The Bound Witch

by Ivy Asher

  “I want to thank you for coming out to see us on such short notice,” Rogan tells them, and they each smile at him warmly.

  Then all of a sudden, his Aunt Alora drops her smile and levels him with a look that makes even Rogan squirm. “Rogan, we’re absolutely delighted to be here and that you called us for help. We hope you know that we will always be here for you whenever you need it. With that being said, what happened in our home the last time you visited was unacceptable.”

  Rogan drops his head as though it’s suddenly heavy with shame, and it isn’t until Alora looks at me that I realize the unacceptable thing that happened was Rogan betraying me. She turns to me and squares her shoulders.

  “Osteomancer Osseous, we know this kind of apology requires much more than just words, but we hope you will accept them along with our most heartfelt and deepest apologies for what occurred when you last visited our home. Had we known what was going to happen, we would have protected you at all cost. You were an invited guest under our roof, and that is not something I or my coven takes lightly. We would like to extend to you the same vow of protection my coven has offered our nephews. We hope that you know that you are always welcome in our home and among us, and we will ensure your safety and comfort at all times when you are in our presence or under our roof in the future.”

  The three witches stare at me, their eyes filled with apology and regret and hope that I’ll find it in my heart to forgive them. My instinct is to tell them it’s fine and that it wasn’t their fault, because it wasn’t. But there’s a deeper code here, something more rooted in the times of our ancestors, when covens relied on allies and made deals or traded provisions or goods with one another.

  So I give the ardent apology the care and thoughtful attention it deserves. I consider Alora’s words on behalf of not just her but her coven. Walking into this, I didn’t feel the need for an apology. I didn’t hold them responsible, I still don’t, but the fact that they do, touches me.

  I offer Alora a warm smile, and her shoulders immediately relax a little, some of the tension bleeding out of them immediately. “Thank you. I don’t blame you or your coven for what happened. It all worked out for the best, but it means a lot to me to know that I’ll be welcome and safe with you and your coven in the future. I appreciate that more than you know. You all are always welcome at my house too, same rules apply. Well, when I have a house, that is. I’m sort of in between residences at the moment, and then there’s this whole war, but you know what I mean,” I tell them, internally facepalming when I start to nervously ramble.

  So close, Lennox. So damn close to owning the whole mature Osteomancer vibe.

  The smiles that cross the faces of the three witches across from me are blinding. Just like that, all the anxiety and nerves in the room dissipate, and everyone takes a deep relaxing breath.

  “Excellent,” Dave announces, looking around at all of us with a delighted grin. “Now, what seems to be the issue with your tether?” he asks as he folds his hands in front of him like he’s eager to solve our problem.

  Alora grabs a large satchel from the floor and begins to pull things out of it. She sets a large stone bowl on the table. Next to that, she adds glass bottles of various liquids and herbs, a stem of thorns, a thin wooden spoon, and a pile of crisp white rags. When it seems the bag is finally empty, Harmony takes it and hangs it from the back of her chair while she and Alora organize the small apothecary shop they just unpacked.

  Rogan clears his throat and reaches over to take my hand. Instead of the gesture helping me to relax, it hypes up my anxiety instead. “I know we’ve never gone into details about what happened with me and Elon and why we were renounced, but in order to explain what’s going on, I’m going to need to,” he starts, a pointed look fixed on his Aunt Alora.

  “No need, Rogan, I’ve known from the beginning what happened. You mattered more to me than your ability, and therefore I never felt the need to discuss it,” Alora declares, and Rogan nods like this doesn’t surprise him.

  I look to Dave, who gives me a cheeky wink, and my suspicions deepen. Rogan made it seem like his aunt wasn’t big into details about his story, mine, or even ours, but I don’t think that’s the case at all. I think her mind reading husband gives her an inside look at things, and because of that, she’s never really had to pry.

  “Right, well, to put it simply, when Lennox first died, our tether did too. When she came back, it returned as well. However this last time, the tether hasn’t snapped back into place like before. We’re hoping you can help us figure out what happened.”

