Which Witch is Wild? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 3)

by Kerrigan Byrne

  "You the witches?" he barked in a deep, raspy voice as if he regularly inhaled brimstone instead of air.

  "Who wants to know?" Moira volleyed back.

  "Name's Reaper."

  Tierra and Moira shared a look. Was he an actual reaper or had he just adopted the name? No mother would christen their child with such a name, of that Tierra was certain.

  "What can we help you with?" Tierra asked.

  "You can start with lowering these blasted wards, and tell me what you did with Bane."

  Tierra and Moira shared another look.

  "What's your business with him?" Tierra asked.

  Rather than answering, he followed with another question, his wintry gaze arrowing in on Tierra. "You the witch that sent him to Hell?" He lowered his John Lennon shades and regarded Tierra over the rims with distain.

  "What's it to you?" Moira jutted out her hip. Cheeto plopped at her feet, and a sulphuric fart tainted the air. Reaper took a step back with a look of horror as the smell reached him. Cheeto's farts were a better deterrent than the wards.

  "We need Bane back."

  "Who are we?" Tierra asked. Were there more . . . men out there like this reaper guy in Killian's employ—for lack of a better word?

  "His operatives. Do you have any clue what's happening to the souls that we can't reap now that Bane is stuck in Hell? Let me paint you a picture. They can't cross over. Have any idea what happens to souls who have no place to go?"

  Tierra swallowed a lump in her throat.

  "Ghosts." He spit out the word and curled his lip in disgust. "I've been elected to see what you're going to do about it."

  "Lucifer is holding his death-dealing ass," Moira said. "Why don't you talk to her?"

  "I've tried. She isn't answering my calls."

  "Wait a damn minute." Moira shook her head as if to clear it. "You can like pick up the phone and call the Devil?"

  "Not quite, but in a sense. This is wasting time and souls are piling up. I want this fixed. Pronto."

  "We're working on it," Tierra murmured.

  "Work faster. If you don't produce Bane by All Hollows' Eve, I'm delivering the lost souls here, and you can deal with them." With that he turned, his coat flaring out behind him in a wave of lethal shadows. In a blink, he was gone.

  "Those poor lost souls." Tierra released the breath she'd been holding in a whoosh as guilt settled heavy on her shoulders. Jinx growled and leaped down, slinking away with a twitch of her tail. Cheeto picked himself up and followed, joining up with Kai who'd stayed as guard at the front door.

  "Yeah, well, we'd better figure out something fast," Moira muttered. "I don't relish being haunted by vengeful spirits. Who would've thunk zombies would be preferable to ghosts?" She shuddered. "At least we could fight them."

  "I'm so tired." Tierra rubbed at the ache in her lower back, wishing she could curl up and take a nap.

  "Sleep is good. Maybe you can reach Death, and we can settle this before it gets further out of hand."

  Tierra stared at Moira. "And how do I reach him?"

  "I don't have the answers, but you can't deny you have a connection. If you can see him, he should be able to see you."

  "He does see me. He sees me torturing him."

  "It's your dream. Take control of it."

  "Don't you think I've tried to stop myself? The things I've done . . . if I can somehow reach him, he's going to want me dead."

  "Not until you push out that tadpole." Moira pointed at Tierra's ever-growing belly. "Come on, let's get a drink—er, tea for you. It's been a hell of a day."

  And it wasn't over yet.

  Tierra's Prius zipped up the drive and jerked to a park in front of the old carriage house. Aerin climbed out of the borrowed car dressed in a black Prada pantsuit with killer stiletto heels. She'd slicked back her hair into a dominatrix bun anchored with sharp silver pins the length of daggers, and painted her mouth a shocking blood red. She reached into the backseat and pulled out four large bags printed with the Sak's 5th Avenue logo.

  "Well, aren't we living in high cotton," Moira commented, taking in all the bags.

  "Aerin de Moray, we've been trying to reach you all day," Tierra said, "and you were shopping?"

  "Don't nag. A girl needs some retail therapy every now and then."

  "Not during the Apocalypse!" The waste of time and money boggled Tierra's mind. Regardless how much money Aerin had, there were better things she could be doing with it than shopping.

