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

by Kerrigan Byrne

  Gingerly stretching, Tierra ventured to the turret bay window and looked out over her damaged gardens. They needed help after last night.

  She gave into the yawn that cracked her jaw and caught the steady stare of beady black eyes watching her from the branch of a hemlock tree.

  Clever harbinger to stay just outside the protective perimeter of the wards.

  Killian Bane, the Fourth Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the Grim Reaper, the Great Destroyer. Death himself, in his raven form, watching her.

  Bastard never seemed far anymore.

  She hadn't talked to him since the night she'd died, but she'd felt his black eyes burning a hole through her at odd times of the day and night. They'd probably have to talk at some point, as they were having a child together.

  But not today.

  Mentally she conversed with the stately evergreen, asking for a favor it seemed all too happy to give. With a flick of her finger, the pine branch bowed and released, flipping the raven off his perch. A deep throaty caw echoed like a sardonic laugh as the raven sling-shotted away.

  Take that, you demonic peeping Tom.

  Death might not be intimidated by her powers, but a pregnant woman was a force to be reckoned with. And she planned on kicking some ass today. She wasn't doing another midnight zombie brawl, or midday one, for that matter. They needed to find out, without Aerin using spells in the back of the book, how to kill—er, rid the world of the undead.

  Grabbing another quick shower—she'd taken one before bed, but after the last twenty-four hours she didn't think she could get clean enough—Tierra dressed in a flowing sundress the color of apricots, adding her crystal bracelets that helped protect against evil. Cat's eye, agate, and topaz, which had Jinx meowing approvingly. The cat sat on the dresser next to the mirror monitoring Tierra's choices, and tossing her a few Tierra hadn't considered. But when Tierra added the jasper and moonstone for pregnancy, Jinx hissed.

  What did it say when a witch's familiar was against protecting her child?

  "Either tell me what you know or stop hissing," Tierra said, picking up the ancient scrying crystal that had helped deflect Conquest's arrow from piercing her heart, and slipped the golden chain over her head. She'd left her hair down, rather than taxing her sore muscles into braiding or putting it up. Maybe she could get one of her sisters to help her with her hair.

  Jinx gave a mocking meow as if reading Tierra's thoughts.

  Hmm…what if the cat understood her? She locked gazes with the feline, and its green eyes met hers, feral and shrewd.

  This was no pet.

  First on the list of chores for today: witches' familiars. What help were they? From modern-day fairytales to before the recording of the Brothers Grimm, the witch's familiar held some power or was a helpmate to the witches. And as each of her sisters had their familiars, too, it made sense that they would be useful.

  Jinx purred and rubbed up against Tierra's arm. Well, she must be on the right track.

  Gathering Jinx in her arms, Tierra ventured downstairs to consult the book and scare up some lunch. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she could eat and maybe keep it down.

  That is until she reached the first floor and entered the kitchen.

  Aunt Justine, Gwen, and the new coven member, Lucy, sat at the table having coffee with Aerin while Moira leaned against the wall. Moira's grudge against Aunt Justine wrapped around her like armor and added a pall of unease over the gathering. Those sitting at the table tried to ignore Moira's resentment for the perceived villain in their midst, but Aunt Justine still squirmed in her chair.

  The overwhelming stench of sulphur assaulted Tierra's senses and her stomach churned. Could emotions put off scent? Was Moira emitting that putrid smell with her hatred of Aunt Justine? Lately, as her pregnancy progressed, smells were magnified tenfold. But this was rancid enough that the others should be able to smell it.

  Jinx hissed at the guests, leapt from her arms, and scampered out of the room.

  "There she is!" Aunt Justine exclaimed, her smile all white teeth, her eyes bright jade. "I'd know that jingle anywhere."

  Maybe she should retire the ankle bracelet, but she loved their musical bells that sang of mystical places.

  "Aunt Justine." Tierra swallowed hard and put on her welcome face, greeting Lucy and Gwen. Why hadn't anyone told her they had company? She would have stayed upstairs. Making small talk would require more than she had in her to give right now.

  Especially coven company.