  They nod and Alora’s eyes grow speculative.

  “Tethers are a very strong and yet very fragile connection. While in place and healthy, it combines magic, strengthens it, gives each participant access to the other’s emotions and sometimes even thoughts. A tether is designed to fortify and bolster our power when used and nurtured correctly,” Harmony explains, and Rogan and I both nod our understanding.

  “The fact that the tether came back after the first death, is a testament to how strong it must have been. But I suspect it didn’t return after the second time because the magic doesn’t work that way,” Alora adds.

  “When magic dies, which happens when there isn’t a genetic relative to carry on the line, the promises and vows connected to that magic die as well. Now obviously your situation is different, the magic doesn’t move on, because it’s still tied to you, knowing somehow that you will come back. But I suspect the tether is simply behaving like a tether would when part of the connection passes away,” Dave states evenly and simply.

  “So it’s gone?” I ask, surprised by how sad and worried this makes me feel. “I mean, I still feel it, at least I think I do, it’s just not working like it normally does,” I explain awkwardly.

  “We can absolutely test your magic and confirm one way or another. The fact that you can still feel the tether is a good sign, but regardless of what the tests tell us, there are solutions and things you can do to repair or strengthen a tether, so I don’t want either of you to worry, but first let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Alora tells us, her tone positive and reassuring, and I immediately feel like I can take a deep breath.

  Okay, this is good. They can help us fix this, and we can go back to the way things were.

  Alora starts to pour things into the large stone bowl, and I’m transfixed by her steady hand and the knowledgeable gleam in her eye. I’ve never seen a Soul Witch work, and I’m fascinated to see what she does and why. Vials are unstoppered, and drops of this and that are mixed into what I’m pretty sure is moon water—or at least that’s what the bottle says. I try to track the other ingredients and link them back with what I know about them, but Alora moves so fast I eventually give up and just enjoy the show.

  She reaches out her hand, palm up, and Rogan must have done whatever this is before, because he immediately places his large hand in hers, also palm up. I watch as Alora reaches for the stem of thorns and, with practiced ease, flicks it down against the pad of Rogan’s finger. He turns his hand, and three drops of blood make it into the stone bowl before he flips his palm back over.

  Alora then pierces his palm with the thorns, giving him a small scratch this time on the meaty part of his hand where his thumb connects. This time, only one drop of blood is added to join the others. With that, Rogan pulls his hand back, and all three Soul Witches then lean over the bowl, whispering an incantation about revelation, power, dispersal and guidance from the earth mother as well as The Mother, who is often mentioned in reference to fertility, abundance, and growth.

  “Ahh, yes, the blood magic is incredibly strong, look how it consumes the pomegranate seed,” Dave points out, gesturing for me to look into the bowl and see what he’s saying.

  I do, and I’m surprised to see Rogan’s blood, as well as other things, appearing separate within the contents of the bowl. It’s like looking at droplets of oil in water.

  “This white substance is bone milk,” Da
ve explains. “See how it’s being pulled closer by the blood. It shows there’s a draw there, a connection, but it’s weak, just like you were saying it felt like.

  “That’s cool,” I exclaim, watching the blood float in the middle of the bowl.

  “The ivy stem leans toward Rogan’s essence too, you’ll notice, and that’s because there’s traces of soul magic in his line even though Rogan isn’t a carrier of that magic,” Harmony tells me, and sure enough, the little vine twitches like it wants to go to Rogan’s blood but is playing hard to get.

  “We can see that Rogan is wise and pure of heart, because the lavender oil circles the blood,” Alora declares. “Coriander seeds float at the top, which is an indication of long life,” she adds, and both Rogan and I snort at that. “I don’t see anything that would make me think the tether is damaged beyond repair,” she adds, and then she grabs the wooden spoon and scoops out Rogan’s blood and spoons it into an empty glass container, like that’s that.

