Eastwind Witches Volume 1: Books 1-3: Paranormal Cozy Mystery

by Nova Nelson

  “What’s he saying?” Donovan asked. “I can tell you two are communicating. You get this little wrinkle in your forehead.” He pointed at it, and I swatted his hand away.

  “We were talking about how we’re all going to die.”

  One of his eyebrows hitched up slightly. “So you can die? Because I was wondering about that. I mean, you died once, and then you came here. Grim’s already died, so I figured he might not have to worry about death either. Which just left me.”

  “Hold up. You came out here even though you sort of suspected you were the only one in legit mortal danger?”

  He stared down at the ground as if embarrassed by his own bravery. “Yeah, so?”

  That didn’t seem very Donovan of Donovan. Maybe there was more to him than I’d given him credit for. “So that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  His head jerked up and he glared at me, but before he could spat something mean, I cut him off with, “Don’t worry, I love stupid things.”

  “You’re simply delaying the inevitable,” hollered Grim from the tunnel entrance. “Can we get on with it?”

  Donovan moved closer, moving his hand toward my face, grinning mischievously. He dragged his pointed finger down the center of my forehead. “There it is. The crease. What’d he say now?”

  I swallowed hard. My heart raced, and not just because of the imminent threat of mortal danger. Donovan’s blue eyes cut through the gloom like a knife. “He says we’re just delaying the inevitable and can we get on with it?”

  Traces of the energy we’d shared during our connection ritual passed from his soft, warm fingertips to my jawline as he brushed a piece of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “And which inevitable thing is he talking about?”

  My mouth went dry like I’d eaten a handful of chalk. “Death,” I croaked, then I inhaled and took a quick step back. “I’m fairly sure he’s talking about death. Probably a painful one, too.”

  “Right.” Donovan cleared his throat, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Then let’s get to it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’ll go first,” I said, but Donovan grabbed my arm before I could enter the tunnel.

  “Don’t be an idiot. You don’t even have a wand.” He pushed ahead, his wand held out in front of him, and within a few steps, the darkness of the tunnel swallowed him up.

  I hurried forward, not wanting to leave him on his own whenever he made it out the other side. If he made it out the other side.

  But before I did, I glanced back to make sure Grim wasn’t going to pull a quick one and desert us. His feet remained planted in place. “Oh, please don’t tell me the future King of the Grims is scared to enter.”

  “I won’t because that’s not the case. I’m just mulling over my options.”

  “How hard can that be? You either come with us or you abandon us.”

  “Hush, woman. It’s more complicated than that. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  He grunted, staring intensely at one of the bent trees. Then, after muttering, “Aw screw it. Let’s do this,” he hiked his hind leg and began unloading on the tunnel entrance.

  “Really? You have to do that right now?”

  “See? I knew you wouldn’t understand. Marking this doom tunnel is probably the highlight of my marking career, and here you are turning up your nose at it.”

  “Please don’t talk to me while you’re doing that,” I said. “Just promise you’ll follow whenever you’ve emptied the tank.”

  “Promise. If I die for real, I’ll be going out on a high note now. And, hopefully, marking my territory on an extremely powerful and possibly sacred location isn’t what tips the scales against us.”

  I’d always suspected Grim would be the death of me. Maybe that was just my innate bias against death omens, but I thought it was something more specific than that.

  I pushed ahead, hurrying to catch up with Donovan despite not being able to see past my fingertips as I held them out in front of me, feeling the way.

  What if Donovan made it to the end and something was waiting for us, and by the time I made it, he was already dead, torn limb from limb or—

  No point in worrying if I could do something to prevent it. I picked up my pace, moving at an awkward high-stepping jog to make sure I didn’t trip on any of the dead branches I knew to be there only by feel as I came upon them. I tried not to think about what else might be in the space below my knees, crawling or slithering around silently.

