Rebel Witch

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by September Stone


  Bryn’s hazel eyes lock onto mine, shining with pride and love like I’ve never seen before. “You heard me.”

  I gather her to my chest. “Always.”

  “I’ll kill you all!” Mona screeches into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Bryn

  Mona’s threat is still ringing through the air when I pull out of the protective circle of Poe’s arms and leap to my feet. Instead of being exhausted from spending so much time struggling with a force that tried its best to trap me against the ground, it’s as if my muscles have been storing up kinetic energy to be released at the slightest provocation.

  Silas does his best to keep Mona on the ground, but since she’s the one who fell on top, she has better leverage. When she manages to knee him in the stomach to break free, my blood boils in my veins.

  “You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again!” Magic surges through my body, down into the ground at my feet. Mona charges toward me, but she doesn’t make it half the distance before vines and tree roots begin winding up her legs, stilling her progress. The vegetation works its way upward, binding her arms against her torso, and it doesn’t stop until one particularly thick vine slides across her mouth like a gag.

  When she’s finally contained, my muscles give out and my legs fold beneath me. But before I crash onto the forest floor, strong arms grab hold of me.

  “You all right, kitten?” Poe pulls me against his chest, and I sink into his strength.

  “I… I don’t know.” I try to get my feet under me, but I can’t control my extremities.

  “I’m fine, in case you’re wondering,” Silas wheezes as he draws near.

  Although I can’t turn to see him, I can feel his approach. “Did she hurt you?”

  Silas steps in close to my back, holding me from behind. “I’m okay, cupcake,” he murmurs, his lips close to my ear.

  Twigs snap off to my left, but I can’t muster the energy to worry about the sounds. Poe’s muscles tense for only a moment before relaxing once more.

  “What the bloody hell happened here?”

  Taj’s voice sends a wave of comfort through me, despite the worried edge to his tone.

  “Is that… Mona?” Calder sounds more baffled than concerned, and I can’t help giggling as the siren attempts to speak around her gag.

  Silas steps away from me, and although I miss his closeness immediately, taking quick stock of my body reveals I’m already stronger from his brief contact. “And Lillian,” he says, sweeping a hand toward the pitiful form circled by moonflowers.

  “You’ll pay for your part in this, Silas Kim,” Lillian moans.

  He chuckles in response, which earns him a string of colorful curses.

  “I got word a few minutes ago that the Front is sending in some teams to help with cleanup,” Calder says. “But I’m thinking they won’t have much to do.”

  “Don’t underestimate Lillian,” Poe warns, finally releasing me from the circle of his arms. “We don’t want a repeat of what happened at the elders’ mansion.”

  “Not going to happen,” I say, pleased that I can stand on my own two feet once more. “Turns out Mona was good for exactly one thing: She had me make a charm to suck out the magical affinities she stole. It’s not glowing anymore, so I assume it’s all done. She should be a regular vampire again.”

  “Wait—that’s what that light was doing?” Poe curses under his breath. “That must be why we were all feeling sick on our way here. Bryn, I think it must have started soaking up your magic once it was done with Lillian’s.”

  I want to disagree—after all, the evidence of my affinity is literally all over Mona. But I’ve done that and more without experiencing the kind of weakness that overcame me just now. He might have a point. “I guess there’s one way to find out.”

  It takes a few extra moments to connect with my magic this time, and the vines and roots come slower than they did minutes ago, but they do come. The vegetation slithers up Lillian’s legs and around her arms, pinning her to the ground. I even add a gag like Mona’s for good measure before sending one last vine to pull out one of the gravity trap’s crystals. A wave of dizziness blackens my vision for several seconds, and I don’t move until it passes.

  The charm is exactly where I left it, half buried in the dirt. But instead of the murky gray color it was when it first came out of the cauldron, now it’s pearlescent blue. I brush away the soil and scoop the charm into my palm.

