by N. D. Jones
Assefa didn’t bother raising the obvious flaws in Cynthia’s suggestion. Clearly, they both knew them, and while Sanura appeared initially shocked, she now seemed onboard with the ludicrous idea.
“Cynthia’s right, Gen needs our help. We can use the sacred circle from earlier. It needs to be refreshed, but we don’t have time for all that.”
Sanura released Cynthia’s hand and grabbed one of his, pulling him into the circle with her. They sat crossed-legged, facing each other and holding hands. Yeah, she was loyal to the end, even if it meant risking her own soul. It was actually the best…only plan they had. If it works. If the crazy woman doesn’t displace herself in the process.
“Gen doesn’t have much time, so this will have to be quick, Assefa. Sorry, but I don’t have time to push the energy into you slowly. You’ll have to take it all at once.”
He knew that.
“If I pump your body with too much energy too fast, I could hurt you. That’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t have much of a choice.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them, she gave him a reassuring smile. “I trust that you can make the proper adjustments and hold the magical energy as expertly as you did earlier.”
“I know what to do, you bossy witch, just get on with it before I change my mind and hunt the bird my way.”
Water witch magic shot through the room, spiraling outward.
“Hurry the hell up. I just encased the bastard in a force field when he started to go after Gen, but it won’t hold it for long.”
Sanura closed her eyes and Assefa readied himself to absorb her energy. Sanura’s magical energy slammed into Assefa like a tidal wave hitting an embankment. The energy was wild and forceful, but like a great practitioner of Tai Chi, Assefa yielded to the magic, letting it flow through him, taking minimal impact. He dispersed the energy into the proper aura. He was ready, and he prayed she knew what she was doing because, the in-love fool that he was, if the witch screwed up and ended up in another dimension, he would challenge Sekhmet herself if it meant getting his Sanura back.
She began the dimensional transference spell, her magic spiking a moment before the words of, “Leave this place, disturber of time and space. Leave this place, consumer of hearts and souls. Leave this place, consecrator of lands and lives. Leave this place and never return.”
As she repeated the spell, Sanura envisioned the dimension to which she wanted to send the Raven Mocker. It was dead and dreary, home to massive volcanoes that spewed lava and acres of Weeping Willows that rained fire onto a charred ground of screaming souls, their eyes hollow, faces dulled echoes of the past, bodies alight in an endless chain of fire. And Assefa saw it all, as clearly as if it were his own vision, their familiar-witch bond growing each time they shared magic.
Cynthia screamed, “Stop, Sanura, stop!”
But it was already done.
They opened their eyes and followed Cynthia’s horrified gaze to the window. A burned body…a burned Raven Mocker slumped against the window.
Sanura pushed herself off the floor and ran to the window.
The Raven Mocker was charred everywhere Assefa could see, covered in a thick layer of what appeared to be hardened lava. Contorted in a mangled mess, its wings were split and beak torn back and open as if in an attempt to let loose a scream that died in its throat.
Of all things, it was the eyes that were the most haunting, for they were the only part of the creature not covered in blood and lava. No longer black with the soul lust he’d seen earlier; the creature’s orbs were now metal gray. More human, less monster.
“I killed it,” Sanura gasped, the shock and disbelief wafting from her a near-tangible thing. “I can’t believe I killed it.”
She extended her hand toward the window, her fingers touching the glass pane and stroking with a sorrow he both saw and felt. Assefa took her shoulders and turned her away from the gruesome sight. She shook. Small tremors of fear and panic pulsed through her and into him. He held her to him, wishing he had the power to magically calm her the way he’d seen her do for Elizabeth Ferrell and Cynthia. But all he had was himself, his body, his heart, his love.
“What did Aunt Sanura do to it?” Gen asked when she reentered the bedroom. Cynthia answered, but Assefa was too preoccupied with Sanura’s state of mind to care how she explained the unexpected turn the spell had taken.
Assefa spoke softly to her until her trembling decreased then stopped. Once he felt she had her emotions under control, he said, “You must free them.”