  Alora extends her hand again, and this time I know it’s my turn. I place my hand in hers, watching as she grabs the other end of the stem of thorns and flicks it down against my pointer finger. I’m surprised that it doesn’t hurt. I’m also surprised by Alora’s lightning fast hands; she moves the stem so quickly and accurately that only the tip of one thorn catches me. I don’t have soul magic, but I suddenly want to learn how she did that without pricking herself too.

  Like the observant witch I’ve been, I turn my hand and let three drops of blood plop into the moon water. Then Alora scratches my palm, and I add one more drop into the mix. Once again, we all lean over the bowl to see what happens.

  My blood immediately soaks up all the bone milk, and the pomegranate seed zips toward my essence next. There’s a small branch that looks like it’s two twigs that have been twisted together, and for some reason, that rises from the bottom of the bowl. It touches my blood, and then strangely, the blood starts to swirl in the middle of the moon water like it’s creating a mini tornado. Everything in the bowl zips into the center, and gasps ring out all around me.

  I look up, confused, and three sets of wide, shocked eyes take me in carefully.

  “What happened?” I ask, but it’s more of a panicked squawk than anything else.

  “Oh honey, I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Harmony coos at me, and my brow furrows at the sympathy I see in her face.

  “How is that possible?” Rogan asks, his eyes suddenly haunted, and Alora looks from him to me.

  “What?” I demand again, and her dark gray eyes soften.

  She leans forward, her gaze suddenly filled with warm concern as she stacks her hands in front of her demurely.

  “You have demon markers in your blood, Lennox.”

  20

  “I what?” I snap, completely taken aback by Alora’s declaration.

  “It’s okay, Lennox, there’s no need to panic, just calm down and we’ll figure this out,” Rogan tells me softly, and I glare at him.

  “Name one time telling someone to calm down actually worked. Just one,” I challenge, and Rogan thinks for a minute and then shrugs. “Fine, freak out all you want,” he says instead, and if I wasn’t in the process of doing just that, I might have laughed.

  “You have demon markers in your blood,” Alora repeats as though I’m dense. “I can see they aren’t the foundation to your power, which shows me that it’s not genetically inherited. I’ve never seen it before, but at some point, it looks as though demon magic was bonded to your own.”

  “H-how...how do you know?” I stammer, not sure where to even begin trying to process what she’s saying.

  “These two branches are hawthorn and hazel,” Dave starts, pointing to the twisted twigs now in the center of my blood tornado. “These represent the foundation of all magic, which was originally bestowed upon us by the Fae. With mancer magic, these branches always stay on the bottom of the bowl. Demon magic will wrap around the branches, and mixed magic...will do this,” he tells me, gesturing to the bowl.

  I stare at the swirling contents, my mind feeling like it’s doing the exact same thing in my head.

  Demon markers in my blood?

  Demon magic bonded to mine.

  How the fuck?

  And then it hits me.

  Jamie’s demonic chant fills my mind as she used magic that wasn’t her own to try and steal power from the other Osteomancers. I can suddenly feel the painful jolt of magic as it transferred from the dead witch on Jamie’s altar...to me.

  A sinking feeling crawls into my stomach, and for the first time since I woke up to find the tether broken, I’m glad Rogan can’t feel what I’m feeling. Desolation and anger war in my chest, and I don’t know if I want to scream or cry.

  “That fucking, demon cock sucking, trifling, thirsty, magic whore!” I snarl, and the room goes quiet.

  Crap. I did not mean to say that out loud.

  Rogan looks over at me, his eyes filled with devastation as he reads my face. He knows what happened in that church. I thankfully never had to tell him, but I know Elon provided him with the graphic details. He takes one look at me, and I see the moment he realizes what happened, and then I also see the moment that he blames himself for it.

  Rogan shoots out of his chair and swipes the tray of cookies and other tea fixings off the table. It goes shattering against the window, cracking the pane with a loud boom. Alora, Dave, and Harmony all shoot to their feet, concern and shock written all over each of their faces.

  So much for being calm.

