Witching for a Miracle (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 7)

by Constance Barker

  “I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wheeler said. He took several steps back from Simone, though Aria doubted the girl had enough raw power yet to do him any harm with her gift alone.

  Still, if she was hearing minds at this distance, it must be something terrible.

  “What’s going on?” Aria asked again. “Simone, what can you hear?”

  Simone looked at her, still pointing at Wheeler. “They’re being attacked. Witches—lots of them. Suddenly, out of no where.”

  Aria glared at Wheeler. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “Contrary to popular belief,” Wheeler said sharply, “I am not responsible for the entire outfit here.”

  “Why would they attack our people out of no where, though?” Aria demanded.

  Wheeler rubbed his jaw. “If… it looked like they were massing for an attack, then my people would respond.”

  “Respond?” Aria asked. She let her anger distract her, and had to clamp down on it to keep the flow of life moving in Rhonda’s body. She measured her voice better. “You mean launch a preemptive assault. Slaughter us before we can make a move.”

  “We don’t take chances with magic,” Wheeler growled. “If you wait until it’s too late, then it’s too damn late.”

  Aria sighed. “We had a plan in place, in the event of a breach, Wheeler. Evacuate those that can’t defend themselves, and put those that can in between Faerie and the rest of the world. You have no idea what your people are risking. You have to go stop them.”

  “Faerie,” Wheeler spat. “That’s your excuse? There’s no such thing as—”

  Rhonda coughed, and sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes opened, and she looked around frantically at the room before the pain in her shoulder made her wince and give a weak whimper of pain.

  “Mama!” Simone and Mary said in unison. They rushed to their mother’s side.

  Aria let her magic wane. Rhonda was weak, to be sure—but her life force was flowing freely on it’s own. She withdrew the rest of the way, and slumped back, relaxing—or almost, as the strain of maintaining her magic for so long finally made itself known. She was dizzy, but she stood anyway, leaning against the back of a chair.

  She leveled her eyes at Wheeler. “If your people get in our way,” she said, “then this world could be in danger. End-times kind of danger. You have to call them off. Better, you need to tell them to help us.”

  “We won’t be tricked by a bunch of witches,” Wheeler snorted. “Or whatever other black magic wielding folks you’ve collected. Don’t think we don’t know why you’re all here, so that your queen can—”

  Aria crossed the space between them and slapped Wheeler, open handed, across the face.

  He looked at her in shocked dismay that quickly turned to anger. His fist came faster than Aria could react.

  She didn’t have to. Wheeler grunted, and his swing missed Aria as he crumpled to the ground.

  Sonya snorted. “Careful how you plan that back foot.”

  Aria squatted by him. “If you’re wrong,” she said, “and we can’t defend ourselves against an incursion, then hunters, witches, wizards—none of it is going to matter. No one is going to matter. I believe you… mean well, Wheeler. You helped Rhonda, even if I think you didn’t want to. You could have refused, or thrown the antidote away. But you didn’t.”

  Wheeler rubbed his ankle sullenly, and shot her a wary look.

  “If Faerie takes our world,” Aria went on, “we won’t even remember we once owned it. They’ll strip us all of free will, drive us mad, and this world will be a play thing for them for all time. Do you want that? Are you willing to bet the entire world on your prejudice?”

  “It’s not prejudice,” Wheeler growled. “Your people probably tell a different history. But we know the truth. We remember when people bent their knees to your kind. We will never go back to that. Even if you’re telling the truth—even if you win your Faerie war—that’s never going to change. You people need to be kept in check.”

  “Well,” Aria sighed, “we can cross that bridge when we come to it.” She stood, and held her hand out to him. “I can deal with a sprained ankle in a few minutes. If you’ll agree to come with me and help me avert the end of the world. Deal?”

  Wheeler didn’t answer with words, but he did reach up and take Aria’s hand. She let her magic flow into him, down into his ankle, and willed the tiny tears in the tissue there to heal, cells to split, ligaments to knit. It was only a small injury.

