Rebel Witch

by September Stone

  Her words are like a knife. Steeling myself, I force my gaze to the figure at my feet.

  Bile rises in my throat so fast I have to press a hand to my mouth to keep from vomiting. Tears sting my eyes as I drop to my knees.

  Poe’s complexion is ashen, and the shallow rise and fall of his chest is the only sign of life. He’s always seemed so strong to me. I’ve never once doubted his ability to handle any danger that came his way. But now he looks so small and helpless.

  “Poe.” His name is like a prayer on my lips. Just moments ago, I was convinced that somehow, this wonderful man would be part of my life forever. But now I fear he’ll be with me only a few minutes more. I don’t know how long he’s been like this—how long he’s been fighting. Rage bubbles up in me with a ferocity that takes my breath away. This is Ryder’s fault. If he’d let us leave as soon as we sensed something was wrong, we could have stopped this.

  But now, there’s no doubt in my mind that Daya is right. Poe is going to die. And when he does, something inside me will perish as well. I love this man. The simple truth rises inside me with heartbreaking clarity. I love him, and he’ll never know it.

  “Who did this?” Calder asks.

  Daya coughs. “Lillian Castle.”

  The name tears my attention from Poe’s face. “Lillian was here?”

  The old woman squints as if seeing me for the first time. “Miss Bryn Wilder. I didn’t imagine I would see you here again.”

  “After you tried to blame me for something Mona Ward was responsible for?” The words come out hard and sharp. “Believe me, I never wanted to come here again, either.”

  Calder shoots me a warning look. “Your Excellency,” he says in a deferential tone that makes my lip curl. “We were actually coming to you from the Liberation Front. We learned of a plot Lillian’s been hatching—”

  “The euphorium,” Daya wheezes. “It’s why Poe brought her in. But we underestimated her power. This place is warded against the use of magic. Only the elders can wield it in this room. Somehow she broke the enchantments. Turned our own guards against each other. Poe…”

  My heart twists. “Did he hurt someone?”

  She shakes her head. “He was trying to save me from Lillian when she struck him down.”

  Bitterness curdles in my stomach. Poe is a prisoner here—nothing more than a laborer with no hope of ever clearing his debt. He should have saved himself and let Daya and her elder friends die.

  But even as the idea fills my mind, it’s chased away by the truth. Poe would never do that. He wouldn’t sacrifice others to save himself. He’s far too noble—whether he’ll admit it or not. Of course he tried to saved his jailers, even at his own expense. It’s just who he is.

  And now he’s paying the price. I pass my hands over his body slowly, trying to sense the magic that hurt him. I close my eyes and focus on sending my own magic out to identify where he’s injured. Something dark and cold pings against my powers, sending shockwaves of malice reverberating through my body. My eyes snap open.

  “What is it?” Silas asks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt magic that dark before.” I almost add how it’s worse than anything I experienced when working for Mona, but I bite the comment back. The last thing I need is Daya to revise her proclamation about my innocence.

  “But he’ll be okay, right?” Silas glances down at Poe as if expecting him to jump to his feet at any moment. “Shifters—they heal faster than other supernaturals, right?”

  “It depends on the cause of the injury,” Daya wheezes. It seems to take effort for her to inhale deeply enough to continue. “Maladies with a magical root can be difficult for the body to regenerate from. This may be too much for even someone as strong as Poe to heal from.”

  My eyes dart to Calder, who still supports the old woman. We learned that lesson firsthand when we were with the Order of Theurgy. When their own stores of magic waned, they pulled energy from me, their anchor.

  Poe can do the same thing now.

  I twist to see Taj standing behind me, clearly at a loss for what to do. “Come here,” I urge. He moves hesitantly to my side, and I reach for his arm and pull him down beside me.

  “What are you…?” The question dies in his throat when I wrap my arm around his back and pull him tight against me.

  “Helping. I think.”