  My arms hit something solid and my reaction time was too slow. I plowed right into it, and it hissed, “Ram’s horn, Nora!”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  He pressed against me, resting a hand on my waist to anchor himself, and I could feel his warm breath on my face, though I couldn’t see him in the pitch blackness. “Why are you running? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to catch up so you didn’t have to face whatever is up ahead on your own.”

  He said nothing and his hand slipped from my waist down to my hand, taking it in his. I gripped it tight so I didn’t lose him again, and we crept forward. “Can’t you make that thing light up?” I said.

  “Sure. I can also make it wail like a siren, if you’re super into announcing our presence to anything nearby.”

  I refrained from replying, because he did make a solid point.

  Time was a tricky thing to hold onto with my sense of sight deprived, and I couldn’t tell how many minutes passed before a dim light appeared ahead.

  We paused at the end of the tunnel to take in the new surroundings. I didn’t quite know what to make of them.

  Ahead of us was a rocky clearing surrounded on three sides by gigantic trees, and on the side farthest from us, ocean spread out to the horizon, reflecting the light of a full moon. The sound of crashing waves slowly faded into my consciousness. “I didn’t know Eastwind was a coastal town,” I whispered.

  “It’s not,” replied Donovan.

  “Then where are we?”

  His hand squeezed mine tighter. I’d forgotten I was still holding onto him, but considering the strange and uncertain circumstances we now found ourselves, I wasn’t keen on letting go.

  “I think we just entered another realm,” he breathed.

  “Have you ever entered another realm?”

  “Just Avalon. I was a kid, though.”

  “Should we turn back?” I asked.

  “Not yet.” He stuck out his chest, let go of my hand, and entered into this new realm we knew nothing about.

  It was like he wanted to die.

  And maybe I did, too, because I followed right behind him.

  Our progress was slow as we crept toward the edge of the clearing overlooking the ocean. A stone circle lay up ahead, not far from the edge, and I knew that was the place to go. Maybe Donovan knew it too, because he made straight for it.

  At the center was a small fire pit, and once we were near enough, I noticed the glowing embers.

  So did Donovan. He whirled around, putting his back to the circle and cliff, scanning the clearing we’d just crossed before inspecting the edge of the dense forest.

  These trees were nothing like the Deadwoods. They were evergreens, towering easily twice the height of the ones we’d just trekked through.

  And between them, I saw nothing.

  Then I heard the recognizable crunch of footsteps.

  Donovan eased the canvas bag off his shoulder and onto one of the stones before shutting his eyes and muttered something. Then with a flick of his wrist, a ball of light shot out of his wand, zipping for the trees, where it weaved and circled around trunks until I heard a yelp, and out popped two figures. The light from Donovan’s wand hovered over them, illuminating their guilty faces.

  “Are you kidding me?” he said, stomping toward them. “Can you two get any dumber?”

  Tybalt’s shoulders hunched in an appropriate display of shame, but Dun
can remained defiant, wearing that same unapologetic snarl that I’d seen back in Medium Rare after he’d just grabbed my butt.

  “What are you doing here?” Duncan said.

  “Cleaning up after your mess, obviously. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Th-the same,” Tybalt stammered. “We didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand. We only meant—”

  Donovan smacked him on the side of the head, cutting his lame excuse short. “That’s for conjuring a drought god.”

  “Ow!” Tybalt clutched his head.

  Donovan smacked the smugness off Duncan’s face with a swift bop up-side his dome. “And that’s for harassing Nora.”

  “Hey,” I said, approaching, “I wanted to do that.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Stringfellow,” said Tybalt remorsefully. “I didn’t realize she was your girl.”

  “Um, she’s not. But she doesn’t have to be my girl, or anyone’s girl, for it to be totally inappropriate for you to go into her place of work and sexually harass and assault her.”

  “Yeah,” I said, lunging forward to get a quick smack in on the other side of Tybalt’s head.

  “But physical assault is okay?” he whined, holding a hand on each side of his head now.

  “No, I guess not,” I replied.

