Which Witch is Which? (The Witches of Port Townsend)

by Kerrigan Byrne

Soon.

  “You've been in town how long?” Julian asked dryly.

  “Apparently long enough,” Dru added. “Son of a bitch.”

  “They are witches, seductresses. We warned you, and yet you fucked one of them!” Nick exploded. “We can't sleep with them—just have to kill one of them—but you can?” Nick swore a length of curse words that would make a sailor cringe.

  “He's sexually frustrated.” Dru took a swig of his fresh Johnny Walker Red. “Moira hung him out to dry.”

  “And who got his sword stolen?” Nick sneered, lacing fingers over his chest as he stretched and crossed his ankles.

  “How long has this been going on?” Bane slid a glance toward Julian who regally sipped his vintage wine.

  “The bickering? A while. We all have something we…want…in regard to the witches. They each have a flavor, if you will, that appeals to the man in each of us.” He cocked a brow. “Which it seems, is also true for you, brother.”

  Bane downed another shot of tequila and refilled his glass. At this rate, he'd need more than one bottle to dull his senses, forget this afternoon and how she moved, smelled, came for him. He feared Tierra was etched into his memory forever. “I didn't know who she was,” he admitted.

  “Like that makes it okay,” Nick said.

  “Hey, I'm sure he's sorry.” The sarcasm was heavy in Dru's tone. “He looks sorry. Pathetic really. Ever going to explain the dirt?”

  “No.”

  “Let me take a stab at it.” Nick leaned forward in his chair. “Tierra de Moray meets Death in a bar. Yeah, the whole town is talking about her leaving on a pale motorcycle that looked like it just arrived from the depths of Hell with some strange, dark man. I'm thinking the two of you got down to nature. So did the dirt come after the sex or before?”

  “Fuck you,” Bane growled.

  “Don't you understand what is happening here?” Julian tried to add a voice of reason. “Four of them, four of us, and an attraction that we find nearly impossible to resist. We are being tried by the powers that be. Tested, perhaps.”

  “Gods, haven't we been tried enough?” Nick fell back in his chair.

  Julian slowly gained his feet, elegantly dressed in a suit even though it was the end of the day. Was he wearing an ascot? It did go great with the smoking jacket. The man could have walked out of a London men's club from the eighteen-hundreds. Bane wondered if he owned a pair of jeans.

  Julian uncorked another bottle of wine. “It doesn't matter what we feel, humanity is at stake.”

  “Fuck humanity,” Nick grumbled. “Or at least let me fuck Moira. She owes me.”

  “You really think you can ask to fuck her and get permission?” Dru asked. “Just how much have you had to drink?”

  “Not enough. And he didn't ask.” Nick pointed at Bane. “Next time that witch gets me wet, it won't be with a tidal wave.” He paused, looking into the amber liquid of his glass. “My witch.”

  “She isn't your witch,” Dru said.

  “Like you don't think of Claire as yours,” he fired back.

  “Leave her out of this,” Dru growled and jumped to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “That's just it, you asshole, she's in it, as well as the rest of them. We're all fucked.”

  “Welcome, brother,” Julian murmured to Bane. “Your presence has been in dire need.” He indicated the other two with his full glass of wine before retaking his seat. “Did you at least learn anything during this passionate rendezvous with the enemy?”

  She's a bewitching woman and a fucking powerful witch.

  “We need to find out everything there is to know about them,” Bane said. “From where they've been all this time, their strengths and weakness down to what kind of—”

  “—panties they wear?” Nick drawled. “In Moira's case that would be none. What'd Tierra have on?”

  Virginal white. His heart which rarely quickened anymore did so at the memory. He poured another shot of tequila.

  “Enough,” Julian said. “Bane's right. We need as much information as we can gather.”

  “On it,” Dru said. “I'm already connected with one of the witches in the local coven.”

  “Keep your distance for now. Don't go off half-cocked or this might be over before it gets started.” Bane downed another drink, finally feeling the effects. “I can't see into her soul,” he admitted, though it pained him to do so.

