Mystic Coven: Winter Wiccan (Supernatural Academy Graduates Book 2)

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  "I'll go first," I said, straining to say the words that felt so dangerous. "As soon as I'm out of sight, the rest of you need to go straight for the archives. Keep the entryway open just long enough for me to shoot through."

  "What if something goes wrong?" Hattie squeaked, keeping her arms wrapped around me.

  I fell silent, struggling to find a response.

  "We'll have to make it up as we go," Clayton said, moving closer to the passage to the catacombs.

  He strained to listen into the depths, and then turned back to us.

  "It's silent. No better time than..."

  And before he could finish his sentence, Asher dropped to his knees, wincing in agony.

  Then Piper fell. And Noah.

  Their cries of pain tore at my soul. They writhed in tortured anguish like they were burning from the inside out.

  Just as I pulled Hattie tighter, fire ignited within me, coursing through my veins like lava. Hattie screeched with the sound of a suffering animal.

  I pulled her toward the dark passage, grabbing Asher at the same time.

  "Come! Now," I screamed to Noah and Piper.

  They hardly heard me through their torment, but Clayton bombed over, forcing them to move.

  The twisted grimace on Clayton's face proved he was burning too.

  The hell-bent banshee had found us.

  With no time to even think, I barreled down the steps toward the catacombs, straight for witch, pulling Asher and Hattie along with me. Clayton led Noah and Piper into the dark stairwell just steps behind us.

  My hands and feet clenched into tight balls, resisting the burning that surged from within. I stumbled on my scorching feet, wincing with every agonizing step. As we reached the depths of the catacombs, the banshee's presence exploded all around us causing the searing pain to reach near-unbearable heights.

  Her shrieking wails and torturous fire shattered our bodies and souls. A wretched cackle rang through the tombs, proving her hold on us.

  "Go," I choked. "Now!"

  I pushed Hattie and Asher toward the hidden door of the archives. Clayton grabbed onto them, holding their smaller forms against the coffin-lined wall.

  Noah and Piper covered them with their bodies, giving protection from any open access by the banshee, while Clayton frantically searched for the hidden seam in the wall.

  Fighting against the surging pain made every movement near impossible.

  I stepped away from them, in hopes of alleviating their suffering, and as I moved toward the far end of the catacombs, Clayton generated movement within the massive stone slab.

  The crunch of stone moving on stone gritted my teeth as I watched them slip into the archives, one by one.

  As Clayton pushed the last of them into the safety of the vault, he reached out for me to grab his hand.

  I moved for it, gasping for breath through my incinerated lungs.

  "Clayton," I cried.

  And just as our hands nearly touched, I was shot back by the violent force of the banshee.

  Coming face to face with my assailant exploded my mind.

  I stared into her gruesome, charred face and saw only pain. Her suffering dictated her every move, and passing it on to others was her only relief.

  "Stop!" I screeched into her face. "They are innocent."

  My heart ached for my friends, knowing the extent of their suffering. I only hoped they'd escaped it now that they were in the vault.

  But my own pain continued to surge through my body without relent.

  Staring the banshee in the face made the burning rise.

  In her eyes, I watched as flames danced deep within her pupils. Her entire being was consumed by fire.

  And then it struck me.

  My element.

  My power.

  It was fire.

  Only it typically gave me strength, but here in the catacombs she was using it against me.

  I had to regain control before it was too late.

  Drawing in a deep breath through my fiery lungs, I closed my eyes and focused.

  With the banshee filling my mind and soul with her vengeance, I crouched to avoid her attack. As she lifted her cloak around her to envelop me within it, I caught a glimpse of her exposed soul in her eyes.

  Fear.

  It was unexpected, and I glared deeper into her eyes.

  She'd seen something within me in that moment.

  And she was afraid.

  I took another deep breath and forced whatever was left of my energy into my palms.

  A purple glow shone from my hands, and I pushed harder.

  As I shot all of my inner essence into my hands, fireballs circled and grew within my open fingers.

  Lifting my hands toward the banshee, I aimed my flames directly at her face.

  She pulled back from the sight of the fire, letting out a whimper of terror from deep within her.

  In that moment, her guard fell, exposing a flash of her original form.

  Her true nature.

  A beautiful woman. Confident and wise.

  The cruelty of the world had decimated her to a monster. One with a vengeance meant to end me.

  But within her eyes, I saw something more frightening than a hell-bent, crazed witch.

  I stared at something scarier than a death-seeking banshee conjured by my arch-nemesis.

  I saw my reflection.

  Stumbling back, I gasped for air, forcing myself to remember how to breathe.

  My spirit was within the banshee's eyes and stared back at me.

  My soul shared space with hers.

  I shook the purple flame from my hands, unable now to cast the defense against her.

  I knew it was crazy. She had every intension to kill me and my coven.

  But I just couldn't do it.

  I couldn't harm her.

  I fell backward, disoriented by the revelation, and at the same time, I knew she'd seen it too.

  Without breaking eye contact, I moved farther away, still well aware that she could strike at any moment—the tension between us as brittle as thin glass.

