Wicked Destiny_A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Series

by L. C. Hibbett

  “A city without humans,” I mumbled.

  Patrick reached out and pulled me to his side just before a burly man thundered past. “A city for witches and their chosen allies. No gods ruling them, no battles between the clans or the supernatural races. But there were limitations. The spelled city remained a replica of nineteenth-century Galway. It couldn’t be extended or adapted. Electricity came to the human world, but not to the Silent Quarter. Telephones, televisions, mobiles—none can be used here. Eventually, housing became an issue too. Now, only those Free Witches wealthy enough to buy property from one of the original families can afford to live in the Silent Quarter. Everyone else lives in the human world and only enters the city to gain an audience with the High Coven or to attend special events.”

  We walked on in silence and I barely noticed what direction we were headed in, too consumed by my own concerns. After a few steps, I grabbed Patrick’s arm. “Aoife, how did she send me that text?”

  “She must have ducked outside the door for a moment. Keep your eyes open the next time you go to the bank, the entrance is busier than most train stations,” Patrick said.

  I nodded and started to walk forward again but another thought struck me. “How will we find her in here?”

  “She’ll be with the others at the meeting square. There’s an exceptional meeting this evening, everyone is obliged to attend,” Patrick said. A cobblestoned square and a park enclosed by wrought iron railings lay straight ahead. I assumed I was staring at a replica of Eyre Square before the era of cars and technology but it was impossible to be certain as the square and park were obscured by heaving crowds of people. Patrick slipped his fingers through mine as we joined the crowd. He bent his neck and whispered into my ear. “See the raised platform? That’s where we need to get. The Triad will address the crowd from there. The Coven Leader will speak first, then the other two triad witches.”

  “The triad?” I asked.

  Patrick nodded. “Once every three years, in July, the coven elects three witches to rule the Silent Quarter and all Free Witch affairs. The witch with the highest number of votes is elected as Coven Leader.” Patrick frowned and dug his knuckles into his temple as we crept toward the triad’s platform. “I don’t know what this meeting is about though. The election is over and the votes counted, but the new triad and Coven Leader won’t be instated until the new moon.”

  “It’s about the missing kids,” I said. Patrick stopped short and a man to our rear jostled past with a grunt. I yanked on Patrick’s hand to get him moving again. “Aoife told me there was going to be a big meeting about it. More supernatural kids vanished this week and people are scared.”

  A thin, silver-haired man sprang onto the platform and raised his hands in the air. “Fear.” His voice echoed through the square, silencing the people and bringing those of us shuffling forward to a halt. I scanned the crowd for any sign of Aoife and Saoirse but my search proved fruitless. The tall, slim man spoke again. “Fear is both our enemy and our friend. We must listen to the fears in our hearts and let them light a spark that will move us to action, but we must not be slaves to our terror or all will be lost. The Triad welcomes coven members and esteemed guests to this evening’s emergency general meeting.”

  “The outgoing Coven Leader, Magnus,” Patrick murmured.

  The Coven Leader held his arms out. “The Triad recognizes your concerns regarding the current crisis and we will be taking measures to ease the minds of our community. We urge the parents directly involved in these tragic circumstances to continue to engage with the Guilds investigation—”

  A woman’s voice cut across the Coven Leaders speech. “You! You think it won’t happen to you! You think you’re safe.”

  I watched in horrified silence as the woman scrambled onto the platform, followed by a man making futile efforts to lead her back into the crowd. The man was tall and broad and his suit was tailored perfectly to his strong frame—the kind of suit I imagined a solicitor might wear. But no amount of expensive fabric could distract from his red-rimmed eyes or the way he clung to the woman’s arm. By contrast, her clothes and hair were disheveled. Her yoga pants and shirt were smudged with a substance that I recognized, even from a distance, as peanut butter. Tiny blotches of oily yellow left behind by little fingers. The Coven Leader waved to the center of the platform as if he was offering the woman the stage and I shook my head—typical politician, trying to create the illusion he was in control. The woman didn’t even glance in his direction, her focus firmly fixed on the crowd.

