I knew that Rafe must have done some horrible things to get himself insinuated in the FBI so easily. But that was an abstract notion, and I could tell myself the witches had done it for him; to get him into place without raising any alarms. But I didn't know for certain. I just knew what he'd told me; that Brant's partner was dead. He never admitted to doing it, but he never denied it either.

  I had just hoped.

  Faced, though, with the depth of corruption I could see in these witches, I had no idea how he could have survived in this world without being twisted to the same degree.

  I felt very alone when we finally made it to a pair of huge wooden doors that clearly marked the entrance to some precious inner sanctum. I was surrounded by witches and accompanied by a vampire I had come to trust through deed if not pact alone, and yet I was very much on my own when I crossed the threshold and got my first look at the All-Mother.

  Who was soon disregarded as my eyes landed on the fearful, tear-streaked face of Senior Operative Harlee Forster tied to a chair; clothes torn and bruises covering her body.

  Cat

  "Cat," Harlee croaked. "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay, Harl," I said. "I'm going to get you out of this."

  "How very sweet," the woman who had to be Ama said.

  She was dressed in red and black with over-the-top sharp lines to the cut of her clothing. She wore a tight-fitting jacket, an above-the-knee skirt that hugged voluptuous hips, and six-inch heels on her polished leather boots. I'd expected flowing dresses and patterned shawls, but what I got was Cruella De Vil minus the puppy skin coat. Although, I wouldn't put it past the leader of The Involition to have skinned a werewolf or two.

  I eyed the fabric of her outfit but couldn't decide if it was synthetic or not. It was probably best not to know.

  Her accent was faintly Spanish, I thought. From what I knew of the Basque, they came from an isolated region in Europe, their history lost to time, their language their own but clearly influenced by neighbouring cultures.

  She could have been Spanish or French or something entirely else. I was placing all my money on something else.

  Something undeniably beautiful.

  I didn't swing that way, but even I could tell she packed a big wallop. Long, shiny black hair down to her waist; trim, athletic figure; striking and shapely blue eyes; full lips and unblemished, cream-coloured skin. She oozed sex appeal and at the same time, somehow felt completely wrong.

  My eyes met hers and I saw acute intelligence there, mixed with an uncompromising ruthlessness and well-established immorality; there would be no changing this woman's mind; no reconditioning her psyche. My fingers ached and my stomach flipped at that thought; making me taste bile on my tongue. The wrongness I sensed was horrific.

  I wondered if anyone else could tell how rotten to the core this gorgeous creature was or whether it was unique to what I was as a witch. I also had to wonder if I'd lose that skill when I was indoctrinated into the evilness that was The Involition. How had they let it come to this? How had they not seen what she was beforehand?

  "You are not quite what I expected," Ama said.

  "What did you expect?" I asked, trying frantically to think of a way out of this mess. Delaying tactics weren't necessarily going to help us in the long run, but I needed time to acclimate to the fetid decay I could feel all around me.

  I couldn't sense magia, so this wasn't magic at work; this was something else and it tied into my precognition talent as my fingers buzzed stronger every time I thought of what I felt.

  That didn't help me, so I delayed for inspiration to strike. It wasn't forthcoming.

  "You look like us," Ama said, answering my question as though we were having a charming conversation and a woman wasn't tied to a chair in the room with us.

  I spared a brief glance at Harlee then. Her head sagged as if she were exhausted. The bruises I could see were changing colour already. I wondered if time ran differently in this pocket realm. Blood dripped from her split lip; so that particular injury was newer than the yellow marks marring her tanned skin. If she'd been taken this morning, her bruises should have still looked black or blue, not green or yellow.

  My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

  "I have Basque blood somewhere in my family history," I told Ama to keep the conversation going.

  "Of course you do; you're a witch. But who sired you?"

  "I don't know," I admitted. Admitting that wouldn't hurt me; it was public knowledge. "I was raised in the foster care system."