  He stood when she was finished, and tested his ankle like it might well jump up and bite him. When it didn’t, he grunted. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll have my people pull back. But that doesn’t mean we’re taking our eyes off you.”

  “Good enough for now,” Aria said. She looked back at the girls, now doting over their mother. “Don’t leave the workroom. It’s warded. If something happens, listen to Alkina and Sonya, without question—okay?”

  The girls nodded, and the two witches wished Aria good luck. Rhonda was unconscious again, but at least she would live.

  “Alright,” Aria said, gesturing at the door. “After you.”

  Chapter 42

  Chloe stuck close to Leander and Frances. Her power wasn’t useful unless she could see the hunters and so far they were keeping well beyond the veil of smoke they’d created by lobbing thick balls of smoking tar-like substance into the midst of the corridor Piper had organized.

  It had caused instant chaos. Luckily, Frances had reacted quickly enough, summoning currents of fresh air from behind the Caves—but whatever was in the miasma seemed to fight against the wind, creeping toward witches and wizards alike. Only the shamans seemed unaffected, but their abilities were rooted in the spirit world and they were already beyond their bodies. Whether it would affect their ability to return to them, Chloe didn’t know.

  Leander’s good hand wielded his wand with expert precision. He was ignoring the pain in his injured hand, but Chloe could sense it in him, eating away at his concentration. She did what should could to bolster him.

  Behind them, inside the Cave, the pounding was coming faster and faster. It was getting more urgent, as well, and sharper—as if whatever barrier Bailey was sustaining was getting thinner with each blow.

  From their left, a number of figures came dashing through the smoke. Chloe turned to face them, and gathered magic to her gift, preparing to wipe minds if she had to.

  “Don’t,” Leander said. “It’s Avery. He’s still got his beacon going.”

  Chloe’s heart flew for a moment, and in another she could see Avery clearly, flanked by Peter, and two men and two women that she didn’t recognize.

  Whoever they were, didn’t matter—they had the stones. They were heroes, as far as she was concerned.

  She rushed them out of the smoke, and all six runners nearly collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as they clutched keystones to their chests. Avery did collapse, to his knees, heaving labored breaths, his eyes drooping.

  They’d managed not to inhale any of the stuff, perhaps, but it was clear that the miasma was affecting them through their skin. All of them staggered into the Caves.

  “This way!” Chloe called, and led them in. She took Avery’s stones from him.

  He reached up for her. “Bailey,” he wheezed. “Is she…”

  “She’s holding them off,” Chloe said. “But getting weak.”

  “The interdiction… spell,” Avery gasped as he tugged at Chloe’s arm. “Help me up. Have to help hold the line.”

  “You can barely walk,” Chloe told him. “Gather your strength.”

  Avery shook his head. “No time. I can do it, just… need some fresh air.”

  “We haven’t had time to perfect it,” Leander called over his shoulder. “Use the previous version.”

  Avery chuckled as Chloe helped him stand. “I’ll have you know… illustrious teacher… that the resonance ratios work just fine.”

  “He’s right,” one of the two men
said—a wizard, Chloe realized, with a thick Russian accent. “I would not have believed. But, he held portal open single handed. Very impressive student, Leander Swift.”

  “Boris?” Leander asked, glanced over his shoulder. “I’d have thought you were dead by now, blowing yourself up in some half-cocked experiment.”

  “Not yet,” Boris laughed. “Though… perhaps soon.”

  Leander twitched his wand, and a projectile headed toward them took a sharp right turn and sailed up and over the Caves. “Best of luck, my old friend. I hope we both live to catch up.”

  “Dah,” Boris grunted. “Likewise.”

  There was no time for questions or further catching up. Chloe ushered the keystone carriers into the Caves, her arm linked with Avery’s to help him walk.

  They made it to the back of the Caves where Bailey was now on her knees, with Aiden kneeling beside her, his wand out. He turned toward them, a fierce look on his face, as if he were willing to fight to the death that moment to protect her.

  He relaxed when he saw them, and then shot to his feet when he realized what they’d brought.

