The Witch and the Hellhound (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 2)

by B. J. Smash

  To my relief, it died down to about two feet high but burned hot and steady, and my armpits started to sweat.

  “I command you to come forth…

  And into the light.

  I, the element of air…

  Now set you free.”

  The clouds above were now dark and gray. Moisture filled the air, and a storm brewed.

  The earth shuddered beneath my feet. My eyes became blurry as my pulse raced. My chest was tight like a knot. But I carried on with the last step.

  Picking up the teacupful of pixie dust, I poured it in the cauldron ever so slowly. Most of it went in, but my hand shook so badly that some of it hit the ground. The beautiful, silvery dust shimmered its way into the cauldron, and the water began to boil. All was silent until the last bit hit the brew.

  Instantly, the tree burst into bits, as though it had been under pressure. Loud cracking came as the tree split. Bits flew everywhere, falling into the tree house and the other trees, and knocking a nest of birds to the ground. I held my arms out to ward off the debris, but there was no need; the pieces bounced from an invisible force shield that formed around me. I had to believe it was the thyme and mistletoe that protected me.

  And there he was, madder than hell, standing in amongst smoldering red-orange briquettes. He wasn’t the same old man I’d seen before. He had to be seven feet tall, and his shoulders heaved up and down as he breathed…fire.

  Fire literally escaped his mouth.

  Fire.

  I kept reciting that to myself, over and over.

  My teeth chattered uncontrollably, and my legs shook so that I had to sit on the ground. Tears welled up in my eyes.

  His stance was one of fury and contempt. I truly believed he would attack me.

  He laughed as wisps of fire escaped his mouth, and then he spoke.

  “Ivy! It’s you. I thought I’d be fighting my sister by now.” He laughed like he was possessed. “Get off the ground and stand before me.”

  Forcing my way up from the ground, I stood. My jaw wouldn’t stop moving, and the chattering of my teeth amused him further.

  “Don’t be stupid, girl. I only intend to grind you to DUST,” he yelled as he shook his fist at me. I swear he had little horns protruding from his skull.

  Remembering the item that I grabbed from my Gran’s bedroom, I hauled from my pocket a gold crucifix.

  When I had asked Gran what she used to ward the house, I expected her to say holly trees or a spirit, just like what Ian had told me. But she had said, “The cross.”

  And if it worked on vampires—if vampires were real—then it would work on Izaill.

  Holding it up in front of me, he stood back three more feet and said, “That card is not allowed in this game—you’re breaking the rules.” I think he was actually pouting or horrified. It was hard to read his expression.

  “Fine, I’ll remove the glamour spell from myself,” he said.

  He blurred out for few seconds, like a smeared, distorted blob, and then he stood before me as an old man, back to his original height of slightly less than six feet. He wore his trademark bowler hat, and he had silver eyes. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating. I wouldn’t let him fool me, though. If he could change at will, he could easily return to “demon” form.

  “You know I was only trying to be humorous about the ‘grinding you to dust’ thing.” Now put that away so we can talk,” he said.

  I found my small voice and said, “No way.”

  “Ivy, I was only playing with you. There is no need to fear me.” He waved a hand to dismiss his previous actions. “Let’s sit down, have a bowl of soup, a cup of tea…I’m hungry.”

  “No.”

  “Why did you release me, only to torture me further?” He looked up to Izadora’s tree house. The railing of the balcony had been cracked and broken from the debris. “Why doesn’t my sweet, old hag sister swoop down and pluck the eyes from my skull? Where is she?” He was honestly confused.

  I couldn’t respond.

  “Put that down, I said!” He stomped his foot, and the ground shook and separated about an inch and split to where I stood. I lost my balance, and the cross flew out of my hand. I landed on my side, hitting my ribs on a loose stick. The cross lay about two feet away.

  He strode toward me like a madman, and I cowered down. Admittedly, I was ashamed of myself for being so frightened. Izadora would be disappointed.

  Abruptly he stopped and stared behind me into the tree line. His eyes opened wide, changing from silver to black.