  Silas’ eyes widen and he reaches over Poe’s prone form to take my free hand. As his fingers lace between mine, he nods, a resolute look taking hold in his gaze.

  “Pardon me,” Calder murmurs, helping Daya lean against one of the throne-like chairs on the dais. He makes his way to the side opposite Taj, wrapping one arm around my stomach and the other around my back, catching Taj in the embrace.

  Mutual physical intimacy—that’s what Kari told me back at the Temple of Theurgy. That’s what recharges me when being a magical focus takes too much energy from me. I’m not feeling weak now, but it must be because the injury is too new. Perhaps Poe hasn’t burned through all his magical stores yet. That has to be the reason—because I know in my soul that Poe is part of this. He’s part of me. I don’t know why fate chose the five of us to be connected, but I’m glad it did. And now that I have Taj, Calder, and Silas as permanent parts of my life, I realize I can’t go another day without Poe among them.

  I can feel my magic pulsing within me, growing and glowing brighter with each passing heartbeat. I push the green and gold strands outward, willing them to connect with Poe, to heal him. To bring him back to me.

  “What in rivers’ name…” Daya murmurs.

  I close my eyes as something breaks loose deep inside. A flood of some latent power deep within me rushes forward, crashing over Poe’s still form. I feel energy flowing into me from where my body touches Calder, Taj, and Silas. It seeps out into not only Poe, but back into the other three men, forming a kind of magical feedback loop that builds upon itself into something greater than it ever could be on its own. Every atom of my body vibrates with such force I’m afraid I’ll split apart into a billion tiny pieces.

  A sharp intake of breath pulls me back to the present moment. My eyes fly open as Poe curls upward, coughing.

  “What the…” He squeezes his eyes closed before opening them again, his eyes darting wildly as if there’s too much to take in. It feels like an eternity passes before his green eyes focus on my face.

  “Kitten?”

  The nickname pulls a laugh from deep inside me. I lean over, pulling him into the tightest hug I dare. “Yes. It’s me. It’s all of us.”

  His arms slip around my back, gently at first—but then with the crushing intensity of a man clutching onto a buoy in the middle of the raging sea. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  Tears sting my eyes. I feared the same thing, but I can’t bring myself to voice it.

  “Amazing.”

  Daya’s quiet voice reminds me of our audience. I release Poe and rise to my feet to look at her. Sitting on the dais, surrounded by the injured and the dead, she looks no more imposing or powerful than Mona had when I faced her at the diner. A fallen angel. A queen without a throne.

  “You’re an anchor, aren’t you?” Although Daya structures it like a question, her tone makes it clear she doesn’t need me to verify the information. “I suppose it makes sense now why your magical signature didn’t match the potion that killed Amos. Your magic is mixed with theirs now.”

  I draw back my shoulders, pressing my lips together to keep from letting my surprise show. Since the day of my trial, I’ve wondered how the magical signatures of two of my potions didn’t match. But I keep my mouth shut in case Daya plans to try me a second time for Mona’s wrongdoing.

  The keening wail of a siren cuts through the stillness. Calder stands. “I’ll go meet the medics.”

  The next minutes pass in a blur as paramedics in dark blue uniforms swarm the chamber, checking for signs of life and patching up wounds where possible. Poe springs into action
, helping locate the injured. Silas, Taj, Calder, and I assist the medics by covering those who didn’t survive with the white sheets they provide.

  But the person who surprises me the most is Daya. I assumed the elder would have insisted on the promptest care possible, but she waves away every medic who approaches her. “I’m fine,” she says each time, despite every indication to the contrary. She still hasn’t moved from her spot propped against her chair, and she’s as white as paper. Still, she shoos away assistance, each time pointing to someone else.

  It isn’t until a weary and disheveled medic insists everyone else has been cared for that she submits to being placed on a stretcher.

