Which Witch is
Wicked?
The Witches of Port Townsend
Book Two
by
Cindy Stark
Kerrigan Byrne
Tiffinie Helmer
Cynthia St. Aubin
Which Witch is Wicked?
Claire © 2015 Cindy Stark
Aerin © 2015 Kerrigan Byrne
Tierra © 2015 Tiffinie Helmer
Moira © 2015 Cynthia St. Aubin
All rights reserved
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-1517366117
ISBN-10: 1517366119
Cover Art © 2015 Kelli Ann Morgan / Inspire Creative Services
Interior book design by Bob Houston eBook Formatting
Dedication
To our readers.
Who magically make the dream of writing a reality.
Table of Contents:
Claire
Aerin
Tierra
Moira
Claire
by
Cindy Stark
Chapter One
Goddess of power, hear my plea
Watch over those who pray to thee
Grant the power, give it to me
To protect those who are worthy
By earth, air, fire and sea...
Energy crackled and hissed as Claire de Moray chanted the magical words.
A red haze colored her world and a loud crack filled the air. Claire blinked and glanced around, her gaze landing on shattered pieces of turquoise pottery that had once been a beautiful vase. Broken white roses lay mixed with the shards as a puddle of water seeped from the wreckage.
“Tierra’s going to have your ass,” Aerin said with a sassy smile. “She made that vase. Grew those roses.”
Claire put a defeated hand over her face. “This will never work.”
After a deep breath, she focused on Aerin, who’d joined her in the solarium. “Something is missing, but I can’t figure it out. I need the damn Grimoire. Without it, how will we ever protect ourselves? Protect Tierra and her baby? Death might have spared Tierra, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t kill one of us. And it doesn’t mean the other Horsemen won’t try to end her life.”
“Fucking thief sneaking into our house, taking our book.” Aerin perched on the edge of the windowsill, staring into the cool morning air, a cup of heart-stopping coffee in her hand. The house had been hauntingly quiet for the past week since Nick had shot a deadly arrow at Moira and nearly killed Tierra instead. A thick, strangling gloom hung over all four sisters, mimicking the damp gray skies outside. “We need to figure out who took Grim and kick her ass.”
“Agreed. And you and I are the perfect ones to do it.” Claire wanted nothing more than to lash out at someone or something.
“Damn straight.” Aerin leaned farther out the window and stared up at the sky with a frown on her face.
“Couldn’t have been the guys who’d taken Grim,” Claire continued. “We’d know if they’d gotten through our wards. Wasn’t Justine because she was dead drunk. What about someone else in the coven?”
Aerin didn’t answer, seeming preoccupied by something in the sky.
Claire stood and approached her sister. “What are you looking at?” Just as she reached the window, something sailed through the air, heading straight for the pink rhododendrons below. “What the hell was that?”
“Fish.”
She leaned over Aerin’s shoulder to see a salmon flopping on the ground in close proximity to several others. A frazzled bat swooped in through the open window and landed on Aerin’s knee, his favorite spot to rest, barely escaping the next fish bomb.
“Oh, my God.” Three seagulls came in for another round, all carrying squirming fish in their beaks. “Have they gone mad?”
“Bat-shit crazy.” Aerin stood, leaving Doctor Lecter to flutter about the room as she hurried to shut the window. Just as she did, the body of a fish smacked against the glass, leaving a blurry streak as it slid down the surface.
“But not as crazy as your sister.” Aerin opened the window again. “Moira! What the hell are you doing out there? Get your ass inside before you get hit.”
Claire watched as Moira dashed across the lawn to gather one, then another flopping body from the grass.
“Get your sweet ass out here and help me,” she cried. “A’fore they all die!”
“Oh, hell.” Claire hurried from the room, nearly colliding with Tierra as they reached the back door, both of them heading outside. “Don’t ask because I don’t know.”
“They need water! Get a bucket or somethin’,” Moira yelled as salmon smacked her head. “Damn it! Help me gather them up!”
“I’ll get it.” Tierra dodged a flying fish as she ran for the side of the raised porch.
Claire caught Aerin’s questioning look and shrugged. “She’s our sister. We have to help her.” She grabbed the closest squirming body and tried to ignore the feel of slimy scales and thick, moving muscle in her hand. As she bent to capture another, one slapped her on the bottom. “Ow!”
Aerin blurted out a laugh, and Claire straightened to send her a glare. “Shut up and help.”
“I’m sorry, but the only way I touch fish is sturgeon caviar on a toast point.” She shook her head as if questioning their sanity.
“Really?” Claire couldn’t resist the temptation. She picked up the fish that had landed on her and tossed it at Aerin. Her sister grimaced as the large salmon fell squarely on one of her designer shoes. Before Claire could return her laugh, another bounced off the loose bun of hair on Aerin’s head.
Aerin narrowed her gaze as though plotting a counter attack. “You’ll pay for that.”
