A Witch’s Demons (Witch's Path Series: Book 6)

by N. E. Conneely

  Must kill.

  Must release Elron, I sent back as the vine tightened.

  Must kill to protect Elron.

  The vine tightened again and began lifting me off my feet. I could feel myself running out of air. I frantically slashed above me, trying to cut the vine. When I finally made contact, the sword did not go all the way through.

  For a fraction of a second, the vine loosened. It was long enough for me to suck in more air and swing again. There was a nearly audible snap when the vine broke.

  My legs crumpled as I fell to the ground. Dismissing my sword, I rolled back the way I had come. I had no idea who or what had convinced the ever-growing kudzu that I was to be killed, but I wanted to stay out of its reach while I caught my breath.

  As I had moved deeper into the greenhouse, I passed the pink azalea, the lace flower, and the fairy rose. None of them had attacked me, which made me think there was a reason for the ever-growing kudzu’s actions. If I could determine what it was, I would be that much closer to correcting this situation. More importantly, I needed to find the link because it was the best way for me to defend myself against the next attack, and I had no doubt there would be another attack.

  The ever-growing kudzu and black pine did not have much in common, though the ever-growing kudzu was one of the most recent additions to the greenhouse. The fairy rose I had touched earlier had been here even longer than me and had been overjoyed when I had taken over the greenhouses. If I followed that logic, then the plants I needed to be cautious around were those that did not like me or were new. Which was a nice theory, but as my job was to expand the magical plant offerings, most of the things in here were varying degrees of new.

  The pebbles in the path dug into me. I slowly sat up, adjusting until I was more comfortable. The shifting pebbles reminded me that last time I had tried to communicate with the earth, I had not been receiving tactile feedback. Perhaps I could address this issue a different way. Now that I could feel the earth, my connection to it could be much like my connection to the plants.

  On that hunch, I dug my hand through the pebbles until I could feel dirt. Then I directed my thoughts at the earth. All of a sudden it was there—warm, alive, and eager to aid me however it could.

  Can you identify the cause of the darkness? I wished I had a better way to describe what was going on as darkness did not seem like a concept that would be easy for earth to understand.

  Darkness? Emptiness all around.

  What caused the emptiness? That was a better descriptor than darkness. Later, when I could have a leisurely conversation, I would need to explore how the earth perceived things like light.

  Tree. Corner near always-warm ground.

  The always-warm area would be the tropical greenhouse. The black pine was in that corner, which was as much confirmation as I needed. Can you interact with any of the plants in the empty space?

  No. Empty all around. Empty where roots should be.

  I will try to fix the emptiness.

  The earth sent a rush of thanks as I withdrew. I summoned my sword as I stood up. The earth had never let me down. I would do my very best for it.

  Exhaling, I focused on my objective—reaching the black pine.

  When I was completely focused and could almost see the tree through the dark, I lunged forward. Two branches moved to block me, but they were too slow. Ten big steps later, I spotted vines spanning the path. I dropped down and rolled under them.

  The path was clear again. Back on my feet, I sprinted forward. Roots pulled themselves out of the ground, ready to trip me. I stumbled over the first and jumped the next two.

  Branches raked across my chest, snagging on my shirt. I pulled away, breaking off the ends. I was close enough that I could truly see the black pine. Only a few more feet and I would be within striking distance.

  My foot caught on a root, and I started to fall. With a twist of my hand, I dismissed my sword before landing heavily on my wrist. The bone crunched and the emptiness swallowed my pain-filled cry.

  Gritting my teeth, I got back on my feet, ignoring the wave of pain emanating from my arm. I was too close to my goal to let that stop me. I summoned my sword in my off hand, grateful it had not been lost in the nothingness and that my childhood teacher had forced me to practice with both hands. While I was more skilled with my dominant hand, I doubted that would matter for this task.

