by Jenica Saren
Hansen made his strange bird call sound that he had made in the forest a few days before and all four of them visibly tensed. In my state of shock, it almost looked as though their muscles were doubling in size, growing outward and stretching the fabric of the tight shirts they wore. Merely a second later, they launched themselves at Marcia and the banshee who wore my face.
Instantly, they were blown back and away as Marcia waved her hand, as though the four witch hunters were merely flies on a hot summer day. Pests.
They didn't stop, though. They got back up and went again, unsheathing daggers I'd only seen Hansen use before, that I never saw them equip. Marcia moved to shoo them away once more, but they dodged whatever magick she threw their way. As they neared, the High Priestess huffed out an irritated breath and used both hands to shove them back once more.
That was when I saw it. Her left arm, her primary magick hand, was... It wasn't hers. Or maybe it was. It was black and gnarled, like a burnt tree trunk that was reduced to charcoal. It was grotesque and twisted, her fingers looking like charred talons, stiff and unmoving. When she noticed my staring, her gaze turned angry as she tugged the sleeve of her robes over the hand.
"Marcia," I gasped in horror. "What have you done?" It felt like my eyes were bugging out of my head.
My former mentor, the former leader of my sisters and sister herself, sneered at me, face twisted in disgust. "I'm fixing this broken system, that's what I'm doing," she hissed. Her voice was cold, almost robotic but not quite. "Starting with these disgusting wastes of space." That, she spat at the guys, who were rising to their feet once more, determination gleaming in their eyes.
I wasn't sure how, but I felt it before it happened. I felt the banshee's energy snake out toward my witch hunters, seeking them out with the evilest of intent. Perhaps it was because the banshee was me, my magick, my body. Whatever the reason, I couldn't see it, but I could sense it.
Faster than should have been possible for my challenged body, I rushed forward and sliced through the energy with energy of my own, effectively severing the connection.
I watched in terror as my mouth opened wide, emitting a shriek that felt as though it would shatter my eardrums. The pitch intensified and I fell to my knees, clutching my ears as they began feeling as though they were bleeding. I looked at the guys through my hazy vision, seeing them all in the same position as me.
It happened too fast.
Jadwin removed one hand from his head and started drawing a series of symbols in the air, but it was too late. Disabled by the sound of the banshee's screech, I hadn't felt the energy snaking out toward him - him in particular.
Horror and panic filled me as I watched his eyes go wide and body slowly going limp. Without thinking, which was probably for the best, I ripped the amulet from around my neck at the same time I dove for him. His gaze turned to mine in the instant before I was crashing into him.
With no time to waste, I dove down into him, deeper than I'd ever gone before. It felt like thorns were stabbing me from all angles as pushed my way into the deepest crevice of his being: his soul. Once I was there, feeling as though I'd been lit on fire and tossed into a wood chipper, I grabbed onto it and held on with all of my might. In this form, I could see the disgusting energy that looked like the blackened roots of a tree, trying to wrap around his soul. Instead of cringing and pulling away as my instincts told me I should, I held tighter, anchoring myself to his soul.
From where I was inside of Jadwin, I couldn't see what was going on outside, but I heard an evil cackling that made me tremble.
"Let go, little Kismet," Marcia's voice called out to me. "You can't hold on forever. What about your other friends?" She was taunting me, but the fear I felt was too intense. What could I do?
No! I won't let go. Not of him, and not of them. I demanded of myself.
White-hot, searing, burning pain split through me. It felt as though my soul was finally giving up the fight it had been holding onto for so long. The tendrils of black energy reached out to grasp Jadwin's soul again and I let out a tiny, warning pulse of magick. Light, bright, pure. That was the only thing I could think to battle the banshee's power with.
With a shriek, it pulled back a little before diving again. I pushed out a harder burst. Just give up already! I'm not going anywhere!
