The Bound Witch

by Ivy Asher

  A group of soldiers scream as they charge me, their magic battering against my walls of power, frantic and desperate. Before they can even get close to my protective cocoon, I send missiles of antlers through the air and pierce their skulls with them. The group falls dead before their bodies even hit the ground. Marx steps into my view, and hope ricochets through me. If we can get close enough to each other to regroup, maybe I can hold them off long enough to jump the ley line somewhere else.

  I press closer to Marx and Elon, gritting my teeth against the effort it’s taking me to crush so many protections at once. I try not to let the sheer number of soldiers gunning for us overwhelm me, but a pit in my stomach opens up and alarm crawls over my skin all the same.

  I’m so fucking close though. Less than ten feet and Elon, Marx, and I will be together again.

  Wildly I start scanning the horde for Rogan again, hoping against hope that he’s somewhere close by. Something to the right catches my attention, and my manic gaze lands on a familiar face. He’s dressed in an Order uniform, not looking nearly as suave and in control as he did in the crisp cranberry-colored suit that day the High Priestess cornered me in an Order interrogation room. His dark brown hair is disheveled, and he’s watching the fight with a disgusted look on his face like he expected our immediate and utter annihilation and doesn’t understand how it hasn’t happened yet.

  I recall that he’s a Contegomancer, a very dangerous one, and I switch the direction I’m headed in from trying to get to Marx and Elon to this fucker instead. Maybe if we cut the head off the snake…

  I don’t get time to finish that thought before the High Council member snaps something to the line of Order members next to him. I follow his tight gaze, and that’s when I notice the guns.

  Horror and shock explode through me, and I can’t even scream a warning to anyone before the deadly cadence of semi-automatic fire erupts everywhere. The line of Order members fires into the bedlam, taking down any moving target with no care to whether it’s friend or foe. Bone white sparks start to burst all over the walls of magic I’ve encased myself in, and the threatening ping of bullets fills my ears. I whimper, helpless and terrified, as I feel the same metallic assault against the shields I’ve wrapped around the others. I’m stopping the bullets, but for how long?

  Hysteria tries to take over as I reinforce all the barriers I’m holding around everyone. A fervid, stinging power wraps itself around my protective walls of magic and starts battering away at me. It feels acidic and repulsive, and I want to tear my magic away from the contact, but doing so means dropping my barriers. I grit through it, but it gets infinitely worse when that same magic begins to assault the barriers protecting Rogan and the others. The other magic starts to scald me, and I scream with the effort it takes to fight it off, but it’s stuck to my power like cloying, corrosive sap, and I can’t get it off. More bullets fight to pierce my magic and end this battle, and tears begin to sting my eyes from the pain and the struggle it takes not to give into it.

  Fight, Lennox! I snarl at myself, refusing to give up. Show these fuckers what you’re made of.

  Just when I reach into myself again, demanding more power to combat the bullets and the burning of the Contegomancer’s magic, something strange happens. My magic suddenly feels wild, like it’s trying to jerk free from my control. I struggle to hold onto it when pain erupts in my thigh, and I’m knocked to the ground. I cry out, looking down frantically to find blood pouring out of my quad. I recognize the familiar heat and burning sensation that a bullet causes, and I immediately know I’ve been shot...but how?

  My protections were up, I was… I look up, agony welling in my chest as a primal scream rips out of me. I reach for my magic, trying to get my protections back up. Somehow I lost my hold when I got hurt, and now each and every one of them is vulnerable. My terrified eyes find Marx as I rush to get barriers back around him and the others. His eyes widen with shock for a fraction of a second, the sound of gunfire drowning out my soul wrenching plea, and then a bullet rips through his forehead.

  15

  I watch as the light disappears from Marx’s dark brown eyes. Eyes that were filled with laughter and teasing less than thirty minutes ago. Eyes that have continually offered me a warm look of friendship and loyalty since the first time I met him. Eyes that I know with excruciating certainty will never look at any of us again.

