A baby who never stood a chance.
Not with Death for a father and a witch for mother.
Darkness blurred the edges of her vision, and her gaze searched and connected with Death's. He'd take her now, and her sisters would be safe.
He observed her from atop his pale horse, his black eyes unblinking, his jaw set in a resolute line.
****
Bane watched Tierra die.
He could see her soul now, and it was the most complicated, beautiful, dangerous thing he'd ever viewed. It stole his breath. He still couldn't perceive where she was to be delivered, but that would come once he had her.
Chaos erupted around him. One sister was engaged in battle with Nick, who was probably going to drown—someone should help him. Dru had been thrown from his horse, and had been smoked by Claire with what smelled like the same concoction they'd splashed him with weeks ago.
Aerin blew Julian somewhere and rushed to Tierra's side, her hands hovering above her body as though she didn't know where to touch, to help. Tears streamed down her face and orders for Tierra not to die came furiously from her mouth.
There was no help to give. She'd die tonight.
The threat of the Apocalypsewould be over and humanity would be saved by the forfeit of one witch's soul.
Fuck.
Her emerald eyes stayed locked on his and he did her the honor of not looking away. He shouldn't care. He didn't care. It was just another day in an endless sea of days.
In time, he'd forget her.
Another much smaller soul joined with hers. Tiny, new, precious.
There were two souls, not one.
His heart thumped painfully in his chest.
How…could it be?
She was pregnant with his child.
He didn't question the facts. He knew the truth. Somehow he recognized the cherished soul of the unborn babe as his.
“Stop!” His voice thundered over the night and caused everyone to pause and look. He vaulted from his horse and ran flat out for Tierra. “Save her!”
Save my child.
“What the shit?” Nick yelled, wiping water from his face.
“No, Bane!” Julian warned. “Let her die. Leave her be.”
“She's pregnant.” He skidded to a stop at Tierra's side.
“How?” Aerin beseeched him with wet eyes. “Tell me how to save her.”
“I don't know how! You're the witch. But so help me God, you don't save her and I will kill you myself and the place I deliver your soul to will leave you writhing in pain for eternity.”
“Bane, don't do this,” Julian said.
He stole a look at Julian, letting him see how unwavering he was.
Julian's fist clenched as though he wanted to reach out and touch Tierra. Nick notched another arrow, and Dru raised his sword.
“Did you not hear me?” Death roared through clenched teeth, his rage and fear releasing his beast. “She's with child. My child.”
“Well, fuck,” Dru muttered, lowering his sword.
Nick put away his bow and arrow. “Yeah, that's a serious game changer.”
The other two witches knelt on each side of Aerin. Moira smoothed Tierra's brow, and Claire clutched the hand not covering protectively over her abdomen.
Moira closed her eyes. “Her lung is punctured. She's drownin' in her own blood. Maybe I can reroute it?”
“Blood!” Claire exclaimed. “That's it! That's the answer.” She grabbed the arrow where it protruded from Tierra's chest. “I hope you forgive me for this someday.” She yanked the arrow free. Tierra's body arched from the action, but nothing more than a wet gurgle escaped her.
Her eyelids slid closed.
“Oh, God, what did you do?” Aerin covered the wound that bubbled over with blood, compressing her chest.
“You have to hurry. She's almost…” They were ready. Both souls—one precious, one enchanting—hovered, waiting for him. He couldn't look, once he'd connected with them, they'd be his to deliver.
“Let her blood spill into the earth.” Claire took the arrow and cut her palm. “Here, now you.”
“Do you know what you're doing?” Aerin paused.
“I think so. I hope so.”
“You'd better,” Bane growled. He'd kill every last one of them if they let her die.
Aerin looked at Julian, who slowly shook his head. She glanced back down at Tierra, and then took the arrow from Claire, slicing open her palm.
Julian turned and strode out of the Standing Stones, and Aerin passed the arrow to Moira who copied their actions.
“Hurry,” Bane snarled.
Claire started to chant, mixing their blood in with Tierra's and the earth's rich fertile soil. The sisters repeated each word until they were all in unison, their voices lyrical as midnight lingered longer on this summer solstice.