Somewhere outside, I heard a man's voice scream in pain, but it wasn't Jadwin. Panic was fueling my actions, pure desperation and fear. There was little else I could think of. With an intense amount of focus, I tried to picture, in my mind, a thread of my magick extending to Gavyn, the one who had screamed. It was like watching two different movies on the same screen.
If I'd had a body, I would have been sweating profusely at the effort it was taking to make the link to Gavyn's soul. Once I did, however, I latched on and held as hard as I could. I sent out a quick warning blast there, too, letting the banshee know that I was there. She seemed to think that because I was there, I wasn't also still inside Jadwin, holding on for dear life. She tried to strike again and I flexed, feeling like a porcupine shooting off its spines at attackers.
The banshee reeled back with a howl of pain. Before she could do what I thought she would do, I tried once more to extend my magick, this time Hansen and Zeph. I was tired and worn too thin. I didn't know how long I'd be able to hold on and protect their souls, but as long as the banshee shrieked, I saw no other choice. Still, how long could I manage?
Kismet of the Syntyche coven, daughter of the stars and sister to me, I willingly lend you my magick and strength. A voice rumbled through me. It was familiar, but the words weren't matching up.
Spirit of the North, Spirit of Earth, lend us your strength and stability. The voice continued, full of power and confidence, leaving me awed at the might of it.
As if on autopilot, a reflexive reaction, I jumped in. Spirit of the East, Spirit of Air, lend us your speed and dexterity. Our two internal voices joined to create a haunting harmony.
Spirit of the South, Spirit of Fire, lend us your ferocity and determination.
Spirit of the West, Spirit of Water, lend us your peace and intensity.
With each verse, my magick felt stronger, fortified. But, we weren't done.
Spirit of Centre, Spirit of the Soul and Light, lend us your resilience and righteous justice. With harm to none, our will be done.
Light flared around me, emitting from the soul I had wrapped myself around and from me. It was blindingly bright and I watched the banshee's energy shrink away in its intensity and pure, raw power. The spirits were always giving, always willing to assist the righteous and pure of heart, but never had I felt them give so much, so freely. It was like bliss while also overwhelming and scary, but I welcomed it with open arms and an open mind.
From my positions inside each of the witch hunters, I could feel and see the banshee pulling away from them, too. She did it slowly, carefully. It didn't feel right.
What it felt like, was a trap.
As soon as I thought the word, something crashed through me, sharp and painful to the very core of everything I was. The world around me was nothing but whiteness, nothing but emptiness, a void of nothing but bright light. I could no longer hear what was happening on the outside. I wanted to call out for help, to scream, to pull away, but I could do nothing except stay where I was and try not to feel as though I were dying all over again.
When the sound returned, it was in a rush, and it was with Marcia's voice.
"Come, we've gotten what we were here for, pet," she all but cackled. I tried to pull out of the guys' souls, but found myself essentially soldered to them.
I couldn't let her get away! I couldn't let her do any more damage than it seemed had already been done, but I couldn't seem to get free of the precarious position I'd put myself in. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, and, more than almost anything, I wanted to see Marcia pay for the blackened hole where her heart should have been.
A charge of energy filled the room and in the nex
t instant, the sensation was gone.
"They got away!" Zeph shouted angrily. "What the fuck was all of that?"
"Calm down," Gavyn ordered calmly.
I could hear Hansen groan. "We've never faced anything like that before," he admitted, clearly pained by the sentiment. "We need backup."
It was then that I wished I could speak, but I was too far down to do anything. I was genuinely stuck inside Jadwin again, of all people. Speaking of Jadwin... It was his voice I'd heard in the midst of all the insanity, wasn't it? But the things he said... Yeah, I needed to talk to him and fast.
Listening to the guys debate back and forth, I tried to detach myself from inside the big witch hunter, to no avail. I tried to feel along my magick and detach from the others as well, but still, nothing happened. What the hell?
"What do you mean, Ghost Girl?" Zeph asked. Huh?
You can hear me? I asked, shocked. I would admit that I had never gone so far as someone's soul, and I wouldn't recommend it, given the amount of pain the journey cost me. However, I was fairly certain that they shouldn't have heard me from their souls. I was almost on another... Plane. I was on another plane.
