"Whoa," Kyle said behind him. "Sam was not kidding. Dude looks like Thor in a Friar Tuck costume."
"Yeah…maybe he saw The Avengers."
A slow, deep chuckle emanated from the blond man as he tilted his head to the right, his focus never wavering from Crwys. "I thought to find the Green Witch had returned. But instead…I find you."
"It's been a long time, Vas," Crwys said in a tone reminiscent of a man meeting a childhood nemesis. "I didn't think you guys were allowed down here anymore."
Kyle said from behind him. "Wait…you know this guy?"
"Oh yeah. I know him. I know why Sam saw blue Arcane. It's because he's—"
"Ethereal," Vas said as he clasped his hands in front of him. "Apollo…or do you still go by Azazel? I'm genuinely surprised and in awe that you've survived all this time. Everyone believed you'd crawled into a cave and died."
"Sorry to disappoint. I suppose Ra's still around?"
"Alas…no."
"Uhm…guys, need context here?" Kyle spoke up.
Crwys leaned his head back but kept his gaze trained on Vas. "You're looking at a genuine Angel, Kyle. A Dominion. And not the nicest of his race." He heard Kyle's gasp and wished he could turn to look at his expression—but looking away from Vas was a bad idea. "Whatever you do, don't let him touch you, and especially don't let him get his arms around you."
"Why?"
"Because he'll steal your soul. Rip it right out of you."
"Azazel, still filling the lost's heads with lies. I don't steal souls. I grant salvation. All human souls themselves are stolen from the Well at birth. All human souls should be harvested and returned." He unclasped his hands and smiled. "I am a redeemer."
"You're a damn reaper, Vas." Crwys held his hands out and let his flame flow freely from his palms. The scent of brimstone filled the tiny apartment as his own red Arcane courted the edges of the room with Vas's blue in a parody of the yin-yang symbol. "That's all Dominions do. So I have to ask—why are you working with a Leviathan? Angels and Demons don't usually form a partnership."
"Ah, because Dionysus is a very different Demon. He sees the sins of this world and he agrees with me that all of mankind should be harvested. So he finds them, seeks out their sins as a Demon, and shows them to me. Once I have their precious essence, he uses their bodies to find more." He held his hands out and his expression was that of rapture. "It's such a joyous partnership."
Crwys winced. "Not sure the Seraphim would agree."
And suddenly that joyous expression darkened. "The Seraphim is gone."
That bit of news caught Crwys by surprise. He narrowed his eyes at Vas. "That's not possible. If there's no Seraphim, then that means…" he gasped. "Christ, Vas! You mean the whole realm shut down?"
Vas's voice thundered around them. The walls cracked at the power in his voice. "You will not use that name with such disrespect! We are here, Azazel, Drachen and Betrayer, Destroyer of Worlds. We walk the Earth for it is our dominion now." He leaned his head to the other shoulder.
"This guy's nuts!" Kyle hissed.
Yeah. He is. But then all Dominions were nuts as far as Crwys could remember. He'd always avoided having to deal with Angels. Most of his own discrimination had to do with his history, his origins and his mother since they were all cousins in a way. Crwys leaned back again. "Kid, I need you to get back through that door and run. I'll keep Vas busy—"
"You really are a dumbass," Kyle said.
"Tell me where the Green Witch is!" Vas said, a second before he held up his hands and aimed blue fire, holy fire, at the two of them.
Crwys countered with his own red and yellow flames as he held his hands out. The two opposing Arcanes flared and sputtered as they each fought and tried to advance on the other. He felt like he was in a tug-of-war of magic.
But what he also felt was his power draining. Fast. Dammit. He wasn't sure that he was going to be able to keep Vas away from them for much longer.
"Kyle—go now!"
"No!"
Cursing under his breath, he glanced back to see the guy was digging in that bag of his. "What're you doing?"
"Looking for something. Goddess, I need to keep this better organized."
"You are much weaker than I remember, Azazel. Life as a human has taken its toll upon you." Vas took a step closer as Crwys's flame diminished some. "You cannot keep me from my destiny or the soul of that Witch behind you. I will harvest his soul and protect it as Dionysus rides his body even closer to the Elemental Witch's end."