She lost her ability to execute her plan when more bodies began to pelt both of them. Sounds of screeching seagulls filled the air as the fish falling from the skies increased exponentially with each second.
“Help me,” Moira called, tears in her eyes. “I can’t do this myself.”
Claire immediately shifted back to business. Surprisingly, Moira’s emotions were enough to spur Aerin into action as well.
A moment later, Tierra came toting an aluminum basin. “I’ll get the hose and fill it.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout that. I’ve got it covered.” Moira moved her lips in a silent prayer, and the skies opened above them. Rain and fish poured down on them like a vicious hailstorm. Only the fish were much bigger than hailstones, and a direct hit hurt like hell.
They scrambled to grab as many fish as they could and stuff them into the basin, even as the birds continued to deluge them.
“We need to figure out a way to stop the seagulls,” Tierra called over the cacophony as she pushed sodden hair from her face.
Aerin snatched a salmon out of the air as she straightened and tossed it toward the mounding pile. “Oh, balls. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ve got this one, sisters.”
She lifted a finger and twirled it, whispering into the misty air.
Leaves in the surrounding trees rustled as though Aerin had roused the spirits inside them. Twigs and rose petals joined in the dance, swirling about them. Seconds later, the heavens screamed as the atmosphere shifted and swept powerful gusts of air toward the open water of the Puget Sound.
Claire could barely maintain her stance as Aerin’s wind turned Moira’s rain into stinging pelts, the force of it nearly knocking her over. She knelt to the ground and helped cover the pile of fish along with Tierra and Moira. Frightened expressions marked their faces, and Claire grasped their hands. “We’ll deal with this together.”
Aerin conjured gale force winds for a good five minutes, knocking birds and fish out of the sky. When she stopped, the world came to a halt as an eerie silence cloaked them. They all glanced toward the skies and then at each other with wide eyes.
“Are they gone?” Aerin whispered.
“I think so.” Tierra stood, her hair plastered to her face, her normally flowing skirt a sodden mess.
Soft sobs came from Moira’s direction, her shoulders shaking as she wept. Claire scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s okay. They’ve stopped.”
Moira lifted her gaze, black tears streaking her lovely face. “Why would the Horsemen do that? Hurt my babies like that? Isn’t it enough that they’re trying to kill us? Why hurt these poor creatures?”
“I don’t know,” Claire said softly as she took in the devastation covering their back lawn. “But look around. We saved most of the fish. There’s no time for crying. We need to get them back to the Sound.”
“We can’t go out there.” Fear burned in Tierra’s eyes. “We’re too vulnerable.”
Claire met her gaze. “I’m not afraid. They might be some big, bad-ass men, but look around. We’re not average women.”
“That’s right.” Aerin inhaled deeply, still looking like she owned the world despite her dripping clothes. “We’re powerful witches. According to the prophecy, we’re capable of ending the world, so don’t fuck with us.”
A tentative smile lit Moira’s face as she glanced at each of her sisters. “Thank you.”
“We’ll all go.” Tierra caught their enthusiasm and stood a little taller.
“Except you,” Claire added, which flipped Tierra’s smile to a pout.
“Yeah.” Aerin sent her a commiserating look. “Momma and the kid need to stay safe at home.”
Tierra rolled her eyes. “What happened to witches powerful enough to end the world?”
“It,” Aerin answered with a disgusted sigh as she pointed toward Tierra’s belly. “Kids ruin mojo every damn time.”
“In fact, Moira should stay here with you.” Claire glanced between the two, knowing they were both suffering from weakness at that moment which left them more vulnerable. “You can take care of each other while we get the salmon back to the Sound.”
“Great idea,” Aerin announced in a voice that said there would be no further discussion. “Let me change out of this mess, and we can go.”
“Okay.” Moira nodded in agreement as a soft rain began to fall. “I’ll keep ‘em wet until you get them all safely back home. Then we can bury the causalities.”
“Or eat them,” Tierra suggested, earning questioning looks from her sisters. “What? I’m pregnant, and I’m hungry.”
Claire didn’t bother to change. What would be the point? By the time they hauled that much fish back to the sea, she’d be a mess all over again.
So much for spending the afternoon practicing a spell. Perhaps that was the Horsemens’ intent after all. Keep them all too busy fighting to protect themselves so they wouldn’t have a chance to counter attack. After all, Dru was a master of warfare. She’d come up against him once and won. She doubted she’d be that lucky again.
Didn’t mean she wouldn’t try though.
Yes. Come up against me again. Dru’s voice whispered from somewhere in her head, sounding more like a sexy invitation than a challenge. Claire gritted her teeth and tried to shut out the sound. Again.
She didn’t know what to make of it. Hadn’t told her sisters. But ever since he’d owned her fire and she his sword, he seemed to hear and live inside her thoughts.
Couldn’t really be so. She was certain it was her imagination. After all, a woman didn’t have sex, even imaginary sex with a man like Drustan Geddes and remain the same afterward.