  "Hey, if I'm going to die, it isn't going to be in anything you two wear. Ever heard the saying, 'I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that?'" She gestured with her booty at Moira's torn jeans and thread-bare t-shirt. "Or that." She shuddered at Tierra's loose-fitting dress styled three decades earlier.

  "The seventies are back in style."

  "No, Tierra, they aren't."

  "We thought you were with Julian," Moira said, following behind Aerin as she sashayed up the steps into the house.

  "He's become a bore. All he wants to do is talk. So I took myself off to Seattle." She traipsed into the kitchen and set the bags on the table, and then reached for the bottle of bourbon. "Look at me. I have a body made for sin, and the man's had a dry spell that rivals Death Valley. He should be drinking me down like a glass of cool water." She poured herself two fingers, shot it back and closed her eyes as the fiery liquid burned down her throat. "Anyone else?" She held up the bottle and waved it in the air.

  "Hit me," Moira said, sidling up to the table.

  "I'll call Claire down. We need to talk." Tierra turned to leave but found Claire entering the room.

  "Saw the car drive up." Claire glared at Aerin. "Do you have any idea what we've been dealing with today? You should have been here. At the very least, you should have answered your damn phone."

  "I answered it."

  "And hung up on me."

  "Gucci was having a sale, and Aerin's credit cards needed a workout."

  "So we're now referring to ourselves in the third person?" Claire took the bottle from Aerin and grabbed glasses for her and Moira.

  A somewhat surprised expression appeared on Aerin's face that was quickly masked as sarcasm. "Sue me. I've had a few frustrating days."

  "And the rest of us haven't?" Tierra asked. "We're in this together, Aerin. We can't just call it quits for the day and take off. What if you'd been hurt or something? There are Bible thumpers and witch hunters gunning for us."

  "Goddamn, but you're a worry wart." Aerin grabbed the bottle back from Claire and flopped into a chair, refilling her glass. "I couldn't face another day searching dusty old books for something that would save Death from the all-powerful Lucy. As far as I'm concerned, you did us a favor, and the Great Dragon can have him."

  "Aerin," Moira chastised and then turned to Tierra. "She didn't mean it."

  "Yes, she did." Tierra set the kettle down on the burner with a clang.

  "Yeah, I did." Aerin nodded.

  "What's gotten into you?" Claire asked. "Since you slept with Julian, it's like you are possessed or something. You've been bitchier than normal."

  "And that's saying somethin'," Moira muttered.

  Aerin blanched and looked at the three faces staring at her and cursed. She crossed her legs and took a moment to gather her next words. "Okay," she gritted out through clenched teeth. "I'm off my game a little, I guess. This is all new to me . . . what with Julian all up in his lofty tower." As apologies went, it lacked regret, but did explain her actions.

  "Look, sugar, we know you care for him, but you can't treat us like day-old dog doo," Moira said. "We're your sisters."

  "I like handling things my own way."

  "But you don't have to." Moira leaned in with concern. "Let's talk about it. Unloading will do you good."

  "No." Aerin tossed back another swallow. "I want to get drunk. Any objections to that?"

  "Actually, that's the smartest thing you've said since you returned." Claire pulled out a chair and sank into it, slid
ing her glass over for Aerin to fill.

  "Gettin' befuggered probably ain't the best use of our time at the moment," Moira said.

  "The telling will be easier for all of us if we're less emotional," Claire added, motioning for Aerin to add more to her glass. "And definitely easier for her to hear if we indulge."

  "Sure, easier for you guys," Tierra muttered.

  "Tierra, honey." Moira pointed to the pantry. "On the bottom shelf behind the five pound bucket of sugar is a bag of pork rinds. Help yourself."

  It galled her that the thought of pork rinds had her mouth watering and took away the feeling of being left out of the drinking, penalized because of her pregnancy. She found the bag and ripped into it, stuffing a few fried pig skins into her mouth before taking the last seat at the table with her cup of rose petal tea.

  Aerin gave her a look of horror but smartly didn't comment. "So fill me in. What great tragic thing did I miss?"

  The three of them started talking at once.

