by Cecy Robson
The circle sparks. It’s only just starting to work.
“Allow us safe passage,” I demand.
The tendrils of smoke grow longer and in number, snagging those who don’t move fast enough.
“Celia, stay in there,” Aric tells her.
“Get them out of here, T,” Bren barks. “Get them out of here, now.”
“Grant us safe passage…”
Celia’s growls thunder against my back. “Dude,” Shayna says to me. “I can’t hold her much longer.”
“By the power of good that surrounds the Earth, make it be.”
I slam my foot down, sealing us in. The hearth explodes, granite and mortar striking the circle as blue and white light fires from the base.
My circle holds, protecting us from the debris, except we don’t leave.
A Nyte made of dark coal crawls from the ruins of the hearth. Three head witches lift their staffs and fire curses. The spells combine and strike the Nyte in the center of the chest. Lava spews from the hole, igniting the witches and several vampires.
Bren’s hands slap against his sides. “Fuck me,” he mumbles.
The smoke clears alarmingly fast, unveiling the vampires reduced to mounds of ash. The witches are now mere statues of coal. They crumble as the lava creature moves forward, his heavy steps shaking the floor.
Celia presses her hands against the ward protecting us. “Aric, get out of here.”
He shakes his head, not bothering to turn to look at her. “Not until you’re gone.”
More lava spills from the hole in the Nyte’s chest, sliding along the floor but not penetrating. Whatever this is appears to choose what will burn and what won’t.
The lava pools around my circle, poking at my magic and trying to find a weakness.
The action makes me lose my mind. I’m many things. Weak is not one of them.
My right arm flares in challenge, and I feel my irises turn white.
“Oh, shit,” Bren mumbles.
He and the wolves back away, and they should. “Fire,” I rasp. “Give me fire.”
I shove my fist out as a torrent of magic, fire, and lightning releases. It flings the creature out and through the window, it’s glowing body landing with a thud near the lake.
The force of my strike pushes me back. I land on concrete, rolling. Emme lands next to me. Shayna is more graceful and settles on her feet.
It doesn’t compare to Celia’s entrance. She flips, landing in a crouch.
The scent of rosemary and water fills my nose. Thousands of plants spread out around us. Through the glass ceiling, thick clouds pass, shadowing the moon.
“We’re in a greenhouse,” Celia says. She rises slowly, her tigress eyes scanning for trouble.
I ease up, helping Emme, who likely would have remained on the floor if I let her. I’m livid. “How the hell did we end up here?”
Shayna pulls the sword from its sheath. “Beats me, T,” she says. “We were supposed to end up at the boathouse.”
“I know,” I agree. I dust myself off. It’s a ridiculous gesture. God only knows what body fluid I’m not covered with.
“Um. Is it possible you messed up the spell?” Emme asks.
She’s trying her best not to accuse me of any wrongdoing. It doesn’t bother me either way. I could have screwed this whole gig up, but I didn’t.
“No,” I reply. I face my sisters. “We were supposed to take a boat and cross the lake to meet Makawee, Martin, Danny, and Heidi if we were in trouble.”
My sisters exchange glances, confused as to where I’m headed. “Yes,” Celia says slowly. “That was the plan.”
“But what if they’re the ones in trouble?” I ask.
Doubt further plagues their features. “Hear me out,” I say. “I asked for peace and safe passage, you heard me, right?”
Shayna twirls her sword, trying to stay loose. “Between the swears and stuff? Sure, dude.”
I ignore the comment. When the smoke started lassoing the guests, a lot of creative words gushed out of my mouth that had zero to do with the spell.
“Genevieve helped me develop the spell so we’d end up at the boathouse,” I remind them. “Who knows where we would have landed if it was solely up to me. Spells are hard. There’s lots of chanting, getting naked, and…” My voice trails when they look at me. “Let’s just say witch school scarred me almost as badly as nursing school. I still have nightmares about attending both.”
I clear my throat. “Anyway. The boathouse was our go-to spot. Except, when it comes to spell casting, the words used in the spell are always stronger and take precedence. They would override the location if it wasn’t safe.”