  A branch swung for my head. I ducked under it. Ahead of me, roots were writhing, ready to catch my feet. I leapt over them. The landing was harder than I’d anticipated, sending a jolt of pain through my arm. The emptiness swallowed my cry.

  For a moment the medallion stopped working. I blinked a few times, and all the plants around me were outlined again. The black pine was only feet from me, but its outline was the dimmest I had seen, likely because whatever caused the emptiness was stronger there.

  I tried to reach out to the pine tree with my mind, but as before, there was nothing there. Not only was the black pine missing, but all the other plants were too. Vanishing my sword, I very carefully walked forward until I could rest my hand against a branch.

  You will stop. Any other plant would have shuddered and immediately complied. The pine did not even twitch.

  I focused my will, every bit of elven magic I had, and any favor the earth had ever given me on the tree. Stop. Now.

  Nothing. I had not even gotten enough feedback to determine if the plant had actually heard my demands. Though since I could feel bark under my hand as well as sense water and nutrients moving through the pine, I believed it was ignoring me. Plants did not lightly ignore an elf.

  Stop. This time the command rolled out of me, hitting the black pine full force. The needles quivered, and for one instant the emptiness vanished.

  “Professor!” The shout was from another greenhouse.

  Before I could reach for the plants and attempt to fix the problem, the nothingness had returned.

  If I could not reason with the black pine, I would have to be more aggressive. Dead plants did not create magic, especially not magic that swallowed entire greenhouses.

  I released the pine, summoned my sword, and took a deep breath. Earth, please forgive me for what I must do.

  Pulling back, I swung my sword at the tree with all my strength. The metal bit into the wood. The darkness flickered. The impact reverberated through me, sending spikes of pain through my broken wrist and making me lose my grip. For a fraction of a second, I could see normally again, then the nothingness had returned and I had not even had a chance to feel for the other greenhouses.

  I got my fingers around the hilt of my sword. It vibrated under my hand, making a secure grip impossible. I yanked at it, and my hand slid off. Until the vibration settled down, I was not going to be able to remove the sword. Frustrated, I growled, not that I could hear the sound in the environment. With the sword lodged in the tree, I would not be able to continue my assault.

  I waited for the sword to finish vibrating. However, the outline of the sword kept moving until it was a blur. The sword had not slowed down. If anything, the frequency of the vibrations had increased.

  There was a faint hum at the edge of my hearing. It cut through the emptiness, slowly filling the room. With an audible snap, I could feel all the plants again.

  The sword’s vibrations were finally slowing, its outline becoming more distinct. While I could not be sure exactly what the sword had done to restore my connection to the plants, I appreciated the help. It was always good to have a sword of an elven smith. One never knew what it could do.

  Gathering my power, I strode up to the black pine and set my good hand against its trunk. “You will desist.”

  It struggled, sending out waves of dark emptiness. Little by little, I forced it to pull its power back. The darkness lightened, and sounds from the outside reached my years. The progress was slow at first, but then it sped up. Before long, the black pine was simply a tree in the corner of a brightly lit greenhouse. If not for the s
word lodged in its side, it would look like any other tree.

  The medallion tickled my chest with a surge of electricity. The outlines around the plants faded away, and the medallion cooled.

  A small squeak reached my ears, and I turned, trying to find the source of the sound. Someone’s scream had drawn me to this place, so there should be another person here. I peeked under bushes and behind trees. Finally the rainbow maple informed me that a small creature was hiding in its trunk. Sure enough, I found a shivering hedgehog. It looked at me, squeaked, and curled into a tighter ball.

  I sighed. “Maggie, you are safe now. I will be removing you from the tree.” After scooping up the trembling creature, I lifted her to eye level. “You are safe. However, I need to speak to you. If I set you down, will you shift, dress, and return?”

  The hedgehog nodded.

  “Thank you.” I knelt down, resting my hand on the ground. Maggie slowly made her way onto the path. She looked up at me, squeaked, and scampered away. Though she appeared uninjured, I could not be sure until I spoke to her.

