Wicked Destiny: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Series (Wicked Witches Book 1)

by L. C. Hibbett

  I blew my nose and looked at Patrick. “I know the entrance is somewhere in Lynch’s castle but I don’t know where. Do I need to cloak myself? The building must be crawling with security guards,” I said. The castle had been bought by one of the Irish banking powerhouses early in the last century, and the bank restored the castle to its former glory with meticulous care, adding a striking hand-carved front door as the piece de resistance. It had been used as a working bank and offices since then.

  Patrick examined me with his sharp blue eyes and I was struck again by how perfect his features were. It was like his face was illusion—plain and wooden at first glance and yet beautiful in the right light. His lips thinned. “For someone who’s determined to pledge their allegiance to the coven of the Free Witches, you don’t know much about them.”

  “Nobody knows much about them. That’s part of the appeal—they’re powerful enough to protect us and closed enough to keep our secrets. Even my aunt didn’t dare to tell me much; it’s forbidden on pain of death.” I drew my eyebrows together. “It’s probably different for you though. Because you grew up with them. I guess you’ve kind of got a free pass?”

  “Yep. Something like that.” Patrick’s face shifted once more, becoming blank and unreadable, wiping his features of their luminescence. Patrick’s gaze slid past me and he narrowed his stare. “We have company.”

  I spun around, raising my hands as I turned, but instead of seeing a band of my father’s people stalking us, I caught sight of a wiry old woman moving weaving her way through throngs of tourists and shoppers on High Street. My stomach cramped as Lan approached us. She’d never lied to me, not really. But she’d never told me the truth either. Is it possible to deceive somebody without speaking a word?

  I met her gaze and she bowed low. My eyes stung. She lifted her head and placed a soft, wrinkled hand against my cheek and the resolve I’d been using to stem my tears faltered. Lan shook her head and gave me a stern look. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a fine gold chain and pendant, fixing it around my neck before I could examine it properly. She turned to Patrick, gave his chest three sharp taps, and then disappeared into the crowd again before I could say anything at all.

  “That was an unusual exchange,” Patrick said. He watched my fingers as they played with the pendant Lan had placed around my neck. He took a step closer to me, drawn by the golden charm, and dipped his chin to examine it. “It looks antique. Norse—Thor’s hammer. You think it’s charmed?” Patrick straightened and lifted his face to hear my answer just as I dropped my chin to examine the amulet for myself. In a moment of exquisite awkwardness, our faces collided and Patrick’s lips brushed against mine. We sprang apart as if we’d been electrocuted. Patrick's cheeks flushed scarlet and he raised his hands in apology. “Shit, sorry. The pendant. I was just looking at your amulet and then I looked up. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Me neither,” I interjected, as horrified by the tingle running down my spine as I was by the awkwardness of the moment. It had clearly been far too long since I had any action. I returned my focus to the necklace, firmly refusing to entertain another thought on the matter. “You think it’s an amulet?”

  Patrick ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw and nodded slowly. “Possibly. Thor’s hammer is an ancient Norse symbol of protection, but if the old lady had it charmed it could serve a multitude of purposes. What kind of super is she?”

  “I don’t know. It never really came up.” The twitch of Patrick’s eyebrow revealed how ridiculous that sounded after a year and a half of working with the lady. “I know that Nick is a Siberian tiger shifter and his daughter Maya is too. Kind of. She’s had a little trouble with shifting. I just presumed that Lan was a tiger shifter too or a wolf. That’s what Maya’s mother is and the rest of her pack. Lan has been with Nick for a long time, since Maya was a baby.”

  “Shifters don’t usually deal in charms or spells—that’s not how their magic works. You never noticed her using runes? No sign of magical color? Can you recall anything else?” Patrick asked.