Christ, they were learning fast.
“Goddess of souls, hear our plea
Do not forsake this beloved sister—who beckons
Set this mother and child free
As payment for blood spilt today and for what was stolen,
By earth, air, fire, and sea…”
They repeated the chant until the air whipped, fire burned, and the sea crashed against the cliffs in her fury.
And Earth released her hold of the dead.
In the Standing Stones, where the sisters' tragedy and a mother's sacrifice had already been taken, the four born of one opened Death's Seal.
Chapter Thirteen
She'd died.
Tierra closed her eyes and let the water from the shower wash over her and hopefully rinse the memories away as easily as it had the blood.
Her soul—and that of her unborn child—had stood beside Killian as he’d barked at her sisters to save her.
Why didn't he take my soul?
The repercussions of his actions had to be dire. The actions of her sisters had epic consequences.
Why would he allow that?
She wished she could ask him, but there had been no sign of any of the Horsemen once the Fourth Seal had been opened and the spell had ejected the men from the stones.
Four of the Seven Seals were now open. Each of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypsenow called into service.
“You doin' okay in there?” Moira asked from the other side of the door.
“Fine,” Tierra lied. Would she ever be fine again?
“Give a holler if you need anything. I'm right outside the door.”
Moira had shadowed Tierra since she'd risen from the ground and gasped her first breath.
Tierra shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Vapor covered the mirror, and she took a towel and wiped it off. Bracing herself, she looked at the scar that bisected her breasts.
There was nothing there but pink flesh, which looked a little irritated, but would clear up in a day if not hours. She moved aside the crystal she hadn't taken off and touched the area with her fingertips, feeling for a puncture wound or indentation in her sternum. The remembered pain of the arrow piercing her would probably remain until she died.
Maybe not the best analogy.
The area was sore, but that was all. There was nothing that marred her skin. No evidence that she'd been shot by Conquest's arrow.
Nothing.
Picking up the crystal, Tierra examined it. There was a fracture along the two-inch length that hadn't been there before. She knew the arrow had hit it, deflecting the deadly point from piercing her heart and allowing her sisters precious time to save her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, hoping the man who'd fashioned this crystal might have known how important it was to her now.
Dressing in a soft, white cotton shift, she brushed her teeth, and did the normal things people do before heading to bed. But everything was different now, and the preparations seemed weird with the reality of what they'd done tonight replaying in her mind.
She opened the bathroom door and entered her bedroom. Aerin and Claire were recline
d against the pillows on her bed. Claire stroked a purring Jinx, while Moira stood in the middle of the room, ringing her hands.
She rushed toward Tierra. “You're sure you're okay, sugar? Here, sit awhile.” She guided her to the antique makeup desk with the oval mirror above.
“I'm fine, Moira, really.”
“You sit still and hush.” She pushed Tierra into the chair. “You lost more blood than a sow in the slaughterhouse.”
“You kept most of it in my body.” Tierra covered Moira's hand where it rested on her shoulder. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“You took Conquest's arrow that was meant for me.” Her eyes stormed for a second and then she tried to shrug it off. “And hey, it's nice knowin' I don't have to sleep with someone in order to help in healin' them.”
Tierra gave a short laugh.
“You really feel okay?” Aerin asked.
“Good as new.”
“The baby?” Claire asked.
“Fine.” As far as she knew.
Moira picked up a brush and started to untangle Tierra's wet hair. “Wow, it's like a—”
“Don't say miracle,” Aerin interrupted. “That word always makes me nervous. That wasn't a miracle. That was something…more.” She looked at Claire. “By the way, wicked-ass spell. How did you come up with that?”
Claire gave a slight shake of her head, and the three of them shared a look.
“What?” Tierra asked, watching their reflections in the mirror.
“You've been through a lot,” Claire started. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow,” Tierra said. Morning had yet to steal over the blood moon that had appeared after the spell, but it was only a few hours off.
“Grim,” Aerin admitted. “He's missing.”