Emme’s skin appears pale in the moonlight. My words don’t help her pallor. “Does this mean that Danny and the others…”
She’s asking me if they’re dead. I don’t have an answer nor the time to think those thoughts through. “I don’t know, Em. I hope not,” I say. “What I do know is that this place is the farthest we can get from the lake, the manor, and the way out of the compound.”
Chapter Twelve
We’re in a glass house. Literally. Aside from a few rosemary bushes the size of pines and some tree saplings, there isn’t much in the form of cover.
Celia sits on the floor beside me. Our backs rest against a wooden door that will absolutely not be opened on my watch. Behind that door perch rows and rows of snapdragons, waiting rather impatiently for their evening dousing of enchanted water. They flap their leaves and click their little teeth, creating a chorus of sound. As far as level of bitchiness, they rank ten out of ten, unlike the gentler mugwort and witch hazel spread before us.
Shayna volunteered for guard duty. Her senses aren’t as keen as Celia, but they work well enough to alert us of danger while Celia tries to rest.
“Are you doing okay, Shayna?” I ask. Partial inner wolf or not, she’s tired.
Shayna smiles softly. “Yes, just thinking about Koda.”
I smile too. I bet she is. My smile fades as my thoughts turn to Gemini. Our wolves won’t come here. Not right away.
The tip of Shayna’s sheath scratches the surface of the concrete when she inches closer. She stares out into the night, where screams and roars own the darkness. Occasionally, a ripple of magic drifts into the greenhouse and makes Sparky tremble. It’s usually the residual power of a curse. But sometimes, like just before, it’s the last bit of magic from a dying witch. I’ve lost count of the fallen, and I’m ready to lose my mind. I can’t sit here and do nothing.
Emme returns from conducting a sweep. She wanted to get a sense of where the exits are in case we need to make a quiet escape. “The greenhouse is shaped like a cross. We’re at the center and in the largest section. Each tip of the cross has a door leading out.”
I rub my stressed eyes. “Thanks, Emme.”
More likely than not, we’ll blast our way out of here. That’s just how we roll. But as the newly appointed head of the Wird girls, I’ve learned to analyze matters akin to special forces in order to survive.
I miss those days where Celia took the lead. I mean, I always offered support and my ideas, and never waited for permission to act. But as the oldest and our self-appointed protector, leading always came naturally to her. I’d fall into the role of backup and flame-thrower, and that was fine by me.
Since the start of her pregnancy, Celia stepped down from the role. It wasn’t a formal announcement, just one that simply happened. Her baby and his safety understandably became the priority. I just wish there wasn’t a need for the protection. This little baby deserves a chance at normal. Except he’ll never have it.
“How are you doing?” Emme asks.
I think she’s speaking to Celia until she edges closer to me. Her pretty shoes are covered with slime, and her dress is stretched out of shape and splattered with black goop. I’m more of a hot mess. My dress, being white, shows the spoils of combat. No dry cleaner in the world can save our clothes. It’s just best to p
ut them out of their misery and set them on fire.
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
Emme can’t sniff lies like the other supernaturals can. But she knows me well enough to determine I’m better left alone.
We look to Shayna when she turns her head. “What is it?” Emme asks.
Shayna’s wide grin surprises me. “I can feel Koda. He’s far, but I think he’s in that direction.” Her smile lessens. “Sometimes I feel him stronger than others.”
I nod, thinking I know where she’s headed. “Like when you’re in danger.”
“Yup, and when I’m in heat,” Shayna admits.
“Ah, what?” I ask.
Shayna laughs. Emme finds somewhere new to look. “It’s what Koda calls it. His wolf can tell when I’m ovulating, and lately, I’m like this ravaged, amorous beast.”
At least she spared us from saying horny.
Shayna rolls her eyes. “You know, horny.”
Never mind.
She holds out a hand. “I think I’ve mentioned how we like to role play.”
“Yeah, yes, um,” we all say at once, hoping she’ll stop there.