  But Donovan jumped in with, “Of course it’s okay, if you’re being a numbskull and a little painful reminder keeps you from getting yourself killed. Do you have any idea what the thing you conjured has done to Eastwind?” His voice shook with rage. I’d never seen him like that. The bitter sarcasm and calm-but-biting jabs were obliterated by his raw anger.

  “Of course we know. Why else would we be out here, genius?” said Duncan.

  Donovan raised his wand. “If you really knew what you were up against, you wouldn’t have come out here yourself. You would have turned yourself in to the Coven and let them handle it. Instead, you cocky little twerps think you can come out here and take it on. You don’t even have your wands yet!” His lip curled into a snarl.

  Tybalt trembled, but Duncan remained standoffish. “She doesn’t have a wand,” he said, pointing to me. “You came out here and your only backup is a female witch who’s never been to Mancer and doesn’t own a wand. Maybe you’re just as stupid as us.”

  “Nora could kick your foolish hide any day of the week, wand or no wand. And I can guarantee you she’s already a better witch than either of you two dunces will ever be. What were you thinking, conjuring a drought god?”

  “We didn’t mean to!” Tybalt protested. “We meant to conjure a simple wight, resurrect something harmless from beyond to just give her a scare.” Donovan’s nostrils flared and he shuffled a half-step toward Tybalt. “It was his idea!” the blond kid spat, ratting out his friend.

  “Who cares whose idea it was?” Donovan growled. “You went along with it. Necromancy! You two honestly thought you might turn out to be Fifth Wind witches? That you might have control over the dead?”

  “It could happen,” said Duncan, crossing his arms. “If she can do it without any training, why can’t we?”

  “The answer is so obvious, I’m gonna let you two figure it out.” Donovan eased up, backing off and inhaling deeply as he tucked his wand into his waistband. “Also, by the way, congratulations, you’re clearly East Wind witches.” He shook his head. “I’m embarrassed to share that distinction with you two, but there you have it.”

  “Huh?” Tybalt scrunched up his face. “How do you know we’re East Wind witches? We haven’t gotten to that level yet.”

  “Your pathetic attempt at necromancy brought over a demon that kills by sucking water from things. It’s not a difficult logical leap. Now how about the two of you get the fang out of here and try not to get yourself killed on the way back through the Deadwoods? And then each of you go to your respective homes and hope that Nora and I don’t get ourselves killed fixing this mess, because I can guarantee we will make a point to haunt you if we do.”

  I tried not to laugh at Donovan overextending himself with all the hauntings he was promising. Also, I decided not to point out that haunting a couple teenaged boys, catching glimpses of them when they thought they were alone in the privacy of their bedrooms, was one hundred percent my idea of hell.

  “Go. Now,” Donovan said, reaching back for his wand again.

  Tybalt took charge, shoving Duncan toward the entrance to the tunnel leading to Eastwind. Once he was in motion, Duncan had no problem running at a full-out sprint. He was noticeably faster than Tybalt and had no problem leaving his friend in his dust without looking back.

  Just before the boys reached tunnel, a dark figure emerged. A dark, fluffy figure.

  Duncan slid to a stop and screamed.

  “What the what?!” shouted Grim as he was confronted by a screaming manboy charging straight at him. His tail flew between his legs as he jumped to the side.

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Donovan and I erupted into laughter.

  “It’s just her familiar,” said Tybalt, whose slow pace had afforded him the luxury of distance and spared him the same jolt of shock as his buddy. “Stop being such a pixie and keep going!”

  Once the boys were out of sight, Grim trotted to meet us, casting a single glance over his shoulder. “Who were they?”

  “The ones that conjured the Ba.”

  “You mean the same ones who grabbed your tush?”

  “Same.”

  “Well, shoot. If I’d know we might’ve run into them, I would’ve left more in the tank for them.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, as weird as it is.”

  “So, now what?”

  “All we have to do is perform an incantation that we’re neither equipped nor knowledgeable enough to perform with any accuracy.”