  "Whoa, one witch at a time!"

  "You two begin," Clarrie said. "Tell us who the guy was trying to get past the wards."

  Moira pointed at Tierra. "Since this falls in your koi pond, you tell 'em."

  "Apparently, with Killian in Hell, souls can't move on to the next realm. They're stuck here on this plane as ghosts. If we don't rescue Killian before All Hollows' Eve, Reaper and his cohorts plan to dump the lost souls here for us to deal with."

  "Wait, so if Death's not here, souls can't cross over?" Claire asked. "How is that possible?"

  "He's the power that opens the gates to Heaven and Hell," Aerin said. "Without him here, his power is absent, too." She paused when they all looked at her. "I think I heard Julian mention it."

  "How many souls are we talking?" Claire asked.

  "There has to be thousands of people who die every day," Tierra said apprehensively. "More so now with the worldwide spread panic of the End of Days and wars and rumor of wars reported daily. And he's been gone . . . a long time."

  "Shit." Claire grabbed the bottle and topped off her glass, passing it to Moira who did the same. "I'll add ghosts to the growing list of concerns."

  "Why All Hollows' Eve, do you s'pose?" Moira asked.

  "It’s the time of the in-between," Aerin said. "Known also as Halloween and Samhain. It's the day that crosses from the light half of the year into the dark half, when the veil is thinnest between the Other World and ours. Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, and Tir na Nog are closer, more accessible, straddling the line between life and death."

  "How do you know all of this?" Claire asked.

  "Must have read it in one of those books you keep foisting on me." Aerin shrugged.

  "So why do we dress up in costumes for Halloween?" Moira asked.

  "Wearing of spooky costumes is to scare off other ghosts, and treats are left to trick the dead into leaving believers alone. At least, I think that's the idea. Doubt it fools the average demon," Aerin added with a smirk. "I read that some Irish man named Stingy Jack played a trick on the Devil and was cursed to wander the Earth searching for salvation he'd never find, lighting his way with a candle stuck inside a hollowed-out turnip. Hence Jack o' lanterns. But knowing the woman like we do, I bet she shrank his dick to the size of a radish."

  "With everything we've now come to believe, there might be some truth to this." Tierra stood and grabbed a calendar. Retaking her seat, she pointed to the date in question. "All Hollows' Eve is a week away."

  "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Moira asked.

  "That's the night we can rescue Killian." Tierra nodded.

  "It's not only that," Claire added. "When you were out talking to this reaper guy, I read further in our mother's journal."

  "You found Mirelle's journal?" Aerin asked, going perfectly still in her chair.

  "Oh, we found much more than that, but before we show you, you guys all need to hear this." Claire took a deep breath and began. "Our mother's element was earth, like Tierra's. Probably explains how she's been able to see and converse with her in the Standing Stones, but our father was a Druid and not from this time."

  "What do you mean, not from this time?" Aerin eyes sharpened.

  "Our mother brought him through the Standing Stones. Through time. Malcolm de Moray isn't our great-great grandfather a thousand years removed. He is our grandfather and our father is his son, Stian the Wanderer, and our grandmother Vian was a demon whom Malcolm freed from Hell."

  Chapter Four

  "Wow, I don't even know what to do with this?" Tierra said, falling back in her chair. Their father was a Druid from another time and their grandmother a demon? The good news? There was a record of someone being released from Hell, finally. "How did our grandfather rescue her?"

  "It didn't say. I'm sorry, Tierra," Claire said. "But there has to be more information in our mother's sanctuary that will hopefully help."

  "Sanctuary?" Aerin sat up straighter. "What are you talking about?"

  "Come on, we'll show you what we uncovered today while you were off shopping." Moira stood and led the way upstairs to the attic. "Tierra had the inspired idea to try a spell to find something hidden and uncovered a secret room. We've all agreed not to tell Aunt Justine."

  "No problem here," Aerin agreed. "I can barely handle being around the simpering old crone."

  They entered the dark and dusty attic.

  "Where is it?" Aerin asked, twirling around, searching.