  Anguish sears through me as I watch Marx’s body fall lifeless to the ground. I get my magic walls back up around the others just as the tether between Rogan and me ignites with heartbreak and pain. I can’t see him, but I know Rogan’s watching his friend fall right before his very eyes.

  I was too late.

  A soul-shattering lament fills the air, and tears spill down my cheeks as the man I love shatters with loss. I can’t breathe, as the shock of what just happened tightens around my chest like a vise. There’s a brutal pull on my magic as Rogan taps into more power than just his own, but I do nothing to stop him.

  He can drain me dry if it helps him avenge the horror of what just happened. It’s the least I can do after fucking up so heinously. I don’t know how I’m ever going to forgive myself, let alone ask Rogan to forgive me. Grief claws at my soul, but I try to shove it away. We need to get out of here, or next it will be Prek, and after he’s just another body lying on this destroyed field, the High Council will test how many times Elon, Rogan, and I can die, and just how painfully, before one of us gives them anything they want to make it stop.

  I feel sick at the thought, and desperation drives me to push back up on my feet. I cry out as I try to put weight on my wounded leg. It hurts like a bitch, but I can at least hobble. Order members slam against my magic-made barriers, their faces contorted in rage and hate as they fight and fail to break through and kill me.

  Anger once again begins to boil in my blood, and I scream with violent and vicious fury before shoving feral untamed magic out at every enemy in my way. I limp and watch as they begin to melt from the inside out. I don’t know if I’m attacking their bones or their blood or both, I just know I want them dead so I can get to the others and we can run.

  Screams and pain dance all around me, but all I can see and feel is Rogan fighting savagely as he tries to purge the grief and rage he’s drowning in right now. His green eyes are locked on the Contegomancer, his face promising pain and retribution as the evil High Council member watches back arrogantly from the top of the little hill he’s perched on. His smirk is taunting, and I read his lips as he orders the soldiers next to him to reload and fire at will.

  Rogan’s fighting to get to the High Council member, shattering bones and spilling blood as he slowly makes his way closer. I can feel the Contegomancer focus all his acidic power on Rogan’s sluggish advance. I want to scream. I want to rage and avenge Marx. I want to rip every Order member on this field apart with my bare hands, but we need to go. We need to survive. We need to run and prepare so the next time we go head-to-head with the High Council, we crush them once and for all.

  I turn, frantically searching for Elon and Prek. I need to get to them and then convince Rogan to get to us so we can get the fuck out of here. More bullets fill the air all around me, ricocheting off my barriers. Instinctively I duck, terrified that somehow a shot will break through like the one that’s currently buried in my thigh. Order members go down all around me, and disgust fills me at the careless waste of life.

  It’s revoltingly clear that the High Council is corrupt beyond hope, but each and every one of the soldiers who are shooting at their own people without question or hesitation deserves to rot in fucking hell. I spot Prek, and my heart leaps until I see that he’s carrying Elon’s limp body. I think Prek is hurt; he seems to be favoring his right side as he drags Elon closer to the ley line running through the field and parking lot.

  I start limping for them, fear burning through me as I make my way, and I steal back some of the magic Rogan is syphoning from me and reinforce the barriers around Prek and El
on. I can’t tell if Elon is dead or just unconscious, either way it reinforces the driving need I feel to escape as soon as possible.

  “Rogan,” I shout in my mind, hoping it somehow gets his attention through the tether, but he doesn’t look my way. I shove more of the panic hammering through me at him, but I must weaken my shields when I redirect the magic, because the next thing I know, I’m spinning from the impact of a bullet in my side.

  Fire fills my veins as the bullet tears through my stomach and out through my back. A feral scream crawls out of my throat as a new wave of pain assaults me. I press my palms to the wound, and dark red blood slips through the seam of my fingers, all too quickly darkening the front of my shirt and pants. Surprise stifles my thoughts, and I try to shake away the lethargy that’s trying to set in.