She doesn’t.
“One time, we were playing dirty pirate slut and Captain Hotness.”
“Shayna,” Emme admonishes. “That’s so offensive.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Emme. I didn’t mean to offend you. If it makes you feel better, we didn’t go through with it. My hook kept getting in the way, and Koda’s skirt was way too tight on him.”
“Please stop speaking,” Celia begs her.
Emme’s face could set this whole place on fire. “Um, how are you doing, Celia?” she asks.
“I’m all right. I’m just trying to focus on the lake.”
Emme smiles. “I know it’s always brought you peace. Is it helping?”
Celia shakes her head. “Not as much as I’d like it to. It’s restless tonight and calling to me.”
I adjust my position. “Calling as in wants you with it?”
“I don’t know about that,” she says. “During some of our rougher times in the region, Tahoe has been more active, responding to the bad and relishing in the good we’ve managed. I suppose it’s trying to communicate what it’s feeling as a result of what’s happening. That’s what I mean by calling.”
Her back straightens when the distant growls and hisses increase in cadence. She sighs when they dwindle slightly.
“You look terribly uncomfortable on the floor, Celia,” Emme tells her. “Would you like me to look for something you can sit on or possibly rest against?”
“It’s not a good idea, Emme,” Celia replies. “If we have to abandon this place in a rush, we can’t leave traces of our presence.”
Emme nods. “That makes sense.”
Shayna turns briefly away from her watch. “Should we make a run for it?” she asks. “Nothing is moving out there, yet. We may lose our chance if we don’t act soon.”
A shrilled scream cuts through the night. Above us, lavender sparks from a leftover spell hit the glass ceiling and cascade down like glitter. Celia scrunches her eyes closed.
“That was Genevieve’s Captain of the Guards,” Celia says.
I bite down on my lip. Bad idea since leftover dead things coat it. “This isn’t good,” I say. “Genevieve was grooming her to lead a sister coven in Oregon.”
“Why Oregon?” Shayna asks.
“Genevieve is building covens along the entire Northwest,” I explain. “Diana, her captain, was a tough witch and a hell of a strategist.”
“What about Genevieve?” Emme asks. She wrings her hands. “Do you think she’s still alive?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t caught traces of her voice in a long time,” Celia admits. She shifts her weight, her hands rounding on her belly. “But I think Taran would have felt her death if she was gone.”
My brows knit. “Me? Why me? We’re not exactly close.”
Celia smiles. “You were accepted as a sister of the coven. You’d feel her perish no matter what you felt for each other in life.”
“Hey, she started it,” I counter. I shrug. “Don’t put the moves on my man, and I won’t feel the need to smack you around.”
Celia laughs. “She’s a good person, Taran,” she says. “A friend to the weres.”
“Is she?’ I smirk. “So, if you catch her cozying up to Aric and whispering sweet nothings into his ear with her oh-so voluptuous bosom inches from his face, you’d be cool with that?” She stops smiling. I clasp my hands behind my neck and stretch out my legs. “Yeah, kitty, kitty. That’s what I thought.”
Emme attempts to finger-comb her wild blonde hair. She gives up when she pulls out what may or may not be a piece of eyeball. She grimaces, shaking out her hand. “Taran, may I ask you a question without offending you?”
I chuckle. “Probably not, but shoot anyway.”
She smiles. It’s the first time I’ve seen her pretty grin all night. “The spell you cast was meant first and foremost to protect Celia and send her somewhere safe.”
I sit up, listening closely. “That’s right,” I agree.
“Then why was she the last to appear here?” Emme asks. “You arrived first. Shouldn’t it have been Celia?”
“And me last?” I offer.
“Yes.”
Her question has merit. I give her the most feasible answer I can. “The power I launched at that creature fed the spell. Since I’m the one who cast it, it sent me first.”
“Why was I next?” Emme asks.
“I fought it,” Celia admits.
“Yes,” I agree. “You didn’t want to leave Aric.”
