Which Witch is Wicked? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 2)

by Kerrigan Byrne

  She started to cry in earnest then. “I’m sorry. I know there’s never a good reason to steal. I really would understand if you wanted to kick my ass.”

  Claire’s heart crumpled with empathy. She moved closer and wrapped an arm around the poor girl’s shoulders. “Aw, Sunny. Don’t cry. This is going to be okay.”

  “It’s not,” she said through a muffled sob. “The world is ending. My world, at least.”

  Little did she know. Sunny’s proclamation brought their circumstances full circle. Had Claire and her sisters brought about this travesty?

  “Sunny, listen. You’re like family to us. Our little sister, so to speak. When you hurt, we hurt.” Claire pushed a purple-hued strand of hair from her face. “I wish you would have said something to one of us. Let us help you.”

  “But it’s not your problem.” She searched Claire’s face, a hint of hope shimmering in her moist eyes.

  “You’re wrong. We love you. Let us help you.” She took the two ten-dollar bills Sunny had dropped and pulled another twenty from the bag. “Take this to buy a couple of days’ worth of groceries. I know my sisters would agree with me.”

  “Thank you,” Sunny said with a tremulous smile. “I don’t deserve it.”

  Claire snorted. “Of course, you do. You’ve kept us afloat while we’ve dealt with personal issues. We owe you far more than this.”

  The gears in Claire’s brain shifted. “I don’t know how much Tierra has told you about our new Internet business, but Aerin’s certain it’s going to be huge. Already, we’re struggling to keep up with orders, and as the world continues in a downward spiral, people will be begging for more and more of our affordable herbal and homeopathic teas, medicines, and supplies. We’re going to need someone with some brawn to help with shipping and inventory. Do you think your dad might be interested? I know my sisters and I won’t be able to handle everything, especially with Tierra—” she caught herself before she revealed more than she should— “being under the weather.”

  Sunny brightened by degrees. “Are you kidding? I know he’d love it. And he’s good with that sort of stuff. I’m sure he’d be happy to help with anything you’d ask of him.”

  “Okay, then.” Claire gave her another hug before she headed toward the door. “Let me confirm with the others before you offer it to him. I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

  Sunny stood, wiping more black tears from her face. “Thank you, Claire. Give me a few minutes to clean up, and I’ll get back to work.”

  “No, you won’t. You have the day off. Though Aerin did have a question she’d like to ask. Tell you what. When you’re ready, you come out. We’ll see what Moira has been able to concoct for you tea-wise, and then you can help Aerin for a bit. After that, you have grocery shopping to do and your family to reassure. If we stick together, we’ll get through this, Sunny.”

  Sunny nodded. “Thank you again. I’m so happy to call you all my sisters.”

  Claire smiled and left the room, feeling like one weight had been lifted from her, while five new ones now occupied her soul. She and her sisters might be able to help Sunny and her family, but how would they ever help all the residents of Port Townsend, let alone outsiders who might be affected by the shift in events?

  Moira blocked Claire from escaping from behind the counter, her own eyes wet with unshed tears.

  “What?” Claire asked, not sure she was ready for the next difficulty she might have to battle. “Did that crazy homeless man come in?”

  Moira shook her head and sniffed. “I heard what you done told Sunny. That other stuff about you being on my shit list? It’s all good.” She gave a firm nod and turned back to an older woman waiting at the counter.

  Claire raised her brows as the customer asked if Moira had anything to recommend for warts. She would have helped Sunny regardless, but the fact that she’d pleased Moira at the same time left a lighthearted fire burning inside her.

  ****

  Dru followed his usual path through overgrown pines. The overcast day aided his covert mission as he headed toward the coven’s headquarters.

  A sudden rush of warmth filled him, causing him to halt mid-step. Claire.

  He inhaled a deep breath, closed his eyes, and savored the burning inside him. He wasn’t sure what had just transpired, but she was happy.

  He lived for those moments during the day, when she smiled or laughed. They gave him hope for the future, for a future with her, even when that seemed impossible. He had no idea how he’d reconcile the unfolding events, and, it seemed, the inevitable end of the world. But as long as Claire drew a breath, he’d keep fighting for their chance.

  Refocusing on the duty at hand, he slipped into the coven’s compound unnoticed. It wasn’t that the Witches of Port Townsend hadn’t highly secured their property. In fact, some of the most powerful wards kept out unwanted visitors, but, truth be told, he was wanted.

  Some might consider messing with Gwen’s affections a dangerous game. Dru deemed his time with the coven’s leader a highly necessary, effective warfare tactic. Gwen had yet to discover his ability to conjure believable situations like Claire had during their first meeting. Then again, Claire was far superior to Gwen in beauty and talent, though she might not have realized it yet.

  The other three Horsemen still believed the calamitous events of their recent days centered directly around the Apocalypse. Yes, the end of the world hung in the balance, teetering on their and the witches’ actions, intended or otherwise. But he suspected there was more at play than the death of a witch.

  No. He knew it.

  They might take out Claire or one of her sisters in the current day, but this scenario would eventually come back around, and they’d face it again. Might be next year. Might be a millennia down the road.