  As my mind raced in panic, I jolted off balance as I was pulled backward.

  Bouncing against the stone wall, I fell back into the hidden space of the archives as Clayton threw me inside, closing the granite slab behind us.

  Without any hope of balance or coordination, I toppled into the room and fell against the middle table. Grabbing onto it, I steadied myself before face-planting onto the floor.

  I gasped for air, feeling like I'd taken a hit to my solar plexus, wheezing for life-giving oxygen. After a few huge inhales, my mind steadied and my equilibrium returned.

  Gazing up, I scanned the terrified eyes that bore into my soul.

  "Are you okay?" Hattie cried, running to my side.

  "Shaye! Holy shit," Piper ran to me.

  "What the actual fuck?" Noah hovered, staring at me like I was a ghost.

  Their reactions brought me back to life in every way. The burning had ceased and my muscles released their death-clamp from my bones.

  Asher's big eyes stared up at me, waiting for ever detail of my close encounter with the banshee. His wild curiosity lightened my spirit.

  But then, it was Clayton who tore my heart open.

  A small gasp escaped his resisting lips as he reached for me. The tremble in his jaw and the shine in his eye was too much for me to bear.

  I turned and fell into his arms.

  He caught my weight as if it were air and scooped me into his chest.

  "I don't," he started. "I can't..."

  His words caught in his throat.

  And in that moment, it seemed strange.

  Yes, at first it was obvious my life had been threatened.

  Quite directly.

  But what they hadn't seen was the banshee's vulnerability.

  The piece where I saw deep into her soul.

  The part I would never say out loud though, was the part where I saw my own image in her
eyes.

  It made no sense. Maybe it was part of her attack on me.

  My reasoning was weak, but it was all I had at the moment.

  "I'm okay," I said. "She didn't hurt me."

  "Like hell," Clayton blasted, searching me for damage.

  We'd all been burned as if we were at the stake. The pain had been unimaginable and would scar us forever.

  But at the same time, we were okay now with no remaining damage, and I had to assure my coven of that fact.

  "Are you all okay?" I pleaded. "Has it stopped?"

  Everyone nodded, confirming that the safety of the archives had held off the banshee's attack.

  Clayton held me back slightly and stared into my eyes.

  "We're okay. Asher and Hattie too. They're just a bit shaken. But you, you faced her. What happened?"

  I lowered my eyes, uncertain of what to say.

  "I'm not entirely sure. Um, I looked her in the eye."

  He pulled back slightly, not sure about what that could mean.

  "And?"

  "I saw things. Her pain. Her torment."

  "That doesn't matter, Shaye. She's only an evil conjuring of Josie and that lady from town, what's her name?" His eyebrows pulled together in frustration.

  "Laney Rosco."

  "Right. That's all she is. Some friggin' messed up demon sent to wreck you."

  "I know," I said. "But there's more. It wasn't just random. There's a connection."

  He shook his head and exhaled loudly.

  "No, Shaye. There's no connection here. She's a demon-witch from hell, focused on killing you, and you won't be saving her. Understand?"

  I nearly laughed through my stress from his demand.

  And then I did.

  The laugh pushed through my nose as I tried to cover it from escaping my mouth.

  The snort made me laugh even louder, and I worried it would send him into a rage.

  But instead, he struggled to hide his smile, and then the others joined in.

  Laughter lit up the archives as we released our tension into the cosmos.

  I collapsed in relief, leaning against the shelves by the side of the center table.

  As I pressed my weight into them, requesting their assistance in holding me up, I knocked a leather-bound ledger onto the floor.

  Reaching down to pick it up, I read the binding.

  The Portal at Hell's Gates

  My heart stopped.

  I'd been to that portal. With Ms. Reed.

  And bad things happened.

  She'd disappeared.

  Hattie was able to open a new portal at the Fire Festival to bring Ms. Reed back. But if it hadn't been for Hattie, I'd still be to blame for Ms. Reed's assumed demise at Hell's Gates.

  I grabbed the leather book and pushed it back onto the shelf.

  I wanted nothing to do with anything associated with that place... and portals, for that matter.

  The ledger resisted my effort to tuck it away, and I pushed harder.

  "Get in there," I murmured.

  Hattie shuffled up behind me.

  "What is that?" she asked, tipping her head to read the binding.

  "Nothing. Just another old book." I pushed on it again.

  Hattie moved closer, and reached for it. Without even touching it, she pulled her hand away in shock.

  "No, Shaye. That's not just an old book." She scanned the entire shelf, growing more rigid by the second.

  She stepped back to take it all in and then added a final comment.

  "That book holds the story of how we got here."

  Chapter 6

  Clayton remained with his back against the stone slab door. His feet anchored into the floor, making it clear he had no intention of allowing the banshee access into the archives.

  I actually didn't mind him playing guard so I could have a minute to study the records of Hell's Gates. As much as I was apprehensive about what I might discover, at the same time, I was jumping out of my skin to learn anything about my origin.

