"Julian also said that yesterday was the first time he'd seen her since the night they slept together. He's worried that Aerin's into something . . . dark." Tierra took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "I'm worried she is, too." She couldn't shake the overwhelming wickedness she felt when Aerin had touched her in the attic.
Aerin stumbled in, her hair a mess, half of it plastered to her skull with what looked to be matted blood. There was also a nasty bruise forming on the side of her face. "What are you guys doing up so early?"
"Splendid," Aunt Justine said, her lips twisting into a sneer. "I'll get the first aid kit, and then you girls are coming clean." She harrumphed out of the room.
"What in the blue blazes have you been up to?" Moira asked.
"I not only have the end of the world to deal with, but a multinational corporation to run," Aerin said. "And the internet here is shit."
"Good Goddess, what happened to you?" Tierra rushed over and almost reached for her sister before a look of hatred flickered briefly in Aerin's eyes. It was gone so fast that Tierra figured she must have imagined it. With the long night of seeing Killian, and then releasing a gaggle of ghosts, she couldn't trust her faculties completely.
Aerin dropped her bag on the floor and kicked off her heels. "I got shanghaied by . . . uhm . . . witch hunters or Bible thumpers. I really can't tell the difference between them anymore. One surprised me and threw me against a stone wall." Her silvery eyes never left Tierra's.
A cold shiver skated down her spine, and Tierra took a step back, and then another. An outlandish idea spun around in her head.
Could Aerin be the one torturing Killian?
The teakettle whistled, and she rushed to turn off the heat.
She had to be insane to even consider it. The woman with Killian had been wearing Tierra's clothes, and yes, Aerin was the spitting image of her except for her eyes. Then again, so were Claire and Moira.
Come on, how would Aerin even get into Hell?
Unless she'd delved deeper into the dark side than Tierra had suspected? Knowing the Devil and her love for disguises, Lucifer most likely concocted an illusion to further torture Killian. That made more sense. Guilt washed over Tierra at even thinking such ridiculous things about Aerin.
If Aerin had dabbled more in the practice of dark magic, Tierra loved her, and she would find a way to bring her back from the edge.
Moira rushed to Aerin and inspected the side of her head. "Damn, girl, that was some hit. Must have rung your bell harder than a sinner on Sunday. Let's wash the blood away, and I'll get y' all healed up." She headed to the sink to wet a cloth.
"What's the other guy look like?" Claire asked. "And why were you out there alone?"
"I've been alone most of my life. I can handle myself."
"Sure you can." Claire gestured to Aerin's disheveled appearance. "Just look at you."
"Bite me." Aerin pulled out a chair and went to sit, but a ghostly old man appeared in her place. Aerin stumbled back. "What the fuck?"
"Yeah, you missed a bunch of shit while you were off doing whatever." Claire glared at the ghost, who slunk off the chair and floated from the room. "Shoo! That's right you, goblin ass-grabbers, stay out of here!" Claire hollered up at the ceiling. A windy wail, sounding a lot like laughter, followed her words.
Moira, with cloth in hand, stood behind Aerin and carefully began to clean the cut, using her healing touch to knit Aerin's skin back together and erased the colorful bruise marking her face.
Justine returned and slapped the first aid kit down on the table. "Well, guess you don't need this anymore." She folded her arms across her chest, and Tierra was surprised when she didn't tap her foot. "Now that she's been dealt with, I'm through waiting. Start explaining yourselves."
Claire carefully reported on the night's events, leaving out the protection spell they performed for Killian and the door Tierra had formed that led to the Standing Stones. By the time she finished—blaming the release of the ghosts on Reaper—Tierra had set a tray of tea and cookies on the table, as well as a French press full of coffee.
"Well, that's . . . an interesting development," Aerin said. "I think my coffee's going to need a bit of Irish this morning."
"For once, I'm in agreement with you." Justine grabbed the whiskey, pouring a very healthy dose in her cup and taking a chair.
"Is that really a good idea?" Tierra protested.
"Hey, you didn't get assaulted in your sleep by a tail-wagging, stubby-penis redneck. So, don't judge me."
