Eighth Wand

by December Quinn

  “It still glows.” Ravenancia held the wand up in front of her face. “But your ritual ended, did it not?”

  Kym and Kristof smoothed their robes. They’d thrown on clothing and had a quick tidy-up before Ravenancia arrived. Wouldn’t do to have someone so important see their house looking less than its best, no matter what the circumstances, right?

  “We activated it somehow?”

  “That is possible.” Ravenancia swished the wand in the air and said, “Inferne!”

  Sparks flew from the wand’s tip. Kym and Kristof gasped and jumped back, reaching out to hold each other tight. Ravenancia laughed.

  “Don’t be scared,” she said. “You know the power is all-loving and safe. It will never hurt you. Come on, let’s see what else it can do.” She raised the wand again.

  “Wait!” Kristof said. “Wait, not here. This is my home, I mean, I don’t want anything to get broken. I just bought the shop next to mine, it’s empty. We’ll go there. More room.”

  Ravenancia nodded. “And quickly. Tonight we will answer some questions!”

  * * * * *

  Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Royd drew his sword and held it up in front of him. Moonlight shone off the carvings on the long blade.

  The men on her lawn drew their own weapons, their hair flying out behind them as they crossed the grass.

  Prudence screamed as Royd used his left hand to shove her roughly back. “Get inside!” he shouted again, but even as Prudence scrambled to stick her keys in the lock, she knew she couldn’t. Couldn’t leave him out here alone, to fight and maybe even to die, while she sat inside and watched.

  Had there been some hope that she could have called the police and helped him that way, she would have done it. But the idea barely entered her mind before being discounted. These men were not of this Earth. They would have no compunction about killing a policeman or a fireman or any random person they came across, if they were even visible to the authorities in the first place.

  The wide, welcoming porch had never felt so tight and confining. Prudence was trapped in it like a gerbil in a Habitrail, looking wildly for a weapon.

  All of this seemed to take forever, but when Prudence glanced back at Royd she realized only a second had passed. Time started again, moving with merciless speed as the men on her lawn attacked.

  Pru’s hands curled around the small wrought iron table by the wicker chairs. Yes! Iron hurt faeries, didn’t it? It wasn’t much of a weapon—it was heavy and unwieldy—but maybe she could do something with it. Her only other option was the small hand rake and spade she’d left out from weeding a few days ago, and a flowerpot. Definitely more unwieldy than the table, and only a single-use weapon besides.

  Behind her, Royd shouted words in his native language that hung in the air and stirred her soul. She started to run to his side, then stopped again, her mouth open in pure awe.

  Moonlight coated the bodies of all the men in silver, made them look like the unreal beings they were, but none more so than Royd. His hair flew behind him in an arc as his arms lifted and fell, his body moving with savage grace as he attacked the enemy. Her porch steps had become a melee of bodies and weapons, the light shining from the silver edges so bright it hurt her eyes. It was a film come to life, something she’d never expected to see as long as she lived, and for a moment the sheer deadly beauty of the scene stole the breath from her body.

  Royd didn’t appear to be even sweating. Only the intense look of concentration on his face showed her how hard he worked, how much this battle meant to him. He shifted and danced, his blade a blur of motion. Sparks flew as his weapon clanged off his enemies’. Blood flew as his attacks hit their targets.

  Prudence leapt forward from her position of absolute stillness. Maybe he didn’t really need her help. But who knew how many of them there were? He could fight off seven or eight—or was it ten?—by himself, maybe, but what if more came, and more again?

  They would die. But at least she wouldn’t die standing and watching. Although being able to watch Royd while she died would certainly make death not quite as horrible.

  She swung the little table, her arms screaming in protest, and hit one of the fighters soundly in the head. He fell like a chunk of granite, leaving vibrations clanging and aching up her arms.

