Cyan panicked and shoved inside the condo. “What did you do to Liam?”
“Oh, he’s just getting dressed.”
“What?”
“He’s getting dressed.” Zoe, as if in a trance, turned back to the pool of blood, a bucket of pink water nearby, and kept sopping up bodily fluids from the wood floor.
“Liam?” Cyan called.
His bedroom door opened, and his head poked out. He was busy adjusting his tie over a light blue shirt. “Cyan. I thought I heard your voice.”
She tried not to look at Zoe, scrubbing away. “What’s going on?”
“Oh. You left your pendant.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I was just testing its healing abilities on Zoe. Isn’t that right, babe?”
“Mm-hmm,” Zoe hummed.
Liam patted his chest. “I’m going to hang onto it. Hope you don’t mind.”
Cyan shook her head in confusion. She moved to touch him, reach out and clasp hands, but she pulled back when she looked into his eyes and saw unfamiliar blue—both of them. “Liam?”
“I’m glad you came back, Cyan. I wanted to thank you for last night. It had been so long since I’d fucked a virgin.”
Zoe snickered.
“Your inexperience was adorable.” He put a strong hand on the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “And you got so wet over that story about the honey.” He sighed. “But I will miss the way you throw yourself at me.”
She stared up into unfamiliar eyes. “What happened to you?”
“Oh, well, I was going to kill myself after you left this morning, and… you know, I can’t remember why.” He shrugged. “I feel really good right now, though. Could be the virgin sex.”
“Poor little virgin,” Zoe sang off-key.
“Liam, this isn’t you.”
“But it is me. All my life, I’ve been trying to figure out who I am. I’ve looked for answers in other people, in places. In love. But I was born with the answers. I just needed to meet you to figure it out—you, the Loach.” He licked his upper lip, and Cyan hated that she knew what he tasted like. “You won’t be quite as effective without your grandma’s jewelry. Let’s see you take me down in the War now.”
Her hands curled into fists. “You’ll die at my hand.”
“Maybe.” He tilted his head. “But I’ll be sure to take you with me.”
She watched him walk back to his bedroom, humming. Before she could leave, Zoe appeared in front of her again, dark eyes wide. She slowly, slowly reached out her bloodstained fingers and caressed Cyan’s chin. “I can hurt you now, Loach.” She laughed.
The entire walk to Sea Books, Cyan felt eyes on her. People watched from the shadows—not people but witches. She was no longer protected by her grandmother’s magic, and the realization made her palms tingle with defensive magic. She avoided eye contact and hurried on her way until she pushed into Sea Books and closed and locked the door behind her. Cyan followed the well worn path to her aunt’s art studio, and yes, there it was: the last painting Sybil had done of Liam, the man covered in blood with eyes of clear, cruel blue.
Cyan picked up the painting and broke it over her knee. She howled as she tore the canvas to pieces and then crumbled to the floor amidst the remnants, her face in her hands. She didn’t hear Sybil approach, but she turned at the quiet whisper of her name and the scent of honeysuckle.
Her aunt was wrapped in a wool afghan of many colors. She looked tired and worn but, more than that, sad. “We’ve lost him,” Sybil said. “That beautiful boy.”
Cyan felt the tightness of dried blood on her chin, leftover from Zoe’s unwelcome touch. She clawed at the residue with her own short nails.
“He was very kind. Funny, too.”
“I have to kill him.” Cyan stared down at her hands. “B-but he has grandmother’s pendant. I don’t know if I can.”
Sybil carefully sat on the floor beside her niece and brushed blonde braids from Cyan’s face. “His child is within you,” she said. “I see it already.”
Cyan laughed—a cold, awful sound.
“She will have a long life.”
Cyan glared. “Don’t make shit up, Sybil.”
“I’m not making shit up.” The foul word sounded foreign from Sybil’s mouth. “I see.”
“I wish you’d never seen Liam.”