  I bristled. “She’s a mute old woman who bakes really nice cakes and manages to be pretty fucking funny despite the fact that she has no voice. I never interrogated her. I never asked how she lost her voice. I never forced her to share her secrets with me. Because I damn well wasn’t going to be able to share mine in return. And considering Nick was only using me to complete some shady assignment for the Guild, I’ve no idea if the things I thought I knew about him and Lan are even true, okay? If you think this necklace is some sort of tracking device or audio surveillance the Guild asked Lan to plant on me let’s just throw it down the bloody drain.”

  My hand yanked the fine gold chain but it held fast. I ran it through my fingertips, searching for the clasp, and stared at Patrick in puzzlement when I could find none. He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I think we can be pretty certain she’s no shifter. I guess the pendant stays. Let’s hope she’s as sweet an old lady as you thought she was.”

  “Oh, I never said Lan was sweet. The woman once rapped my knuckles with a wooden spoon for tasting her cake mixture.” I stroked the amulet once more before dropping my hand. “But she always seemed like a good woman.”

  Patrick’s chin lifted suddenly and he glanced up and down the street. He gestured toward Shop Street. “We should move.”

  I didn’t wait for him to tell me a second time. Throwing my rucksack over my shoulders, I pulled my black scarf up over my hair and followed Patrick as he wove his way through the lunchtime crowds. There was something uncanny about the way he managed to sidestep running children and giddy teenagers as if he knew where they were going to step before they knew themselves. He broke into a run as we reached Lynch’s Castle and I grabbed onto his arm as he ducked into the bank. He looked down at me in surprise but I couldn’t convince my fingers to release their grasp on his sleeve. “Did you see something? Is Saoirse okay? Are we being followed?”

  “No,” Patrick said. He tipped his head toward the large clock hanging on the wall. “We only have nine minutes until the changing of the security guard. It’s the safest time to open the doorway to the Silent Quarter if you have to do it during banking hours. We should try and look like we’re waiting for a friend to finish their banking or something. Act casual.” His expression softened. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Sorry.”

  I let go of his arm and took a step back. “No, it’s not your fault, I panicked. I’m normally much more chill, you know, badass black witch and all that shit. It’s just a weird day.” We both went back to staring at the clock and trying to look like we were waiting for somebody who was in the queue. The second hand of the clock limped along painfully. I pulled my scarf off my head and twisted it around my wrist. “Actually, I’m never badass or chill.”

  “What?” Patrick stared at me.

  I swallowed. “What I said before. About being calm—I’m not. Not since I had Saoirse. I’m scared of everything. That my dad will take me away from her, that her magic will be powerful and he’ll want to use her. Or that her magic will be passive and she won’t be able to protect herself. That she’ll be kidnapped by some horrible child abuser. That the kids in pre-school next year will be mean to her. That she’ll end up spending ninety percent of her day taking selfies and pouting like some little duck monster.”

  Patrick’s face broke into a grin and like the clouds clearing after a storm, he was beautiful again. My lips curved upward in response. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “You don’t know what kind of witch she is yet?”

  I shrugged my shoulder. “Maybe. There have been little hints—she can see hidden fae in the woods and make her bath water dance, but not enough that would suggest she’s a blue witch. No strong elemental stuff. Her eyes change color when I won’t buy her sweets, but she can’t change her form like a two-year-old should be able to if they had strong silver magic. And she’s never shown any of the physical strength or tracking ability of a red. But I’ve seen
her heal a wounded bird. And Aoife saw her revive a maimed cat.”

  Patrick let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a gold witch to me. Your aunt’s a gold witch, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. My mother had been a gold witch too, but I didn’t share that piece of information.

  “Your aunt is powerful. I was there when she was tested by fire—the ritual should have killed her twice over. I’ve never seen anything like her strength of will. It should have taken her a decade to recover enough to be able to live outside the Silent Quarter, but she was determined to get better. She was teaching me a little bit about healing before I lost my petition for acceptance into the Free Witches.” Patrick stared back at the clock. His face was blank but his Adam’s apples bobbed as he swallowed hard.

