Witch's Soul

by Emma L. Adams

  Lloyd made a sceptical noise. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s concerned about you. Maybe she’s guessed you’re pining over a certain fang-free vamp—” He cut off in a yelp as I grabbed the scruff of his neck. “Jesus, your hands are ice blocks.”

  “That’s Death for you. And for the record, no, I wasn’t thinking about Keir at all. He made his intentions clear when he blew me off. Anyway, you’ll have to stay here and cover for me. She thinks I’m getting an overnight coach. And if the Hemlocks kick me out of the forest, I might have to do exactly that.”

  “They’re really mad at you? The witches?”

  “No, they’re obnoxiously smug and not at all remorseful about the fact that I nearly died,” I said. “I’m still mad at them. They value Evelyn’s life more than mine. And then there’s Lady Harper. You know, the last time we spoke, I sort of yelled down the phone at her for manipulating me. I’ll ask Isabel to warn me if she’s going to be there.”

  Was it too much to ask that I was allowed to avoid my former coven for the rest of my existence? Yes, apparently. And Lady Harper might be worse than the lot of them. Willingly walking back into the home of the mages was a headache I did not want to deal with.

  But the Ley Hunters… breaking a key point was a violation of the supernatural law, not to mention highly dangerous. For that reason alone, it was worth checking out.

  Early the next morning, I slipped out of the guild’s headquarters before the sun had fully risen. It’d been another restless night plagued with dreams of cages and nets, which I assumed were either echoes of Evelyn’s emotions reaching me from her captivity, or my subconscious’s idea of a joke. I’d never actually heard Evelyn’s thoughts—other than the occasional flash of emotion from her—but whatever the dreams had come from, they made me tired and crabby and even less inclined to deal with the Hemlock witches.

  Apprehension stirred as the ruins of the train station came within sight from Waverley Bridge. It’d been three weeks since I’d last set foot in the station—three weeks since I’d nearly lost my life at the hands of Leila and Evelyn Hemlock. The train station looked even more dismal under the thunderous grey sky, and there was no telling what might be lurking inside it. I adjusted my rucksack on my shoulders, took in a calming breath, and felt for the world beyond this one.

  The bridge became a cave with snaking tree roots covering the floor, walls and ceiling. A small furred creature sat on a rock, and hissed at me. The half-fae servant of the Hemlocks didn’t seem to like me much. But that paled in comparison to their leader.

  The stone sculpture dominating the cave moved, shadows dappling its surface, lit in the pale green glow of the glyphs on the walls. A pair of eyes stared from the rock, condemning.

  “Jacinda Hemlock,” said Cordelia. “Have you come to resume your training?”

  “Nope.” I sidestepped the half-fae, who swiped at me with a claw as though to repudiate me for rudeness. As far as I was concerned, I treated Cordelia with the same level of respect she showed me, which wasn’t a lot. “I’d like to travel home for a temporary trip. You owe me at least one favour for saving your necks.”

  They owed me more than that. If I’d died or Evelyn had driven my body into an early grave, the coven would have died along with me. I wasn’t sure what actual relation Cordelia was to me, because the coven’s tangled history meant that everyone of the ‘pure’ bloodline was stuck in the forest. The Hemlocks, as far as I knew, were the only coven who passed on leadership through blood and not by electing a leader based on merit. It was just plain bad luck that I’d been the only surviving member when Evelyn had been close to death, forcing the coven to bind our souls together so that I’d be able to use her magic.

  “If you wish to use the forest for your travels,” said the old witch, “then you have the ability to do so, should you choose to use it.”

  The cave vanished, leaving nothing but trees and a murky path. No argument? That was a first. Lady Harper would doubtless be more difficult, but I’d do my best to avoid her. For now, I had to figure out how to use my magic to make the forest let me cross the country.

  Hemlock power was ever-present here, humming in the trees, in every shadow, and inside me. Like when I was concentrating on my spirit sight, I kept an image of the road outside the forest in my mind’s eye and stepped forwards, my eyes closed. My feet caught on a tree root and I tripped, my knees smarting as they hit the ground. Ow.