Sanura raised her head, tears threatening but holding. That’s my witch. Keep it together. “In order to release the souls, sweetheart, you must completely destroy the Raven Mocker. That’s the only way to kill it and to free all those who fell prey to its terror.”
Sanura shook her head and tried to push away from him, but Assefa refused to allow her to draw into herself. He did enough of that for the both of them.
“You may not have meant for that to happen, Sanura, but it’s the only way. That inhuman, soul-stealing parasite out there has taken, for probably centuries, what doesn’t belong to it. Each soul a Raven Mocker consumes becomes trapped inside its body and held there, an unwilling, terrified hostage.” Assefa cupped her face and held it up, forcing her to maintain eye contact, compelling Sanura to see the faith he had in her. The faith they all had in her.
“We have the power to set hundreds of souls free, Sanura, and we can’t shy away from it because it’ll destroy one worthless life. The Raven Mocker may have been human once, but it gave up its humanity in exchange for immortality. Such godly ‘gifts’ don’t come free. They come at the suffering of others.” He whispered in her ear, “I know as a doctor you believe all life is sacred, but sometimes, sweetheart, you have to put things in a cost benefit equation—one life for that of hundreds of terrorized souls. You do the math and see if you don’t come up with the same bottom line as me.”
Sanura may have been present when he and Mike killed the adzes, but she didn’t play a direct role in their deaths. In her mind, she could probably distance herself from their fate. But the Raven Mocker would be different.
“You have to do it, Aunt Sanura.”
Assefa let Sanura go, and they all faced Gen.
“You didn’t see those dark eyes. I did, and I can tell you there was nothing inside but the hunger and need to feed. If we let him go, he may not kill Eric, but he’ll definitely find the next person hovering on the edge of life and death and make the decision before the Grim Reaper gets his turn at bat. That burnt chicken out there is a wacko, and I vote with Mr. Assefa to take it out once and for all.” Gen placed hands on nonexistent hips. “I know Baltimore is home to the Super Bowl Ravens, but this is ridiculous.”
“Look, Sanura, you’ve sheathed its body but it’s not dead. You need to cast a spell to free the tortured souls and…and…well, hell, I don’t know what comes after that,” he admitted.
“Neither do I,” Sanura agreed. She looked at Gen who was still fired-up from her confrontation with the Raven Mocker, and then back at Assefa. “She’s had so much pain in her short life, forced to grow up too fast. Eric’s the only blood family she has left, and I won’t let that thing kill him.”
“There’s my stubborn witch.” He kissed her cheek. “I think I understand Mike much better now.” Any man who had to contend with the Williams women, as well as Cynthia and Gen Garvey, had to be riding that fine line between complete adoration and murderous contemplations. “We can do this. Let’s just do this.”
Before Assefa could suggest Gen leave the room, Cynthia was already pushing the very disgruntled teen into the hallway. “Aw, come on,” was all he heard before Cynthia closed and locked the door.
Cynthia turned to Sanura. “Do you know a spell to set the souls free?”
“I don’t know how in the hell I did that to it.”
“I believe your spell was altered slightly because of the unique characteristic of the target,” Assefa hypoth
esized aloud.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just a theory, Sanura, but I think you performed the spell the way it was written in that grimoire you mentioned. But I’ve heard of circumstances in which a witch’s spell reacts differently depending on the physical or spiritual make-up of the intended target.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” Cynthia said. The women wore matching arched brows.
“All I’m saying is that I believe an intermediate step was needed before Sanura could vanquish the Raven Mocker to another dimension because…” He paused, trying to piece together all the bits of information into a logical, complete puzzle. “What dimension were you going to send it to?”
“You saw what I saw. I didn’t conjure that image from a memory.” She wrapped her arms around her and hugged herself. “I’ve never seen or read about such a place, yet it appeared in my mind when I began the transference spell, and it refused to go away, sucking me in deeper.” She shivered. “But it felt vile. I just wanted the spell to be over with, so I could disengage.”