“It would have happened anyway. You were destined to love him. I only painted so many pictures because he was very nice to look at.”
Cyan thought of his freakish bright blue eyes. “Not anymore.”
A commotion at the front of the shop brought them both to their feet. Someone banged on the locked door.
“It’s your father.”
“It’s my father.”
Cyan left Sybil still planted on the floor in the back room and heeded Drake’s call. He stepped past her and into the store, followed by Max and a handful of others—light witches. Drake refused to look at his daughter until she finally said, “Daddy?”
“They’ve sent out a call,” Max said. “Dark witches are pouring into Charleston. The War begins tonight.” He practically grinned.
“Where?” Cyan said.
Her father nodded toward the door. “Center of Broad Street.”
She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away from the others. “I will not go into battle with you angry at me.”
He dragged her further into the store. “You shouldn’t have gone to him.”
“Mother would have done the same for you—if only to say goodbye.”
His chin shook as he looked away from her.
“Daddy.” She took his hand gently. “I had to. And now it’s done, and now, he has to die.”
“Will you be able to kill the man you love?”
She thought about the blue-eyed monster in the French Quarter. “He’s not the man I love anymore. The Liam we knew is gone.”
Drake pulled her into a tight embrace. “My little girl.”
“He’s mine to kill,” she said against his thick jacket. “Nobody else.”
Her daddy nodded. “Yes. He’s yours.”
The Plainacher pendant felt warm beneath his shirt against the bare skin of his chest as he used his blue magic to spin a fork on the coffee table in his living room. The house bustled with dark witches, some having arrived from as far away as California—members of a coven Zoe once knew during their time in San Francisco. There were locals, too, though: the girl from a coffee shop on upper King who knew to leave Liam’s coffee black; a bartender from Charleston Grill who knew Liam preferred California Cabernet; and even Tommy, the sous chef from the Bistro.
When he’d walked in, he’d tried bowing to Liam, but Liam had instead given the young dark witch a hug, ruffled his hair, and said, “You’re still short.”
He did his best to nod to the witches who entered his home—witches who would have been unable to enter if they meant him harm. They did not. He could tell by the way they watched him, they hoped to worship him. He was their leader who would kill the light witches of Charleston and those of the next city, the next, until the world was peopled with only their kind. Maybe he would sell his soul like Zoe and live forever in the Devil’s grip. The thought thrilled him.
Zoe flitted about, greeting newcomers, pouring wine. She had on a long, dark green gown Liam had never seen that looked like something out of a Grimm Fairy Tale. Vacant were her pastels and summer dresses. He assumed this was her battle gear. Her brown hair hung long and straight down her back. When she walked, clouds of thick black crept from beneath her gown, enveloping the floor in smoke. Her powers overflowed.
Liam felt a similar fullness. His stomach was warm and fluttering. He could barely keep his fingers from glowing deep blue. Battle beckoned, and his innate abilities, recently awakened, were so strong he heard thoughts like spoken words as dark witches rehearsed their favorite spells—best for decapitation, best for throwing fire… best for horrible, bloody death. He had a list in his own head, as well, and he almost smiled wi
th their familiarity, as if he’d always been this dark thing inside.
“It’s almost time,” he whispered, and the whole room fell silent. Liam stood and ran his palms down the front of his suit. “I take this opportunity to thank you all for being here.”
There were muttered thanks, but most averted their gaze as though scared to look at him—as though he was something royal, something godly.
“We go to battle. The Loach will be destroyed, and with her, her people. I make one demand, and the witch who does not follow my demand will die.” He paused. “The Loach is mine to finish.”
Zoe bowed in front of him. “We will keep you protected as you tear her apart, my Dorcha.”
He ran his finger along the edge of her jaw. “I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing. It has been my honor.” She bowed lower as she backed away, and Liam looked at the twenty or so dark witches amassed in his living room. They stood at the ready, including young Tommy who grinned as he shot orange light from one of his fingers to the next.