  Lifting my head to see what had stunned him to silence, I saw just above the rim of the fire… eight. I counted one, two, three…

  Eight…hellhounds.

  A massive group of angry hellhounds baring their teeth, frothing at the mouth. The lead hellhound that stood in front, the greatest of them all in height and width, lifted his head, holding back a rage that he wanted so desperately to place upon Izaill.

  Two of them howled, and one pawed the ground.

  “I was only about to help the girl up,” he spat. “I see…there will be no discussions on this day.” Izaill quickly backed away. He held up his arms and said, “I will take my leave. But I will return, Ivy Seaforth. When you are alone.”

  The earth beneath him crumbled and shifted, and he quickly disappeared right into the ground. When he was out of sight, the brown earth re-formed, leaving no sign or indication that he’d ever been there. The circle fire went out, and the water in the cauldron stopped boiling. The spell was over.

  I can’t believe I had been such a coward. I didn’t even tell him what Izadora had explicitly told me to tell him. I never mentioned that she’d seen the ring of death. Dammit, I was a fool.

  But this was no time to wallow in my failure. I slowly pushed myself up to my knees, crawled over to the cross, and put it back into my pocket. Gran would surely miss it, and I’d have to replace it soon.

  The smoke caused from the spell drifted away with the wind, and the leaves in the trees rustled overhead. The dark cloud slowly dispersed as rays of sun shone through.

  The hellhounds were still in the tree line watching me. Who knew what they were thinking?

  I mustered up the courage to say, “Ah…thank you.”

  If they were going to attack me, they would have done it by now.

  The largest hellhound still frothed at the mouth as though he had rabies. He couldn’t contain his anger. Finally, he sat down and scratched his ear with one of his hind paws. Then he took off in the forest with three of the other dogs in his wake.

  Four remained.

  Two of them charged me, their tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths. Happy as heck to see me in one piece, Milo and Hansgard jumped up to lick my face with their slobbery tongues. Laughing, I pushed them aside. “I love you, too—now go lay down.” I pointed in the direction of the stairs. Refusing to leave me, they stayed close and laid down on the grass.

  Two dogs remained.

  Slowly, I turned to them, “I don’t know where you came from, but you can go back now,” I said aloud, waving them away. “Shoo.” I know they had probably just saved my life, but I also didn’t want to be their supper.

  The two approached me. Milo and Hansgard didn’t seem to feel threatened, and so I stood firm.

  I held out my hand, and one of them walked up to me and licked my fingers. I snickered and scratched him behind the ears. His eyes were dark brown, and he had ferociously big teeth. His white fur, soft and shiny.

  The second dog walked toward me. There was something peculiar about his hind legs. When he walked, his hind legs were stiffer, and his ankles shifted around, appearing loose. He whined, and I patted him on the head. I sighed in great relief as I realized just who this hellhound really was.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sometimes clues are right before your very eyes, and you never pick up on them.

  I pieced it all together. Ian’s brother’s visiting at the same time every year. Ian lying on the fo
rest floor in his underwear, a trap around his ankle. The comment from Izadora about how Ian liked chickens at this time of year. Ian’s crutches by the gate.

  I don’t know how it was possible, but before me stood a hellhound, and I was sure that he was Ian.

  Both dogs took off toward the stairs to Izadora’s, and I followed.

  Once we were on Izadora’s deck with the tree trunk table, I wearily sat down and waited. I had no idea what they were going to do until they did it.

  First they blurred, which seemed to be a common thing in magic. As both hellhounds howled, the dog bodies shifted and distorted, cracking and moaning like a tree about to fall in the woods. Then a few high-pitched yips escaped their mouths, leaving me with the impression that it was a painful experience. A brown-colored aura was visible around their bodies.

  And they were human. The process of changing was definitely disturbing and kind of gross, but there they sat on the wood planked floor. This time, Ian wore a burgundy robe. The human that sat beside him in jeans and a T-shirt was none other than Lucian.