  Hattie pulled two of the leather bound journals from the shelf, and brought them to the center table. Noah heaved the large ledger of student names from its prominent position and placed it on a side table among a variety of ink pots and quills. Asher played with one of the long feathers and reached it toward Noah's face. With a snuff, he swatted and snagged it away from Asher.

  Looking for something else to do, Asher moved away with a huff and browsed the rows of books at the back of the vault.

  "Bring that one over here," Hattie called to me, pointing to the journal in my hands.

  Piper set candles at the edges of the table and lit them with a wooden matchstick.

  A flickering glow filled the archives with light, generating the sense of being surrounded by kindred spirits of years gone by.

  I thought of how many centuries people had spent filling these journals with the history of Hazeldene. It blew my mind to even begin to fathom what the books must hold.

  I placed my heavy text onto the table allowing for a good look at its cover.

  A five-point star shape was branded into the leather, worn thin from years of handling and aging. The binding had string running through it, visible from some tears at the seams, and, rubbing my hand along the surface, I inspected its handmade craftsmanship.

  "Are we ready?" I asked, looking specifically at Hattie.

  She nodded and squeezed in closer.

  With the two of us standing together, we gazed at the ancient manuscript. I glanced up at Clayton with a nervous twitch, and he nodded for me to open it.

  Piper and Noah came to the edge of the table and watched, as Asher continued to peruse the other books at the back.

  Light from the candles illuminated the leather cover with a warm glow, inviting me to open it.

  With trembling fingers, I lifted the cover and exposed the first hand-cut page. The parchment was yellowed and the bleeding ink lines faded, but the words were still plain as day.

  The Portal at Hell's Gates

  1600s - 2000s

  I took a huge inhale.

  The book held over four hundred years of knowledge on the portal. I couldn't be sure if it was linear time in its measure, or if it was condensed, multi-dimensional time realms due to the power of the portal. My curiosity soared as my brain ached from attempting to understand the quantum physics behind it all.

  "The witch trials occurred in the 1600's," Piper breathed.

  I nodded in silence, acknowledging the start date of the journal, then turned the next page and read aloud.

  "This is a written account of the events at Hell's Gates that may have changed history forever." I took another deep breath. "The words within this manuscript were written in modern day with first-hand account of the disorder of the 17th century."

  I rubbed the page between my fingers.

  If it had been written in modern day, some time during the new millennium, then it made no sense that the journal was so ancient. Its binding and its parchments were antique.

  But then I thought of the mystical forces within the portal.

  It allowed travel between the realms. Maybe the book had been written in the modern day lives of travelers—but written while they had crossed over, centuries earlier, then returned back to the present day.

  Anything was possible here in the archives of a supernatural academy, particularly when portals were involved.

  "The book is ancient," I whispered. "But the writings are new, from a modern perspective."

  My statement confused my ears, but no one flinched. They only hovered closer for a better look.

  I turned the next page.

  "Within these pages is the written account of the experiences at Hell's Gates as told by Hazeldene Academy founders - Brynn Douglas and Shane Hazeldene."

  I looked up, blinking. "Those names are familiar."

  "Yup," Clayton called over from the doorway. "Their names are inscribed on the plague at the metal gates leading into the school. That wa
s around ten years ago when they donated the place."

  "And Shane's name is on an old portrait in the study," Piper added. Her eyes narrowed as she thought about the painting. "But that was created around the original time of the estate. Maybe it was a great great grandfather with the same name." Her voice faded as she got lost in her theory.

  I turned another page, contemplating the intricacies of time travel.

  "Or maybe it's the same Shane—in the 1600s, and then in the 2000s."

  Our silence hung over the ancient book as we considered the possibilities. Time travel affected everything within the journal, and its essence coursed through my veins.

  I gazed down at Hattie, watching her as she studied the handwritten pages.

  "It's all connected," I whispered.

  "I know," she murmured. "I think we know them."

  I bit my bottom lip until it hurt. Turning the next page was taking more effort than I could must, and Hattie reached for it instead.

  As she turned the thick parchment, a mass of scrawled ink filled our vision. The following pages were filled with numerous lines of script, documenting events and people with great detail.

  Certain words jumped out in repetition, like Lakefield High School, town forest, triangular hut, and names like Laney, Courtney, Blake. Laney's name lingered in my mind for a moment, then y finger ran along the pages, turning them quickly, scanning for more familiar terms.

  And then my eyes focused on it.

  The one thing I'd hoped to not see.

  The Dark Witch.

  I held my breath, skimming the paragraphs that surrounded the name.

  Dominic and Millicent.

  The names of my parents filled the space around the story of the witch.

  Then I stopped.

  I stared at the book, focused on nothing. My mind raced through the written events, playing them in my mind like a horror movie. With my heart racing, I ran alongside Brynn and Shane in the pages, feeling every emotion they experienced.

  Terror. Desperation. Haunting. Loss. Isolation.

  The pages came to life in my soul as I felt a deep connection to the writers of the manuscript and their loyal friends.

  Hattie's hand touched my arm, sending a wave of emotion through me. I turned my head and gazed into her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pulled the story out of me through her fingers.