He’d only seen the visions. Nothing else of the dimension had touched him. But it had touched her, made her shudder, recoil, and remember the wisp of malevolence. And that was it, the key. “Innocent souls cannot go into a Hell dimension.”
Silence. Contemplation.
“I think I understand. So, the spell I cast adjusted to this fact and put the creature into a state in which I could first free the souls, then—”
“Then you can send its soul-stealing ass to the Hell dimension where it belongs,” Cynthia finished.
“Exactly.” Now they were getting somewhere. “Do you think you can you free the souls, Sanura?”
The lava encasement around the Raven Mocker was beginning to melt. If they were to do this, it had to happen now. Assefa pulled Sanura down onto the floor. “I don’t mean to rush you, sweetheart, but that’s going to be one pissed-off demon if it gets free.”
Apparently, that was all the motivation she needed, for Sanura hastily grabbed his hands. “Since you still hold some of my magical energy, that’s one less step we need to take.”
Once again, Sanura closed her eyes and started incanting, her voice strong and polished, her magic even stronger. “Be at peace, lost souls of heaven. Be at peace, sacred spirits of old. Be at peace, watchers of life and death. Be at peace and find freedom’s gate. Be at peace, for I release you back to the earth, water, fire, and air.”
Assefa watched, his eyes riveted to the window and the abruptly morphing sky.
Lightning crackled, brightening the evening spring sky.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Thunder roared. Sanura repeated the incantation, louder this time and with a might that stirred his Mngwa, raising gooseflesh and calling to his magic.
“I release you. Be at peace.”
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The sky was on fire. Streaks of red-and-gold met white-and-blue. The red-and-gold didn’t stop, just kept spreading, spiraling upward and outward, matching each thunderclap with its majestic light, its blatant magical path.
“I release you. I. Release. You. I. Release. You!”
Glowing white specks began appearing in the sky. One. Five. Twenty. Fifty. More. More. More.
The red-and-gold streaks ascended to the heavens. The white specks followed, clustering together in a blazing white ball of euphoric energy. Eyes transfixed, Assefa was convinced he saw clouds part and let the souls enter. It was the most beautiful phenomenon he’d ever witnessed. As each lost soul found its way home, a peaceful silence befell the urban city for a timeless, magical moment.
Then it was all gone. No thunder. No. lightning. No white specks. No red-and-gold streaks.
Sanura did it. But she wasn’t quite done. Her eyes flew open, and she spun toward the Raven Mocker. “Be gone, demon, from this place. Travel on the Devil’s breath of fire and find your home among the wretched of the earth.”
Just like that, the lava sheath erupted into magical flames of fire witch retribution, consuming the Raven Mocker’s hybrid body until all that that remained were ashes where the soul-stealer had once been. With a fortuitous spring breeze, that, too, was lifted and carried away, leaving a vacant spot where the soul-stealer had been.
Assefa smiled at his incredible witch. “You’re a dream keeper, Sanura. Langston Hughes had no idea.”
She returned his smile, though hers was weak. The woman had to be exhausted, running on magical fumes and willpower. She needed sleep, time to rejuvenate her mind, body, and spirit.
Clearly, Cynthia had the same thought. “There’s a guest room next door, Assefa. Why don’t you help Sanura to the room before she passes out?” Pushing a stray dreadlock out of her eye, she unlocked and opened the bedroom door.
Assefa lifted Sanura into his arms, over her protest that she could manage. Stubborn woman.
Waving off the flood of questions coming from Gen, Cynthia walked the short distance to the guest room. He followed. Cynthia pulled down the sheets, and he laid Sanura onto the bed, her eyes already closed.
Assefa felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Cynthia gazing up at him. “She’s tenderhearted.”
“I know.”
“And powerful.”
“I know.”
“And she’s afraid of losing control.”
He knew that as well.
“Of her fire spirit.”