  “You think you’re nothing like us.” She gestured to the side of the platform and I held my breath as I examined the huddle of bodies. Ten, maybe fifteen adults, stared back at the woman and nodded their heads solemnly. The sound of a sob broke from the edge of the group and a broad, dark-haired woman wrapped her arms around a man who clutched a stuffed toy to his face. I swallowed hard and stared back at the woman on the stage. She raised her finger and pointed it into the crowd. “You see me on the street with my hailer and my flyers and you shake your head sadly. You’re sorry for my trouble, but it’s not your concern.”

  A pinprick of guilt danced across my skin as I remembered my conversation with Aoife about the Guild’s appeal for level one supernaturals to help with their investigation. The woman’s voice was low and even. “But maybe we’re not so different. Maybe you have children with you today. Or maybe you left them with sitters or friends. Maybe you’ll go home after this meeting and climb the stairs, weary after a long day listening to people like me wail and moan about their problems. Maybe you’ll open the door to your little boy’s bedroom and listen to his sweet breathing. Maybe you won’t be able to hear it, and that feeling of sudden terror you’ve known since the first time you held him in your arms will assault you. The fear that woke you fifty times a night when he was a newborn and made you press your ear against his mouth so you could feel his warm breath on your skin. So you’ll creep in on tired tippy-toes and seeing him there, alive and well, the terror will melt away and you’ll bend down and plant a kiss on his soft little cheek.”

  All around me, I could see people riveted to the spot, and I wondered had the woman’s words conjured the same images for them as they had for me—endless nights staring at a sleeping infant, willing the gods to protect them always. She moved closer to the edge of the platform and bent forward like she was sharing a secret with the crowd. “Or maybe you’ll find that little bed is empty.” I bit my bottom lip. “You’ll turn the light on and check under the covers. You’ll check the bathroom, calling to your husband that the baby isn’t in his bed, and you’ll start to search the rest of the house. Puzzled at first, moving quietly so you won’t wake the other children, but then more frantically, running from room to room and screaming for somebody to call for help. Because you know. You know in your heart that your baby is gone. Lost. And so are you. And now you’ve become somebody new, standing before your friends and colleagues and coven brethren and begging them to help you find your baby.” Her voice cracked and I held my breath. “Please. Please. Help us find our children.”

  For a moment, the crowd was deathly silent and the only sound was the woman’s sobs, muffled by her husband’s suit jacket. The Coven Leader stepped forward and ushered the couple off the platform and, like a volcano, the square erupted into a storm of voices. I kept my arms wrapped around my body and my eyes on the ground until the ache in the back of my throat no longer threatened to choke me. The Coven Leader raised his voice to a firm bark and the square fell into an uneasy silence.

  “Crisis.” The Coven Leader’s gaze was like the beam of a lighthouse as he scanned the crowd. “The Triad recognizes that the supernatural world is in a state of crisis. Across the country, supernatural children of every form are being stolen from their beds. The I.G.S. is attempting to investigate but the number of children taken continues to increase. What do we do? Do we take a stand?”

  Two more witches, who had been standing at the rear of the pla
tform, stepped forward to join the Coven Leader. The younger of the two, tall and thin with dark hair and spectacles frowned. “The Coven members of the Triad firmly believe this case is a matter for the Guild.” She dropped her chin as some of the crowd began to heckle but she didn’t stand down. “The fact remains that we are simply not equipped to conduct an investigation of our own into this matter. This terrible case extends beyond the coven, beyond the witches descended from the Celtic gods, to all the supernatural races living on the island of Ireland—”

  “Easy for you to say,” a large man with a bush of red hair bellowed at the triad. “Your kids are tucked up safe inside the quarter—what about the rest of us outside the gates? Who’s going to protect us?”