  “Get inside, Pru!” Royd shouted, but she ignored him. It had worked once, she could do it again. She lifted the table again and brought it down, but missed. It swung back toward her legs and she leapt back, almost losing her balance. Hard hands caught at her, yanking her off the porch. She screamed and kicked, hitting something solid, but the hands did not let go. Through her slitted eyes, she saw at least three men standing around her, carrying her.

  Over her own screams, she heard Royd call her name, the fury and fear in his voice audible even over the din. She fought harder. He would think he’d failed, would feel he’d failed. The knowledge wasn’t more important than her desire not to die, but it still added more fire to her battle. She would not let them take her, she would not!

  One of the hands grabbed her bare thigh and slid upward. Her throat went hoarse from screaming. Bastard! Bastard!

  Something heavy fell over her, temporarily knocking her out of their grip. Her relief turned to horror when something hot and wet seeped into her denim skirt, when she realized the liquid was blood and the heavy thing on her torso was a headless body.

  Frantically she pushed at it, the cool grass beneath her itching her bare legs. She caught a glimpse of Royd before his face was blocked out by more bodies, more shapes. She was forgotten for the moment and she took advantage, giving the body an almighty heave and freeing herself.

  Her first instinct was to run, to run like a scared rabbit and hide. But where? She couldn’t go to one of the neighbors’ houses, she’d be followed. And though she might feel like a small animal in the face of large, armed predators, she wasn’t. There weren’t any burrows or holes she could hide in.

  Besides, how could she leave him?

  She didn’t have the table now, didn’t have any weapons. They did.

  But there was one thing she could try.

  Fighting to remember exactly what her old Priestess had taught her about force and energy, Prudence prepared to do something she’d never done before in her life, not in these circumstances. She prepared to cast a spell, to manipulate energy.

  She stood just far enough outside the tumble of fighting bodies to see how much smaller it had gotten, to see a leather-banded arm she was certain belonged to Royd still fighting and moving, and spread her arms. Energy was everywhere, filled everything. She’d drawn it into herself before, in coven rituals and meetings, in classes with her old Priestess. She knew she could do it.

  Forcing away her terror, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Around her the power of the earth swirled and shimmied. She gave it form in her mind’s eye, let herself feel it around her. In her head, it glowed green and brown and silver, in her head the air around her was blue and orange.

  She flung her head back. She’d never seen it this clearly, never felt it so strongly back in Seattle. She hadn’t seen or felt it quite as clearly in her new coven either, not the way she saw it now. She could touch it, play with it. She could manipulate it, and for a moment the clanging sounds of steel on steel and the shouts of pain and rage coming from the battle on her lawn faded and disappeared.

  If she wanted, she could splinter apart and ride that energy, ride the power like a raven on air currents. She could be the energy, she could fly away from everything and be part of the universe in a way she’d never even dreamed.

  The thought was so heady she laughed, wanting to dance, to soar. For a moment her feet lifted from the ground, her toes barely skimming the surface of the earth as she strained for the beauty just beyond her reach.

  Then the image of Royd’s face flew into her head and she came back to reality. She could save him. She had to save him.

  So instead of riding the power
, she pulled on it, opened her mouth and breathed it in, let it fill her until her body sparked and fizzed with it and she thought she would explode.

  She opened her eyes. Through a haze of silver and green she saw the fight still taking place, realized only moments had passed. She ran toward it, her toes skimming the grass, a delighted smile still on her face. She wasn’t afraid anymore. There was nothing to fear.

  “Get away from him!” she screamed, swinging her arms. Power flew out from them in a visible arc, rainbow-iridescent in the air. It slammed into the fighters, knocking them to the ground. Blood spurted from the cuts the energy made on their bodies. The sight gave Prudence pause, but she did not stop. They wanted to kill her. They wanted to kill her lover. She wouldn’t allow it to happen.

  Royd’s eyes were wide as he stopped and stared at her. She smiled delightedly at him, then waved her arms again. Another stream of energy erupted from her, another man fell wounded to the earth. It didn’t matter. More energy entered her, more from the earth and the sky and everything around her, everything that lived. It was bottomless, endless. She could live like this forever, she could have anything she wanted, she could—

  “Prudence!” Royd leapt toward her and put one hand one her arm, then yanked it back. “Prudence, stop! Stop!”