  My broken wrist throbbed, and I tucked it more firmly against my body. Turning my attention inward, I soothed the distressed nerves, bone, and flesh. The pain lessened. Now I could concentrate.

  While I had been trying to contain the black pine, someone had called my name. Glancing at the tree, I decided against going to look for that person. Until I heard otherwise, managing this plant was my most pressing concern.

  The door thumped as Maggie wiggled her way to the outside. Reassured that she was away from danger, I walked over to the black pine. It was the same squat, neatly trimmed tree that it had always been. Truth be told, only an expert would know it was not a pine tree native to this area.

  At the moment, the black pine felt completely ordinary, but I did not trust it. Reaching out with the part of me that was elven and could communicate with trees, I tried to determine if it would be causing any more trouble. It acted as though it could not communicate with me at all, but I was able to get a sense of magic deep inside the plant.

  Sighing, I broke the contact. To ensure the students’ safety, there would be an investigation, and the tree would be moved to an isolation area that had containment spells.

  The greenhouse door creaked as it opened. I kept my eyes locked on the pine tree as the soft fall of hooves and the footfalls of two humans reached my ears.

  Evaluating the situation, a newly donated tree with my sword in it, I realized I had to make this look less serious. Explaining why I attacked the tree would be much easier if it did not look like I was prepared to attack another plant at a moment’s notice. Besides, if my boss wished to terminate my employment, I wanted to have the weapon in my possession.

  Grabbing the sword, I pulled it free with a shower of sparks. I crouched down, at eye level with the cracked iron teapot half-consumed by the tree trunk. It was the same teapot I had discovered shortly after the tree arrived.

  A wisp of smoke trickled out of the spout. A deep voice hissed, “I hunt the Hunters.”

  The smoke vanished.

  The magic seemed to drain out of the tree.

  The lingering distance between me and the earth evaporated. Under my feet I could feel the earth radiating its thanks. Behind me, people were starting to gather, but all I heard were those words.

  I hunt the Hunters.

  A demon was hunting, and it wanted to kill Michelle and me.

  Chapter Four

  Michelle

  There were no words. My scream was one of pain, horror, and blossoming rage.

  Even with it puffy and discolored, I recognized Tiffany’s face. Her death was far from the worst of it. From the way the sheet was draped, I could see the top of horrible wounds to her throat. Below that, I could see strange lumps and oddly empty spaces. Tiffany had been mutilated and, if I was to guess, tortured before her death.

  My legs gave out and I slowly collapsed to the floor, hunched over and sobbing. I wanted to go back in time and do whatever it took to keep her in my life these past few months. I didn’t want our last words to one another to be the dissolving of a friendship.

  I didn’t want her to be dead.

  I stayed lost in my own world of grief until my sobs were reduced to tears. As my mind, fuzzy now but still functioning, was able to process other things, I heard Wells arguing.

  “Now do you believe me? We need to get Michelle to figure out what happened to Ms. Long, not keep torturing her.” That was Wells. On my side.

  “That could be guilt, the realization of the result of her action.” I didn’t recognize that voice, but I wanted to punch the owner. Officially friends or not, Tiffany would always be someone I would care about. Instead of attacking whoever was monster enough to accuse me of murder, I sat on the ground, tears running down my face, hoping this was all a dream.

  Wells’s voice rose. “Do you really think that’s guilt?”

  There was a telling silence.

  “Then,” Wells continued, “we need her. Patrick is out of his depth. Hedge-practitioners aren’t in the same class as witches. Michelle is trusted by this department, and your time here will be much more pleasant if you trust her as well.”

  “I was hired—”

  “To do your job, not mine. That’s something else you should learn.” Wells sighed. “I get it. You’ve read past reports; you see a person who’s always in the middle of, and sometimes the target of, magic. We’ve got officers who’ve been injured or killed in events connected to her. But you can’t read those reports and make conclusions like that.”

