The Witches of White Willow: A Witch Hospital Romance

by Angela Addams

  Hazel sighed, pulled her pack from the ground and unlatched the tent from the bottom. She knew how to set one of these up. She’d done it at least a hundred times. Her mother had taken her into war. She’d trained with skilled weapons masters. She’d learned the basics of Battle magic. She’d moved from camp to camp, setting up, working triage, helping injured witches, then breaking camp and moving on. She’d always been so proud of her experience. Now she was feeling…what? Hollow? Like she’d cheated somehow?

  She unwrapped the tent and rolled it out on the flat patch of ground, a little grassy ledge that would keep her from slipping down the hill. She could do a camp set up in less than three minutes, tent and bed ready to go. She could be inside and asleep in five.

  Grab sleep when you can. That was the motto for war. She’d devoted herself to being like all the other Medics but thinking on it now, she’d never really connected with anyone there either. Her mother had always been with her and when people spoke, they’d done so with reverence and respect. Maybe more than she actually deserved. They probably just looked at her like the rest of the interns were looking at her. A spoiled princess playing at Medic. Sheltered from reality because in the end, her mother could whisk her out of there if things got too dangerous.

  She paused to finger the amulet in her pocket once again. Her gateway to freedom. Summon her mother, who would bring her home. She slipped it back to the depths of her pocket and swallowed her self-pity. Suck it up, Haz. As Mahdyia would say.

  “I know you want to be alone but I thought you might like something hot to eat rather than your rations.”

  Hazel had been so caught up in herself that she hadn’t noticed Duke’s arrival.

  “Just leave me alone,” she said, turning away from him and his steaming bowl of something delicious-smelling. She wanted to sulk. To wallow in herself.

  He ran his fingers along her arm. “Hazel…”

  She melted at his touch. His compassion making her want to weep. Without thinking she turned into his embrace, letting her guard down completely, nestling into his shoulder, arms around his waist.

  “Whoa there.” He chuckled, holding the bowl of stew or whatever out behind her.

  She remembered herself, hardened her heart and let him go, pushing back until she was standing apart from him. “Sorry.”

  His expression was full of compassion. “Hazel—”

  She covered her face with her hands. “No, really, I shouldn’t have done that. I meant what I said. We can’t be that way with one another anymore.”

  “Hazel—”

  “Just go—”

  She gasped as Duke leaned into her, getting close enough to kiss her, his hand on her hip. She didn’t move away, instead she angled her mouth up, brushing her lips against his. His lips were so soft, his mouth so welcoming, that buzz he gave her making her feel like nothing else mattered.

  He broke the kiss before it became more than a kiss, before it could get carried away as it usually did. “I didn’t want to wear the stew, that’s all.” He chuckled lightly. “I missed you. I’ve wanted to touch you all day like this.”

  “I shouldn’t have…” Hazel sputtered, words dying on her tongue when his expression went dark.

  “I get it. You’re used to having all the decisions made for you, right?” He brushed his fingers over her face. “That’s what it’s been like, hasn’t it? Every moment of every day dictated, scheduled? That’s why you snuck out to be with the humans, so you could control some aspect of yourself.”

  Hazel frowned, opened her mouth to speak, couldn’t think of what to say.

  “That’s why you’re pushing me away. Why you think you need to.”

  “My mother—”

  “Can we just forget about her for a bit?” He set the bowl down in the grass then took her into his arms and kissed her again. “Can we sit down together? We don’t even have to talk. Just sit with me, Hazel. There’s nothing inappropriate about that.”

  “The others…” Hazel glanced toward the stones. No one was there. “Wait…where are the others?”

  “Bridget took them into the woods to find some herbs that glow or something.” Duke guided her to sit, then handed her the bowl of stew. “Here. I whipped this up.”

  “How did you?” She was ravished all of a sudden, the smell of meaty stew making her stomach grumble.