  He was tired of the fight. Tired of the endless days with no love and only death and destruction. His brothers had to be as well.

  They needed to solve this predicament once and for all, or be faced with thousands of days of torture again. Claire’s death might bring an end to the fire burning inside him, but knowing she no longer inhabited the earth would bring about a pain worse than death, worse than the raging fires of hell.

  There was no other option for him.

  If that brought him into the bedchamber of the lovely, cunning, yet chillingly cold coven leader, so be it.

  As he neared the red brick mansion once owned by a highly profitable shipping magnate back in the 1850s, he slowed his steps. Claire’s aunt would be inside as well, along with the rest of the coven. Though they were no match for his stealth and ingenuity, one careless step could out him, and he had no doubt Gwen would not give a blink to save him from their wrath.

  He checked her bedroom window, and finding it unlocked, slipped inside.

  The cool aquamarine and purples of the room bored him to distraction. Nearly lulled him to sleep, which, he supposed, was the point of a bedroom. At least to some.

  He preferred rich, bold reds and oranges that excited his blood and his libido. Like Claire’s room. He’d watched her many times through his high-powered rifle scope, brushing her hair, removing the leather sheath she liked to wear so often.

  Beneath, he’d discovered she liked to wear black satin. No pink, yellow or green. Always black. Like his heart.

  Or at least like his heart had been before he’d carried her Fire.

  Voices in the hallway surprised him, and he quickly flattened his iron-toned body against an armoire, prepared to bring forth his sword if necessary. The doorknob sounded as someone twisted it, and a shaft of dim light entered from the hall, barely lighting the dark room.

  “Why are you bothering me with visitors, Justine?” Gwen’s voice carried the sharp edge of impatience.

  Three steps into the room, Gwen caught sight of Dru. Her nostrils flared with surprise, and she halted abruptly, Justine bumping into her. Gwen twirled, coming face-to-face with Justine, forcing Claire’s aunt to take a step backward, out of
his view, meaning he was also out of hers.

  “If you would let me finish.” Excitement thrummed on each of Justine’s words. “It’s not Georgia like we expected. She’s someone much higher up. I’m sure of it. If you meet her, you’ll sense it as well. She has powers far beyond anyone in our coven. She’s asked for temporary sanctuary. From whom, I’m not sure. But think of what we might learn from her. Even if she only stays a few days.”

  “This is risky at best, Justine.” Gwen flashed a quick, concerned look in his direction, and Dru knew she didn’t want him to overhear their conversation. “I will meet with her, but she cannot stay.”

  “But—”

  “I’ve spoken. Take her to the conservatory, and I’ll meet you there. I need a moment alone.” Gwen’s authoritative tone left no room for discussion.

  “Of course.”

  A moment later, the door closed, and Gwen found him on the side of the armoire. She pressed her thin body against him, trapping him as a cloud of cloying perfume assaulted his nostrils.

  “My love,” she whispered. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

  “My schedule changed, and I found myself with extra free time. Of course, I’d want to spend it with you.”

  He tolerated her kiss and then gently pulled from her, twisting until she occupied the corner. Her shivers of anticipation and delight reached out to him. “I don’t have much time,” she whispered. “Can we make this quick?”

  He forced a chuckle. “A man like me never comes quick.”

  She laughed, the tinkle of her voice grating on him like the metal of a bobbing boat against a pier. “I suppose not. I do have something I need to attend to for a bit. Do you mind waiting? It shouldn’t take too long.”

  He grinned, thinking she’d given him access to their lair while an important visitor was on site. “Why would I mind? Especially considering the possibilities of what might lay in store.”

  “This is why I love you.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Shall I ward the door behind me?”

  “Do you believe me incapable of hiding or protecting myself from your coven?”

  “Never.” She drew a finger down his cheek. “They haven’t a clue how much danger lies in those delectable muscles, which is why I keep you around. You excite me.”

  Ah, gods. “Take care of what you must.” While he did the same.

  “Back soon.”

  He gave her ten seconds to disappear down the hall before he opened the door.

  Chapter Eight

  No wards or charms existed inside the walls of the coven’s sanctuary. At least not that Dru could detect. Any mastermind protector would know never to use only a single line of defense. One fatal hit would leave the entire compound vulnerable. Lucky for him, the Witches of the Olympic Coven were more concerned about what transpired outside their area than inside the confines.

  Transforming to a state where he wouldn’t be detected for any length of time would require much from him, but the possible knowledge he’d receive would be worth the sacrifice.

  Silently, invisibly, he stepped into the hall. Hushed whispers of excitement filled the house as others made their way in the same direction. Apparently, everyone was aware of the new visitor and yearned to know more.

  The majority of the group passed the closed doors of the conservatory, continuing toward the end of the hall lit with flickering sconces where Dru knew the coven met as a group to chant, pray, and cast spells. Strong magic filtered from that room, reaching out toward him.

  “She’s called a meeting,” one witch whispered.

  “Report to the Hallowed Room,” said another.

  He followed the group of nearly twenty witches as they descended upon their gathering spot. At one point, he found himself sandwiched between three older witches, one of them Claire’s aunt, Justine. He did his best to not touch any of them, hoping to remain undetected.