  Why did he look so scared? There was nothing to be scared of, not when she felt this good. She reached for him, only to have him step back from her. “Prudence, look. Look! Don’t you see?”

  Something in his voice, in his words, finally penetrated the fog of euphoria clouding her mind, and she followed the direction of his pointing finger.

  Bodies covered her lawn, fallen men covered in blood. A few of them still moved, feebly struggling to stand. Most did not. Prudence’s stomach heaved.

  “Did I do that?” Her voice shook. Terror coursed through her body, and yet…and yet, part of her smiled. The part of her still high on power, the part of her that even now drew more into her. With more power, she could forget the sight of the broken bodies, could forget that she’d only done what she had to do, could forget all of it. She wanted to go flying again, not stand here and feel bad. Like some dumb innocent who didn’t understand what true life was, what true immortality was.

  “Stop that!” Why did Royd look so upset? Was he really that much of a wimp or was he just mad that she’d managed to defeat the bad guys without him? She was so much more powerful than anyone had given her credit for being, she’d make them pay for that, she would…

  What the hell was she thinking? This wasn’t her. Something deep inside her screamed, but there was no sound. She was caught, trapped by the energy she’d invited in, and as her vision blurred again, she realized she had no way to release it. It was going to keep filling her until she exploded.

  * * * * *

  Royd tried to touch her again, reaching tentatively for her and steeling herself against another shock. Her skin sizzled beneath his fingers, but he forced himself to hold on. This was Prudence, the woman he’d come to care for so strongly and she’d done this to herself for him. Because he had been struggling, because something in the air of this place had made his weapon heavier in his hands, had leeched the strength from his body. Was doing it even now. His breath came harder than it ever had, even after battles far worse than the one he’d just been through.

  It didn’t matter. He wasn’t the one in danger now, it was her. Prudence’s lips still curved in a cocky grin, but her eyes begged him to help her. Power glowed off her skin, a halo of magic. He’d seen Priestesses glow like that in rituals before, had seen what could happen if they did not find a way to ground and release the power. The memory terrified him.

  “I have to move,” she whispered, still smiling, the panic in her eyes growing stronger. He tightened his grip, but she tore herself away before he could get his other hand on her and started running.

  The energy in her body gave her extra speed and Royd wasn’t able to move at his usual pace, but he still caught up with her at the bottom of the hill, in the yellow circle cast by a streetlight. Even as he touched her, something inside him jumped, leapt from his body to hers and the light above them sizzled and went out.

  “Let me go,” she sobbed. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Royd, let me go, I can’t hold it, I can’t—”

  He braced himself and cut off her words with his lips, taking them into himself, bracing himself for the backlash. The energy inside her wanted to build, the part of Prudence he’d seen at the bonfire—the part that truly possessed magical skill—wanted to keep it. It would not be easy to release it. It would not be easy to keep from being infected with it himself.

  As feverish as he’d been earlier, he was nothing compared to the heat radiating from Prudence’s skin. Kissing her was like tonguing a flame, like breathing pure fire. He moaned from the exquisite torture, his cock already ramrod-hard in his pants. She burned, and he went up with her, as they lurched out of the street and fell against the light pole.

  Prudence gasped against him when they hit it. Cold metal touched his hands as he embraced her, cold metal dug into her back. Good. That would help until he could release the energy. Until they could release the energy. Already it sought entry to his body, already he felt himself being caught up in the same madness that infected her.

  Her legs lifted to wrap around him, pressing him closer to the raging inferno of her pussy. He’d never wanted anything in his life as badly as he wanted to slam into her, to feel that heat engulf him.