  All I see is bodies. Everywhere. The sun, still hidden in the clouds, dips lower in the sky, and the trees surrounding us blanket the lost with their shadows. Too many vacant glassy eyes stare off at nothing, while others lie on the ground, writhing in pain, injured and calling out for help or their loved ones. Order members run around trying to provide medical assistance to their friends and team members, while other soldiers stay focused on the fact that they’re still supposed to be attacking us. It’s mass confusion, loss, and bloodshed that will taint this once peaceful place forever.

  Tears slip out of my eyes as I look away, not wanting to see the carnage anymore. Rogan’s moss-green gaze finally finds mine, and I stagger a little, struggling to stay on my feet. Magic drains out of me, and I fight to call it back, mentally putting a stopper on my source so my protective barriers don’t get any weaker. My vision tunnels and then focuses as I try to breathe through the hurt and fear pulsing out of me and dripping to the ground.

  Rogan’s face crumples with alarm, and he abandons his efforts to get to the High Council member and turns to come to me. In the distance, over his shoulder, I see the Contegomancer’s face contort with fury, and he strides off his hill and moves into the fray. Order members rush to get out of his way, parting like a school of fish for a shark.

  I refocus my efforts to get to Prek. Elon still isn’t moving, and I suspect he’s been mortally wounded. My heart clenches at that thought, but he’s come back twice now, and I have to believe he will a third time. Prek is almost to where the parking lot pavement meets the field, which is the exact angle the large ley line runs. He turns to see me hobbling after him, and I can see the debate in his eyes, about putting Elon down to come get me.

  “Don’t you dare,” I yell at him.

  I don’t know if he heard me or just read the manic look in my eye screaming for him to hang onto Rogan’s brother at all costs. Gusts of wind start to blow Order members away. Out of nowhere, a sheet of icicles flies through the air like daggers, digging into some witches’ barriers or into the witches themselves if their wards are cracked. I realize that Prek is trying to clear a path for me, his elemental magic strong and relieving. I tamp down on the spark of magic envy that ignites in me as another burst of wind allows me to close the distance.

  “Thank fuck,” Prek sighs as he runs his eyes over me, his gaze fixing on both of my wounds before lifting back up to my face. “Elon was shot through the neck. He’s dead, but he’ll come back, right?” Prek demands, his tone frenzied and panicked.

  I reach out and squeeze his shoulder, offering him a comforting look that I’m pretty sure looks more like a grimace. “He’ll come back. Just hold on to him until he does, okay? Your only job from here on out is to watch over him until he’s awake again.”

  Order members surround us, and they renew their attack, sensing that we’re within arm’s reach of escape. Different branches of magic bombard us, but it’s easier to strengthen the one shield now protecting three of us than it was to reinforce separate shields for everyone.

  I swallow down the relief that streaks through me now that the three of us are back together again. I want to exalt the fact that I made it here, but we’re not nearly out of the woods yet. I look behind me to find Rogan knocking Order members out of his way. Further back behind him, the High Council member is doing the same.

  “Can you feel the line, Prek?” I ask, my voice frantic as I watch Rogan pushing to get to us. “I can keep you protected while you apparate the both of you out of here. Is there somewhere safe you can lay low for a bit?”

  Prek starts to argue with me, loading his mouth with all the reasons he shouldn’t leave us behind, but I silence him with a glare. “Prek, if Rogan and I can’t get away, you and Elon will need to get us out. You have to go. Is there somewhere safe you can think of? Or a way you can get back to Rogan’s house? You’d be safe there.”

  My gaze pleads for him to listen, and his eyes bounce back and forth between mine for a moment before I see resignation settle into them. He scrubs at his face with a shaky hand and repositions his fireman hold on Elon.

  “Yes, I have somewhere we can hide out until we can figure out where to meet,” he tells me, and I nod my head, eager to get him and Elon out of here. “You’re a good witch, Lennox,” he tells me somberly, and I shake my head at him.