  A powerful current zips through me, from my hand to the very center of my being. The gold and green threads of my magic begin to pulse and grow as the energy stolen by the charm returns to its rightful home. The sluggish weakness that has plagued me since I first left the trap is discarded and replaced by a steady buzz that excites each atom in my body until every fiber of my being seems to vibrate in a sweet symphony.

  “Bryn?” Silas’ voice is tight. “How you doing there, cupcake?”

  “Good,” I say. Or I think I’ve said it. The pure rush of magic in my system is almost painfully sweet. I didn’t realize how much my being craved the magic it lost until this moment. The gold and green strands of my magic thread themselves through every inch of my body, singing with joy at being whole again.

  Another jolt shoots up my arm, and before I can make sense of it, a sparkling sapphire thread makes its way inside me, bringing with it a cool, refreshing sensation. As it begins to curl and gather in my core, a new awareness creeps into my mind. The humidity in the night air, the beads of dew clinging to blades of grass, the small creek bending its way through the trees not far from here—I can feel it all.

  “Bryn?” Silas asks again.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I murmur. “It all fits together. How have I never seen this before?” I can feel the rush of water in my veins. I’ve always valued my connection with earth, but for the first time I can see how much I’ve missed by not being able to interact with water in the same way. Before he died, my dad mentioned that I might one day be strong enough to tap into a second affinity. Finally, he’s right.

  A voice in the back of my head reminds me that I’ve already expressed fire on two occasions—but I push back against the thought. Fire is Taj’s affinity. If I can use it at all, it’s because of him. But water… If I can master water, that’s all from me. I won’t have to rely on him to wield it.

  I gaze at the charm cupped in my hand. Fire and air still reside within. If I can embody all for elements, I’ll never need to fear anything again. There will be nothing I can’t face. Anyone would be foolish to cross me.

  “Don’t you see?” The words tumble from my mouth like the continuation of a conversation already in progress. “We can be safe forever. I can take care of us all. We’ll never have to worry about anything ever again!”

  “What are you talking about, love?” Taj takes a step closer, stretching out his hand.

  I pull back, moving the charm out of his reach. “Who needs the Liberation Front? We can save everybody. Who could possibly stand up against me if I can master all four affinities? We all saw what Lillian did at the elders’ mansion—and that was just with three affinities at her command.”

  “No,” Poe says firmly. “We didn’t all see what happened. I saw. It wasn’t strength, Bryn—it was chaos. Carnage. No one needs that much power.”

  A sparkling white thread of magic jolts through my arm, bringing with it an awareness of air currents traveling above my head and whispering through the tree branches all around us. “I’m not like Lillian. I’m not going to murder a bunch of people for no good reason.”

  “How about for a good reason?” Silas asks. “There’s always someone taking advantage of someone else. Always someone who needs protecting—someone to save. What happens when you run into those people?”

  I look at Silas—my sweet, sweet daemon. He’ll never again be bound against his will and forced to do someone’s bidding. But the same can’t be said for the others of his kind. What about them? What about the ma
n I saw tonight, cowering before Lillian’s wrath? What will happen from now on when I run into people exploiting others? “I’ll make them pay.”

  An orange filament of magic sears a path through my body, joining the other colors in a pinwheel of magic so strong it pulls a cry from my lips. The veil between the natural world and the supernatural realm beyond rips open. I’m at one with each of the elemental magics. Their ancient power courses through my veins, bidding me to direct it as I see fit.

  “Bryn! Look at me.” Calder moves until he’s standing directly in front of me. He places a hand on each of my shoulders, the physical sensation at odds with the metaphysical symphony erupting in my consciousness. “Don’t forget who you are.”

  “Don’t forget who I am?” The idea is so ludicrous I can’t contain a cackle. “I’m no one, Calder. Mona made sure of that. I don’t have a history. I don’t have a life. But with this power, I can have whatever I want—and so much more. I can make sure no one ever has to grow up the way I did. I don’t have to be a prisoner anymore!”