  “This isn’t my first field trip either.” He winked then nudged her to eat. “Today was tough.”

  She nodded, not bothering to speak. Words only complicated things. So instead, she ate. Duke’s stew tasted as delicious as it smelled.

  “I never told you about the Shaman tribe I worked with a few years ago, right?” He shook his head. “How could I? Before today, we were both human.” He winked again, a sly smile on his lips, then continued, “When I first got there, I was so confused. I’d been told that I was sent to heal an elder who had fallen ill from magic overuse, but what I found was not what I expected.”

  Hazel listened to his voice, her body pressed next to his, food filling her belly and for the first time all day she felt content…happy even. Or perhaps less tormented.

  “So the elder I was sent to help was actually a ten year old boy. He was the shaman of the tribe, born with the ability to manipulate shadows. He’d been a protector to his tribe from the time that he was born, cloaking them from danger, giving an advantage. The only way we found them was because his magics were weakened. His skills had been used to the point of exhaustion, his tribe’s war chief having realized that not only could his shadow art keep them hidden, but it could also be used as offence, if they took him with them on hunts. What he didn’t realize was that doing that warped the boy’s nature, turning him into something he was not and placing too many demands on his little body.” He sighed. “He had this expectation on himself that he and he alone could keep his tribe alive and safe. That he was destined to be a savior. Even if it cost him his life in the end, it would be a worthy sacrifice. My medical determination was that he suspend his shadows, at least for a few months. Give him time to rest and rejuvenate. But his chief… He had a battle planned and he needed the boy’s skill.”

  “I know what you’re doing.” Hazel scraped the last of the stew from the bowl and ate it. “Let’s get to the moral of the story, shall we?”

  Duke shook his head. “Nah, you’re right. Lame attempt. Forget it.”

  “I’m not delusional, Duke, I’m not brainwashed. I know what you all think of me. I know the expectations, what’s been promised.”

  “Hazel, the past year has been one of the happiest times of my life. I live for the field. I crave touring the human world, finding new ways that they use magic, helping them, working with them. But coming home to you, seeing you, touching you, talking to you, was just as intoxicating. Just as important to me. Imagine if you came with me. Imagine if you experienced the humans like I have. The things we’d see. The people we’d help. The tribes we’d discover.”

  Hazel stayed quiet, thinking about his words. It was unfair of him, really, to put that idea in her head. To give her something else to lust for. “What happened to the little boy?”

  Duke frowned.

  “Come on, you started the story. Finish it. What happened to him? Did he sacrifice himself in the end? Give himself to his tribe for their betterment?”

  Duke cleared his throat. “Yes, he did.”

  “And what? He died, right? They used him up until he had nothing left?”

  Duke shook his head. “No, that’s not what happened.”

  It was Hazel’s turn to frown. “So what then?”

  Duke took the bowl from her hand and laid it next to his foot. “He went to war with his tribe and his shadows failed. It was his tribe who died. Every single one of them.”

  “That won’t happen to me,” Hazel said, even though a niggle of doubt poked at her. “I’ll never let my tribe down like that.”

  “Oh Hazel, don’t you see? When you give up your control, when you let your
power be used in the Circle—your power in particular—you don’t get a say in what happens next.”

  12

  Her eyes flashed with anger. He liked it when they did that. It was passion, no matter how you sliced it.

  “So what are you saying? I’m going to kill all Healer-kind if I join the Circle?”

  “No, I’m saying that your talents might be better used outside of the Circle. That you can’t see anything beyond the Circle and that, in the end, giving yourself to the service of all of Healers, while ultimately selfless and honorable, may not actually be what Healers need.”

  “I get it, okay?” Hazel slumped. Like she was drained of all her fight in that moment. She had to be exhausted after the day she’d had—physically, emotionally. “Whatever lesson you’re aiming to teach me right now, I get it. The idea of it anyway. I just don’t agree with you.”