  "Where's Claire?" she asked, looking around the room and not finding her.

  "Claire's with Tommy." Moira folded her arms over her braless tank top, glaring daggers at Aunt Justine.

  Would Moira ever get over Aunt Justine trying to kill her? Probably not. Justine didn't look very comfortable either squashed between Gwen and Lucy at the round table. Smart of her though, to not sit within scratching distance of Moira.

  Claire's Tommy was another thing that needed to be handled. Tierra mentally added ridding the house of him to her list of chores. After last night, Claire had to know that Tommy was dangerous and not the boy she'd loved.

  "Is that a good idea?" Tierra asked. "Tommy alone with Claire?" Did no one remember the power-hungry zombies wanting to eat our hearts out from last night?

  "You want to tell Claire who she can and cannot see?" Aerin asked, glancing at both her sisters to gauge their reaction. "Yeah, didn't think so."

  Well, if Miss Dark Spell isn't feeling her oats this morning.

  "Tierra, you look as fresh as a ripe peach in that dress," Lucy commented, smiling and seeming sincere, but the hairs on the back of Tierra's neck rose again. "I swear each time I see you, your skin glows brighter. Please, join us for coffee and share with us your secrets. Aerin makes it just how I love it. Strong enough to wake the dead."

  "Tierra doesn't drink coffee. She's more of a teatotaller," Aerin smirked, raising her cup to her lips.

  "Tea is probably better for your…nerves anyway. Isn't it, dear?" Lucy asked with a knowing quirk of her perfectly penciled brow.

  Tierra shivered. How did this newly transplanted Irish witch know about her condition? Had Justine told her? She'd asked her not to tell anyone until she figured out what she was going to do. Or could Lucy be hiding powers beyond the ken or the capacity of the other coven members? For now, Tierra pretended she hadn't picked up on Lucy's cloaked remark.

  "Remember," Tierra said, "I'm in the business of making tea. It would make sense that I'm also a fan." Slowly, she inched deeper into the kitchen under the guise of brewing some, but in reality, it was to move away from the nauseating smell of rotten eggs that had her stomach twisting in fits. And she'd such high hopes of eating something today.

  "That's right," Lucy said. "Your little shop. What was it called again?"

  Oh, she knew the name. What game was she playing at? "Ambrosia's Brews and Charms," Tierra supplied.

  "Yes, I remember now. Such a charming name. I need to make a point to drop in one of these days. Tell me, how is business doing with all the unfortunate happenings of late?"

  "Wonderful." Aerin proudly beamed. "Ambrosia's is now a global marketplace. I've taken it to the clouds, so to speak. And while a lot of brick and mortar stores are failing, recent events have increased the sales of the alternative health tonics and teas Tierra sells."

  "So very pleased to hear it."

  Tierra set the tea kettle to flame, wondering what they were really doing here. This wasn't a checking-in-to-see-how-you're-doing visit. It was a checking-in-to-see-what-you're-up-to visit. It seemed too coincidental, this mid-morning meet after last night's lawn party. Couldn't be the use of dark magic on the air that would have reverberated through the countryside like sonic waves when Aerin read from the back of the book, could it?

  She hoped her sisters had caught on to that, too. Moira looked fully aware of the undercurrents, while Aerin seemed to be enjoying Lucy and the others' company. Almost as though she was holding cour
t.

  "Yes, the Goddess has blessed us having Aerin and her talents here." Tierra attempted to change the subject, wanting it off her and her business. "Please continue with your conversation. I didn't mean to interrupt."

  "You're not interrupting," Gwen said, her Barbie doll looks and plastic smile making Tierra's uneasiness flare further. "In fact, we'd love your insight."

  Tierra swallowed again, wondering how long she'd last before she must excuse herself. "My insight on…?"

  "Before you arrived, we were discussing last night," Lucy said. "So much going on and rather than put any stock in the rumors, we thought it would be best to come to the— well…source, if you will."

  Rumors?