  Elon, Prek, Tad, and Cohen come running into the kitchen like we’re under attack. They look from Rogan to the Soul Witches to me still sitting in the chair, not sure what to do, and unease and aggression settles thickly in the air.

  “What happened?” Elon demands, and Tad moves closer to me.

  “What fucking happened is that my selfish bullshit let that human stain, Jamie, fuck with Lennox’s magic,” Rogan snarls, and the others’ faces blanch.

  “What?” Tad snaps, turning to me as though he knows Rogan is too lost in his guilt and anger to get details from.

  I blow out a deep breath, suddenly feeling less out of control now that Rogan is feral enough for both of us. “It seems when Jamie was using her demon’s magic to try and steal power from the other Osteomancers, either she or it somehow fused demon magic with that power and…” I trail off, feeling weird saying it out loud.

  “And then that magic transferred to you because you were the source,” Elon finishes, and my eyes flick to him, and I nod in confirmation.

  “Fuck,” Cohen exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze looking far more distressed than I thought it would, given our heated exchange earlier.

  “But what does that mean?” Tad demands, looking from me to Rogan.

  Rogan doesn’t say anything but looks over at Alora and her mates. All eyes in the room shift to the three Soul Witches too, and Dave steps forward, his hands raised as though he’s trying to calm a volatile and dangerous situation. The look on Rogan’s face tells me Dave has the right idea.

  “Obviously, no one wants to have their magic altered in such a violating and traumatic way,” he starts, and I flinch, unable to help myself, because he’s not wrong.

  Rogan runs his hands through his hair, and I want to reach out and offer him some comfort, but I’m not positive my legs will work right now.

  “With that said, however, these changes do not have to be a bad thing. We’ll need to do more research before we have exact answers, but ultimately magic is magic. We all have what the Fae bestowed on our ancestors, just in varying branches and dilutions. Right now, all we can tell is that Lennox’s magic is closer to that of the Original Source before the magic was broken up into separate lines for safekeeping. Some of that will be because there are only two Osteomancers left in the world, and the magic of that line is now extremely condensed. The other part of that will be because demon magic in its nature is wilder and harder to control. It
’s more reminiscent of Fae magic at its purest, and therefore Lennox’s power will have similar qualities or markers,” Dave explains.

  His words seem to be the drop of calm everyone needs, but I don’t feel any better. Is this why my magic has been acting weird? Is this why I can now do things I couldn’t before? Is this the reason why I connect with my magic differently and feel more than just bones and blood when I’m wielding it?

  I think back to what happened right before Marx was killed. How it felt like my magic was suddenly this wild thing and I barely had a hold of it. Dave’s words describe exactly how it felt, unruly, turbulent, and so fucking strong.

  Without saying a word, Elon moves to the other side of the table and starts to clean up the shattered tea set and tray.

  “I’ll go get some plywood for the window,” Cohen announces, and Prek declares that he’ll go with him.

  Tad looks at me as though he’s reading my thoughts on my forehead. I meet his eyes, and he gives me his best well, shit look, and I crack a small smile.

  Well, shit is exactly right.

  Some of the tension bleeds out of me, and Tad strides over and pulls me into a big hug. I soak up his calm affection and smile at him after he kisses the top of my head and pulls away. My smile doesn’t reach my eyes though, and Tad gives me a look that says meet me for wine on the bathroom floor later.

  “I just want to check one thing before we leave to go research what we’ve learned here today,” Alora announces, and then she reaches for the glass container that has Rogan’s blood in it and drops it into the bowl.

  I’m not sure what they’re looking for, but each of them stares down intensely, clearly waiting for something pivotal to happen. I look down and see that my blood is darker than Rogan’s. My little tornado is still going strong, and Rogan’s blood seems to swim around it as though contemplating its reaction to my blood’s volatile display. All at once, Rogan’s blood zips toward mine as though it were simply looking for the perfect opening, and then the two essences seem to dance with each other, spinning and chasing, and winding round one another until the darker blood and the lighter blood dissolve into one another and simply become one.