"Not judgin', just hurry and pass the bottle, old woman," Moira said.
Tierra frowned as the whiskey bottled was emptied. "Don't we have enough spirits to deal with? We shouldn't be drinking more."
"The answer is probably not, but I'm going to anyway," Claire said.
"How are you going to clean up this mess?" Justine asked. "I can't live here with that zombie Tommy and a bunch of ghosts."
"I'll help ya pack." Moira smiled sweetly. "After all, what are nieces for?"
A chorus of yips, squeals, and screeching meows echoed from the front of the house.
"I can't take anymore drama!" Aunt Justine yelled, tipping her Irish coffee back and drinking the remains.
They all looked at each other, and then hurried to slide their chairs back from the table and ran toward the ruckus.
Moira shot through the door, leading the way around the house to one of the flower beds bordering the foundation. There amongst the mums, they found Doctor Lector crumpled on the dirt, both of his wings bent at impossible angles. Shallow breaths lifted his little chest, and his black, beady eyes swam with pain as he looked up at them.
The other three familiars surrounded him in a protective circle, Cheeto nudging him with his stubby nose, giving a worried little snort. Doctor Lector released a pitiful sound that clutched at Tierra's heart.
"Doctor Lector," Aerin whispered. "What the hell happened?"
Tierra tried to understand the familiars but couldn't make sense of what they were saying to each other. It was like they were attempting to perform a spell.
Kai and Jinx linked tails with Cheeto and started up their chorus of yelps, mews, and squeaks again.
"Holy toad scrotums, would you look at that?" Moira exclaimed as Cheeto carefully spit on each of the breaks in Doctor Lector's wings. The spit shimmered an iridescent aqua in the sunrise, and the bat's little bones began to pulse and weave together.
"Now that's not something you see every day—or like ever," Claire said.
"How the fuck are they doing that?" Aerin asked, her tone shocked and somewhat more annoyed than normal.
"It makes sense that as our familiars, who are immortals in their own right—I'll explain about that later—have their own magic which coincides with our elements," Tierra answered, remembering her conversation with Julian the night before.
"We've seen Cheeto's saliva 'heal' Aunt Justine's surly attitude before," Claire said. "We might want to bottle some of that stuff and have it on hand."
Kai let out a high-pitched howl as Doctor Lector suddenly shot into the air, his wings flapping as good as new. But he didn't return to them. Instead, he flew high up into the dark shadowed eaves overhanging the attic.
"How'd he get himself hurt in the first place?" Moira asked. "It's like he was . . . crushed or somethin'. Who would've done such an awful thing?"
"I'm trying to find out." Tierra knelt next to the three remaining familiars who all spoke at once. "Come on, guys, let Jinx tell me. I'm not so good yet with fox or swine speak."
Jinx meowed long and mean.
"What's she saying?" Aerin said.
"Shh. I'm trying to make it out." Tierra listened, her brow furrowing in concentration, as Jinx gave her an earful. "An ancient evil outside the house. Something about a wolf in sheep's clothing. I think. It's disjointed since Doctor Lector was in so much pain. Jinx isn't clear on the details either."
"The only dark evil around here is the four of you," a raspy voic
e echoed around them, followed by the ghostly image of a bearded man sporting a man bun. "And you all must die."
Claire immediately whipped her water pistol from the pocket of her robe, loaded with Horsemen repellant that she'd armed herself with when they'd returned from the Standing Stones. She shot off a stream of blueberry scented liquid that passed right through the newcomer.
The ghost threw back his head and gave an eerie laugh. "Can't kill me, witch. I'm already dead."
"Who the freak are you?" Moira asked.
Three Horsemen appeared, sitting astride their legendary horses, their razor-sharp hooves digging deep, cutting crescent moons into the thick grass of the front lawn.
"Brock somebody or other," Julian said, urging his horse forward. "He's the witch hunter I killed protecting Aerin's . . . virtue."
Chapter Eleven
"Virtue?" War said in a dry, droll voice. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
Brock took one look at the Horsemen and scattered into a misty cloud, disappearing into the upper story of the manor. Tierra doubted they'd seen the last of him.