  Poe edges his way to her side as the medics wheel her toward the hall, and I can’t stop myself from following him. Poe is the only able-bodied bounty hunter remaining. Although I overheard the medics telling several of the injured that they would likely recover within a day or so, I’m not sure what that means for Poe. One of the elders died in the attack, and the other two are far worse off than Daya. Will she call on Poe to keep guard over the three of them in case Lillian comes back to finish the job?

  It’s not until we’re outside that the medics park the stretcher while they prepare the inside of the ambulance. Whatever control Lillian exerted over the weather has subsided, and the dark soup of clouds has dispersed, leaving only a few fluffy white reminders in the otherwise blue sky.

  I stop at a polite distance away from the stretcher. Although I’m dying to know Daya’s plans for Poe, I know whatever is about to transpire is their business and not mine.

  Calder’s warm hand presses against the small of my back as he takes his place on my right. Silas holds my left hand, and Taj settles his palm my left hip as he steps behind me. My breath catches as Poe begins to speak.

  “Your Excellency, with your permission, I’ll track down Lillian. She has to pay for what she did here.”

  Daya nods, an odd look crossing her face. “Yes, Poe. You should go. But not at my command.”

  Poe straightens, drawing his shoulders back. “Your Excellency?”

  Daya closes her eyes, exhaling. “I release you from the service of the elders. Go in peace, and may the rivers guide you.”

  For several seconds, no one speaks. Finally, her words register in my brain. “You mean he’s free?”

  Daya’s eyes close, and I fear she’s fallen asleep. But she takes in a deep breath and says, “The reason for his continued service is now void. With the help of an anchor, he’ll retain the focus to keep his mind when he shifts. He’s no longer a danger to himself or anyone else.” The old woman’s eyes flutter open and her gaze lands on me. “He belongs with you.”

  Her eyelids droop closed again, and the medics return to lift Daya into the waiting ambulance. I don’t dare move until the doors are closed and the vehicle is in gear, afraid that even the slightest motion might shatter the moment.

  Poe doesn’t work for the elders any longer. He’s free to go where he wants and do what he wants.

  He belongs with you.

  Daya’s final words echo through my head as I swivel my attention back to the guys. Silas’ expression is filled with wonder. Taj grins so broad, his face must hurt. Calder stretches out his hand and grips Poe’s shoulder with a fierce possessiveness that fills my heart with happiness.

  But it’s Poe’s face that I seek. His mouth hangs open and his eyes are blank like he’s been put into a trance. It isn’t until I take a step toward him that he blinks and shake his head. When his eyes find mine, they burn with questions. “I’m free?”

  I nod, my throat too tight to allow me to speak. Instead, I take another step forward, putting me an arm’s length away from him.

  He glances at Silas, Taj, and Calder, whose hand still grips his shoulder. “You all came back for me, didn’t you?”

  “Couldn’t break up the fab five,” Silas says with a grin.

  “Turns out fate brought us together for a reason,” Taj says cheerily. “You’re stuck with us, mate.”

  Poe’s eyes cut to Calder’s hand. “And you’re… okay with this?”

  Calder squeezes his shoulder once more before dropping his hand to his side. “Definitely.”

  By the time Poe looks at me again, I’m wound so tight I’m sure I’ll explode. He could still say no. He could want to live a life without expectations or commitments. He could decide that life as a member of the “fab five” is too much to handle. And I have to be okay with that.

  But when a smile curves his lips, my anxiety disappears. “What are you waiting for, kitten? Get over here.”

  I’m in his arms in the next second, and the feeling is so safe and familiar I could cry. But then his lips brush mine and the horrors of the day melt away.

  For the first time in my life, I feel completely at peace.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Poe

  I’m free.

  The words keep echoing through my head, but I can’t wrap my mind around them.

  Daya set me free.

  It’s the only thing that keeps me going while I pick through the wreckage Lillian left behind. Because despite the fact that it seems half of Twin Rivers has shown up to help with the cleanup—and the burying of the dead—I can’t make myself leave. Not yet.