  Lucy continued, "It seems all of Port Townsend can't stop talking about a woman matching your description—and that of your sisters as you all look so much alike—seen flying on a broomstick over the Sound." Lucy tilted her head, raising her perfectly shaped nose into the air like a hound on the scent. "Know anything about that?"

  She reminded Tierra of a purebred Afghan hound with her long, silky, platinum-blond hair, symmetric features that were so arresting they compelled you to stare. But if you gazed upon her too long, you might get bitten and lose part of yourself. This woman had power. Tierra could feel it coat her skin like humidity and see it shimmer like heat over a mirage in the desert. Claire had been enraptured with her and believed Lucy's power and knowledge would be helpful in thwarting the Horsemen.

  Maybe it was the morning sickness, but Tierra was no longer so sure. Lucy made her nervous. What kind of witch was she? What kind of power did she have? Aerin appeared to accept her without a second thought also.

  How did Moira feel?

  Tierra glanced at Moira. Did Moira see what she saw? Could that be why she stood back from the group, more so than her desire to see the last of Aunt Justine?

  "A woman flying on a broom over the Puget Sound?" Tierra questioned, filling the tea infuser with fresh-dried mint. The sharp, clean scent was refreshing, and she breathed it in, praying it would help keep her stomach from heaving. The best thing for that would be to lose their current company. "Sounds like a fairytale."

  "Oh, no, it isn't," Gwen rose excitedly and rushed forward as though to make her point. "There is recorded proof of witches flying on broomsticks, but it seems the magic and science of it has been lost over the last two hundred years or so."

  "Might have something to do with all them witch barbecues those folks in Salem got up to," Moira muttered. "For the record, y'all let me get burned alive on anything less than hickory, we ain't sisters anymore. Got it?"

  "Make a note of that, will you, Tierra," Aerin said.

  "Do you have any idea how useful that skill would be in the fight against the Horsemen if we can come at them from the air?" Gwen scooted forward in her excitement.

  "One of the Horsemen can fly," Aerin said.

  "Death," Lucy provided.

  How did she know that? Nowhere in the book of Revelations, the Grimoire, or the Google Gods had it mentioned that Killian could fly or was known to change shape into a raven.

  "Yes," Aerin answered. "So, I don't believe witches on broomsticks will stop the Apocalypse. If such a thing as flying on broomstick could happen," she added, though she looked like it killed her to stay quiet on her amazing achievement.

  "Justine said that there was a spell in the book that explained how," Gwen pressed.

  "Did she now?" Aerin drawled, gazing at Justine.

  "Well, you know, I thought I did, but I was probably mistaken. Yes, I'm sure I was. Plus there is so much information in the book…most written in older and forgotten languages. I'm just an old woman who imagines things all the time." Aunt Justine tried to smile but looked anxiously from Lucy to Moira as though she felt danger from both. But why would she fear Lucy? "Why don't you girls talk? I need a word with Tierra."

  Thank you, Goddess. Who would have thought she'd thank her aunt for anything anytime soon?

  "Sure, Aunt Justine." Tierra stressed the family relation in case anyone objected, and then wondered why she felt the need to. "Please excuse us." She gathered her cup and saucer of tea and turned toward the solarium. She attempted to keep her pace steady even though she wanted to bolt. Hopefully the overflowing clusters of flowering plants would help rid her nose of the stench that hung over the kitchen like a festering disease.

  Tierra kept moving until she reached the purple-pink heliotrope. The vanilla and cherry pie scent complimented her mint tea, and she stood for a moment and soaked them in until her stomach stopped its persistent pitching. Once under control, she turned and faced Aunt Justine.

  Justine's face was strained, the skin dark under her eyes and hung from her jowls as if she'd recently lost weight too fast for her body to adjust. Tierra looked deeper and noticed the weakened color of her hair, more gray and fading to a pinkish tint that really couldn't be called red anymore. "Are you okay, Aunt Justine?"

  "No, I am not. I need to move back home. Now. I can't stay with the coven any longer. Please, you have to allow it." The please came out as a whisper and Justine glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen.