  Julian nodded as though he wasn't surprised, but then not much surprised his brother. “Aerin is immune to my touch. Moira bested Conquest, and War was out maneuvered by Claire. So not being able to see Tierra's final destination isn't surprising in the least.”

  “This whole mess seems out of the realm of possibility.” They were four women. Babes really in the continuum of time. How had they opened three of the Seals? They didn't even seem to know what they were doing.

  “It will be interesting—when you meet the others—to see if you can ascertain their terminus,” Julian mused.

  “Or maybe it isn't decided yet if they are going to Heaven or Hell,” Nick suggested.

  “If we dispose of them before they do irreparable damage, it might be like saving their souls,” Julian said, though the sentiment didn't seem to sit well with him. Or maybe his wine had gone to vinegar.

  “You would be the one to put a heroic touch on killing them.” Dru set down his whiskey as though he couldn't stomach the flavor anymore.

  “We've all tried to dispatch one or more of them to no avail,” Julian said. “They are stronger than even they realize, and we are…divided. Our desire for them is going to drive a wedge between us, and that would be disastrous. Not just for us, but for the entire world.”

  “What are you saying?” Nick asked.

  “They all have to die,” Bane finished, seeing the picture so clearly it blinded.

  Chapter Seven

  “According to the Grimoire,” Aerin said, “this protection spell requires blueberries, er wait…maybe it says blueberry leaves?” She'd been pouring over the tome since dawn. It was now late afternoon. “What do you think, Moira?”

  Moira had shown a talent for figuring out the scroll pattern of the letters and deciphering the funky spelling. “Blueberry leaves would be my guess.” She scratched Cheeto behind his pink ears. “How in the ever-lovin' hell are blueberries gonna protect anythin'? Are we fixin' to distract them with pie?”

  For the ten days, they'd all been cramming, crash studying for a test that would most likely come before they were ready.

  Tierra feared they'd never be ready since they had no idea what they were up against or how much to prepare for. She returned to the brew reducing on the stove. It smelled amazing. Cinnamon and apples, pears and ginger. If it wasn't for the bloodroot, it would probably taste as great as it smelled. She made a mental note to rework the protection potion as a fall tonic for the shop. That is…if they were still alive come Halloween.

  “Hey, I'm just reading the book.” Aerin sat back and rubbed at her neck. “I don't comprehend this shit any more than you do.”

  “Blueberry plants are known for their neutralizing benefits,” Tierra informed as she stirred the massive pot simmering on the gas stove. “They're great for strengthening the eyes, especially in helping with night blindness. There's documentation that the British fed blueberries to their pilots in World War II. Also they're beneficial for bladder, kidney infections, and acne.”

  Tierra diced some deeply clefted peaches to represent the female genitalia. The life-affirming powers of the female sex would hopefully counteract the forces of death, which probably wouldn't help all that much now that she'd flashed her genitalia at Death herself. She had to stop thinking of him.

  “So what?” Claire said, sharping a knife at the table. She'd given up on the book and had started going more traditional in her choice of weapons. “Blueberries will help us see the Horsemen if they come for us in the dark, and we'll be able to bewitch them with our flawless skin?”

 
; “Don't forget the bladder infections,” Moira smirked. “Those burn like the Devil's ass cheeks.”

  “You grind and powder the dried leaves and sprinkle them around the perimeter of the property.” Tierra tried not to take it personally and kept her tone neutral as she tried and explain.

  “We don't have time to dry blueberry leaves,” Moira said.

  “In this heat, they'll dry in hours,” Aerin said. “If not, we'll have Claire breathe on them. Will that AC go any higher?”

  It was a hot summer's day and the sun shone over the Quimper Peninsula, making it glow like sapphires and emeralds outside the newly replaced windows.

  And they were stuck inside, brewing protection spells and heating up an old house that didn't have reliable air conditioning. Tierra vaguely wondered if it wasn't Claire who was heating everything up.

  Three of them had their hair restrained. Aerin's was perfectly kept back with a lacquered finish in a top bun that wouldn't dare move. Moira's bounced in a messy ponytail, and Tierra had done everything she could to keep hers in place. Pencils, chopsticks, clips. But the wavy mess continued to work its way free to brush and bother her bare shoulders.