  “Thank whoever’s watching,” Aiden muttered. “Come on, get them here. Chloe, I need to get to the crones. I tried calling to them, but they won’t listen or… don’t hear me, I don’t know.”

  Chloe nodded, and placed her stone with the rest. The others came forward and put theirs down as well. Once all of the keystones were together, something… happened. Chloe stared at them, frowning as she tried to put her finger on what it was. It wasn’t coming from them, precisely… but from the Caves itself. A kind of exultation, or excitement.

  From the far side of the Cave, there was a stirring. Chloe looked up. “I think they heard you,” she told Aiden, nodding toward Rita Hope, who walked slowly into the Cave. “They were just waiting.”

  “We were waiting,” Rita said calmly. “It’s not necessary to shout at us, young man. We were not sitting on our collective laurels.”

  Chloe smiled, and watched as the crones filed into the Cave. Someone was missing, though.

  “Where’s Anita?”

  Rita was still for a moment. She gripped her cane tightly, and bowed her head. “She’ll be along later, I suspect.”

  Now didn’t seem like an ideal time for a late entrance, but Chloe knew better than to question the Crones. Especially this many. How they were all still here when so many of their Caves had failed ages ago, she couldn’t imagine. Perhaps it was a question she could ask later.

  In the mean time, she got out of their way. The crones moved on the stones and began carefully moving them into some kind of pattern.

  “What are they doing?” Aiden asked.

  “I don’t know,” Chloe said. She waved at Avery. “You should help him if you can. He’s going to try and buy Bailey some time.”

  “I don’t know how much,” Avery said. “But we need to work quickly.”

  “Alright,” Aiden said. “Good. This is good. We have a chance, right?”

  “Not if you spend it talking about it,” Rita grumbled.

  Aiden cleared his throat, frowning, and glanced at Avery. “Right. Come on, then. Time to get our hands dirty.”

  Chapter 43

  Leander knew that he was going to lose the hand. Something about that made it easier for him to ignore the pain that it sent up his arm and into his shoulder. As if it was already lost, and he could believe that it was only a phantom pain. Barely worth his notice, surely.

  Frances was beginning to tire, but she’d put up a remarkable fight against the miasma. He wished he could spare the concentration to tell her so. His own effort had been to shield those who had become paralyzed by the smoke from the hail of crossbow bolts and bullets that rained down on them. A kinetic shield would have been wasteful—instead, he extended his field far and wide, and wove entropy into the air, so that most of the shots missed.

  Most, but not all. And Frances’ magic was no longer keeping the miasma so far away.

  “Any ideas… for a more final… solution?” He asked haltingly, swiping his wand as he spotted the occasional bolt to send it flying out to the side or up and over. They were at least easy to see in the smoke, like dark flies in cream as they sped through it.

  “Fresh out,” Frances growled. “I could raise a wall of ice… might get high enough, but it won’t last and we’d just be trapped in here with the smoke.”

  “Think,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

  Frances shot him an angry look. “I am thinking. You think. What’s your big plan? I could cover us and the Caves, leave them out there. It’d be us against a flood of Faerie wrath, though. If you’re worried about your own skin, that’ll buy us a few minutes.”

  “Of course not,” Leander shot back. “I wasn’t suggesting… anything like that. But we can’t… keep this… up for much longer.”

  A thought occurred to him. He was irritated he hadn’t thought of it sooner—or that Frances hadn’t. “Go to the source,” he said.

  “What?” Frances asked. She put forth another surge of effort, and wind whipped around them, pushing the miasma back only a few inches. “Source of what?”

  “Can you encase the substance itself?” He asked. “The… projectiles they threw in here?”

  “At this point it would only give them better aim,” She pointed out.

  “It would give us better aim as well,” he countered.

  Frances glanced at him, wary. “That’s a gamble.”

  “I agree,” Leander said. “But, on the upside, I’m lucky. I’m Irish. It’s in the blood.”

  Frances grunted a chuckle and shook her head. “I can’t see them. Means I need some kind of marker.”