  Ama screwed up her nose. "How atrocious. A witch raised by strangers." She sighed. "What is the world coming to?"

  No one answered her.

  In fact, everyone stood very still, almost at attention; eyes staring straight ahead. Or in the case of Rafe: eyes downcast; not offering a challenge.

  "Well, the jagole has confirmed your use of magia, so there's no denying you are one of us. What's that saying?" she asked the non-responsive crowd. "'If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck.' You, witchling, are a duck."

  Well, that was one way of putting it.

  "Let Harlee go and I'll do what you ask," I said.

  "The human woman?" Ama looked at Harlee and sneered. Even her sneer was kind of attractive.

  It would have been more so if she didn't feel so slimy and putrid.

  "She's a human. Of no importance to you," I said, shrugging. "I'm what you want."

  "And I have you. No need for further negotiation."

  My chest ached, adding to all the other aches and pains in my body.

  "The invitation stated an exchange of treasures. Me for Harlee. That's the deal."

  "Then let us begin." She snapped her fingers and two witches came to life, stalking toward me. I couldn't run. Where would I run to? And I wouldn't leave Harlee or Rafe. But I also wouldn't do what they asked lightly.

  I shifted into a fighting stance; knees bent, body knifed, arms raised, fists ready to defend or punch.

  Something slammed into my front from the witch approaching on my right. I heard a scraping sound behind me as the witch approaching on the left raised her hand and flicked it as if flicking away a fly. A chair crashed into my legs from behind, making my knees give out. I tried to spin away, to kick out at the offending object, but the pressure on my chest increased and suddenly it felt like I was battling a rhino sitting on my body.

  The weight slapped me backwards. My butt hit the unforgiving chair, my hip took the brunt of the injury as I'd been standing in a fighting stance, so off-centre. My back twisted with the force in a way it was not meant to. The recent damage to my spine and ribs intensified and also made it impossible to fight to my fullest. Not that I thought I had a chance against magia like this.

  I tried to think of words that I could will true, but the pain and speed in which it all happened distracted me. I struggled in the only way I could. I shouted obscenities at the witches. I threw my head forward and tried to get purchase with my feet. But none of it mattered.

  In seconds I was bound to a chair, positioned across from Harlee. Just as compromised, just as impotent, just as hopeless as she was.

  Our eyes met. Harlee had been struggling too while I'd been fighting my jailers. It hadn't done her any good. She looked wrecked. Sweat glistened on her skin, a new bruise marred her face, and desperation and fear shone brightly from her eyes.

  "Enough!" Ama shouted.

  The room shook on those words. If it was magia, I didn't know, but the building felt it and I couldn't miss it because of that. I didn't fancy having to rely on shaking buildings to let me know when someone was wielding their magic though. It didn't seem like a survivable strategy.

  Ama slowly walked across the stone floor, coming to stand between me and Harlee.

  "You have no power here, witchling," she said. "You are untrained and as far as I can see, lacking any natural talent that could prevent what is about to happen. You are at my mercy, so I strongly suggest you stop fighting."

  "I'm not fighting," I said because I wasn't now. I was in agony, having difficulty breathing, and starting to feel very weak. "Release Harlee."

  Ama threw back her head and laughed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rafe's face come up, his eyes soaking in the sight of the bewitching woman laughing. It did sound nice; no cackling to be heard from Ama. Throaty, sexy, compelling. None of the witches looked at her like Rafe did right then though. It was disquieting.

  Ama noticed his attention — or maybe she'd planned to get his attention all along — and moved toward him. A sultry sway to her hips had him licking his lips, his gaze heating. She cupped his face, ran a finger over his jaw, and then leaned in and kissed him.

  There was nothing subtle about that kiss at all.

  Get your hands off him, I thought viciously; feeling an emotion I had no right to feel. Jealousy was not becoming but it also wasn't warranted here.