  And to my never-ending amazement, Bryn won’t leave my side. Taj, Calder, and Silas join us at intervals—with Silas appearing beside Bryn twice as much as the other two. Something has changed in the dynamic between Silas and Bryn, but there’s too much going on in my own head for me to spend much time dissecting it.

  “Are you okay?”

  Bryn’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. I blink. How long have I been staring at the small half-moon shaped table blocking our path down the hallway?

  Although the majority of the damage was confined to the elders’ chambers and the front of the mansion, something doesn’t sit right with me.

  I turn to her, hating that I put that look of worry in her eyes. “I’m fine. I just… I can’t shake the feeling there’s something I’m missing. Bringing Lillian in… It was too easy. Like she wanted to get caught.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Why would she want to get caught?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it.” I continue down the hallway toward a door I only know exists because I’ve been warned on numerous occasions throughout my years here that I’m not to enter the room beyond. Their chambers might be where the elders give orders and pass judgment, but their real work occurs here, in their study. This is where they deliberate settlements between otherwise law-abiding supernaturals, where they evaluate proposed law changes, and where they track possible breaches of those laws.

  I reach for the doorknob, but I hesitate before I make contact. Years of warnings echo in my head. The elders aren’t to be disturbed. You’ll be punished for stepping foot inside. Even knocking could result in more bounties being added to your sentence. Except I’m not sure what kind of punishment the elders could dole out now that Daya has released me from their service.

  My fingers inch closer to the knob, but before I make contact, I notice something isn’t right. The door isn’t snug in its jamb. It takes a gentle nudge to send the door swinging on silent hinges.

  Bryn clutches the back of my shirt, although whether out of fear or a desire to let me know she’s behind me, I’m not sure.

  Instincts kick in as I scan the visible part of the room before stepping closer. A long, unremarkable metal table runs along the far wall, surrounded by five padded chairs. Another wall is home to a bookcase stuffed with thick, uniform tomes and two tan filing cabinets. Whereas the elders’ chamber was designed to impress anyone who steps within, this room is all function. Still, nothing seems out of place. It’s possible the door got knocked loose when Lillian was putting on her pyrotechnic display in the chambers. But as I cross the threshold, a flash of movement in the back corner catches my eye.

  “Who’s in here?” Possibilities spin through my head. Did anyone
actually witness Lillian leaving? I personally took her daylight ring when we captured her, and I gave it to Daya when we arrived. Is it something so important that Lillian wouldn’t risk leaving without it?

  “Don’t shoot! Or, you know, whatever!”

  There’s something familiar about the man’s voice that immediately sets me off balance. But in the next second, I place his voice and his face flashes in my mind before I lay eyes on him.

  The broad-shouldered blond man stands in front of a heavy stainless-steel door that looks like the entrance to a vault of some sort. As he adjusts his blue baseball cap, I realize I’ve seen him around before. He’s a witch who crafts potions for the elders. As far as I can tell, many of them never see the light of day—and with good reason. But this one has always seemed fairly well-adjusted, coming and going as he pleases. Daya instructed me to take one on a mission about a year back. The potion was designed to cause my team to be weightless for a thirty-second period, but it ended up exploding before we got a chance to try it out. What is his name? Oscar? Oliver? Ivan?

  “I heard about the attack,” the guy says, his hands in the air like I’m a policeman aiming a gun at him. He’s big enough to be a linebacker, clad in a green polo and jeans. “I just came to make sure whoever it was didn’t take any of my potions. My latest invention isn’t exactly stable yet. Still needs tweaking. Some of these could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  I snort. “Or the right ones.”

  The corners of his mouth quirk.

  Bryn pokes her head into the room. “You craft your own potions?”

  The guy drops his hands and steps forward, his eyes alight with excitement. “Yes. You’re a witch?”

  Bryn nods emphatically and moves further into the room before I can stop her. Although I’m familiar enough with this guy to be relatively certain he doesn’t pose a threat, it doesn’t mean I want Bryn getting too close. After all, I’m not sure if he’s carrying one of his wacky creations on him right now.