped his hand tight, her nails digging into his flesh. She dropped his hand, and he shook it. “You know you have quite a grip for a human.”

“Now,” Christian said, “perhaps we can get to the other matter.”

“What other matter?” Ella sounded shaken.

“The matter of betrayal.”

She looked around wildly. “I haven’t betrayed anyone.”

“I don’t believe you. Why were you running?”

“I wasn’t running. I just had something I needed to do. I forgot about the lockdown.”

Christian slammed his fist onto the wooded table. “Tell me,” he growled.

Ella licked her lips. “If I tell everything, will you let me go?”

“No. But I will make you an oath. We have just left the body of a young woman. She’d been tortured, raped, and mutilated. That woman’s last few days will seem like a party compared to yours if you don’t talk.”

“And what happens if I do talk?”

He shrugged. “You’re not my responsibility. Piers must decide.”

Tara frowned. Would they allow the witch to go free after what she had done? She made to step forward, but Piers shook his head. Tara remained where she was but vowed that the witch would die for Chloe if Tara had to do the killing herself. The thought surprised her. She’d always hated violence. Now the need for this woman’s death was like a living thing.

“Talk.”