Witch's Sacrifice

by Emma L. Adams

  “I’m guessing the god didn’t want to talk to us?” said Morgan. “Ilsa, you’re bleeding.”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t look fine. Her face was pale and clammy, and beneath the blood, the silvery mark of the Ancient on her forehead kept flickering on and off like a warning light.

  I grabbed a healing spell and tossed it to her.

  “Thanks.” Ilsa smiled weakly as she caught it in one hand. “Evelyn… she hasn’t tried to claim the book, at least, or the side effects would be worse. But I don’t think the talisman is best pleased with me for losing it.”

  Light flared from the healing spell. The mark stopped bleeding at the edges, but the imprint remained etched on her forehead. She and the Gatekeeper’s book were bound in a manner not dissimilar to Evelyn and me—except their binding was still active.

  Evelyn can’t be planning to claim her talisman, can she? Taking on the Ancients’ magic would be hypocritical, considering how much she hates their guts. I didn’t think guarding the Gates of Death was on her plan, either. Though if Evelyn had wanted to distract us, she’d done a spectacular job.

  Ilsa pushed to her feet and her gaze fell on the overturned desk, the research scattered all over the floor. “Dammit. That took me hours to organise.”

  “I was more occupied with us not dying,” said Morgan. “Jas, help me with the desk.”

  I picked up the textbook he’d used to knock the fury into the candles. “Nice aim.”

  “Is that…” Ilsa’s eyes bulged. “Did you have to use the only copy of The Spirit Almanac? Couldn’t you not pick the most expensive book in the room?”

  The door opened and Lloyd and Mackie entered, staring at the mess of research papers and textbooks scattered on the floor.

  “What’s going on here?” Lloyd asked. “Ilsa, why are you covered in blood?”

  Ilsa wiped at her forehead with a handkerchief. “A summoning went a bit wrong. Please don’t tell River. He has enough to worry about.”

  “So do you.” Morgan picked up one side of the desk. “Lloyd, Mackie, we’re helping Jas and Ilsa to track down Evelyn.”

  “Without summoning her here,” I added, helping him set the desk upright. “If we summon any more furies into the archives, Lady Montgomery will put us on her shit list.”

  While we returned the archives to their former state and helped Ilsa gather all her notes, I updated Lloyd on our botched attempt at blood magic.

  “It’s kinda lucky it didn’t work,” said Lloyd. “Not that it’s a good thing your talisman being gone, Ilsa, but summoning one god into the guild might encourage the other bastards to come after him.”

  “I doubt the other Ancients even know the Gatekeeper’s talisman contains a god’s magic.” Ilsa moved around stacks of paper and carefully separated her photocopies of each of the journal’s pages. “Relax,” she added, seeing the frightened expression on Mackie’s face. “No Ancients are coming here. And this will tell us what to do if we find them, provided we finish the translation. I’ve already done a fair bit, and with five of us, it’ll be faster.”

  “I never learned how to read,” Mackie said, her face flushing. “I’m no help here.”

  “You can fetch books for us, then,” said Morgan, handing her a sheaf of paper. “Come on, get to work. You too, Lloyd.”

  He blinked incredulously. He and Morgan generally didn’t volunteer for extra work. Then again, the stakes were clear to all of us. If we didn’t get that talisman back, Ilsa might be the next to lose her magic.

  4

  We continued our work on the journal late into the evening, only stopping to grab some food from the cafeteria. By the end, we had a towering stack of papers filled with roughly translated sentences.

  “It would help if half the words weren’t missing,” Ilsa said, looking up from her page. “From what I have so far, Lady Harper was looking for something in the other realm.”

  “Looking for what?” asked Mackie, who’d spent the last hour building a model of a castle out of spare candles when Ilsa ran out of tasks to hand over to her.

  “If we knew that, we wouldn’t have to translate the rest of it,” I said. “Was it really that easy to cross over before the invasion? Or was it before the Hemlocks’ forest got in the way?”

  “Haven’t a clue,” said Ilsa. “This was before the war, so maybe things were different back then.”