  “Were you really training to be a doctor? That’s what Aoife said when I asked her about you after that night at the graveyard when you gave me her letter. Not that I was asking about you or anything. I just wondered why you were never around, and I just thought you looked too young to be a medical student. That’s all.” I wrapped my scarf tighter around my wrist and prayed for the ground to swallow me up.

  “Yeah, I did four years of medicine in University College Galway. But things kind of went down the rabbit hole last year so I took a little…sabbatical.” Patrick’s lips twisted at the corners and he glanced over my shoulder at the clock and pulled a smooth flat coin from his pocket.

  I let my breath escape through my teeth. “Holy crap, is that a rune token? My father kept his locked in the vault, I’ve never seen one before. Where did you get it?” Rune tokens were small coins carved from the bones of a fae skeleton and given by the dead fae’s kin of their free will. A rune token could be used by a human or supernatural to overpower even the most powerful charm or spell.

  “Let’s just say I found it at the bottom of that rabbit’s hole.” Patrick glanced at the clock and nudged me toward the front door. There was only one minute left on the clock. He pulled me to the side of the entrance, as if we were a normal couple having a romantic moment, and fingered the carved wooden door. He took a deep breath. “Destiny, there’s something you should know before I take you into the Silent Quarter—”

  “Shane, how're things? Quiet shift?” Patrick flinched as the new security guard arrived a minute early for the change of shift. Distracted, the guards took their focus away from the door and the wall of CCTV monitors for one second. Patrick grabbed my waist with one hand and used the other to press the rune coin flat against the brass keyhole in the wooden door. In a heartbeat, the world around us turn black and disappeared.

  Chapter Eight

  I was a tiny child when I first heard whispers of the Free Witches—a band of fierce and powerful supernaturals who rose up against the gods of their ancestry and ripped the shackles of familial loyalty from their souls. During the darkest nights of my childhood, I would creep into my mother’s bed and curl up against her chest as she rubbed my hair and told me stories of a land where gods like my father had no dominion. A place where we would one day live together, free from tyranny and fear.

  My mother told me that for hundreds of years, witches from across the globe had traveled to the doors of the Silent Quarter and petitioned to join the ranks of those who lived beyond the reach of their immortal gods. After my mother disappeared, spirited away from me during the night to join the ranks of the vanished, whenever I dreamed of her, she would be standing at the doors to that idyllic world. Waiting for me to join her.

  Sometimes, I imagined the gate would lead to an alleyway with a horse and carriage to take us along a secret path and out into the wilds of Connemara, where we’d uncover a village filled with witches living their lives in peace and harmony, free from the control of the Celtic gods and the fealty they demanded. Other times, I pictured doors opening to reveal a steep staircase that led under the earth itself to an underground forest lit only by magical light and precious gems. But when Patrick pressed the rune token against the wooden door and the blackness rolling over us receded, I realized, to my shock and disappointment, that we hadn’t moved at all.

  “It didn’t work,” I said. Patrick’s arm was still wrapped around my waist and I swiveled to look at him. “Patrick, it didn’t work. We haven’t moved. They must have shut us out. Or your token is a fake. I need to ring Aoife. I need to tell her to let us in.”

  Patrick removed his hand from my waist and placed it on my shoulder. “There wouldn’t be any point, she couldn’t open the gate for us.”

  “What are you talking about? She’d vouch for me. I don’t want to cause any trouble; I just want a chance to be heard. And they let her take Saoirse in.” My voice sounded higher than usual and I swallowed to clear my throat.

  “Exactly, she’s already taken Saoirse in. Every Free Witch can offer sanctuary to one guest and allow them to enter the Silent Quarter. Aoife already offered that sanctuary to your daughter—she can’t offer it to you both,” Patrick said.