It was one thing to threaten him and Kyle, but to threaten Sam? Nope. Not having any of that. He pulled from his furnace and with a boost of adrenaline fueled by anger, blasted more fire at Vas. He succeeded in making the Angel take a step back, but Crwys was shaking.
He was shaking, bad.
"Got it!" Kyle yelled out. "Just hang in there."
Hang in there? Crwys had no idea what the Witch was thinking. "You need to get out of here, Kyle. If Vas gets a hold of you, he'll kill you."
"No he won't." Kyle adjusted the messenger bag, pushing it behind as he held a small bottle of something in front of him. He unstoppered it, and with his index finger at the mouth, sprinkled it in a circle around them, just inside Crwys's fire. The scents of Solomon's seal, patchouli, hyssop and dragon's blood resin overpowered the smell of his Arcane. The oil Kyle had just sprinkled around buzzed around them, and Crwys felt his internal furnace sputtering as his once unending stores of energy started fizzling out.
"Step back to me," Kyle said as he put his hand on Crwys's shoulder and then stepped to the edge of the Dragon's flame.
"Kyle—"
But the Hedge Witch stood tall as he grinned at the Angel, then stomped his left foot on top of the circle of oil. The buzzing snapped and crackled inside the enclosed space. Sparks popped and abruptly a high barrier of green flames shot up and effectively cut off both Crwys's and Vas's Arcane.
Crwys stumbled back and landed on his ass. He was breathing heavily and had his hands at his chest. He couldn't believe the size and color of the flame. "What…what the hell is that?"
"It's one of my oils. I call it Fiery Wall of Protection."
"You can…you can do that?" Crwys looked from the flame, to Kyle, and then back again.
"I can do a lot of things."
"DEMON!" Vas bellowed as he threw his Arcane at the wall Kyle had created around. But to Kyle's credit, it didn't budge.
"That's…impressive." Crwys pushed himself up off the floor.
"It's not going to last forever, so we still have to figure out a way to stop him."
"He's an Angel, Kyle. They're as badass as a Demon, only he's not in a borrowed body. That's a manifested one. So no filter. There's not a lot we can do except get the hell out of here and hope he doesn't follow."
But Kyle was digging into his bag again. He pulled out another bottle of oil, looked at it and then frowned before he looked around, knelt and picked up the feathers he'd gathered. "These are his, right?"
"Vas's? Yeah. I'm surprised he hasn't actually—"
Vas hit the green wall with a particularly heavy blast. The green dimmed significantly and they could actually see the Angel now. And he looked pissed.
"See what I mean? Not gonna stay. Hold this," he handed Crwys one of the feathers, then with a slight smile, unstoppered this new bottle, and doused the feather with a different smelling oil. This wasn't anything he recognized, and it made his eyes water.
"What is…"
Kyle stoppered the bottle and shoved it into his bag. Careful not to touch the oiled part of the feather, he took it in his left hand and pointed at it with his right. The feather shot up and hovered just below the ceiling, and Crwys realized Kyle was using Air. Not like Sam did with an Elemental, but he was actually directing Air to keep the feather up.
"Feather you are Vasiariah and Vasiariah you shall be. What happens to the feather happens to thee!" He reached out and grabbed Crwys's arm, but his gaze never left the feathe
r. "Ignite it! It has to go up in true flame!"
Not knowing what all this meant, but understanding Kyle's request, Crwys looked at the feather and set it on fire. The oil caught, then the feather caught, and the thing turned into a floating ball of fire—
Vas's screams shocked Crwys. He turned and peered through the green flames to see the Angel folding in on himself…and he was smoking. In fact, Vas looked like Arden had as his curse burned her from the inside.
The Angel's screams were cut off as he threw his head back and fire shot out of his mouth. His eyes melted and disappeared just as his clothing vanished. Within seconds, he became a walking, moving skeleton, shimmering with blue Arcane that eventually disappeared as the Dominion once known as Vasiariah ceased to exist. In his stead were hundreds of glowing, colorful orbs. They huddled together for a few seconds after the Angel's body vanished, then separated a few seconds after, and with a blast, shot out in all directions, disappearing through the walls, the floor and the ceiling.