"Can't leave you alone for a minute without the four of you making a shitty situation shittier," Conquest said. "Morning, Moira." He tilted his head in greeting, his eyes lighting with lust at the sight of her in the tank top, lacy underwear, and unicorn tube socks. "Nice outfit."
Moira flushed, but her tone was sarcastic when she addressed him, "What are you doing here?"
"Heard there was something strange going down in the neighborhood," Nick said, with a smirk.
"Probably you shouldn't try to be funny" Moira said. "Doesn't suit you."
"Who else you going to call? I'm the closest thing to a Ghostbuster you've got." Nick aimed a grin at Moira. "Spirits have a healthy respect for immortals."
"That wasn't respect when I was taking care of personal business this morning," Dru said. "It was voyeurism, plain and simple. No one spies on me in the john and gets away with it. We need Bane back. Now." Dru's last word echoed over the landscape, his midnight eyes slicing over toward Tierra. With his no-nonsense military cut and rough-stubbled jaw clenched to reveal the vein throbbing on the side of his chiseled face, he didn't look like he was up for explanations or excuses. War wanted results.
Tierra backed up a step, and the earth trembled under his horse's hooves, causing the horse to snort and stomp its hooves, chopping the grass underfoot.
"You want to join your brother in Hell?" Claire warned. "Just keep it up."
"Don't threaten me," Dru said, teeth clenched, eyes cold.
"Don't destroy my lawn." Tierra schooled her expression into the best poker face she could manage, but she cringed over Claire's threat. Sending another Horseman to Hell was the last thing she wanted to attempt. Besides, she doubted she could do it again, certainly not on command.
Jinx hissed, her hair standing on end, further agitating the horses. Cheeto shot off a fireball at Nick that had his horse rearing, almost unseating him. Kai's thick, bottle-brush tail quivered, and he created a chittering sound that grew louder and louder. Claire scooped up the fox before he could release his sonic boom.
"Enough!" Dru barked. "We're wasting time with these . . . squabbles. There are battles to be won." Under his breath he muttered to his fellow Horsemen, "I knew this fucking truce was a bad idea."
"I suggest we compose ourselves, confine the familiars, and have a civilized discussion." Julian dismounted his black horse and sent him away into the forest. He stood there regarding his brothers with impatience, until they, too, dismounted their horses and sent them off.
From what Tierra could read from the horses, they were similar to the witches' familiars, with powers of their own, yet tied to each Horseman.
Interesting.
"Where's Killian's horse?" she asked out of curiosity.
Julian regarded her with . . . approval? "You've figured it out, haven't you?"
"What has she figured out?" Aerin asked. "What are you talking about? Stop doing that sharing of the look thing and tell us what you're thinking."
Julian settled his piercing gaze on Aerin. "Tierra, would you take a promenade with me?"
"Uh . . ." Tierra looked from Aerin to Julian and then to Moira and Claire, who both shrugged their shoulders. Aerin fumed, and the air quivered with electrical currents.
"She's not going anywhere with you," Aerin sneered. "From now on, no witch consorts with any Horseman. If we're to work together, that's exactly what we do. Together. No more secrets."
"She's right," Claire said. "There should be no secrets between us." Though the statement was directed toward Aerin more than anyone else.
"Are you suggesting that we reveal our mysteries?" War asked. His eyes turned slumberous as he strode toward Claire. "Be careful what you wish for, my fire witch."
"I'm not your fire witch." Claire narrowed her eyes, and Tierra was afraid that she would attempt to burn him like a slab of bacon in front of her. And that would most likely ruin her new-found favorite food.
Tommy appeared from around the corner of the house. Dru straightened, and Tierra thought she heard his spine crack. Tommy cocked his easy surfer's smile and sauntered over to Claire, draping a possessive arm around her shoulders. "What's going on here?"
"Unhand her, you undead piece of filth," Dru ordered.
Oh, this wasn't good. Just what they didn't need, a pissing match between Tommy and Dru over Claire's confused affections.