"Of course we can hear you," Hansen answered with a frown in his voice.
I'm stuck. I told them.
"Stuck? Stuck how?" Gavyn asked. Mister Curious, as always.
Like, I'm... Kinda, um... Attached to your souls?
The room was silent for a while, entirely too long for my comfort and the level of anxiety I was experiencing. No one was speaking and it was making me nervous.
"Can we eject her from our souls?" Zeph asked, sounding perplexed.
"No, I don't think so. We could try?" Gavyn suggested calmly. They had no idea how much I hoped it would work.
Again, there was a pregnant silence, the room full of tension as everyone seemed to try to eject me. I felt nothing, especially not like I was being ejected.
"Did it work?" Gavyn asked, unsure and voice wavering.
Nope. Still here.
"Fucking shit," Jadwin cursed. "I'm going for a walk." Something about the way he said it made me think that he wanted to talk to me, which I appreciated.
What I didn't appreciate was the pain.
I screamed as loud as was possible, not on purpose. The pain kept intensifying and I felt like I was genuinely being tossed into hellfire. Hell wasn't real, but I finally understood the feeling of fire and brimstone that people were so terrified of.
"Kismet!" Four voices shouted at once.
On the outside, I could hear the sound of footsteps slapping against the concrete flooring, and, just like that, the pain began receding.
What just happened? I asked them all. I was practically gasping for breath after that little involuntary experience.
"We have no idea, Ghost Girl," Zeph admitted. "One second, Jad was leaving, the next second, you were screaming bloody murder."
I felt like I was being murdered. Slowly and painfully.
Jadwin sighed as though irritated. "Kismet, can you see anything?" Definitely irritated.
Nope. I can hear, though.
"Okay, I'm stepping away now. Tell me when it hurts."
Stepping away? When it hurts? What the fuck are you going on abou-
More screaming ensued as I felt as though I was being stretched and pulled, tortured. It felt as though it went on for hours. Then, just as suddenly as the pain came, it began subsiding.
What the hell did you do? I demanded. I wished I could give him the same glare my mom had given me over the years. That would show him.
There was the sound of flesh connecting with something hard, like a brick wall, then a string of curses from Jadwin.
"She's attached to all of us, then?" Gavyn observed thoughtfully.
"It would seem so," Jadwin growled angrily.
"So," Zeph started. "Does this mean living room sleepovers are a thing, now?"
"You hardly sleep," Hansen pointed out.
They started bickering and bantering, but I mostly tuned it out; I had too many bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that a banshee wearing my face was out there in the world, my High Priestess was evil, I still didn't have a body, and I was attached to the souls of four witch hunters.
Oh, and the tiny fact that Jadwin was not only a witch, but a Syntyche witch.
After I Got Myself Attached to Four Witch Hunters
So, from what the guys had told me and from the aftereffects of the pain their little experimentation caused me, They could each go about six yards away from one another before the pain really made itself known. Imagine the worst spanking you'd ever gotten and how it hurt for days after, and that's about the best way to describe how I was feeling.
The guys decided it would be smartest to not try to leave the house after everything that went down, opting instead to put wards and salt up around the house to keep out anything with wicked intent. It was smart, really. After Marcia said she'd gotten what she'd come for, it wasn't wise to potentially lead her back to their home. Not to mention that their apartment living room was entirely too small to comfortably squeeze all four guys, while my living room could house all of them easily.
While they'd been preparing to sleep, I'd been, for lack of a better word, sulking. The guys had picked up my amulet from the ground, but it did me little good; I was still stuck as stuck could be. Just when I'd gotten a body again, too! It wasn't fair, but that seemed to be the story of my life in every respect.
After a bit, everyone was safe and passed out. Since I was the only one who couldn't actually sleep, I was keeping watch. Well, I was listening, since I couldn't see anything, but that counted. Every door was locked, every inch of the house was warded. There was a very low chance that anything would take me by surprise, even if it did manage to get in.