  “Yeah, they were, if Lady Harper willingly did favours for other people.” I rolled my eyes at the page. “The only people I saw in that realm were dragon shifters, but I can’t think what she might want from them.”

  Ilsa sat up straighter. “Dragons.”

  “What about them?” Morgan asked.

  “See this missing word?” Ilsa held up her page. “Put the word ‘dragon’ down in place of this symbol and it all makes a lot more sense.”

  “She was visiting the dragons?” Lloyd whistled. “Your mentor was more badass than I gave her credit for.”

  “It must have been before the Hemlocks declared war on them.” I turned to my own pages, scratching in the word ‘dragon’ wherever appropriate. “Evelyn never expressed an interest in the dragon shifters, but there’s a lot she didn’t tell me.”

  “Wish we could read her mind, it’d be easier.” Morgan glanced at Mackie, then back at the papers.

  “What?” she said defensively. “I did read her mind once, before I started wearing the iron. But it was when she was trapped in that binding spell. All I saw were dreams of revenge, and shit like that.”

  My shoulders tensed. Evelyn had been pissed at me for trapping her, even if she’d earned it by stealing my body. If I’d followed my instincts and redone the binding, I could have ended this before she could embark on her quest for power. I never should have given her a second chance, but if I hadn’t, perhaps she’d have stolen my magic much sooner. I might not directly be responsible for everything she’d done, but I’d given her the means to pursue her vengeance against the Ancients, and when we had our final reckoning, I would face her alone.

  Lloyd shrugged. “Yeah, revenge is her thing. If she’s after anything, I bet it’s a weapon.”

  “Maybe.” Ilsa checked the time on her phone. “You guys should go to bed if you’re patrolling tomorrow. I’ll stay here for a couple more hours.”

  Lloyd nudged me. “Wanna watch a movie, Jas?”

  “Maybe tomorrow.” We might not be any closer to figuring out Evelyn’s location, but I was curious as hell as to why Lady Harper had been holding clandestine meetings with the dragon shifters in the other realm.

  Time passed, minutes blurring into hours as Ilsa and I worked. In the early hours of the morning, I looked up to find Ilsa staring intently at the page, her eyes red-rimmed with tiredness.

  “Jas,” she said. “Check this out. Lady Harper’s maiden name wasn’t Harper.”

  I leaned over her shoulder. “Briar? She was one of the Briar witches?”

  No way. But I never had asked about her family. Nobody did, unless they wanted a tongue-lashing.

  “Wasn’t she a mage?” asked Ilsa.

  “Her family were witch-mage hybrids, so it could have gone either way,” I recalled. “I guess some distant relatives of hers must have stayed in Edinburgh and survived the invasion. It explains why she wasn’t affected by the Hemlock curse, because she wasn’t a Hemlock by blood at all.”

  “Mage magic usually wins out, besides.” She yawned. “But you…”

  “I’m a mage by adoption only.” Why had she led me to believe we were related, then? “No wonder she trusted the Briar witches to keep an eye on me. They were her relatives. I’m guessing they were probably estranged, but still.”

  “The journal entries suggest the Hemlocks approached her for employment through her family,” said Ilsa. “They sent her into the other realm…”

  “To talk to the dragons.” I leaned over the page. “What the bloody hell was in it for her? They could have wanted to eat her for all she knew.”

  �
�Read this.” She held up a sheaf of papers covered with crooked handwriting.

  I scanned the page. “The city of dragons is a dangerous place for a mage, but some of them have been willing to speak with me. They say their city is the final resting place of the gods, and their blood runs beneath the earth.”

  Without warning, Ilsa cursed so loudly, I knocked a stack of notes off the desk with my elbow. “Shit!”

  “What?” I picked up the papers, startled. “What is it?”

  “I should have known.” Her eyes were wide. “It’s my fault. I put the idea in her head.”

  “Come again?”

  “The blood of an Ancient can make someone immortal.”

  “The… what now?” My tired brain struggled to make sense of her words. “The blood of the gods. You mean that’s what Evelyn wants?”