  “Fantastic. Have fun, you two. I’ll be over here making sure nothing creeps up on you while you’re in that la-la land you two rascals have been sneaking off to lately.”

  He found a comfortable spot on a wind-smoothed boulder between the stone circle and the rest of the clearing, and flopped down.

  The odds of him remaining awake seemed slim.

  “You ready?” I said, turning to Donovan.

  He grinned at me, no hint of his usual caution. “Absolutely.”

  I stoked the fire with a pile of nearby wood, likely left there by Duncan and Tybalt for a later attempt at banishment, while Donovan laid out the ingredients on the canvas bag, keeping the herbs temporarily in their boxes to avoid blowing away on the ocean breeze.

  Once I was finished, I had a moment to take in my surroundings and wondered what season it was here. Did this place even have seasons? It was easily ten degrees cooler than the Deadwoods had been, and the breeze sent a shiver through me as it blew against my back, sucked out to sea.

  Donovan sat just to my side with the bag between us. “I think we’re ready,” he said, pulling out his wand, giving it a flick so that the words from the book appeared shimmering in the air. They read backward to me, but that was fine, since he would be leading this time. My job was to follow, to read his energy and move with it, offering mine up for him to use as he needed. In other words, I had to surrender myself to the incantation.

  Yeah, that doesn’t sound like something I’d be good at. I know.

  Donovan began adding the ingredients to the flames, one by one sprinkling in each until the crackle of it had faded, then he’d add the next, reading off a series of words in that same dark language I’d heard Ruby speak in her house when Ba first entered.

  When Donovan stood, so did I. He moved so that we stood opposite of each other, the small fire between us. The warmth of it was a welcome contrast to the salty wind cutting to my bones.

  He drew his own blood first this time, dragging the tip of the wand across the meat of his palm. Blood splashed out, and he aimed it at the fire.

  “That’s a lot of blood,” I said.

  He nodded, flexing his fingers to draw more. Then, to my surprise, he didn’t cl
ose the wound but created an identical one on the other hand, sucking in air as he let the blood drain from his other palm into the fire.

  He struggled to hold his slick wand as he pointed it toward me. I offered him my hands and closed my eyes, trying not to think too much about the pain and blood loss. It would only be temporary.

  But ooh boy, did it smart. I breathed through it and opened my eyes to make sure it dripped into the fire. He tucked his wand away again and held out his hands. This was it.

  Then I remembered, and reached for the amulet. There was no way to avoid getting blood on my shirt as I pulled it out.

  “No,” said Donovan sharply. “Leave it on. I don’t think you want to open yourself up that much.”

  “But what if it doesn’t work?”

  “We’ll deal with that if we get to it. Please, just keep that thing on you, okay?”

  I nodded, letting it drop down to rest on the bloodstained fabric of my shirt, then I reached out for him. Our clasped bloody hands reflected the firelight, glowing like two hot coals as he nodded to me gently and we closed our eyes.

  He must have committed the incantation to memory as he recited it without the help of his notes. He droned on and on before I realized he was repeating the same few phrases over and over again. I focused my attention on the sounds, and slowly I was able to repeat the phrases along with him. At first I did it only in my mind, but once I was confident I had them down, I spoke them aloud.

  And that changed everything.

  The fire flared, and though I kept my eyes closed, I was sure the tips of the flames were licking our hands. The wet blood simmered on my skin, and though I knew it hurt, I didn’t quite feel it.

  The wind picked up, but no longer did it blow against my back. Instead, it originated between us, pushing us outward, trying to separate us as we continued our chant. But I held on tight, and so did Donovan. The foreboding of what was coming was lightened by the relief that this seemed to be working. When he raised his voice to a shout, so did I.

  The waves crashing against the rocks below rose to a deafening roar, drowning out our voices, even as I yelled at the top of my lungs. I wanted to open my eyes. I needed to see Donovan’s face, make sure he was still there.