I was a little surprised, after all the talk about his insomnia, that Zeph had fallen asleep so quickly. Then again, that fight would have worn anyone out, even the spirit of the witch that was latched onto their souls.
Since they were all passed out, I used the quiet time to see if I could figure out how to get unstuck. I played around for a little while, trying out astral projection, which apparently didn't work when you were already a ghost. After that failed, I tried to physically remove myself from their glowing souls, to no avail. I wished I had a hot knife or something to just kind of pry me free.
I figured that when everyone awoke, we could go see Juniper and see what she could do about the situation if anything at all. The girl was extremely talented and crafty, so I had little doubt that she would figure something out.
In the meantime, I was playing with another idea. I thought about how I had attached myself to the guys and tried to recreate the action. As it was, it seemed that my magick was stretched entirely too thin, but I still had to try. But what could I latch myself onto? I couldn't just let my magick hang around in the air while I flailed about. No... But maybe I could do something else, instead?
Thinking hard, I tried to remember who'd had my amulet last. Had it been Zeph? Or was it Hansen? Definitely Hansen, because he'd criticised the workmanship behind it and gotten Gavyn all flustered and spluttering.
Focusing and trying not to hurt myself further, I extended my magick again and looked around my dark living room, a bright and warm fire burning in the fireplace. I did it! I cheered to myself. Slowly, I stretched my magick toward Hansen's sleeping form. This was going to be awkward. I was fairly certain it was in one of his pockets.
No time to be a chicken. I reminded myself.
Steeling myself against my embarrassment, I moved the tiny tendril underneath the quilt he was covered with, diving for his jeans pocket. To my blatant relief, he was still wearing them. I wasn't sure what I would have done if he hadn't been. However, I soon found myself faced with another problem: how was I going to move the amulet from his pocket? If I touched it, there was a chance I would become physical, and I didn't want to do that in his pocket. That was the easiest way to spell awkw
ard, if anyone was asking me.
I sighed in defeat and then focused on talking to only Hansen. Hansen! I called. He stirred in his sleep. Hansen, wake up!
The brown and red-haired witch hunter bolted upright faster than I'd ever seen anyone move before, effectively scaring the shit out of me. "Huh? Who's there?" he called quietly into the silent room.
It's just me. I told him, wishing I could roll my eyes at his ridiculousness. I need my amulet.
"What? Oh, why didn't you say so?" Hansen reached under the covers and pulled my amulet out, watching with sleepy eyes as it dangled back and forth.
Without thinking, I extended my magick out to touch it. In an instant, I was crashing to the ground, not only with a body, but also with the annoying effect that gravity had on me.
Well, I would have crashed to the ground, if that's where my amulet had been. Instead, Hansen had been holding it straight up in the air, so when I fell, I fell directly onto his lap.
The poor guy clenched his teeth and groaned, doubling over with his head on my chest. "Oops," I whispered. "You okay, Hansen?" I reached out to pat his shoulder or something, but he grabbed my wrist and held it. Didn't move it or bat me away, just held it.
"You landed on my dick," he grumbled.
I cringed and tried to get off of him, but he held fast. "Sorry. I didn't think about where you were holding the amulet," I said truthfully. "And, if I'm honest, I didn't think it was going to work, anyway. So that's my bad and I'm sorry."
"What happened to 'harm to none', huh?" he demanded.
Snorting, I gentle extracted my arm. "You'll be fine, I'm sure. It's not like I weigh a tonne or fell very far."
"It still hurts."
"I apologised already," I reminded him. "You're not getting me to kiss it better." The moment the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. My face was flaming, cheeks burning, core temperature rising at a disturbing speed.
"I didn't say that," I said quickly. "That didn't happen. Now, I'm going to make a sandwich."
Hansen cracked a grin that made my heart thump heavily in my chest. Wow, the lack of men in my life growing up was doing some serious damage to my ovaries. "Kismet," he started.