  A whisper of laughter sounded in my ears, and my eyes flew open. “Uh. Evelyn?”

  Silence. I detached my legs from the tree roots, mourned my dignity and my new jeans for a moment, then focused on her magic again.

  Had I imagined her faint laughter? I’d go with nope… but it wasn’t like she could escape her prison. Maybe using her magic brought me closer to her. Despite my vow not to let her take over my body, her power still rose to my hands whenever I tapped into my witchy nature. It was as much mine as hers, after all.

  “Come on, dammit,” I muttered.

  My hands glowed with light. That’s more like it. The forest turned transparent, the path folding in on itself, and abruptly ended at a road almost flooded with rainwater, with a snow-capped fence on the right-hand side. Looked like the half-faeries had decorated their territory for winter. A self-contained blizzard covered the area to my right, blocking out the rain, and over the fence, I glimpsed faeries skiing down artificial slopes and skating on a giant pond. I wished witchcraft could do cool things like that, but you couldn’t have it all.

  Beside the fence, Isabel stood under a large umbrella, her hood pulled up over her curly hair and faintly smudged chalk marks on her warm brown skin. I’d asked her to meet me for moral support in case the Hemlocks kicked up a fuss, but Lady Harper wouldn’t be outside in this weather.

  “Hey, Jas,” she said. “They didn’t give you trouble?”

  “Nope,” I said. “I’m a little suspicious, to be honest, but I’m not complaining at this point. I guess that’s the closest to remorse I’ll get from them. Is Lady Harper not around?”

  “Haven’t a clue. She hasn’t spoken to me since the day I came back.”

  “I seriously pissed her off,” I said. “And you set Ivy on her. That couldn’t have helped.”

  “She’s in the wrong and she knows it.” Isabel glanced behind me at the forest. “So… what’s this Ley Society?”

  “Haven’t a clue, but my boss sent me to investigate it,” I said, walking to her side. “We found a bunch of dead bodies carrying flyers with the words ‘Society of Ley Hunters’ written on them. Since I saw a shop with the same name the last time I was here, I’m supposed to see if it’s the same people.”

  “Fun,” said Isabel, adjusting her umbrella so I could stand underneath it too. I’d gone without my cloak, so I didn’t have a hood. “New spells?” Isabel eyed the bands on my wrists.

  “Hope you don’t mind I copied your recipe. I’m not planning on selling them.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You added your own touch, I’ll bet.”

  “I toned it down.” Or tried to. When left unchecked, my Hemlock power amplified spells far beyond what they’d otherwise be capable of. Not only would it be unethical of me to sell spells made using someone else’s recipe on the market, it’d be downright dangerous to hand-make my own and sell them for spare cash.

  In the supernatural world, there were two strands of spells: the type which were mass-produced and sold at eye-watering prices to anyone who could afford to fork out the cash, and the type hand-made by witches trying to scrape together a living. The latter sold cheaper but carried more risk depending on who you bought them from. Isabel had told me she’d progressed to selling her own spells direct to the mages because they were better than the market variety, but everybody knew someone who’d bought a healing spell from a hedge witch and grown an extra limb or something instead. Besides, in order to sell magic, you needed a licence straight from the Mage Lords. I’d have to expose my coven to ma
ke a living off my magic. It definitely wouldn’t be worth it.

  “Trapping spell,” Isabel said, identifying the red band on my wrist. “Healing, shield… heating spell?”

  “Trust me, they’re a lifesaver after two-hour patrols in the cold,” I answered. “But I went overboard with the first few and turned them into fire spells instead.” I’d caused a few minor explosions in my flat during my experimentation, but I’d sooner swallow a fire spell than confess to Lady Harper that I actually enjoyed doing it. I understood why Isabel spent half her time playing Mad Scientist.

  Isabel grinned. “I can tell you have a few stories.”

  I recounted a few of my wilder experiments on the walk to witch territory, skirting the faerie market which must be a new addition to town. My former home had changed in the years since I’d left, but the memories of begging on the corner of this very street, and sleeping on hard wooden floorboards at an overcrowded orphanage packed with witches whose parents had died in the invasion—every single one was as clear as though it’d happened yesterday.