  "Give me a minute." Claire positioned herself in front of the metal shelving units. "I performed a cloaking spell similar to the one that we used when we flew on the brooms. We might want something stronger though." Claire recited her spell, and the steel bookcase silently moved aside, revealing the door within the wooden wall.

  "Nicely done," Tierra said, turning the knob and opening the door. She waved her hand to show Aerin, who looked at her suspiciously.

  "I don't see anything."

  "You can't see the room?" Moira asked. "It's there plain as the over-priced shoes on your feet. You see it, right, Claire?"

  "Yes." Claire regarded Aerin with puzzlement.

  Aerin's shook her head again. "Seriously, there's nothing there but a wooden wall."

  "Let's see what happens when I enter the room," Tierra said, doing just that.

  "Whoa, Tierra just disappeared," Aerin said.

  Moira shared a look with Claire.

  Claire held her hand out to Aerin. "Take my hand. Moira take her other one. Maybe since you weren't here for the unveiling spell, you can't see it unless you're holding onto one of us."

  Aerin took Moira's and Claire's hands. When Claire entered the room, Aerin screamed and dropped the connection, cradling her arm next to her chest. "What the shit are you trying to do to me? That burned like frostbite." She held up her red-marked hand that looked like it had been scalded.

  "Ice?" Tierra retreated from the sanctuary back into the attic. Aerin blinked at her, obviously able to see her now.

  "Maybe with me and Moira each holding onto her, my fire turned to ice?" Claire suggested, looking down at her own unmarked hand.

  "I s'pose," Moira agreed slowly. "What doesn't make sense is why Aerin can't see or enter the room to begin with."

  All three stared at Aerin with suspicion.

  "Quit looking at me like that."

  "What did you do, Aerin?" Tierra ventured closer, her eyes narrowed. "What aren't you telling us?"

  "Excuse me?" She retreated a step.

  "Have you been performing spells from the back of the book again?" Tierra asked, doubt growing like a weed inside her. "You promised. No more black magic."

  "Back off, Tierra." Aerin stood her ground.

  "Cool your jets or I'm dumping cold water on the both of you." Moira planted her hands on her hips. "Let's not go jumpin' to conclusions. There could be a helluva lot of reasons why Aerin can't see the room."

  "What the fuck do you mean by that?" Aerin asked, her tone blistering like an arctic wind.

&n
bsp; "Tierra brought up a good question," Claire pointed out. "Besides the Necromancy spell, what else have you been up to? Have you really been spending time with Julian during your disappearing acts?"

  "I told you I went shopping today, and I have the receipts to prove it. Good hell, what do you suspect me of?"

  "Enough bickerin'." Moira stepped next to Aerin. "Attacking each other ain't helpin'. Been there done that. Remember how that turned out? We've just gotten on better footin', and I ain't in any hurry to ruin it. We've enough to fight without fightin' each other."

  "She's right." Tierra released a breath and hated herself for what she'd been thinking and for accusing Aerin. "I'm stressed out and not sleeping well. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry, Aerin. Forgive me?"

  Aerin narrowed her eyes and seemed pumped to let loose with a string of insults. "Guess I could have communicated my whereabouts better. You're forgiven, but that doesn't mean we have to hug it out. Right?"

  Tierra smiled as relief washed over her. She and Aerin had been at odds more often than not, and it hurt her heart to have a cantankerous relationship with anyone, let alone her sister. "No hugs needed, I promise."

  "This still doesn't answer why Aerin can't see or enter our mom's sanctuary," Claire said.

  "Could it be the residual effects of performing black magic?" Tierra asked.

  "Seems the most likely explanation," Claire agreed.

  "So how do we scrub the evil outta her?" Moira asked.

  "Excuse me? I'm not . . . evil." Aerin shuffled on her heels, not making eye contact.

  "Fix you then, cleanse your aura," Moira clarified. "Evict the darkness squatting inside your soul. Whatever you want to call it. Point is, the information our momma left in that room might be our best chance at getting Tierra's baby daddy out of Hell, and it don't do us a lick of good to have you trapped outside."

  "Wait," Claire said. "I was able to take Mom's journal out of the room. Until we can figure a way for Aerin to enter the room, we'll just grab the items we need and bring them to her."