“We’re ready,” Liam said. “Let’s go to War.”
Zoe shielded them for the walk to Broad. Although it was almost midnight, there was no need for a curious tourist to see a mismatched band of dark witches walking the streets of Charleston. All of Broad Street was shielded, as well. No one of the non-magical variety would be able to enter the street until the battle was over. No sounds would escape, not even screams. The city would be none the wiser of a centuries-old prophecy coming to its conclusion.
Liam saw them a block down Broad Street as soon as he turned the corner: Drake, Rue, Sybil, Max, and many others he didn’t recognize, with Cyan in the center. Her bright blonde hair glowed in the moonlight, and the rest of her—the leather jacket, the jeans, the boots—matched the blackness of night. There were others that Liam knew from local businesses, all light witches who wanted him dead.
Well. That wasn’t happening.
“How nice to see all of you.” His voice echoed down the thin, palm tree-lined corridor. He gave a single thought to the trolley accident—the start of this.
“You have to die, Liam,” Cyan shouted.
“Back at you, honey lips.” He smiled when he noticed Drake visibly tense at his daughter’s side. “Shall we?”
Knowing her as well as he did, he wasn’t surprised when Cyan didn’t hesitate. A streak of gold light, accompanied by a Gaelic curse, flew down the center of the street until he blocked it, caught it in the blue light of his hand. By then, though, their gold and blue magic was not alone. Shining lights of pink, silver, red, black… a horrific rainbow cascaded in arches and line drives back and forth. Despite the occasional scream, Liam paid no mind to the others. His blue eyes focused solely on Cyan who ran at him with great speed. Ten feet between them, she stopped and started throwing curse after gold-colored curse. She moved like the martial artist that she was, hurling spells like punches and kicks.
He felt the heat of her magic a couple times but was able to block all of it before she caused any permanent harm. Besides, he had her grandmother’s pendant. Even if she landed a good hit, he would heal—unlike Cyan.
“Dealanach bás,” Liam snarled, prepared to watch her slim body fall to the ground in an inferno of death.
She groaned as she blocked that one, possibly feeling its weight, and their fight paused long enough for her to gape at him, shocked at what he’d just thrown. It was almost as though she only just realized he truly did mean to kill her.
Cyan howled, and although there was no gold light, he knew he needed to prepare. People moved around him like shadows, some at speeds no human could fathom. He heard Zoe shouting from on high as she floated ten feet above his head, suffocating light witches in her tumultous clouds of black. She was just full of surprises.
In front of him, Cyan pulled in a deep breath of air and then, promptly, vanished.
“Shit,” Liam said, but he soon sensed the arrival of magic behind him, almost like the tickle of static electricity. He began to turn but felt her hand digging into his shoulder as she began shouting a spell—and then, she screamed. She choked on air as her hand fell away. He heard her body hit pavement, and he turned. Cyan lay on the ground, hand to her chest, gasping for breath. Her gray eyes opened wide as she stared up at him, and Liam’s head began to ache.
“No,” he said, just as Zoe cackled from above.
“For you, my Dorcha! For you!”
He didn’t think, didn’t consider his options, as he stood there watching the famed Loach die. He held his palm toward Zoe and whispered, “Téigh go dtí ifreann.” He watched the woman he’d loved, his lifelong protector, as her feet turned to ash, then her legs. Zoe didn’t scream when she realized what he’d done. Instead, she stared at him, eyes disbelieving. She shook her head and blew away in the breeze like the final embers of a nighttime house fire.
“Cyan.” He knelt beside her and put his hand on her cheek.
Her lips were tinged red with blood as she looked up at him. “Your eyes are blue and green again.”
He tore open his shirt, pulled the pendant from around his neck, and pressed it to her chest. She groaned at its arrival as if the healing hurt, but she was healing—he could feel it. Whatever curse Zoe had lobbed was soon sucked into the black agate as Cyan began to breath normally. The blood even disappeared from her lips. Then, she sat up and wrapped her arms around him. He buried his face against her neck, no longer caring about murder and War. If only they could run away. Couldn’t they just run away?