  “So where’s Ivy?” I asked, raising my voice over the raucous sounds of the market.

  “At the Mage Lord’s,” she said. “Normally she’d be hunting fae, but there’s a major council meeting coming up soon with the Council of Twelve and she’s left everything until the last minute as usual.”

  “Did you say the Mage Lord’s?” I said, frowning in confusion. “She’s not a mage, right?”

  “Oh, right, you won’t know,” she said. “Ivy and the Mage Lord are engaged.”

  I cast my mind around to figure out who the Mage Lord even was. “I’m assuming the last guy retired, because when I lived here, the Mage Lord was like… sixty or something.”

  “I think he died,” said Isabel. “The current leading Mage Lord is Vance Colton. Do you know him? You grew up with the mages…”

  “Yes. I did.” Oh, wonderful. The leader of the local mages was Lady Harper’s other former apprentice. So much for avoiding a run-in with her. I wasn’t surprised Vance had been elected, considering he’d had two Mage Lords as parents, but I’d hoped I’d be lucky enough to avoid another collision with my past.

  “You grew up together?” she asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “I mean, he was already an adult when we met. And an insufferable snob… don’t tell him I said that. I take it you’re both part of the same council?”

  “Yes, the Council of Twelve. We meet a few times a year to discuss the current situation in the supernatural community, new developments in this realm and Faerie, that kind of thing. Lady Harper used to be a member of the original council.”

  I nodded. Like everything else, I’d only found that particular piece of information out second-hand, after the Council of Twelve had gathered in Edinburgh a couple of months ago. Suspicion reared its head. “Er, would that include the Hemlocks? Does everyone on the council know they exist? I know Ivy does.”

  “Nope,” she said. “It’s up to Cordelia herself if she wants to volunteer information or not. When I asked, she insisted the council not know of their existence. Half of us know already, though, because you can’t hide a forest like that easily. Ivy and Vance are the ones who put the council together.”

  “I’ve missed a lot,” I said. Until recently, I hadn’t known anyone aside from Lady Harper knew about the Hemlocks at all. If Vance did, I’d have to pay a visit, while hoping that none of the mages knew about my slight extra soul problem.

  We reached the plain cheerful brick house that I’d woken up in last time I’d been here.

  “Do you live in that house, then?” I asked Isabel.

  “No, it’s the property of my coven, inherited from our last leader,” she said. “My flat isn’t far from here, though. Ivy and I mostly run our business from there, but I do most of my experimenting at the coven’s place. Did you say you ran into this… Ley Hunter Society somewhere here?”

  “It was a boarded-up shop with a sign in the window.” Rainwater dripped down my back as I ducked from underneath the umbrella to peer across the road. “Closed down. I think that’s it.”

  We crossed the road to find the shop in the same condition as last time I’d seen it. It was far from the only empty shop on the street and its whitewashed walls were identical to its neighbours’. The sign was still there, on the other side of the boarded-up window: The Society of Ley Hunters.

  “Fancy a little breaking and entering?” I switched on my spirit sight. No signs of life showed within, but there was at least one person in the shop next door. It looked like a junk shop, filled with bits of furniture and other miscellaneous objects. “Nobody’s home.”

  “Not yet,” said Isabel, approaching the neighbouring shop. “Let’s see what the neighbours say. They might have seen who owns the place.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Inside the small, cramped shop next door, every item looked used, dusty and half broken. The paunchy man behind the counter eyed both of us suspiciously. Being human, he’d probably recognise us as supernaturals right off. The bright bands on our wrists were enough of a clue.

  “Hey there,” said Isabel, in a cheerful tone. “I wondered if I could ask you a question.”

  “Can’t tempt you with a fresh and shiny piece of silverware?” he asked, smiling a gap-toothed smile. “Or a genuine oak wood cabinet?”

  I followed his gaze. This stuff was way under-priced for what it was. I knew what he must be: a raider.