  I had no claim to Raphael Nonpareil. Other than the fact we shared a pact together. I put it down to that. It wasn't jealousy I was feeling but the desire to protect the only person in this fucked up world of theirs that I could marginally trust to get me out of here.

  Ama's hand jerked back from its punishing hold of Rafe's jaw, making her break off the kiss and spin to face me.

  "You would dare?!" she screeched. She took the few steps needed to reach Harlee's side.

  Before I had time to register what she was going to do, she backhanded my co-worker across the face and then from out of nowhere, produced a jewel-encrusted knife.

  A flash of light from the overhead chandeliers glinted off the metal of the blade, and then the sharp edge was covered in bright red blood as Ama sliced the knife down the length of Harlee's arm.

  Harlee let out a piercing scream, trying to pull away from her abuser. But there was no give in her binds and her struggles soon turned into pain-filled whimpers. Blood trickled over her skin and dripped to the stone floor beneath her chair. The sight of it was sickening.

  I panted for breath, straining against my own binds, shouting at Ama; threatening her with all I was worth. Frantic with fear and worry and consumed with fury and hatred. It was a volatile cocktail and it did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  "Cease this nonsense, or she'll lose an eye," the All-Mother said.

  I shut up. Breathless, shaking with rage, and aware she meant every word. I glared at the witch but held my thoughts close. I couldn't risk willing something true again. She'd known I had before. I hadn't even realised I was doing it, but she'd known the instant her hands had been forcefully removed from Rafe's body.

  "You have magia to spare," Ama said in a perfectly level tone. No evidence of screeching to be heard. "You could prove useful after all."

  I said nothing. I was all out of ideas.

  "Perhaps we should keep this one in custody to ensure your cooperation," she mused.

  I didn't think she'd need such a thing at all, once I was indoctrinated. From what Rafe had said, all one's will to rebel was quashed after indoctrination to The Involition. He only managed it because he was formerly a very powerful vampire and he'd been working at it for a very long time. Initially, he'd been powerless against the curse.

  It was why he'd argued so hard and long against me coming here. Indoctrinated, I would be useless to him for a long, long time. Maybe forever.

  Ama took a step closer to me, the knife turning slowly in her hand as if to mesmerise.

  "Let Harlee go and I won't fight you," I told her; my last ditch effort to get something out of this disaster.

  "Don't fight the indoctrination and she won't die," Ama replied.

  "Kill her and I will kill you."

  Ama smiled. "Witchling, I very much doubt that." Her eyes darted to Rafe and then back again. "Once indoctrinated, you will be mine. I might even have you watch us. He can be very inventive if given the appropriate stimulation. Perhaps your presence will entice him to perform above and beyond what he has so far been willing to provide." She leaned down and whispered in my ear. "Then I'll make him watch you getting bred. It should only take a half dozen of my most enthusiastic breeders to get you with child. How will dear Raphael cope with such a display of affection? It will drive him wild to be sure, but with the right spell, it will also ignite a fire. One I will help him douse with gusto, of course."

  Oh my God. She was insane. I looked up into her feverish eyes and did the only thing I could think of.

  I spat in her face.

  Cat

  The pain made it difficult to think, to breathe, to exist. But eventually, the All-Mother tired of torturing me and returned to torturing Harlee.

  For a brief moment, I was grateful for the reprieve. And then I was horrified at feeling such an emotion at all when Harlee was in agony because of me.

  Time had no meaning here, I was sure. It felt like she'd been at this for days, but maybe it had only been hours instead. Harlee had peed herself at some stage. She sat in her own urine and blood, pale when she was usually tanned, hair lank, eyes devoid of emotion.

  But she screamed when Ama wanted her to scream. Just like I did.

  A glass of water appeared under my chin, then. My tired eyes lifted to see Rafe holding the offering. He'd done what he could for me, darting in when Ama was distracted with Harlee. Easing my pain when I'd told him not to. He shouldn't show his hand like that. But without his help, I don't think I would have been functioning at all.