  “No goodbyes, Prek, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I tease. My smile drops too quickly as battle cries and wounded shouts seem to grow louder. “Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll drive them back, and you focus on getting the hell out of here,” I instruct, and he nods, closing his eyes and pulling in a deep breath.

  “Go!” he orders, and I pull out the stopper to my source and shove the magic that’s now bleeding out of me at the fuckers in our way. Prek and I push the last handful of feet back to the line, my magic leaving a trail of carnage rippling out away from us as we go.

  I watch panicked as Prek tries to focus, internally screaming for him to hurry up, and I almost crow in celebration when I watch the line take a hold of him and Elon and then fiercely yank them away.

  Success rockets through me.

  They did it. They got out.

  I revel in the peace that washes over me for the briefest of seconds, and then I fold up the relief and happiness coursing through me and chuck it in some far dark recess of my mind as I turn to wait for Rogan. I try to feel for the ley line around me as much as I can, the fighting now background noise as I will myself to jump me and Rogan out of here just as soon as his fingertips touch mine.

  It’s like watching someone run through three feet of snow when a polar bear is chasing them. The Contegomancer is closing in, and even as quickly as Rogan is moving, I can see he’s not moving fast enough. I let go of the hum of the line and focus on the polar bear instead.

  My movements are sluggish and jerky. I can feel the effects of blood loss and exhaustion start to kick in. I’ve been in worse shape though, and I know I still have enough in the tank to get us out of here. With a rabid growl, I clear the enemy from around me, attacking their blood and their bones to ensure I’m buying myself enough time to end this once and for all. Magic pools in my belly as I track the High Council member with my eyes like he’s prey.

  I can still see him in his swanky suit in the interrogation room at Order headquarters, thinking he’s the shit because he runs in high circles that he’s deluded himself into believing are untouchable. I would give anything right now to cut him down to size. To make him realize that picking this fight was the biggest mistake of his pitiful, useless life. I want to look in his eyes as understanding dawns that there’s no escaping my wrath.

  I thrust my pool of magic out. I send every ounce of power I possess, knowing I’ll only get one chance. I grit my teeth and wait for the perfect moment, my magic surging and searching for my target. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, and nausea collects in my stomach. Pain pulses out of my wounds, but I try to ignore it all and concentrate.

  Five more seconds, Lennox.

  You’ll have him in four…

  I see the moment the Contegomancer senses the rush of power I pushed out into the throng. He smiles as though he knows I’m coming f
or him, and I feel his acidic crackle through the air as he prepares for my attack.

  Three more seconds…

  What this asshole will never understand though is that there are far greater forces in this world than vengeance and rage. I could try to kill him. I could give everything I have in an effort to make him pay. It’s what he would do, and what he clearly expects of me, but fuck him. I choose love.

  Two…

  I’ll feel his death on my hands another day.

  One...

  Rogan’s bones practically sing to me, begging me to claim them and safeguard them always. I wrap my magic around him, my focus absolute and my will undeniable. All at once, I yank my magic back like it’s a rubber band that’s been pulled too tight for too long. Rogan is jerked forward, my power in control and calling him to me. He flies toward the line, barreling through Order members brutally, as the Contegomancer realizes what I’ve done and bellows out an enraged snarl.

  Like the body snatcher I’m proving to be, I snatch Rogan from the danger hunting his back and pull him to safety. He’s feet away from me when a deranged cackle forces goose bumps up my arms and a shiver to run down my spine. The danger in the sound has me looking back to the Contegomancer, just in time for him to pull the trigger on the gun he’s pointing at me.

  Everything slows and I can’t scream, or move, or react. Every ounce of power I have is focused on pulling Rogan to me. He’s feet away, and I risk trying to call the line, hoping somehow we can still prevail.

  Rogan slams into me with a pained grunt at the same time the bullet does. I fall back into a ferocious scream of outrage and grief, my lamentation lifted up into the air like a haunting howl as the round pierces the side of my head, and the world and its deep humming all around me cease to exist.

  A gasp tears out of me, and I sit up in a dazed panic, trying to make sense of what’s going on.