  Unfortunately, Justine stopped abruptly outside the Hallowed Room’s doors, and he couldn’t avoid bumping her. The witch behind him plowed into him as well, resulting in a second collision with Justine.

  Claire’s aunt turned with a venomous glare. “Watch where you step, Martha. You don’t need to be so close.”

  The grandmotherly Martha widened her eyes in offense. “I beg your pardon. You did this. Not me.”

  Dru flattened against the wall and slipped past them. The last thing he needed was for them to come to blows, only to realize an invisible object stood between them. No longer concerned for any noise he’d make in the cacophony of excited female whispers, he found his way into the conservatory, occupying space near a potted tree in the corner where no one else would likely stand.

  Fearsome, dark energy blended with other light-hearted traces of past spells, reminding Dru these witches were capable of deadly deeds. Though many of the coven seemed dim-witted and easy to dupe, together, their powers could prove a difficult foe.

  “Some are saying she’s a high priestess,” a short witch with a red pixie cut whispered to her equally short, dark-haired friend. “That she’s come from back east.”

  “I’d heard she’d been banished, an outlaw looking for sanctuary,” her friend replied.

  Needless to say, the whisperings had piqued Dru’s curiosity. He couldn’t believe it was a coincidence that this notable witch, whoever she was, had arrived after Claire and her sisters had broken four of the Seals. Undoubtedly, four of seven broken seals would capture the attention of many interested parties around the world.

  Gwen entered the room moments later, followed by a voluptuous woman, the sight of which kicked Dru squarely in the gut. She’d tamed her blond curls into submission and had toned down her glamorous makeup and clothing, but he recognized her immediately.

  Lucy.

  What the hell was she doing pretending to be a witch?

  At the thought of her name, she swiveled her head in his direction, scanning the crowded room full of witches. He froze. She narrowed her gaze as though pin-pointing him, but then continued her perusal of the area.

  He allowed shallow breaths, but kept his thoughts blank.

  Gwen stepped onto the dais, looking pale in comparison to her counterpart. “Welcome sisters to this impromptu meeting. Thank you for making yourselves available.”

  “As if we’d miss it,” whispered red-headed pixie witch.

  “The Goddesses have blessed us this day with a surprise gift unequalled in recent memory,” Gwen continued. “This is high priestess Lucinda. She’s traveled from The Brehon’s Chair in Ireland, near the ancient druid ruins of some of our ancestors. She will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. Please make her welcome as she is our honored guest.”

  A rush of murmurs drew over the crowd in a wave. As far as Dru could tell, none guessed her true identity. He could only imagine what crazy, devilish plans she’d concocted.

  Gwen stepped aside, giving deference to Lucy.

  “Thank you, everyone, for opening your home to me. My hope is that I may be of as much of assistance to you as you’ve been gracious to me. I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you.” She bestowed a warm smile, but Dru knew it went no further than the surface. Lucy would consider these women trivial, pawns in whatever game she had in mind. His immediate task would be to figure out what that was.

  “As I’ve already discussed with your leader, I and others like me have a grave concern about the recent happenings in Port Townsend. The fact that four of your coven have been so willfully careless and selfish to have allowed four Seals to be broken is, dare I say, an abhorrent act of disobedience. I’m sorry to say, but we cannot allow these deeds to go unpunished. You cannot allow them to go unpunished.” She flashed another brilliant smile. “However, we do realize we would be unfair to penalize the entire coven, and so I am here to offer my services to help you bring a stop to these errant witches.”

  “Technically, they’re not part of our coven,” Gwen pointed out, earning a silencing look from Lucy.

&
nbsp; “Their mother was though, and their aunt continues to be, I believe. There are those who see them as your problem to solve. But, fear not. I am here to help.” Lucy tilted her ruby lips in a smile sweeter than spun sugar.

  “She means to kill Justine’s nieces,” the dark-haired witch whispered.

  “They deserve it,” murmured her red-headed friend with a vengeance. “Look what they’ve brought upon us. Better them than all of us.”

  “True.”

  How easy they turn on their own kind. Dru shook his head in distaste.

  “I’ve had a long journey and shall retire for now.” Lucy touched a weary hand to her brow. “But should any of you have ideas on how to…eliminate this problem before it progresses any further, please don’t hesitate to stop by my room. I believe I’ll be occupying Gwen’s room since she’s assured me she wanted me to be as comfortable as possible.” She tossed an expectant look at their leader who widened her eyes in surprise, which then quickly flipped to panic.

  “Of course, Lucinda. Our house is yours. Give me a moment to make your room ready.” Gwen made to step off the dais, but Lucy took her by the arm.

  “No special treatment. Really. I’m sure it’s fine as it is.”

  The alarm on Gwen’s face deepened, and she pulled her arm from Lucy’s grasp. “You’ll need fresh sheets, and there are a few items I’d like to gather.” Like me, Dru thought. Gwen forced a smile and then stepped away before Lucy could detain her further.

  The group dissipated shortly after Lucy followed Gwen from the room, and Dru made haste toward the front door. His energy had dropped to an all-time low, and he needed to slip away before he lost his edge and someone discovered him.