  “The Ancients’ blood contains magical properties,” said Ilsa. “If Evelyn killed one, she’d be able to create a new body from scratch. Anyone who bathes in the blood of the gods can be reborn as an immortal.”

  My jaw dropped. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

  “Because the Sidhe swore me to secrecy,” Ilsa said. “They did the same before they kicked the Ancients out of Faerie. Slaughtered them…”

  “And used their blood to turn themselves into immortals?” I finished. “That’s cold.”

  “Yes,” she said. “It is. But it’s true, and I’d bet that’s Evelyn’s plan. She only needs one of them.”

  Once she had an Ancient in her grasp and made them bleed, her disembodiment problem would be over.

  “How many people know?” I asked quietly.

  “All the Sidhe do,” she said. “And the Council of Twelve, plus everyone they’ve allowed into their confidence. The Sidhe no longer have access to that power because they kicked the Ancients out of their realm, and they assume they died out. We’re trying not to spread that information, because it’s clear they didn’t die out. I never should have mentioned it in front of Evelyn.”

  “It’s not your fault. You thought you were with your allies.” Evelyn had already stated she wanted to kill the gods. That wasn’t news. I just hadn’t known her motives had gone further than her desire for vengeance on behalf of her coven.

  “I don’t know if she’s planning to drag the dragon shifters into this, either,” added Ilsa. “I hope not. From what you told me, the dragons want no part in this fight.”

  “Cordelia told me they fought on the wrong side in the war with the Ancients,” I said. “So, against the Hemlocks. I can’t see them letting Evelyn walk into their city to slaughter their gods without a fuss, but I doubt the dragons can harm a ghost. How would this magical blood work, then? Would she still get to keep her Hemlock power?”

  “I think so,” Ilsa said. “She’d want to keep it, I imagine, but I don’t see Evelyn settling for being a regular human if the option to become an immortal was right there in front of her.”

  Words came to mind, words she’d spoken through my mouth: nothing in this world is scarier than being human. Being mortal had condemned her to a miserable existence as a ghost. While I’d known of her desire to escape that incorporeal state, I’d never in a million years have guessed it was possible for her to become a goddess in her own right.

  “No,” I said. “She wouldn’t settle. She wants to conquer and rule, and she’ll do anything to achieve her goals.”

  “My aunt did the same,” Ilsa admitted. “She killed the Ancient whose power is in my talisman and used his blood to turn herself into a Sidhe. Evelyn might do the same, but the blood of the Ancients only creates new life, not magic. She’d still be a witch in a magical sense.”

  “To be honest, that’s just as terrifying,” I said. A human-turned-immortal with the power of the Hemlocks would be more than a match for the Ancients. “But she’s operating under the assumption that she can make an Ancient bleed while she’s still a ghost. How’s she going to do that?”

  Ilsa drew in a breath. “I’ve seen a god die. They’re powerful, yes, but they have their own weaknesses. That’s how the Sidhe drove them out of the faerie realm. My aunt killed one of them as a ghost, using their own magic against them. It’s not impossible.”

  “Damn.” I needed to lie down. “Well, we can strike the Soul Collector off the list. He doesn’t have a body to kill. No wonder she hasn’t come back to fight him.”

  Instead, Evelyn had her sights set on bigger and better things. Rubbing my eyes, I checked the time. Five in the morning was too early to bother Lloyd, and it wasn’t fair to wake Keir at this hour either. But now I knew Evelyn’s goal. To kill the gods, become a true immortal, and take down anyone who got in her way.

  Even me.

  Ilsa and I updated the others on our early-morning discoveries over copious amounts of coffee. I’d taken a power nap in my room and woke even more tired than earlier, while Ilsa hadn’t slept at all. There was a slightly manic gleam in her eyes as she told the others of Evelyn’s plans to slaughter the Ancients, bathe in their blood, and emerge as a new person.

  “Why,” Morgan wanted to know, “do all the worst people we know want to become immortals?”

  “That’s not her end goal,” said Ilsa. “She just wants a body. And if she gets an invincible one…”

  “It makes it worthwhile that she put up with sharing with me for the last twenty-two years,” I finished.