He wasn’t blind or a fool. Sanura could’ve annihilated the adze with one well-focused fire spell, incinerating the bastard as soon as it showed its nasty face. Instead, she’d run, giving it a chance to harm her…kill her. Makena had told him that Sanura had received training beyond that of a normal witch, yet she displayed none of that special training the night she played bait. She’d kept a firm grip on her fire spirit, delivering a halfhearted wind attack to the adze instead of unleashing the fiery spirit within. Yes, Assefa understood all of that. What he didn’t understand was why Cynthia Garvey was—
“She’s also afraid of losing her heart.” Her what? An unsure hand took hold of his. “You’re just as tenderhearted as Sanura and equally as powerful. But you won’t lose control of your cat spirit.” Her hand squeezed his, an unexpected affection that touched and confused him. “But you’ve already lost your heart to her. I could see that when we met at the hospital. And I can see it every time you look at her, speak to her, touch her.”
Cynthia released him and stepped away, her words of, “She’s also afraid of losing her heart,” refusing to do the same. “She won’t…” Cynthia glanced down at a prone Sanura. “Just guard your heart, Special Agent Berber. I would hate to see it get burned.” She exited the room then and closed the door behind her.
“Hate to see it get burned.”
Assefa catalogued that bit of unasked-for water witch advice, locking it away with his own nagging thoughts that, yes, his fire witch would someday scorch his heart to the core.
He removed Sanura’s shoes and pants and covered her with a lightweight cotton blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed.
Assefa cut the light off and started to leave the room when a tired voice said, “Don’t go.”
He quickly took stock of the situation. Eric was still asleep and breathing normally. The Raven Mocker was no more, and Cynthia was capable of taking care of anything while he and Sanura got a few hours of rest. He reluctantly admitted that he was also tired. Holding and manipulating witch magic was draining, especially since it was such potent witch magic. The fact that Sanura was still growing in her power-set was a sobering thought.
Giving in to his common sense, Assefa removed his shirt and pants and placed the folded clothing beside Sanura’s on the dresser. He curled behind the woman he loved. The woman who will burn my heart?
Sleep didn’t come right away for Assefa, but when it did, he found himself on a precipice surrounded by red-gold flames, hi
s chest open, heart gone and soul torn asunder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sanura opened her eyes. Her nightmare of a reborn and bloodthirsty Raven Mocker lingered from her dream state into her waking mind. It was only a dream. She knew that, but her heart still pounded and her eyes searched the dark room.
While witches couldn’t see as well in the dark as were-cats, they had far better night vision than full-humans. What she saw, the familiar red underbrush wall print in a three-sectional design and the rich, dark finish of the dressers, mirror, and nightstand, Sanura knew she was in Cyn’s guest room, a room she’d slept in many times before. The memory of Assefa having carried her in, undressing her and joining her in bed began to work its way through her foggy mind.
She recalled it all now—Eric’s fever, the Raven Mocker. The emancipated souls. Sanura had done that. She’d freed so many souls, given freedom to the enslaved—a glorious feeling. But she’d also sent the Raven Mocker to some unnamable Hell dimension, her magic guided, manipulated. By my fire spirit. My other half. That, too, had felt glorious. The truth sickened her.
Disgusted by her own weakness, Sanura turned over in bed. Assefa slept soundly beside her. Her heart swelled at the sight of him. Sanura loved Assefa, from his intelligent, brown eyes to his expensive, leather loafers. And every sweet were-cat inch of him in between.
With a solitary finger, she touched his strong jaw. Then, unable to resist, she kissed his cheek, just a peck.
He sleepily turned and pulled Sanura to him. “Go back to sleep. It’s still early.”
Sanura shook his left shoulder. “Wake up, it’s time.”
Assefa drew her closer, groggily searching for and finding her lips. His tongue peeked out and slid over closed but tempted lips. She knew better, she really did, but Sanura opened her mouth, accepting his tongue and giving him her own. For a minute, she let herself enjoy the feel of his powerful body against hers, the tongue that explored, the hands that caressed, the pelvis that pulsed and rubbed, threatening her plans and lucidity. With the fleeting strength of a drowning victim lunging for the surface, Sanura pushed at Assefa, breaking the plane and taking in mouthfuls of air.