The voices were her libido talking. Nothing more.
Definitely nothing she’d ever act on. The man wanted her dead. He’d made it very clear. If she had her Fire, he was bound by some insane force to kill her. They’d never be friends like he’d promised. Certainly never lovers.
She shut down the ache inside her and concentrated on helping Moira. Then she’d focus on protecting her sisters. That’s where her power lay. She’d remember and perfect that damn spell if it killed her.
Chapter Two
Dru Geddes’s boots crunched on the twigs and dried leaves as he traversed the misty forest surrounding the obscure cabin deep in the woods outside Port Townsend, Washington. Fog shrouded the pines, wrapping him in silence and solitude. Something he sought regularly since he and the other three Horsemen had failed their missions.
Many things weighed heavy on his mind. First and foremost, Claire de Moray. Second, the fucking prophecy which proclaimed the end of the world.
Unfortunately, the two were intertwined, and, even using his most refined warfare tactics, he couldn’t decipher a way to solve his dilemma. Kill the woman, or one of her sisters, which would be unforgiveable in Claire’s eyes, and save the world. Or save Claire and end the world.
Either way, he’d be damned. He’d never hold her in his arms again. Never know what it would be like to have her scream his name in the throes of passion as he buried himself deep inside her.
His existence might be tolerable if he could get the image of her out of his mind and the taste of her off his tongue. Worse, the sound of her out of his head and the feel of her fire out of his heart. Traces of her still burned deep inside, scars left from when he’d housed her essence.
His sword was no longer of the purest steel, honed by years of bloody battles. A woman’s touch had tempered the notorious blade and yet somehow made it stronger.
Gods, he ached to have her do the same to him.
At times, when the world was quiet, he could hear her, experience her thoughts. Love and happiness for her newly-found sisters. Anger when she cursed him and his brothers. The soft sighs she made in her sleep he pretended he’d inspired.
Those he treasured.
When the darkness of night surrounded him, leaving him alone with his thoughts, her voice would come, and he could picture her lying next to him, fragile in sleep, stirring his desires, her fire warming his bed. Unfortunately, when he reached out, all he found was cold sheets.
Fuck.
He sucked in a breath and increased his pace until he was full out running. His strong heart drove life-affirming blood through his body, and he filled his lungs with oxygen once again. He was alive, and so was she. Not once had he conceded a battle. Nor had he ever failed ultimately to complete a mission.
Gods be damned if he’d fail or concede this one. There had to be a way for them to be together.
If only Bane hadn’t fucked up. If only he’d let Tierra die.
When the cabin came into view, Dru slowed his pace, allowing his heart rate to even out and his mind to settle. He and his fellow Horsemen had to solve their dilemma. Or someone would do it for them.
He found Nick outside, rapidly firing arrow after arrow into the trunk of a massive pine. The tree shuddered from the constant barrage.
“We’ve got problems,” Dru said as he passed, not bothering to stop to impart furt
her information as he continued toward the house.
Inside, Dru found Julian sitting in the leather armchair he’d claimed as his own. His eyes were closed. Dramatic classical music encompassed the silent spaces in the room, rising to a crescendo as Dru approached the stereo system. He hit the power button, bringing back the blessed silence.
Julian did not open his eyes.
“Do you really think what you’ve done was a wise idea, Roarke?” Dru asked.
“To what are you referring?” Julian asked, keeping his repose.
“What did he do?” Nick brought up the rear, and Dru was sure if he needed it, Nick would have his back.
“Damn pestilence and plagues,” Dru nearly shouted at Julian. “I’ve just returned from doing recon on the witches’ house. Imagine my surprise when a plague of seagulls dropped salmon bombs from the sky like they were bird shit. Appeared to be centered solely on ground zero.” Dru tried to rein in his anger. “Now is not the time for petty games, Roarke. I’d like to know the expected outcome of that tactic.”
Julian inhaled and straightened, pinning Dru with crystal blue eyes. “Sorry, chap. My plagues tend more toward toads and boils. Birds and fish lie in another purview altogether.”
“It had to be you. Who else?”
Julian shrugged, seemingly uninterested and innocent, but Dru knew behind those eyes rested an infinite amount of knowledge and the power to wipe out entire civilizations. “Perhaps you’d care to impart more information so I might make an informed estimate,” Julian replied.
“Could have been Bane.” Nick grabbed an apple from the bar and claimed a seat on the leather couch. “The Fourth Seal has been opened, bringing forth Hell and the beasts.”
“Speaking of hell, where is Bane?” Dru asked. He should have been there with the rest of them trying to solve their problems. “He’d better not be out getting another piece of ass.”
“He’s collecting souls.” Just as Nick answered, the front door opened, and Killian Bane strode in, his expression darker than the obsidian that washed up on the nearby shores.
Which Witch is Wicked? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 2) Page 1