  At the same time, he was afraid to, afraid that if this much energy leaked into him simply from their kiss, if so much power throbbed inside her that simply the urgent wrestling of their tongues could send power shooting through his veins, what might the joining of their bodies do? If he died making love to Prudence, he would die a happy man. But if she died…if his power joined with the excess in her and made her heart explode in her body…he would never forgive himself. He would not want to live.

  Not to mention his death would sentence all of his people to death too, when he did not return with the wand.

  Thanking the Mistress for the strength he still had, he tore his mouth from hers, ignoring her desperate cry of protest. One orgasm would help her. One orgasm might release enough energy that he could enter her safely. His cock leapt at the thought.

  He reached under her skirt and tore off her silky panties. Already she made soft, needy sobs in her throat. Her energy focused on him, the power in her body focused on him. Good. That was what he wanted, what he needed. What raged inside her was like another being, something pure and thoughtless that, when given form and thought, became greedy like an infant. Magic could be dangerous.

  The denim skirt was thicker and stiffer than he would have liked, but her frantic hands helped him lift it above her waist, exposing her curls to him in the moonlight. He reached up between her thighs and hooked his thumbs under them, lifting and spreading her legs so that the soft pads of her ass rested in his palms.

  By the gods, she was so wet. Her thighs were slick, the soft skin of her pussy rosy and plump even in the pale light. Her entire body glowed, a feast fit for a king, and he leaned his head forward in blissful anticipation.

  Just the taste of her on his tongue made his cock jerk and scream, made his muscles clench. He wanted her so badly, wanted her more than anything. She cried out above him, rocking on the seat of his hands. He glanced up and saw only her breasts above him, her head was so far back. Her nipples poked at the thin fabric of her top and he wished desperately for a third hand, for more hands, so he could reach up and tug at them, twisting them in his fingers. He wished he had free hands to fuck her with, to shove into her ass and into her hair to tug her head back. He wanted to be everywhere, on her, in her, wanted to melt into her and never, never let her leave him.

  He skimmed the tip of his tongue over her soft, wet folds, lapping up every bit of her liquids and savoring them like fine wine. Her hips jerked in his hands as she tried to force his tongue where she wanted i
t, and as much as he knew he should, as much as he wanted her to simply come, he could not help wanting to stay where he was forever.

  Her walls convulsed as he slipped his tongue inside her cunt, lapping forward to hit the soft spot on the top. She gasped, her fingers twining themselves in his hair, the heat of her growing to an insane level.

  He had to stop this. He didn’t want to, but he had to. With a moan of regret, he withdrew and applied his tongue to the tiny, hard nub of her clit, lapping at it softly, swirling around it. She was sobbing now, her hips jerking helplessly in his hands, her body squirming above him. Her hands left his hair and he glanced up again to see her pulling and twisting at her nipples, her shirt hanging open, her breasts swollen in her hands. His cock ached.

  “Royd, oh Royd, oh Royd…” The words were like a spell, chanted into the cool night air, swirling around him like music. He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed her too badly to even think about it. He pulled the little nub of her clit into his mouth and sucked, biting down gently with his teeth at the same time.

  The chant above him turned into a shriek. Her body stiffened and grew light as hot moisture flowed from her body, flooding his hands. Something shifted in the air around him; some of the energy had been released. She trembled and shook as she exploded over him, and Royd growled and sucked, swallowing every bit of her fluid.

  He shifted his grip and rose from his knees, still holding her while she gasped. Her fingers found his chest and stroked down, finding the ties of his pants and tearing at them. He could not help her. He didn’t think he’d be able to figure out how to undo them either, and his cock felt ready to burst through the fabric at any second anyway.

  Another moment and he was free. A moment after that he rammed himself into the waiting inferno of her cunt, unable to keep a shout from escaping his lips.

  She cried out in response, her fingernails digging into the bare skin of his back and breaking it. It only made him thrust harder. Her back slammed into the post behind her again and again, the vibrations of the movement transmitting themselves to him through her body. For a moment he thought he might be hurting her, but when her mouth found his, he knew he wasn’t.