"What the hell were those?" Kyle looked at Crwys.
"Harvested souls," he said and raked his hair back from his eyes with his fingers. "Now on their way to the Well."
The green fire dimmed, then died down. The only evidence it had ever existed was the oily ring on the carpet.
"Ivan is so not getting his deposit back on this place," Kyle said as he plopped on the couch, in a spot not covered in ash and debris. Crwys and Vas's Arcane fire had left its mark on everything else. Though nothing had actually burned, soot covered everything.
Crwys looked at the place, the oily ring and then at Kyle. "That was…"
"Rough. Shit. I'm sorry. I'm trying to learn to think on my feet better."
"No, no, Kyle…what you just did was ingenious. What…what was that you used on the feather? I couldn't identify any of it. And as a Drachen, I have a pretty good sense of smell."
"Oh. I haven't officially named it yet. I told Ivan what was in it once and he nicknamed it the Kyle-a-kov Cocktail."
Crwys laughed as he bent forward and put his hands on his knees. He was tired but he felt like the scents from the oils had somehow rejuvenated him. Maybe it was wishful thinking. "You should name it that. So you make the oils?"
"That we sell in the shop? Yeah. Most of them. That one had barberry and vandal root. And since he was an Angel, I added a pinch of angelica real quick since I didn't think the usual devil's shoestring was going to work on him. I'm still learning."
"No real teacher for being a Hedge Witch?"
Kyle shrugged, though his expression communicated irritation. "I'm a guy, dude. Of the Vervain lineage. All Hedge Witches born into the Vervain family are female. Not males. All the males are Elder Witches with at least one Elemental. They had high hopes for me but…no, sorry. I'm the kid with the affinity for cooking up herbal tea. Or that's how I was perceived."
"So, you learned this on your own?"
"Yep. No one to teach me."
"What Dianic Gifts?"
Kyle sighed. "Honestly, I have no idea. I was never tested. Crwys, my aunt tolerates me at best, because I'm sort of her only living family. Everyone else is either dead, or they betrayed her and she considers them dead." With a groan he pushed himself off the couch. "So I didn't have a choice but to teach myself."
"Sam never said you were this powerful."
"That's not powerful. It's just plant magic."
"It's Southern Conjure, Kyle." He approached the young man with fresh eyes and a completely different understanding of the second member of Sam's little coven. "I owe you my life. And I take that seriously." He paused as a name came to him and an old promise he'd always wanted to fulfill. "Would you be interested in a teacher? Someone who could teach you Southern Conjure."
"I'm not sure what that is."
"Hoodoo. I don't think you're a Hedge Witch, Kyle. I think you're a hell of a lot more and with proper training, you could give Sam a run for her money." He put a hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Would you be interested in meeting my friend? I can set it up once this present crisis to save the world is over."
Kyle laughed. "I don't see why not," he paused. "You think I did a good job?"
"I think you did a fucking fantastic job." He removed his hand and staggered to the door. "Sam's not here. The soul sucking Angel is dead. Where else could she be?"
Kyle opened the door when Crwys had a little trouble and the two of them stepped outside. Smoke billowed out into the steamy afternoon sun as Kyle turned and locked the door. "Have you tried Ina's house?"
"Crap. No, I haven't."
Kyle pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I say we try there."
"Who are you calling?"
"My aunt. To fill her in. Oh, don't look like that. You and Sam need to get over it and trust her."
"You really want my opinion on Arden?"
Kyle held the phone up but didn't dial. "No. I don't. There's a lot more happening here, Crwys. You're just going to have to wait and see." He thumbed the surface of the phone and placed the call.
Crwys hung back as Kyle talked to his aunt. Regardless of who was his kin, Crwys saw and sensed potential there. Kyle Kendrick had the talent and the magic and the drive to be a formidable Witch.