  Disappointment tasted like ash in my mouth as I stared into Patrick’s face. “And you’re not a Free Witch. You can’t offer me sanctuary. That’s why the gate wouldn’t open for us. We can’t get into the Silent Quarter. And it’s not safe for Aoife and Saoirse to come out. I won’t be able to get in until I turn twenty-one and I’m legally able to petition. Shit.” I turned away from Patrick and slammed my fist against the wooden door. “I just wanted a chance to be heard. I can’t wait until I’m twenty-one, Patrick. I don’t care what it takes for me to petition early; I’ll take the Trial of Fire if that’s what they want me to do. But I can’t be separated from my baby for the next six months. I need to get through that door.”

  Patrick’s touch was as gentle as a whisper on my waist. “Destiny, take a look around you.”

  I glared at him and spread my arms wide. “Take a look around me? Do you seriously think now is the right time for a pep talk? Destiny, look around the beautiful bank, breathe in the aroma of people withdrawing more money than you will ever see in your lifetime so they can spend it on useless crap like designer purses and—”

  My jaw snapped shut as I scanned the entrance to the bank. The wooden door was exactly as I remembered, as was the flagstone floor, but the electronic automatic security doors were nowhere to be seen. I took a step backward and peered into the lobby. The carved oak counters were still in place, but there were no credit card readers on the counter. No computers behind the desk. No cash machines. There were only two customers in the bank and instead of cash or checks to deposit, they held small leather pouches. I took a step forward and watched open-mouthed as a petite elderly lady with a shock of white curls emptied a pouch of gold coins and glittering red gemstones in front of the teller.

  “What are you doing?” Patrick hissed into my ear. Not waiting for a response, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and shepherded me onto the street.

  I gave him an indignant elbow to the ribs. “Hey, I was just looking. Did you see what that lady threw on the counter? Gold coins—gold feckin’ coins! And a handful of rubies or garnets or something. What sort of twilight zone have you landed us in?”

  “Destiny!” I stared at Patrick, taken aback by the insistence of his hiss. He pulled me into the doorway of an unlit building so my back was facing the street. “Destiny, you need to calm down. The Silent Quarter isn’t like the city you’ve just come from.”

  I bounced on the balls of my feet. “Holy shit, it really is the Silent Quarter. We’re actually here—your rune token worked. Why didn’t you tell me we were here? And why does it look exactly like Galway? It’s identical.” As I turned to wave my hand at the buildings to illustrate my point, I realized it wasn’t exactly the same. On closer inspection, there were subtle differences. Overhead, there were no electricity cables or telephone wires to be seen. The street lamps were lower and through the clear glass, I could see no light bulbs inside. The people passing by looked similar at first glance, but there were far fewer on this version of Shop Street. And there was
something more. “Phones! They don’t have any cell—”

  Patrick enveloped me in a sudden embrace, pressing my face against his chest as his lips found my ear. “Destiny, you need to stop shrieking. Now. Do you understand?”

  I nodded into his chest but he waited a second before releasing me. The rhythm of his heart danced against my cheek and when he loosened his grip, there was a moment of hesitation before we broke apart. I tucked my hair behind my ears and tightened the straps of my rucksack to distract from the strange fluttering sensation in my belly, and Patrick shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. My teeth worried at the corner of my lower lip as I waited for a group of middle-aged women to pass by.

  Patrick was first to break the silence. “Okay, I’m going to explain a few things, but if you start squealing and drawing attention to us, I’ll hug you again.” He said it like being held in his arms was a punishment. “Firstly, this is the Silent Quarter and it’s one of the most unique supernatural communities in the world—the only coven with a membership large enough to be capable of protecting itself from one of the immortal gods if needed. The Free Witches have existed for just over three hundred years. Originally, their headquarters were in a building on the edge of the Latin Quarter of Galway City, close to Spanish Arch, but as centuries passed and their strength, numbers, power, and wealth grew, it became obvious that something more was required.”

  “So they created a shadow city?” I asked.

  Patrick’s eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, that’s a pretty clever description.”

  “Don’t look so shocked,” I said. “I’m obnoxious and grumpy, and I have questionable eating and entertainment habits, but I’m not totally useless.”