  “Hazel.” He reached out to her, pulled her toward him. “This is what training is supposed to be like. Learning. Growing. All I’m asking is that you’re open to it. That you’re not fixed on what you already know. I’ve seen you adapt already. When you were treating Lily. When you realized that she was going to scream no matter what you did. You pulled as much power as you could to cocoon her. I felt it. Everyone felt it. It was impressive.”

  Hazel nuzzled into his chest, pressing her face against him in a way that made him want to sigh with contentment. But he also didn’t want to scare her off. Her guard was slipping. The fight leaving her in all areas.

  “This is your year, Hazel. To experiment with the limits, if there are any, of your powers. It’s your year to explore what kind of witch you want to be. You have the power to choose what that looks like and what you do with it. You have the control here. You can’t expect everyone to love you right away, either. The interns, they’re competing with you. With each other. They see what you can do and it scares them. That means it’s going to be harder for them to connect with you. And you could take the easy way, reject them outright and focus instead on your training but I’m going to tell you something important. These witches you’re with right now, they’re your team. They’ll have your back if you let them. You’ll grow together.”

  “Not Bas,” Hazel murmured.

  Duke felt a spark of anger at the thought of that one. “No, not Bas. He’s got his own demons to slay though and he’s already made a decision that will possibly be advantageous for him.” Or crippling, depending on how he handled things.

  “You mean with Bridget?” Hazel snickered. “I feel like she’ll eat him alive.”

  “Yeah, most likely.” He wasn’t about to tell her he had intimate experience with that. Very intimate. He wasn’t interested in instigating another fight.

  Bridget liked to take on the underdog. The one she felt held the most challenge. When Bas’s heart had stopped that morning, his fate had been sealed with her. He was her project. She’d strip him down to the bare bones, pull his guts out until he didn’t know what went where and then leave him to put himself back together. He’d be a better witch for it, probably, but it would be a hard road to travel. Perhaps it was what that guy deserved though. Maybe not.

  “You can’t be friends with everyone but you can be a team. Soften yourself with them, Hazel. Offer help. Accept it if they decline. Take a step back and get to know what they’re good at, but at the same time, don’t let them push you around.”

  “You’re right.” She sighed into him, her arms around his waist, body pressed in close.

  He felt shock at her easy agreement. “I am?”

  She pulled away and looked up at him, smiling. “Yeah, getting to know the other interns will help me when I join the Circle. Mother always said that it’s good to know the needs of the Healers before you join the Circle. That way I can direct the power as required.”

  Duke closed his eyes and tightened his grip, forcing her to relax into him again. Enjoying this moment because it would only be a moment. He knew he’d lose her again before the day was out. Him and his big mouth.

  She was so brainwashed it wasn’t funny.

  “Hazel, I—”

  A scream hit them, shrill and loud, breaking the calm of the night. They moved apart, both looking in the direction that it had come from.

  “The others.” Hazel gasped as she jumped up.

  He stood then looked down the hill. They weren’t back at the stones.

  Hazel started toward the forest. He held her back. “Hang on.” He motioned for her to stay quiet while he focused on zoning in on the emotions around them. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, then opened himself up completely. Dangerous, sure, but it was the only way to get a true read on things.

  Rage, fear hit him first. Then excitement, amped up adrenaline flowing. It was chaos.

  Help. Help. Help.

  He opened his eyes, clamping down on the emotions before they overwhelmed him and then clasped Hazel’s hand. “They aren’t far. Let’s go.”

  “What’s going on?” Hazel trailed after him, keeping close as they moved swiftly down the hill.

  “Rogues.”

  Duke had felt the burn of their hatred before. Calculated attacks that were usually all about desperation. It was a hard life. Peddling spells and offering magic that was typically untrained, under-practiced and without concern of the recipient. As they had experienced earlier with Lily. She’d never confirmed but her mother had told Duke that Lily had been wandering off into the woods for hours, weeks before she’d attempted that spell. She was old enough to know that Rogues offered more trouble than good, but kids would be kids and the promise of a real witch’s spell—one that was usually untouchable for a human witch—was probably too tempting to pass up.