Two of the requirements needed to fulfill a promise to an old friend.
NINETEEN
SAMANTHA
I used to think there wasn't anything between life and death. I mean, I thought it worked like a light bulb. You're on or you're off. Thoughts of Heaven or Hell, or even Purgatory, were the stories I heard from classmates in school, the ones that went to mass regularly or had religion and the afterlife drilled into them by their families.
Mom always talked about the Summerland. Way different than what the other kids had in store for them when the light switch went off. Mom always said it was a paradise of forests and hills, mountains and valleys, where those souls who passed before us greet the newcomers before they travel to the Well of Souls. There was a working theory I'd read about somewhere—might have been in "Witch Today" magazine—that the Well and Summerland were the same place.
Personally, I thought it was all bullshit.
No one really knew what there was. I knew what I'd seen over the years. I knew things much darker and scarier than the human race lingered in the dark places we don't like to talk about—mostly inside the human mind.
I had a hard time thinking, or even believing, there was anything positive in the world. There was love. And there was family. But I wasn't sure there was ultimate good. It seemed to me that ultimate good meant boredom. Conflict made up our lives. Conflict, the battle between that fictional evil and fictional good, kept us going, right? If we lived in a perfect world, in a perfect house, with a perfect family, with a perfect job, with a perfect salary—
Get where I'm at? BOR-ING.
And yet, it's what we wish for, day in and day out.
So when light finally returned to my dreams of confusion, of wondering where the end of my life would take me, I wasn't prepared to suddenly see…grass.
The green of it was the brightest I'd seen and I wanted to touch it. But my hand wouldn't move. Instead, a hoof appeared and stomped the grass flat. Aw…and there were pretty purple flowers too!
I lifted my head to kick whoever let their horse stomp on my grass—but there was no one there. What I saw was a vast meadow with more grass. Rolling hills to the right and in the distance a mountain range dusted with snow. Flowers in shapes I'd never seen before swayed in the breeze that brushed against my face. As I turned I heard the clomp of a horse's hooves, and again I twisted to see who was riding a horse.
After making a full three-sixty circle, and still hearing the clomping, I looked back at the distant mountains––only they were obscured by a someone standing between them and I.
She was tall, and thin, with skin like soft new snow. Her hair glistened like spun silver as it wrapped in braids over her bare shoulders. It pooled on the ground around her. Her dress looked like it had been woven
from stardust, and I couldn't help but stare at the sheerness of it. I could see every one of her lady parts through the fabric.
"Well," said a soft, luxurious voice. "This is a surprise."
I focused on her face. Pixieish was the word that came to mind. Delicate. With large eyes, long silver lashes and a small, perfect pink mouth. The most fascinating feature about her were the horns that grew from the top of her head and branched out to either side, decorated with little pink and white pansies. Or were those cherry blossoms?
She moved toward me, and I moved back, dipping my head down. I heard the sound of a horse again, but I was too busy trying to place how I knew this person. I had her name there, on the tip of my tongue. But she looked…different.
"You don't recognize me?" she said as she stopped her advance and tilted her head to her shoulder. I was worried that the weight of those horns would tip her whole body over. But it looked like she knew how to handle them.
When she smiled, I saw her teeth. Sharp, tiny little teeth.
"Tzariene," I heard myself say. Only my voice sounded weird because it felt weird to talk. Like my mouth wasn't right. Or it wasn't mine. But I recognized my voice. Sort of.
That sharp, deadly smile broadened and I was amazed at how the sharpness of those teeth warred with the rest of her beauty. "Oh. Good. I was afraid something went wrong and we'd lost some of you. But it appears you're all here. Even your Elementals."
My what?
"The Elemental parts of your soul, Sam. They make up who you are now."
"Who I am now?" I shook my head and felt my hair against my cheek. "I was…" And I had to think hard about what I was doing before I was in this little slice of paradise. I remembered the smell of wine, of food, and the sound of voices.
Arms around me. Strong arms and the feeling of falling.
"Sshh…" Tzariene came to me, her arms out. "Calm down, Sam. You're remembering what happened?"
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