  “The triad has taken your concerns into consideration and we have devised a temporary housing solution in the interim until the Guild has apprehended whoever is responsible for these devastating crimes. Effective immediately, there will be temporary accommodation available in the Silent Quarter for all members of the coven with children in their care. Sleeping facilities will be basic and we’ll all have to make sacrifices, but the triad believes our families and children must come first.” I stretched up on my tiptoes to examine the newest speaker more closely but the woman in front of me was so tall I could only catch glimpses of a short, plump figure.

  Applause broke out across the square and a murmur of relief swept through the crowd. I felt a rush of rage for the parents of the missing children as they were pushed aside in the excitement of the crowd.

  “But what about the other children?” A sea of faces turned in the direction of the voice. It came again, and my chest tightened as I recognized my aunt’s fierce tones. I craned my neck to catch sight of her and I almost called out when I spotted Saoirse in her arms. “Protecting the rest of the children is one thing, but what about those already taken? How does the coven intend to support the investigation? Who will help the families search?”

  “I will,” Patrick shouted. I spun to my left and stared at Patrick but he didn’t meet my glare. He pulled back his hood and revealed his face to the crowd. All around us, people gasped, reinforcing my suspicion that I was trapped in some sort of bizarre pantomime nightmare. Patrick raised his arm in the air, as if every face in the city wasn’t already gaping at us, and repeated his statement. “I’ll help search for the missing children.”

  Chapter Nine

  “What the hell are you doing? I want the coven to give us sanctuary, I don’t want them to bloody hate me. I thought we were being discreet.” I hissed the words to Patrick through gritted teeth, conscious the entire crowd was staring at us like we were exhibits in a museum. Or corpses in the morgue, something captivating but also unappealing—like a giant turd that won’t flush. The people closest to us backed away so that we were left standing on our own with the crowd surrounding us in a circle. I dug my nails into Patrick’s forearm. “The Triad are getting off the stage. They’re walking this way. Why are they walking this way, Patrick? Why is everyone staring at us like we’re freaks? This is not how I wanted to petition for early acceptance into the coven. Not cool, not—”

  “Destiny.” Patrick mimicked my tight-lipped whisper and I got the distinct impression he was hiding a smirk. “Remember I said there was something I needed to tell you before we got to the Silent Quarter?”

  “Patrick Joyce.” A short, dumpy woman with gray hair and dimpled cheeks marched out of the crowd, preventing Patrick from finishing his sentence. The woman’s face was soft and her lips curved upward in a tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The Coven Leader and the dark-haired witch stepped out of the crowd to join the lady and I realized she had to be the third member of the Triad. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the cobblestones. “Trick, what are you doing here? We’ve been through this a thousand times, young man—you can no longer attend coven events. Who opened the gate for you?”

  Although there must have been hundreds of witches surrounding us, the square was eerily quiet. Most were watching the exchange through lowered lashes or out of the corner of their eyes, but a few stared unashamedly. “Don’t worry, nobody has broken the rules for me so you don’t need to slap anybody’s wrist. I’ve been a good boy, Mum, no dragging other people into my mess. This time.”

  A whisper rippled through the crowd and my face snapped in Patrick’s direction. Mum? The second we were alone again, I planned on kicking his secret-keeping arse. The woman’s smile widened and she gave a hollow chirp. “Come, come, Trick. We don’t want to make a scene. Run along to the house and we can discuss the details of your visit when I’m finished with my meeting.” Her gaze slid over my face and the back to Patrick. “I’m afraid only Free Witches have leave to attend—rules are rules.”

  “Yes, Mum, they are,” Patrick said. He extended his arm and opened his palm to reveal the rune coin and the woman’s smile faltered. “The sisters of the forest offer me their favor. No door carved from their wood may be closed to me and no enchantment woven from their magic may hold me. Which, interestingly enough, means I can pretty much come and go whenever I want.”