"Sure, you can have her," Tommy said, his smile turning crafty, his bright blue eyes flashing to black. "What's left of her." A butcher knife appeared from behind his back, and Dru bellowed a warning. Claire jerked to the side, saving herself from a lethal stab to the heart, but Tommy's downward swing still found purchase high in Claire's shoulder. She went down with a shriek of pain and surprise.
In less than a blink, Dru swung his sword at Tommy, the blade sinking deep into his chest. His body shimmered as Dru yanked the sword from his heart, yet a maniacal laugh was all that escaped Tommy as Brock, the witch hunter, slid free of his body.
"Now that was more satisfying than I believed it would be," Brock sneered. "Can't wait to stick it to the rest of you witches."
"Claire!" Tierra and Moira screamed, rushing forward but stopped short as Dru roared, swinging his broadsword in a wide arch at Brock, intent on taking off his head. It went right through his neck, the plasma displacing and morphing back together with no damage done.
"Seems that being dead does have its advantages." Brock looked at Aerin, Moira, and then settled on Tierra. "Yes, I do believe I'm going to enjoy this." He disappeared on another sadistic snicker.
Dru was the first one to recover and reach Claire. Gathering her up in his arms, his fingers gently investigated the bleeding wound.
"I'm okay. Just hurts like a sonofabitch." Claire struggled in Dru's embrace. "Put me down. Oh, my Goddess, Tommy!" Claire freed herself and rushed toward Tommy where he lay on the grass. "I can't believe you stabbed him." She sent an accusing stare at Dru.
"He stabbed you. I was protecting you."
"I can protect myself."
"Yeah, that's clearly apparent."
"I hate to pour acid on this little tête–à–tête," Nick drawled, "but what would you like to do about the press that just caught that little scene on video?" Nick gestured to the swarm of journalists snapping pictures and filming from outside the gates.
When the hell had they shown up?
"Should we all take them out, or send a small posse?" It was obvious that Nick relished the idea of conquering a batch of enterprising journalists.
Great, just what they needed, more documented proof.
"Nick, you and Aerin gather up the evidence they have collected," Julian instructed. "Moira, see to Claire. Tierra, you and I need to take that stroll."
The last thing Tierra wanted to do was take a walk with Pestilence, but she didn't see where she had much choice.
She nodded to Moira. Claire's condition was the most impo
rtant. That and the press.
"Just don't kill them," Tierra said. "Take the evidence, but leave them breathing."
"Are you serious?" Nick scoffed. "Of course we're going to kill them. Silence them forever."
"You do that and we will have journalist ghosts snooping around us all the time," Tierra said. Damn, bloodthirsty Horseman.
"Oh, for the days when a little bloodshed was a simple proposition," Nick muttered, stomping off with Aerin, who looked like she would rather be cleaning toilets than be paired with Conquest.
Moira flanked Claire, and she and Dru helped Claire inside the manor with Tommy fretting apologetically over his part in causing her injury. It looked as though Dru's blade, and Brock's spirit possession, hadn't caused Tommy any harm, which was a further concern.
If the witch hunter could possess him, what would keep the other spirits from doing the same? Any ghost with a score to settle now had a weapon they could use, and it resided right under their own roof.
Julian cocked his head toward the lower lawns that housed the new drying shed where Sunny—with Justine's help—had taken over running the online business what with Ambrosia's now nothing but ash.
The day promised a rare break from the encroaching winter. The cloudless lapis sky reached into the stratosphere, and the wind held its breath as though in anticipation. Puget Sound reflected an aqua sheet of antique glass below the towering cliffs turning shades of cinnamon and nutmeg beneath the stately evergreens. The scene belied the tension that had taken root inside her, and Tierra wished she could take the day to lie on the grass, soak in the heat of the sun, and commune with nature. It had been too long since she'd linked with Mother Earth, and she missed it more than she could express.
"I unearthed something of consequence," Julian began, walking alongside her, his hands linked behind his back. His black hair, shot with blades of silver, glinted like hematite in the sunlight.
Tierra waited him out as he gathered his thoughts.
"The Standing Stones have the power to act as a portal through time and space. While I didn't find anything about traveling to the Underworld, legends do speak of entering the Faerie Realm through the stones."
Which Witch is Wild? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 3) Page 14