  I gasped, my hand going to my mouth.

  “Don’t worry. It has been happening to me for a decade and a half now,” Ian said, panting. He leaned his back against a chair; his legs before him were limp. “Lucian has been changing only for a short time now. It’s a curse all the McCallister men must uphold.”

  Lucian stood and leaned on the railing. Out of breath he said, “What do you think of me now?”

  I giggled nervously and, avoiding any eye contact, said bluntly, “Wow.”

  What I had just witnessed was nothing short of stinkin’ amazing.

  “There, now you have it,” Ian said, rubbing the stubbles on his chin. “Would you kindly get me a glass of water, Miss Seaforth?”

  “Sure.” I gave Ian a sidelong glance and then did the same to Lucian. I couldn’t bring myself to look them in the eyes yet. After I got them both water, I sat and said, “Soooo, this is weird.”

  “Yes, I must agree. But things are as they are.” Ian gulped his glass of water down.

  “We’re not going to bite. You can look us in the eyes.” Lucian called me out.

  Why did this unnerve me so much? After all, I was a half Elf with pointy ears. What was wrong with being able to shape-shift into a hellhound? I think my uneasiness had to do with what Drumm had said.

  I blurted out Drumm’s very words: “McCallister darkness.”

  “Oh, that!” Ian laughed. “We’re not going to ‘darken’ on you, Miss Seaforth, so shape up. It’s me, Ian.”

  He noticed the way I twiddled my thumbs. “Miss Seaforth. There is no reason to fear us. Who told you about the darkness?”

  I cleared my throat. “Drumm.”

  “The darkness has to do with us becoming hellhounds, yes. But the darkness itself is being unable to control the temper, but most of us have mastered it. It’s something Adam, the oldest, deals with, but it’s only because he is head of the pack. He’s a tad more prone to lunacy. And this year has been particularly hard for him.”

  My eyes darted to Lucian. “Your father is—”

  “The head of the pack. He’s not crazy, though—he just has more, um…adrenalin coursing through his hellhound veins. Well, not really adrenalin, but something quite similar to that.”

  Ian and Lucian were right. How could I fear them, my friends? So what if they changed into beastly dogs that no doubt could rip me to shreds in seconds.

  But even the Fae feared hellhounds. Drumm had told me so.

  I’d seen Izaill laugh at Milo before, but that had to be for the fact there was only one hellhound present at the time. Today, he didn’t look too confident with eight present.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I said, convincing myself as much as them. “I just needed a minute to let it all absorb.” “By the way, why are you wearing a robe this time and not your…um…drawers?”

  “Ha! Well, it all has to do with what we are wearing at the time we change. With the first shape-shift of the year, you don’t know it’s coming. I just happened to be in bed at the time. After the first change, which came earlier than expected this year, it can be controlled,” Ian said. “Although we tend to stay at home from ten p.m. on—since anything goes after ten.”

  “Interesting,” I said. “So you guys were never going to watch a fishing show the other day—you just needed to be home by ten p.m.”

  “Yes,” Lucian said.

  “Does that answer satisfy you?” Ian asked, referring to his explanation.

  “Yup,” I said. “But what do you mean, the first shift of the year? Can’t you shift all year long?

  “No. It can start at the last full moon of summer and run until spring equinox.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “An important matter that we should discuss now: Izaill. And now that he is free, Lucian should remain by your side till the elves return for you,” Ian informed me.

  Great. Now he wanted Lucian to be my bodyguard.

  “Izadora told me to set Izaill free, and I—”

  “Yes, I know. She sent a message with my pigeon. It had to be done. I’m hoping he comes to his senses. We’ll need him in the end. But what I want to know is, where is the old gal? Shouldn’t she have been the one that did the releasing?”

  With all the chaos, I’d forgotten all about Izadora. The tree had split apart, and some of the branches had fallen through the balcony and into the window. Jumping up, I yelled, “Izadora! She’s in the living room.”

  “Get me my spare crutches, will you, Lucian?”