  For a second, the woman was rigid, then she pressed her fingers against her lips and rushed forward to grasp Patrick’s hands. “How wonderful, you can home for good! I’ll have Cathy make your bed and light the fire in your room at once; it’s been such a long time.” She glanced in my direction and tilted her head to one side. “I’m afraid your little friend will still have to leave, though. The rune coin allows for your presence, not hers. I may be the leader elect of the coven, but I’m not a miracle worker, sorry. See her out, good boy.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I need to speak to the Coven Leader. Please.”

  Patrick shot me a warning glare and grabbed hold of my hand tightly. “Mum, Destiny is here to petition for acceptance into the coven. Her daughter has already been granted sanctuary and her aunt is a coven member—”

  Patrick’s mother caught him by the sleeve to silence him and pulled him close. She dropped her voice to a low whisper. “I know exactly who she is, Patrick. And she’s not safe here. The coven is in turmoil.”

  “Please, I’ll only take a moment of your time. I know I’m too young to petition by normal standards, but I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to prove I’m a worthy candidate. I have first level skills in almost all forms of magic except gold.” A murmur began to build in the crowd surrounding us. There were certain basic skills that all witches were expected to attain, but a witch’s strength mostly lay in one area, which was represented by a given color such as red for power over the physical form and gold for healing. The witches who attained the highest skill mastery for their color were classed as First Level witches. I had never met another witch who had attained level one status in more than one discipline, but I’d never met another black witch either. I kept my eyes on the woman, ignoring the open stares from the crowd. “I’m hardworking, and I don’t want anything but the protection being a coven member would give me from those who seek to control me. I’m not a slob, Mrs. Joyce, I’ll give more than I take, I promise.”

  “My name isn’t Mrs. Joyce, young lady, and we don’t want anything you have to give.” A speckle of Patrick’s mother’s spit landed on my jacket. The older woman took a breath and composed herself. “What I mean to say, my dear, is that we are a peaceful community. We have no pressing need for your particular abilities.”

  My cheeks burned. “I have more to give than my magic. Please, I’ll do whatever you want to prove my loyalty—I’ll take the Trial of Fire.”

  “Destiny!” My aunt broke through the crowd and wrapped her left arm around my shoulders. I took Saoirse from her and she nestled into my chest. Aoife gave a little pant of relief—holding my chubby toddler in her arms for the meeting must have drained my aunt of what little physical strength she had, but still her eyes blazed as she twisted toward Patrick’s mother. “Kathleen, my niece would like to request an audience with the Triad. I was given the Triad
’s word she would be considered for petition when she came of age and she’s lived as the Free Witches asked her to live during her time in Galway, there’s no reason to refuse her an—”

  “And she’ll be given her chance to petition when she comes of age, Aoife, but a request for early petition requires special consideration and I’m afraid given our current situation…” Kathleen waved her hand in the direction of the families of the missing children and adopted a pained smile. “I simply couldn’t take that risk. She’s welcome to petition when she comes of age, and you have my blessing to stay in the Silent Quarter with the baby for as long as you want. The Triad isn’t unsympathetic, but your niece can’t remain here. I’m sorry, it breaks my heart to turn a young girl away, but these are the terrible times we live in.”

  Saoirse started to tug on the ends of my hair, oblivious to the words hitting me like a kick to the gut. Patrick and Aoife both opened their mouths at once to protest, but they were silenced by a voice from behind Patrick’s mother.

  “Now, now, Kathleen, no need to break your heart over a decision that’s not yours to make. I’m happy to talk to the girl.” Relief and hope stung my eyes as the Coven Leader stepped forward. He bowed his head respectfully to Aoife and she fumbled with the hem of her blouse. When he took a step closer, I saw that despite his silver hair, he wasn’t an old man. He winked at Saoirse and she buried her little face in my neck. I held her tight, waiting to be addressed. The man raised his eyebrows. “Well, young lady, are you as strong and gifted as your aunt?”