  When the faeries had attacked over two decades ago, huge proportions of the city had been left uninhabitable. Raiders made a living by breaking into those abandoned properties, pilfering whatever they could, and selling it at discounted rates. That was the theory, anyway, but most raiders were human and didn’t want to carry the risk of breaking into a home that might be infested with wild fae. Instead, they had a nasty habit of raiding properties with people still living in them, terrorising them into leaving, then pretending they’d found everything fair and square. They were crooks through and through, even more than mercenaries were.

  “No thank you,” said Isabel. “I wanted to ask if anyone had moved into the property next door. I couldn’t help noticing that it used to be abandoned until a few weeks ago, but now there’s a sign in the window.”

  “Is there?” grunted the man. “Supernatural business. Not ours. Are you supernaturals? Witches? Want to trade me a spell for this silverware?”

  “No thanks,” said Isabel. “Are you sure you’ve never seen anyone break in?”

  “I’ll trade you this one,” I said, easing a spell off my wrist.

  Isabel shot me a sideways look, but I knew how people like him worked. When it came to spells, humans didn’t like anything too complex, but what they valued most was protection. Specifically, against people like us.

  He looked at the spell. “What’s it do?”

  “Iron ward,” I told him. “Keeps the nasty faeries out.”

  “I like the way you think. Give me two and I’ll tell you who you saw.”

  My eye twitched. I knew exactly how much those spells were actually worth, and most people would flat-out refuse. But I was soaking wet and fed up with the whole business already.

  “Two,” I said, though gritted teeth.

  “All right,” said the raider. “I thought I saw a man walk in there the other day. He was wearing a coat with a hood.”

  “That’s not descriptive,” Isabel protested. “Two spells aren’t worth—”

  He rose to his feet. “Give me an illusion spell to conjure up a beautiful woman and I’ll give you all the info you need. Alternatively, one of you two could step in.”

  I grabbed Isabel’s arm warningly, but she was on it.

  “Touch me and this spell will blow your nose off,” Isabel said, in calm tones, twisting a band on her wrist. “And this one will rid you of any hope of ever gaining any pleasure from any illusion charms again.”

  He sank backwards, fear filtering into his expression, and I grabbed her arm
and pulled her out of there.

  “That,” I said, “was amazing. But I’m not sure we should have ticked him off.”

  “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t leave a spell on his doorstep that’ll turn him into a mouse if he tries to follow us.”

  “That’s if he gets his hand out of the biting spell I put on his desk.”

  Isabel grinned. “See, you did learn something from me.”

  “If we have to report the Ley Hunters to the police, can we ‘accidentally’ report that guy too?” I said, pacing back to the neighbouring shop. “I know, I know, the human police can’t prove he stole that stuff from living humans, but come on. It’s unethical to say the least, without getting into the ‘creep’ factor.”

  “Yeah.” Isabel’s face pinched. “Can’t hurt to drop a line with the mages. But this place… it’s weird. The name is too distinctive to be an accident.”

  “Someone owns it,” I said. “A supernatural. Who else has heard of the Ley Line?”

  “I’d say it’s time to try your breaking and entering idea, then.” She walked to the door, raising her hands. “Damn. It’s warded on the inside.”

  “Seriously?” I joined her, my hands flat against the wooden door. The hum of a spell reached my fingertips, but too faint to grasp. Evelyn’s magic whispered through my palms, but I hadn’t yet mastered the art of moderation, and we’d need a warrant to actually break inside. “Damn. I don’t think I can turn off the ward without blasting the door to bits. And we can’t prove these people are breaking the law from a simple sign.”

  Isabel swore under her breath. “I don’t have the tools with me to get the spell off the door without drawing attention.”

  I stepped backwards, my foot catching on a scrap of paper, plastered to the pavement with rainwater. Crouching down, I picked it up. The Society of Ley Hunters titled the page, and below, a date and time, smudged. “Today… I’m sure that says today’s date. Seven p.m.”

  “It does,” said Isabel, reading over my shoulder. “Does it mean it’s happening here?”