  “Right,” Leander muttered. “Then… I’ll mark them. There were, what… a dozen or so, initially?”

  “Something like that,” Frances confirmed. “You won’t last in the smoke, though, and I can’t protect you out there. The wind just dies when it hits the stuff.”

  “I’ll charm my lungs,” Leander said. “It’ll give me… an extra minute or so.”

  Frances snorted and shook her head. “Sounds like throwing loaded dice to me. And not in your favor.”

  He grinned at her. “Just be ready.”

  It took just a moment to make the entropy field self sustaining—which wouldn’t last as the smoke interfered with it but he estimated it would hold for a few minutes at least. When he was satisfied, he wove the spell to extend his lung capacity with care and took the deepest breath he could manage.

  Then, without any more warning than a thumbs up, he dashed into the smoke.

  He found the first one quickly enough, following the thick, cloying, sticky smoke to its source, and set a simple flare spell over it, bright enough that he couldn’t look at it, before he took off toward where he thought the next one was. He didn’t have time to wait and see if Frances managed to find the smoldering stuff. He found the second, and set another bright flare, and then another, and another. He found eight in all before his lungs were burning for air and contact with the smoke began to numb his body and break down his magic.

  After the eighth, on his way to the ninth, he stumbled, and fell, and couldn’t get up again. His limbs were made of mud and bricks, and he felt the burning smoke fill his lungs.

  He felt his entropy shield unravel, and closed his eyes tightly. The smoke was beginning to clear. Maybe Frances had spotted his flares after all. But she was right—it meant the hunters would have better aim, and it would take time for the smoke to wear off. He waited for the piercing of a crossbow bolt or the impact of a bullet, thinking of Chloe, and of Bailey, and hopeful that whatever the outcome was they, at least, made it through.

  But the pain of either bolt or bullet never came.

  In fact, the gunfire stopped, and so did the whistle of crossbow bolts. Somewhere up the slope, he heard a man bellowing, “Ceasefire!”

  Leander was unable to move and look when he heard steps crunching down the path to
ward the fallen witches and wizards. He managed only to drag his wand arm along the ground a few inches. Someone stopped near him, and rolled him over.

  Aria looked down at him.

  “Leander?” She asked. She looked at his injured hand. “Good Lord… what happened?”

  He couldn’t answer in a full sentence, it took too much work. So instead he focused his will on saying just the two most important words as he twitched his uninjured hands toward the Caves. “Chloe. Bailey.”

  “Alright,” Aria said. “Alright. Just… let the smoke work itself out of your system, and when men come to move you, don’t fight them. We’ve… come to an agreement for now.”

  Leander tried to spit, but couldn’t.

  Aria waved someone toward him, and then leaned close. “Don’t lose hope.”

  She stood as someone else knelt by him and slipped hands under his shoulders. “Take him up to the office,” she said. “Get as many clear as you can and then take up posts in front of the Caves, just in case.”

  “And you?” A man said—Wheeler, it sounded like, though Leander couldn’t be sure.

  “I’m going to help,” Aria told him. “We need every hand we can, thanks to… this misunderstanding.”

  Leander’s rage was impotent, but he felt the fingers of his good hand gain just a bit of feeling back. He wasn’t going to be out of the fight long. He just hoped he was back on his feet soon enough to make a difference. He watched Aria go, and focused his will on his hand. Come on, he told his body. Now isn’t the time to fail my family again.

  Chapter 44

  Avery focused his attention to a single point, and pushed everything else away from it.

  “You can do this,” Aiden said. “You’re the most talented student I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m your only student,” Avery muttered. “And stop talking to me, please.”

  Aiden chuckled softly, but didn’t say anything else.

  He bent his aching knees, and his legs burned to support him. The magic came at his call, traveling the activated pathways just as Leander had taught him they would, and as he had practiced for weeks. He spun it out along the length of his wand, and let his muscle memory take over, weaving the interdiction spell as much from instinct as intention, as he had dozens of times before with Leander.