  At least I could recognise the sorrow and guilt on Rafe's face for what it was. He was sad it had come to this — either my torture at Ama's hand or the fact I would be no use to him shortly — and he felt guilty having been the one to bring me here.

  His guilt reassured me that he was in fact partly human. It was the emotion I clung to. His sorrow could be misinterpreted, but his guilt told a story.

  "How long?" I mumbled through the water he managed to get down my parched throat.

  "Half a day."

  "That's all?"

  "It's longer than she has played with her toys before. You've invigorated her."

  "Swell," I said, wincing through the pain of talking with a split lip.

  "She sees something in you that scares her," he murmured and then disappeared just in time for Ama to turn around and see me on my own again.

  I had no idea how Rafe did that, but he always managed to be somewhere else when the All-Mother returned her attention to me.

  I looked past the evil woman — pretending to ignore her — to Harlee.

  "Harlee," I called out, finding a little strength in rehydration. "Don't give up on me, Senior Operative. This is not the end. You hear me, Harl? Don't give up!"

  "How quaint," Ama purred from beside me. "You really believe I'll spare her. What have I done to make you think so little of me, I wonder?"

  Go fuck yourself, I thought with loathing.

  At another time, in another world and place, what happened next would have been funny. Ama's hand slid into the top of her skirt and travelled down the short distance to her crotch before she could stop it.

  She yanked it back out again before she had a chance to really start, but she knew exactly what I had done.

  The next few minutes weren't pretty, but I did manage to laugh a little at her response. And spit the odd mouthful of blood onto her shiny leather boots. They were covered in Harlee's pee and a mixture of our sweat and blood now and no longer looked sexy. But that didn't stop the bitch from trying.

  The other witches had long been sent away. Ama wanted to play on her own for now. I was thankful she hadn't brought in any of her 'breeders' as she'd called them. And I didn't really think the other witches could control the All-Mother at all, so their presence wasn't going to make a difference.

  But on her own, Ama seemed more unhinged if that were possible. She was enjoying our pain and torment way too much for my liking. I was growing more and more concerned she'd kill Harlee eventually, and possibly me as well. At the very least, she'd bring me to the brink of death and then indoctrinate me.

  I thought maybe strength at indoctrination would be handy. But I was all out of that and hope as well.

  The only other person she'd let stay in here was Rafe. She'd forced him to his knees off to the side and used magia to make sure he stayed there. But at some time during the past half a day, she'd either got distracted or he'd broken her hold because he'd started the little dance between sessions; bringing me water, easing my pain, giving me the courage to go on.

  I hadn't ever seen Rafe as the caring type. But despite not rescuing the damsel in distress, he did what he could to make sure she survived. I'd even caught him helping Harlee in between the screams and agony.

  Ama either didn't care what he did or completely missed it. Either way, we kept bouncing back. Me a little more than Harlee each time, but Harlee enough to keep living for now.

  I looked up at Ama as she took a breather. Sweat beaded delicately on her pale skin, her cheeks were flushed and her bosom rose and fell rapidly. She was angry and tired and full of life. The dichotomy didn't amuse me.

  Staring down at me with thinly veiled disgust, she stretched her neck and shook out her hands. My hands had nothing to say about that. I hurt everywhere and if my fingers were tingling, the sensation was lost in the noise of all my other body aches.

  Turning her back on me, Ama made her way to a chaise lounge that had been brought in near the beginning, but not yet used. Ama must have been exhausted. Torturing people could do that.

  She lay down and stretched out her body, partially reclined with her head resting on the back of the couch.

  "Tend to me, Raphael," she ordered.

  I saw the distaste on his face that was quickly hidden. I saw the reluctance to do her bidding. But whether she used magia or not, he answered her call. With what could only be labelled a glide, he moved seamlessly toward her. A predator enticing his prey.

  This was it, I thought. He'd make his move now. Get her to lower her guard and then knock her out so we could escape. Why I thought that now, after all this time and after everything that had happened, I don't know.