  They were far enough from the others to not be overheard, but Tierra lowered her voice just in case. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing is right. Nothing has been right since your…sisters arrived, and now there are dead men walking about. Zombies, have you heard?" Justine's lips twisted together in a sneer. "I can't bear to watch the evening news any longer."

  "None of those are reasons to move back in."

  Justine seemed to struggle with something and then ventured closer. "Things…are different with Lucy in the coven."

  "How? She and Gwen seem to be hitting it off nicely."

  "Too nicely. They're thick as thieves," Justine muttered, though the words didn't hint of jealously. She focused on the pots with cheery bright yellow blossoms that Tierra had planted months ago. "Why did you plant so much St. John's Wort?"

  If Justine thought this was a bunch, she should see what Tierra had cultivated out in the gardens and in the surrounding forests. In modern day, St. John's Wort was commonly used for depression and anxiety, but traditionally the herb was used to ward off evil spirits. Believers dried and hung the plant from religious symbols or iconic statues, and monks were still known to plant St. John's Wort around the perimeters of monasteries like their brethren had before them. Tierra figured it couldn't hurt.

  Aunt Justine met her eyes. "You feel it, too, don't you?"

  "Feel what?" She knew the answer before Justine spoke it out loud.

  "The evil," Justine whispered.

  Tierra narrowed her eyes. "What is happening at the coven?"

  Justine glanced back to the kitchen and then grabbed Tierra's hand and strode to the farthest corner of the solarium. "Blood magic. Sacrifices."

  "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you were more than happy to experiment with blood magic and sacrifices mere months ago. Remember Moira and why she hates you?"

  "This is different. There are unnatural…activities going on with the coven. Sexual, demonic rituals. Black magic."

  Tierra felt Justine's fear as if it were her own and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. "What about Moira?"

  "That girl is as backward as the possum-eating people she came from."

  "Not the right thing to say to gain my favor. As we had the same mother, her people are your people."

  "That isn't what I meant, and you know it. You've seen how difficult she is."

  "Difficult or not, she is my sister."

  "And I am your aunt. I raised you, Tierra, and don't you forget it. I sacrificed the best years of my life to give you everything I could."

  Except love. "You attempted to kill her." And who in the coven had attempted to kill Tierra's other sisters when they were babies? Would they attempt to kill her baby when the news was out? Lucy knew she was pregnant, of that Tierra was pretty damn positive. She laid a protective hand on her belly. Who e
lse had Justine told?

  "I've told no one that you're with child," Justine said, clearly reading Tierra. "And I won't if you—"

  "Are you threatening me?"

  "No, of course not, but I can't promise to stay quiet as Lucy can make you tell her things."

  "What have you already revealed about us?"

  "Nothing, I swear."

  "Except you've spilled secrets about the Grimoire."

  "I told you, she knows things. Things she shouldn't. Things no one should." Justine grabbed Tierra's arm, her nails sinking deep. "You have to take me back in."

  "It isn't just up to me. You must convince my sisters."

  "Have I not been good to you? I've been running Ambrosia's while you and the others have been stuck here hiding out from those damned Horsemen. I've helped ward this house and tried to make amends. I can't help it if Moira is as stubborn as a rock. You need me."

  It might be easier for Tierra and her sisters if Justine stayed at the coven, but if Justine truly felt threatened, the manor was the safest place to be.

  No matter what she'd done, Justine was family, too, and Tierra couldn't turn her back on her. Justine had been born in Maison de Moray and had lived here all her adult life. If push came to shove, she might have more of a legal right to the place than Tierra did. Moira and Justine would just have to work out their differences once and for all.

  "Let me talk to them," Tierra said, but first she'd have to throw up.

  Chapter Two

  "Where the hell have you been?" Dru demanded, his sword clenched in one hand while yellowish-green ooze slowly dripped off the blade. In his other, he held a decapitated head by the hair.

  "What are you, my mother?" Bane answered. If War wanted another fight, he'd gladly give him one. After Tierra had flung him from her view, beating the shit out of someone would go a long way toward improving his mood.

  From the looks of the front yard, there had already been one hell of a battle, or rather a battle from Hell.