  “You’re not a prisoner now!” Calder’s hands cup my cheeks. “Your life can be anything you want it to be. We can help people, Bryn—but not like this. Don’t make these choices out of a place of fear. Your strength comes from love, not hate.”

  Love. For so many years, I feared I would never experience love again. After my mother sold me to fuel her drug habit, I assumed that part of me was broken forever. And then I met Calder, who carved out a place for himself in my heart. When he was taken from me and I was locked away, I figured the rest of my life would be spent enduring the company of lecherous guards and having no real human connection. Taj changed that. He helped me explore who I am through art, books, and simple conversation. Poe taught me to be fierce and brave, no matter the circumstances. Silas helped me embrace my whole story—not just the parts other people might deem acceptable.

  And Calder—my dear, sweet first love. Calder is a touchstone to my past, but he’s also a guide for my future.

  I love them all, and if I’ve learned anything in life it’s that I’m strongest when I lean into that love.

  All the power in the world isn’t worth sacrificing that.

  I close my eyes and visualize the strands of magic weaving a glorious tapestry inside me. I can sense the beautiful works of art they could create together, and for a moment, I want nothing more than to allow them to do their great work in me.

  But it’s not the magic I’m meant to wield. Taking hold of the glimmering blue, orange, and white strands, I lead them back where they came from—to the charm I made to take them from where they don’t belong. With each passing heartbeat, I’m more aware of the feeling of Calder’s hands on my cheeks, and of the power that comes from the men I love.

  When the last traces of the magic that’s not mine returns to the vessel in my hand, I call on the gold and green threads that have always been mine to fill the charm. It heats and glows an ominous violet color in my hand. At the last moment, I throw it into the air, where it shatters into a billion infinitesimal pieces.

  The muffled shouts of horror from Mona and Lillian assure me I’ve made the right choice.

  Epilogue

  Bryn

  I take a few steps back and survey the canvas before me. I’ve drawn this scene before, but the charcoals I used to use can’t hold a candle to the vibrancy of acrylic paints. A gently rippling lake, cloaked by moonlight-frosted pines, reflects the spiraling Milky Way up above. It’s just like I remember the lake near my house from back before my father died. And while a critical viewer might comment that the colors are too one-note, with only wisps and pinpricks of white to break up and hues of blues, dark greens, and blacks, for me, the painting couldn’t be more perfect.

  A knock at the door pulls me from my contemplation. I dash forward to grab my brushes and swing over to the small, paint splattered stainless steel sink before the knob twists.

  “I know, I know,” I call over my shoulder as I twist on the tap. “I said fifteen minutes ago that I’d be done in five minutes.”

  Silas chuckles as the door swings open. “No. You said that thirty minutes ago.”

  I squeeze bristles through my thumb and forefinger to coax out the paint. “Thirty minutes? Oh, no. I’m going to be late.”

  Silas’ hands slide onto my hips. “You’ve still got plenty of time.” He nibbles the tender flesh behind my ear. “I’ll finish cleaning up here. You go get ready.”

  I open my mouth to disagree, but I close it again immediately. There’s no use arguing with him. In the last few months, Silas has become more assertive. I suppose not having to take orders from a master has allowed him a measure of control he’s never before enjoyed. But with his new confident decisiveness has come a degree of stubbornness. It would take more time to fight with him over staying to clean up after myself than it will take for him to wash up.

  Setting the brushes in the bottom of the sink, I spin to face him. A broad smile spreads across his face as he repositions his hands to the swell of my behind. He leans forward, and I gratefully accept the kiss he presses to my lips. When he coaxes my mouth open, I allow him to deepen the kiss, losing myself in it. My fingers find their way to the short, silky hair at the back of his neck, but I don’t allow myself to get lost in touching him—and being touched by him.

  I break the kiss, grinning. “I thought you said I need to get ready?”

  He presses a quick peck on my lips before releasing me. “You’re absolutely right. We can’t be late.”