  “Yeah, anyone would go a little power-mad after that,” said Lloyd.

  I gave him a light thwack on the knee. “What’s the news on the mirror?”

  “I sent River to tell his mother that we made a breakthrough with the translation and we want access to the Ancients’ realm,” said Ilsa. “All we need is permission from the mages and we can go through. If you want to, Jas. We’re still not certain what Lady Harper was looking for…”

  “But we know what Evelyn wants.”

  My nerves spiked. I wanted to find her, and yet… I wasn’t certain I could best her when she had full control over the magic we’d once shared. Ghost she might be, but Hemlock magic transcended life and death.

  “Can you track her?” asked Lloyd. “I mean, using a witch spell?”

  “I’m not sure tracking spells work in that other realm,” I said. “Even if they do, I’m pretty sure a tracking spell can’t find Ilsa’s talisman. But Evelyn is far too fond of attention to avoid us. If we get over there, I can guarantee she’ll reveal herself to us.”

  Assuming we were ready to face her.

  We have to. For Ilsa.

  “You’re going after her, though.” Mackie looked at me with admiration shining in her eyes. “You can kick her arse.”

  I managed a smile. “I’ll try my best to.”

  “She won’t have turned the other witches against you, right?” said Lloyd.

  “Nah, she can’t,” I said. “She can’t make her own new coven either. There needs to be at least three living members to qualify as a coven. She doesn’t count as living.”

  At least I hoped not. I wouldn’t put it past her to have maintained some contact with Cordelia and the others, too, if just for the purpose of taunting them.

  “Good,” said Ilsa. “We just need to wait for River to come back and the mages to give their permission, and then we can set off.”

  “I’m going to see Asher and Isabel first,” I said. “Need to stock up on my witch spells.”

  Isabel and Asher were masters at unconventional magic. I’d need all the help I could get if I didn’t want Evelyn to slip through my fingers again.

  I left the guild and hurried the short distance to Asher’s shop, skirting the witch market and ducking down the cobbled street hidden on one side. Halfway down lay an unmarked wooden door. It was a wonder Asher got any business at all, but witches were known for looking in unexpected places.

  I entered the shop to find Asher mid-argument with Isabel. “I told you, I’m fine,” he was saying.

  “Funny how nobody ever says that when the
y are fine,” I remarked, closing the door behind me. “What’s up with you two?”

  “Nothing.” Asher ran a hand over his stubbled hair. His medium brown skin looked a little paler than usual.

  “The backfiring spell.” Isabel’s mouth pinched with worry. “Didn’t you take the potion this morning?”

  “I did,” he said, with a hint of impatience. “It’s like all the others—the effects weaken with time. The curse is built to act against any attempts to cure it.”

  Oh. Asher had been injured by a backfiring blood magic spell a few years ago, and he still suffered from the aftereffects of the resulting curse. The worried shadows in Isabel’s eyes told me the thought was never far from her mind. Evelyn had both helped and complicated matters by using her magic to heal him, a decision I still didn’t quite understand. Perhaps even then, she’d been manipulating me, trying to make me believe she was a good person.

  His gaze slid to me. “If you’re offering to use your magic on me again, I wouldn’t say no to another dose.”

  “I can’t.” I lowered my head. “Believe me, I wish I could, but I don’t have my Hemlock magic anymore.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” he asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “We’re going into the other realm. Can you sell me any protective spells which might help me?”

  “You’ll have to be a little more specific,” he said. “What do you expect to meet there?”

  “Dragons, for one,” I said. “Powerful ghosts. And… and gods.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Dragons, I might be able to handle. Ghosts are more your area than mine. As for gods, no spell will never make you their equal.”

  No… but my Hemlock magic might. If I had it back.

  “You’ve dealt with dragons before?” I asked.

  “Depends what you mean by ‘dealt’ with,” he said, with a cough. “Dragonfire isn’t like regular fire. One breath can melt the skin off your bones. A regular defensive shield wouldn’t do a thing.”