  The Rogues would do whatever they needed to do to secure food and material goods. Some resorted to stealing, most to bartering. Some were like travelling magic shows, offering entertainment in exchange for food and shelter. They had been banished by their respective witch clans for some social crime or another. Most were harmless, some were extremely dangerous, like the fugitives who were on the run from the Trappers. Those were the ones that you didn’t want to come across. They were ruthless in their desperation and would typically go through a witch or human rather than stop to assess a situation or determine if there was a threat. And they weren’t above using dirty spells to get what they needed, even at the cost of death.

  “Stay close to me, no matter what happens.”

  Duke felt a flash of determination from Hazel, strength and power as she pulled her reserves, and then her hand out from his grasp. He wanted to snatch it back but clenched his fist against his leg instead. He knew he didn’t have to worry about her. She was a superior witch to him in so many ways, but he worried the whole way down the hill anyway.

  Another scream echoed around them as they skirted the stones and moved into the trees.

  There were no bursts of magic, not bellows or grunts. Other than that scream, the forest was quiet.

  “It’s coming from over there,” Duke said as he pointed east, where a concentration of emotions swirled loud enough to get past his shields.

  “Magic has been cast. I can see it.” Hazel pointed in the same direction. “There’s been a battle. It always leaves a residue.”

  Duke winced, hoping like hell that didn’t mean they’d lost anyone. If they’d been ambushed… No, he would have felt that, right? He’d been so tuned into Hazel though that he could have missed what was going on in the forest. “Let’s go. We’ll assess the situation when we can see it.”

  They moved steadily, stealthily. There were no more screams. No more sounds. He had this sinking feeling that they were going to find everyone dead.

  He was surprised though by what they found. Not what he was expecting. The Healers were all fine, looking frazzled but otherwise unharmed. They were hanging back while Bridget argued fervently with a well-armed, fully decked out in camouflage Trapper. They were nose to nose, spit flying, but words hushed. Bridget pointed to
the ground. Duke took in what she was motioning to.

  There were two witches on the ground just behind them, collared, obviously injured, the reek of magic wafting off them was intense. It must have just happened—the capture. Would explain the screams. Two other Trappers, equally as armed, were standing over the Rogues, both looking like immovable statues.

  “Those people need help.” Hazel was looking where he was, not at the team of armed Trappers, but at the captives. A man and a woman. The collars that were around their necks were attached to a long pole. The metal was magically reinforced to bind their powers and keep them from casting themselves out of the situation or from harming anyone around them. With faces pressed into the dirt, you could only hear muffed cries, their bodies twisted in uncomfortable and downright painful looking ways.

  “Unshackle them so we can treat them. They’re obviously in a great deal of pain.” Bridget’s voice rose, her body shaking. She was losing it.

  “Negative,” the lead Trapper said, his eyes shielded by black tinted glasses. “These two are set to appear before the judge by tomorrow. We leave now.”

  “It’s inhumane,” Bridget continued. “You can’t take them without offering some kind of treatment.”

  “You Healers can only treat them if they’re unshackled. We are not unshackling them. No go. These two are tricksters. They’ve evaded capture once already. Not letting them out of these collars. Besides, there are Healers at the Scrub.”

  “You’ll never make it there,” Hazel blurted, stepping past Duke.

  The Trapper shifted his gaze in her direction but didn’t speak. Bridget was frowning at Duke, looking like she was ready to put a muzzle on Hazel.

  “She’s dying.” Hazel pointed at the woman. “As we speak, her life force is ebbing. If you don’t do something in the next ten minutes, she’ll be dead, and then what will you do? I’m pretty sure your mandate is to bring them alive, right? The woman especially.”