Celia runs her fingers through her long waves. Unlike the rest of us, her hair isn’t coated with eyeballs and bowel juices. “My biggest fear is losing my baby.” She glances down. “But losing Aric…I don’t want her to grow up without a daddy.”
Like we did, she means. Shayna eases away from her post and speaks softly. “You said, ‘her,’” she points out. “You’ve been calling the little dude ‘him’ for the longest time.”
Shayna is purposely diverting the conversation away from losing Aric and back to Celia’s sweet child, where it belongs. Celia knows as much but allows it anyway. She turns to me. “In Taran’s vision, the baby I held looked like Aric.” She smiles softly. “I don’t know. I guess we assumed we’d have a son. Except every now and then, I start thinking that maybe she’s a girl.”
“Why, Ceel?” Shayna asks.
Celia’s cheeks redden. “I don’t know. It’s nothing specific. I can just picture myself holding a little girl sometimes.”
I almost suggest she’s having twins, but keep my mouth shut. My vision seems like so long ago. I only saw one child. That doesn’t mean there won’t be more. Except given what’s happening, there aren’t any guarantees. The future remains unclear for all of us.
“I feel Puppy again,” Shayna says when Celia grows quiet.
Celia greets her with a gentle smile. “I feel Aric too. He just seems far away.”
This mate thing can really be a blessing at times like this. I feel Gemini and his twin. It’s the only reason I haven’t blown this entire compound into oblivion. It wouldn’t be the first time I messed up Genevieve’s place. As a matter of fact, she’s probably come to expect it.
“Can I ask you another question?” Emme asks. “About the spell you cast to get us here?”
“Sure,” I ask, wondering why she appears so worried.
“Why didn’t I land here first?” Emme questions. “After spending the last few hours fighting, I was drained.”
“The last few hours?” I ask.
A small line forms between her eyebrows. “Yes. Bren and I were gone most of the night.” Her brow puckers when she looks up at the moon. “Um. I mean, it’s almost dawn, correct?”
“No, honey,” I tell her. I explain the passage of time. She takes it as well as I did.
Shock worsens her state. “It’s still early?
” she asks.
“Oh, yeah. The only real time seems to pass within the house. But I’m not positive.” I roll my ankle. Emme was well enough to heal my injuries, but my muscles remain tense. “I wish there was a way to question those Nytes and get some answers.”
“Knights?” Celia interrupts.
Her features appear strained. I’m not certain why, but it gives me the barest pause. “Not knights as in from a kingdom,” I explain, trying to gauge what’s happening. “Or night as in the time of day. N-Y-T-E. It’s how Johnny announced his presence. I’m not sure if he was trying to be dramatic or if I presume their names wrong, but it’s what I’m calling them.”
“I understand,” Celia says. Her breath picks up then slows as she finishes. “And you’re certain it’s Johnny?”
“I am,” I reply. Her behavior bothers me. She’s struggling to focus. I continue only when she appears to settle. “I can sense him. Maybe because I was the closest to him out of all of us.”
“I can sense him a little too, dude,” Shayna agrees. Unlike me, she doesn’t appear to notice a change in Celia. “I didn’t know who he was, not at first. But there was something familiar. Once all the, you know, killing started and the body parts began flying, and you told us it was him, I knew you were right.” She wipes her nose irritably as if she can somehow still smell Johnny. “I think it’s because he’s muffling and meddling with the magic like you said.”
“I think so too,” Celia agrees. She adjusts her weight against the door. Whatever she was feeling appears to have passed.
I quiet, thinking back to the last time Johnny and I faced-off. We beat the absolute shit out of each other. I had a chance to kill him and should have burnt him to ash. But as hard as I fought, I couldn’t cast that final blow. Maybe it was because in the little time we knew each other, I became his closest friend.
Friend. I repeat the word in my head as I think how much we’ve lived through. What a fool I was to think of him that way.
Guilt ravages me. It’s the first time I’ve allowed it to. The whole “trying not to die thing” squashed it down earlier, but now it’s here. Like a corporeal being, it points a nasty finger at me.
“I should have killed him.”