He thought about asking her to make them vanish, as she’d done for herself but moments earlier. However, before he could speak, he heard her shout. Then, he felt the pain.
“No,” Cyan shrieked.
Max, a few feet away, grinned in victory, the red light of his magic still dancing across his hand. She zapped him, sent him flying onto his back, and waved her arm in the air. A golden dome surrounded she and Liam—Liam, who was paler than a piece of paper, who wheezed and fell out of her arms onto his back, gasping, gasping.
She leaned over him and ran her hands over his face. “Liam. Look at me.”
His eyes seemed to search for her, but she wasn’t sure what he saw anymore. She was sure, however, that his eyes no longer glowed blue. She was also sure he’d just saved her life. She turned around and searched the pavement until she found the Plainacher pendant. She tried to press it against his skin, but Liam stopped her.
“Let me go.”
“No.” She shook her head and pushed the amulet closer, but his hand kept her away.
“I just tried to burn you to death.”
“That wasn’t you.”
“It was me. I did it. I remember doing it.” He coughed on a breath. His chest shivered as his eyes filled with tears. “That was a hell of a spell. This hurts.”
“No, no, you can’t go.” Her own vision blurred with saltwater as she took his hand and held it to her stomach. “Sybil says there’s a baby. She’s gonna need her daddy.”
He seemed at a loss for words, either from shock or from the fact that he was dying. “Will you kiss me, please?”
Their kiss tasted like salt and the thick iron of blood. She didn’t dare try to take his pain away, certain it would kill her and their unborn child. She kissed him as if they were just two young people in love. She tried to tell him how much she loved him in that kiss, and she did feel something—a pull of her magic, a push of his, until the safe interior of their golden orb glowed green. The air glowed and glowed, even when Cyan pulled away and wrapped Liam in her arms.
She kissed the side of his head. “Be my husband. Be a father. Please.”
“Did you just propose to me?”
She pulled back and smiled through her tears. “Liam. Your eyes are both green.”
He sat up. “I’m not dying anymore either.”
She put her hands on his cheeks and stared at him. The color was back in his skin. He didn’t look weak. He looked strong as Drake Burroughs, but his eyes w
ere the most amazing things—bright, clear, emerald green. “You healed yourself.”
“Apparently I’m doing that now.”
“How?” That single word held a dozen questions.
“Well, I always wanted a family.” He stood and pulled her with him. They watched the battle still raging around them but then slow as witches saw the two of them, alive, together. He glanced down at her. “I need to kill a bunch of bad people. Is that okay?”
“Um, yeah.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re going to have to drop the shield.”
“Right. When I do, I’m going to stand right behind you and keep you safe.”
“You’re going to fight your own family?”
“For you.” She nodded.
Liam took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Wait.” His eyes searched the ground until he found her grandmother’s pendant. “Put this on.”
“You might need it more than me.”
He put the necklace around her neck and clasped it. “We’ve got a baby to worry about.” He kissed her forehead. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Cyan dropped the shield, and she’d been right to stand by Liam. Her father charged until she gave him just a little push that sent him onto his back. Max was next, tossing red flares like a whip. She wanted to get their attention, tell them to stop, but it was Sybil who took care of that. Her aunt had a bit of blood on her face. Her red hair was a tangle, and her long skirts were torn. However, she was a seer, and she saw.
“Stop!” she said, and she threw a pink wall between Cyan and the light witches.
Behind her, an unfamiliar voice: “Dorcha, do we fight?”
“Sorry, Tommy,” Liam said, “but you picked the wrong side.”
Cyan turned to watch as Liam’s hands glowed not his usual blue but a deep green like his eyes. She took a step back and yelped when she felt arms around her. “You fixed him,” Rue said.
Magic Flame (Enchanted Book 3) Page 21