  “I just think—”

  “No, Tom, you don’t.” Now Wells sounded tired. “You went over my head, ignored countless warnings, and put a good woman through a horrible situation. That woman has done more for this department, and several others, than you know. Next time listen and educate yourself rather than stirring up trouble.”

  My eyes were still blurry with tears when I looked up to see a man stomping down the hallway. Wells had his face buried in his hands. I just sat on the floor, too hurt and numb to know what to do. Distantly I knew I should get up, say something, be helpful, not sit there while the horrible reality of the situation slowly sank in.

  Sighing, he scrubbed his hands over his face and turned in my direction. His gaze met mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t listen to him. I know better. All of us know better.”

  I nodded dumbly.

  He sat on the floor next to me, shoulders hunched, deep shadows under his eyes. “This wasn’t something I wanted. Dr. Wilson said there’s magic involved and somehow thought you did this to Tiffany.” Wells shook his head. “I’m not explaining this right. Tiffany’s body was found this morning, in her car, on a residential street. No one saw anything or even knows when the car showed up. We know she wasn’t killed in the car. We found her camera, but it’s missing the card, so someone doesn’t want us to have the pictures. Her phone was in the center console with a text on it from Amber asking if Tiffany would consider mending fences with you. There was no activity on her phone after that.”

  He took a deep breath. “Patrick examined the body. He said magic was involved, or something like that. He got so sick we had to rush him to the hospital. He’s stable, but they’re still trying to figure out what happened to him.”

  “After that, Dr. Wilson decided to do my job. When people started talking about bringing you in, he did some deep thinking. Who would know that Patrick would examine a suspicious body? Why, Michelle. There was that text, which obviously indicated you had a motive to kill Tiffany. Though I haven’t a clue how he got his hands on evidence from the phone. It never should’ve gone to him. Now, I’m not saying people don’t do cover-ups or kill over broken friendships, but that theory doesn’t fit anything else about this case.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “How bad is it?” I whispered. It sounded wrong, but I couldn’t think of what was in that room as Tiffany, not if I was going to do my job.

  “R
eal bad.” His eyes met mine. “It would take days to get another witch in here. And I trust you more than I trust the rest of them. Can you do this? If not, I’ll work on getting someone else in here.”

  I didn’t want to look through the window again, much less be in the same room with… with the body. Going in there would haunt me. Of course, I’d be haunted if I didn’t, so it was more a question of guilt or memories I would never be able to erase.

  “Give me a minute, then I can do it.” Closing my eyes, I took deep, steadying breaths. I needed a clear head if I was going to go in there, or as clear of a head as I could manage under the circumstances. My work had to be above reproach because one day it could be the very thing bringing her murderer to justice. In life I hadn’t been the friend she wanted, but in death I would do better.

  Wobbling, I got to my feet. When I was steadier, I focused on Wells. “You said Patrick got sick. What symptoms? Did anyone else who was around the body or car?” There weren’t many people on the force with the type of magic we shared, which could narrow down what happened to him.

  “He’s the only one. He got light-headed, starting feeling weak.”

  “You need to check. See if any of them have those problems or headaches, stomach trouble, anything slightly off from normal.” I tried to think of something more specific they could look for, but until I had more information, that was the best I could do. “Because he’s the only one in the hospital doesn’t mean he’s the only one who was affected.”

  “Got it.” He reached for the radio on his shoulder and started getting the word out.

  I slowly pushed myself away from the wall. My legs worked just fine even if I still felt shaky and numb. The rest of this was going to suck, but it had to be done. If luck was with me, the numb feeling would keep me together so I could get through examining Tiffany.

  Body. I reminded myself. All the things that had made her my friend were gone. That was simply a shell, and it was my job to find out if magic was involved.

  Everything else—anger, heartache, and a deep desire to track down the people responsible and hurt them—would have to wait. It was as simple as that.