  Barefoot in the kitchen, she wore a thin, pink tank top, having disposed of her confining bra hours ago. She was taking pointers from Moira, and instead of her long flowing skirts, she wore a much shorter one that flirted above her knees. Not that it cooled her off any.

  Claire's hair fell in shimmering flames around her shoulders, and Tierra's internal thermometer rose just looking at her.

  “I'm still for makin' pie, “Moira said.”Besides, I thought witches used salt for casting a circle of protection. Ain't that what the chick in Hocus Pocus did? Always did like that movie.”

  “Me too,” Tierra agreed.

  “This isn't Disney,” Claire pointed out. “No man will come to our rescue. In fact, the men we're attracted to are the bad guys trying to kill us.”

  “I was more a fan of Witches of Eastwick anyway,” Aerin said.

  “You would be,” Moira said. “Practical Magic is the best, plus it's all about sisters.”

  They all smiled and nodded in agreement.

  “There's like a dozen or more pages dedicated to just protection spells.” Aerin stood and rolled her head on her shoulders. “I need a break from this. What do we have to drink? Anything cold.”

  “I made some raspberry mint tea.” Moira set Cheeto down, and he scooted away looking for a shaded spot. She opened the fridge and hung there for a minute in the cool air before pulling out the pitcher and filling four glasses.

  Tierra picked up hers and held it to her forehead first, before drinking half of it down. “I don't have any blueberry plants in the garden. They're more wild than domesticated, but there's a patch not far from here.”

  “In the forest? You can't leave,” Claire said, lining up the just sharpened knife with the others she'd honed. “You know that's how the girl always gets it in the movies. Those…men are out there waiting for us to do something stupid like that.”

  “We've been cooped up in this house for a week and a half now.” Aerin refilled her empty glass. “Nothing has happened.”

  “Yeah, until you walk out that front door,” Claire mumbled.

  “I know,” Moira suggested. “Have Aunt Justine pick some up on the way home from Ambrosia's.”

  “She'll be too tired and it will be getting dark. Plus, I'm worried about how much she's filling in at the shop.”

  “Gwen's helping, along with Sunny.” Claire said. “They got this.”

  “Yeah, but she's getting on in age.”

  “The old bat is ornery enough to outlive us all,” Moira grumbled.

  Tierra ignored her while she tended to her brew. “I miss my shop. I miss my customers.” But more than anything she missed the freedom of going where she wanted, when she wanted.

  Yeah, and the last time you did something you wanted, you slept with Death. Don't forget that.

  How could she when all he did was haunt her thoughts? She felt like he watched her now. Glancing out the kitchen window, she spied a raven on a tree branch in the yard. She swore his black, beady eye was trained on her, and shivered.

  “I hear that,” Aerin said. “What I wouldn’t give for a hostile corporate takeover. I need to kick some ass. We can't stay locked up in this house forever. We won't have to worry about the Horsemen killing us. We'll kill each other.”

  “What if we all go get the blueberry plants?” Moira asked.

  “Not really much of a nature girl,” Aerin muttered.

  “Contact the coven and ask them to bring us some,” Claire suggested. “Most likely they'll have some on hand.”

  “I'd really rather not bring in the coven any more into this than we have to.” Tierra turned away from the window, but that didn't stop the sensation of being watched.

  “Why not?” Claire asked. “We need all the help we can get.”

  “Well, I've been thinking.” Tierra couldn't believe she was saying this aloud. “I believe there are members in the coven that might have been involved in taking you away.”

  “And I bet they were instructed to kill us.” Claire shrugged and took over researching the Grimoire for Aerin. “Makes sense.”

  “See, and Aunt Just-for-now was a part of all that,” Moira said. “I know she's up to no good.”

  “Well, shit.” Aerin said. “It never stops, does it?”

  Shadows started to fall outside, but not the temperature.

  “Moira, can you make it rain?” Tierra turned off the flame from under the pot. “Or rain on Claire? It's just too dang hot.”