  Lucian walked to a small room off the side of Izadora’s kitchen to the kitchen pantry, which actually held food and not magic potions, and returned with an old pair of worn crutches.

  “One must always be prepared,” Ian said.

  In the living room, glass had shattered everywhere, including on top of Izadora as she lay on the couch. Picking a piece from her forehead, I said, “Aunt Cora…she sent a cake—an enchanted cake. Izadora is in a deep sleep. Too deep.” I spit out my words as fast as they’d come out of my scattered brain.

  “Cora, you say,” Ian began. “I wonder what brought this about. The reversal spell may take some time to figure out.”

  Feeling like I was to blame, I filled him in on everything. I’d been the one to put the red-knotted love rope in her pillowcase, even after Aunt Cora refused it and tossed it in the trash. I’d been the one to bring Izadora the cake.

  I couldn’t take the guilty feeling any longer; I had to tell someone. And who could criticize me better than Ian?

  “Seems like you should have left the love knot in the trash. However, this may turn out in our favor,” was his reply.

  “How so?”

  “That’s not important now. Just let me think on it for a while.” He puckered his lips up and scowled, deep in thought. “Bringing the cake to Izadora, well, that’s not your fault either. How would you know she ‘enchanted’ the bloody thing?”

  “I didn’t even get to tell Izadora who sent her the cake. We started to argue before I could tell her.”

  “Argue? About what?”

  I paused to gather my thoughts. Should I mention my Aunt Clover’s reaction to the non-burnable scarf? After all, there was something going on with my aunts, and Aunt Cora wasn’t allowed at Ian’s. Maybe he could shed some light on the matter.

  I didn’t need to; Lucian volunteered the answer. “They fought over Clover. She freaked out when Ivy’s purple scarf wouldn’t burn.”

  “The scarf wouldn’t burn?” Ian asked, surprised. “What scarf? And why would you and Izadora argue over something so tedious?”

  I sighed. This time, before Lucian could answer, I gave him a dirty look. His mouth had already opened and when he saw me, he shut it. Although I hadn’t told Lucian about the memories, he’d heard me talking to Izadora about it.

  “I’ve seen memories, from the trees…” I stopped talking and backed up my story a bit and started from the beginning. “The elves taught me ho
w to sit next to a tree and meditate, for healing purposes, gaining energy, and such. One of the other things that can happen is tree memories. And I have seen a few of these memories.”

  Ian’s face turned thoughtful. “Hmmm, you don’t say. What did you see?” he asked.

  I figured I would lay it all out there, but I couldn’t decide if I should mention the letter I’d found in the old tree. I mean, it was personal and all. I shouldn’t have even read it. In the end, I confessed all.

  “I saw Aunt Clover walking toward Izadora’s. She wore the purple scarf upon her head and she was around my age. That was the first time. And then on a separate occasion, I saw her walking by and she was crying. She, ah…she hid a letter up in one of the trees, inside a hole.”

  Ian’s face reddened a bit; I had hit a nerve.

  “The tree showed you that?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh. And I’m not too proud of this, but I read it. I thought it would explain a few things. It only confused things further.” I watched him carefully as I asked the next question. “Do you know who Ainsley is?”

  His eyes opened wide, and the grip he had on his crutches tightened to the point that his knuckles were turning white.

  Lucian coughed as though something caught in his throat. He scratched his head and looked out the window to avoid my eyes. I had definitely hit on a sore subject.

  “Well?” I persisted even though Ian was making me nervous.

  Ian snorted and then said, “I know of him.” He then moved around with his crutches to look out the broken window with Lucian.

  “Can you tell me who he is?” I couldn’t give up now.

  Neither one answered me for a good minute or two, nor then Ian turned to me and said, “He is not important right now.” His voice was lowered, and he surprisingly seemed…sad.

  Deciding to let it go for now, I said, “I better clean up this glass. Especially the pieces on Izadora.”

  “I’m surprised the old woman has glass windows. The roof is wide open—what does she bother with windows for?” Lucian piped in.