  Although I wish I could spend more time in Silas’ arms, I step away from the sink and head out of the shed that’s been converted into my painting studio. The air is much colder than it was when I came out, and I wish I would have taken Taj’s earlier advice and brought a jacket. But it’s a short walk from the shed to the deck that leads to the sliding patio door, and I make quick work of closing the distance.

  No matter how many times I step into the house, I’m overwhelmed each time with a sense of ownership and belonging. In just a few short months, Silas, Poe, Calder, Taj, and I have fixed up this old rustic cabin and we’ve turned it into a home. Poe has made it a point to hang up as many of my paintings as the walls will allow. Taj likes to keep things tidy. Calder has become the house’s official handy man, fixing squeaky hinges and flickering lights with ease. Silas and I have taken up cooking meals and baking bread. But for a few notable failures, most of our endeavors so far have turned out palatable, if not downright delicious.

  I snag a chocolate chip cookie from the jar on the kitchen counter before heading upstairs to the dressing room. Our bedroom is almost entirely dominated by the largest bed money could buy, and Poe keeps his clothes in the closet there. The rest of us keep our clothes in another room entirely.

  Hanging from the curtain rod above the window across from the door is a black garment bag. I cross the room and unzip it to reveal a lovely blue-gray cocktail dress, decorated with an asymmetrical pattern of black and silver branches. When we first began planning for tonight, I was overwhelmed by the prospect of picking out the right dress. I spent a solid hour at a boutique in downtown Twin Rivers trying on frocks of different colors and lengths, but none of them felt right. I came home that day dejected, but Silas assured me the right dress was out there. He came shopping with me a few days later and found this one after about fifteen seconds of searching. And it was perfect.

  I reach for the garment, but before my fingers make contact, I see a splotch of blue paint on my arm. I sigh, checking the clock Taj had wisely decided to hang on the wall. Still an hour and a half before the event—just enough time for a quick shower.

  But as I make my way down the hall toward the bathroom, I hear the telltale sound of the shower turning on and the steady stream of water shushing against the tile stall. Although there’s another bathroom downstairs, all of my products are in this one. I press on.

  I poke my head into the room, which is already steaming up. I smile as I turn on the o
verhead fan, knowing who’s in the stall even before I can make out his shape.

  “In rivers’ name, I swear, Calder, if that’s you…” Poe sticks his head out of the stall door, stopping short when he catches sight of me. His whole demeanor switches and he smiles. “Well, hello, kitten. I didn’t know it was you.”

  I grin. “Clearly.” For months now, Calder and Poe have had an ongoing disagreement about the bathroom fan. At this point, I’m pretty sure Poe doesn’t forget to turn on the fan when he takes his showers so much as he refuses to turn it on because he knows it gets to Calder. I would worry that their consistent arguing is a sign that not all is right in our household, except that the two of them get along so well.

  Poe lifts and eyebrow. “So, did you just come here for the show, or do you want something?”

  I shrug. “Well, I was going to take a shower, but seeing how this one’s occupied…”

  He pushes the stall door open wide. “Come on, kitten. You know there’s always room for one more.”

  I close the bathroom door behind me and pull off my clothes. The searing water is almost too hot, but it’s nothing compared to the feel of Poe’s hands as they slip along my wet skin and the heat of his mouth as he claims my lips.

  After a shower that wasn’t nearly as long as I would’ve liked, I manage to blow-dry my hair and apply my makeup. After pulling my hair into a soft chignon and slipping into my dress and heels, we have just enough time to make it downtown.

  Each of my men looks fantastic. Calder’s boy-next-door good looks make his gray suit seem playful. Taj is devastating in his simple black suit—sans tie. Poe’s wildness is on full display though his dark washed jeans and black t-shirt. Even the suit dark blue blazer he wears—at Silas’ instance—seems to amplify his raw power. Silas himself, of course, looks like he stepped off the cover of a magazine in his gray blazer over a tan vest and half-buttoned white dress shirt tucked into buttery orange-yellow pants.

 

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