“Someone stole the book?” Moira pushed her back onto the chair and continued to brush her hair.
“Yeah, and before you ask, we checked on Aunt Justine,” Claire said. “She's sleeping like the dead—sorry—not the dead, but rather like someone who had too much to drink.”
“Sawin' logs like a lumberjack.” Moira said. “I thought for sure she'd done it.”
“How'd they get past the wards?”
“We don't know yet,” Claire said. “But we have to pick our battles. We won a huge one tonight.”
“No, we didn't.” Tierra shook her head, her hair pulling in Moira's hands. “We did what our mother told us not to do.”
“We saved you,” Aerin said. “No one died tonight. That's a win. The other stuff will be dealt with.”
“I have a question.” Moira brushed long strokes through Tierra's wet hair, the action more soothing than she'd imagined.
Tierra never had anyone brush her hair. Couldn't remember Aunt Justine doing it when she was child. Aunt Justine had kept Tierra's hair short so that she didn't have to unknot the tangles. It wasn't until Tierra was in elementary school that she’d refused Aunt Justine's wicked scissors.
“Conquest has his arrows,” Moira continued. “War has his sword.”
“I still want that back,” Claire said. “You should have felt how honed and balanced the blade was. Never have I held such a weapon.”
“Ha, I bet,” Aerin tried to lighten the subject matter with a joke. It didn't work.
“Pestilence has his weights and measures,” Moira continued. “But what does Death have?”
“According to Revelations—yes, I've been reading the Bible,” Aerin said, “he brings Hell, and there is something about beasts of the earth that I don't get. I wish we still had the Grimoire to look over the prophecy more clearly.”
Tierra caught a flash of blue-black wings outside her window. A raven was perched on the pine branch just outside of the circle, watching her.
“I think we're going to need something stronger than potions,” Tierra said, her gaze connecting with Death's raven-black eyes.
“I agree,” Aerin said.
Claire stretched and yawned. “Yeah, well, we'd better get some sleep, because if what Aerin said is true, tomorrow is going to be Hell.”
She had no idea how right she was.
About Cynthia St. Aubin
Cynthia St. Aubin wrote her first play at age eight and made her brothers perform it for the admission price of gum wrappers. A steal, considering she provided the wrappers in advance. Though her early work debuted to mixed reviews, she never quite gave up on the writing thing, even while earning a mostly useless master's degree in art history and taking her turn as a cube monkey in the corporate warren.
Because the voices in her head kept talking to her, and they discourage drinking at work, she started writing instead. When she's not standing in front of the fridge eating cheese, she's hard at work figuring out which mythological, art historical, or paranormal friends to play with next. She lives in Colorado with the love of her life and three surly cats.
Cynthia loves to hear from her readers.
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Email her: [email protected]
About Cindy Stark
Cindy Stark lives with her family and a sweet Border Collie in a small town shadowed by the Rocky Mountains. She writes romantic suspense, paranormal romance and contemporary romance, and she loves to hear from readers.
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About Kerrigan Byrne
Kerrigan Byrne's stories span the spectrum of romantic fiction from historical, to paranormal, to romantic suspense. She can always promise her reader one thing: memorable and sexy Celtic heroes who are guaranteed to heat your blood before they steal your heart.
Kerrigan lives at the base of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and his three lovely daughters. She's worked in Law Enforcement for the better part of a decade.
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About Tiffinie Helmer
USA Today Bestselling Author Tiffinie Helmer is always up for a gripping adventure. Raised in Alaska, she was dragged “Outside” by her husband, but escapes the lower forty-eight by spending her summers commercial fishing on the Bering Sea.
A mother of four, Tiffinie divides her time between enjoying her family, throwing her acclaimed pottery, and writing of flawed characters in unique and severe situations.
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Table of Contents:
Prologue
Moira Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Claire Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Aerin Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nin
e
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Tierra Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
About Cynthia St. Aubin
About Cindy Stark
About Kerrigan Byrne
About Tiffinie Helmer
Which Witch is Which? (The Witches of Port Townsend) Page 34