  “Sorry, I don't mean to heat things up. I'm ovulating and it seems to…be a side effect.”

  “You literally go into heat?” Aerin scoffed.

  “Something like that. Don't you guys have something like that happen to you?”

  “Not that I've noticed, but I'm pretty sure I'm too busy to ovulate,” Aerin said.

  “Wish I could make it rain on command.” Moira leaned toward the book. “My powers seem to be tied to my emotions. Unless there's a recipe in there for storms too?”

  “Haven't seen anything yet,” Claire said.

  “No, shit.” Aerin sat and helped Moira with the apples.

  To anyone stopping by, the kitchen looked like they were canning fruit. Aerin cut apples in half to expose their seeds in a star shape, which was supposed to deflect evil. Moira then took them from there and pierced the fruit with a darning needle and fishing twine so they could later hang them outside in the yard around the house. “Whoever that Malcolm de Moray was, he liked his prose.”

  “Wish the damn thing had a table of contents,” Claire said. Suddenly a gust of wind blew through the kitchen and the pages of the book shuffled back and forth, settling with a flourish on a page.

  “Whoa.” Claire sat back.

  “That beats the shit out of Google.” Aerin stood and leaned over Claire's shoulder along with Moira. Tierra wiped her hands on a towel and joined them.

  “This is interesting.” Claire followed the text with her finger. “I think this is a scrying spell.”

  “Let me see that.” Tierra leaned in closer. “I think I've seen that crystal before.” She traced the drawing of a crystal.

  “Huh, here's an idea.” Aerin's gray eyes lit from within. “With this, we might be able to find out where the Horsemen are holed up. The best defense is a good offense. Let's take this to their gates. If anything, it will save us on replacing windows again.”

  “I don't know if that is a good idea,” Tierra hedged. “Isn't there a way we could make peace with them?”

  “You put Death in the ground,” Aerin pointed out. “Doubt he's going to be reasonable.”

  “But if we could come to an agreement of some kind?”

  “Julian was pretty adamant about it being our fate to destroy each other.” Aerin deflated, sitting in her seat and picking up an apple.

  “I just don't understand
why it's us or them,” Tierra continued. It went against her nature to destroy.

  “Because they want to kill us,” Claire said.

  “I don't want to kill anyone.” Depression washed over Tierra.

  “Just protect us with apples and blueberries,” Aerin muttered, popping a slice of apple into her mouth and crunching.

  “It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Tierra said.

  “I can't lie, all this herb lore seems sketchy,” Claire agreed with Aerin. “I'd feel better with more traditional weapons. Dru—War has a sword, and Conquest has a wicked bow and arrow. I want a freaking Smith & Wesson.”

  “At least a sawed-off shotgun,” Moira added. “Someone needs their ass filled with buckshot.”

  “I can afford to pay for security. I know you think this 'magic' stuff is all good and stuff.” Aerin said to Tierra. “But I highly doubt blueberries and whatever it is you're cooking, are going to keep them away.” She held up an apple for emphasis. “They are men. Some modern weapons might be a good way to go.”

  “They aren't ordinary men,” Tierra said. “I don't see a bullet doing any damage.”

  “Yeah, well…fruit probably isn't either,” Aerin pointed out. “So weapons might not kill them, but show me an immortal who isn't slowed down by a flame thrower.”

  “Y'all quit your bitching and let's find somethin' in that there book to use,” Moira said. “Claire, can you toss fireballs? There has to be somethin' in there about using our powers and not just potions and spells.”

  “Sorry,” Tierra said. “I guess, I'm feeling emotional.”

  “You droppin' an egg into the chute?” Moira asked. “But if Claire heats up, I'd figure flowers would bloom around you.”

  “Well, I'm bloomed out.” She wiped at her brow. “I'm going to go look for that scrying crystal while the potion cools.”

  She turned and left the room, hearing Moira say to Aerin behind her, “I think you hurt her feelings.”

  “It’s the fucking Apocalypse. If we don't figure a way to tap into our powers when we want to and not when we are pressured, feelings are going to be the least of our worries.”

  Tierra knew Aerin was right, but she couldn't help these churning emotions.