“Get tired of reading?” she asks as she ties a bundle of some herb together with a green ribbon.
“Yeah. We’re pretty much done anyway. We’ll be able to finish in a couple more hours.”
Fiona pats the tall stool next to her. “Then come keep me company in between customers.”
I slide onto the stool and point at the pile of herbs in front of her. “What is that?”
“Patchouli.” She meets my eyes. “For warding off evil.”
“Do things like that really work?”
“I seem to remember some tea that worked as it was intended.”
I smile. “Good point.”
“None of it is to the extreme of your powers, but it’s what our families have used for centuries. Herbs, intuition, these were the things witches were meant to use for the benefit of others. We just have a closer connection with the earth.”
I pick up a sprig of the patchouli and spin it between my fingers. “If by some miracle we find a way to end the coven threat for good, will you teach me about herbs?”
Fiona smiles. “I would love to.”
Without her asking, I begin to help wrap bundles. “What will you do with these?”
“I’ll have some in every room, and I want each of us to have a bundle with us at all times. Every little bit of help is important at this point.”
“It won’t help against someone like Amos Barrow. He’s not supernatural.”
“There are other ways of dealing with humans, not the least of which is the pistol I keep under the front counter.”
The image of Fiona packing heat is so funny that I laugh. When I glance down at the bundle of patchouli in my hands, I freeze. “Are you sure this stuff works?”
“Are you worried because it’s not making your hands melt or something equally gruesome?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not evil,” Fiona says with a conviction that startles me.
“Then why did the tea affect me like it did?”
“You took it internally. And it attacked the darkness inside you that you’ve been fighting, not who you are as a person.”
“I wonder sometimes if all my thoughts of being a white witch are just wishful thinking, that what happened at Shiprock was a fluke.”
“Sarah believes enough to work with you, give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“She doesn’t have this darkness inside her. No one does. So no one can know what it feels like. Just me. What is that about?”
“Maybe it’s a test to see if you’re worthy, one I have no doubt you’ll pass. As for the Bane, I suspect they still have dark magic within them but have found some way to mute it.”
When I think about it, I realize that sounds right for the source of the odd signatures I detected. Magic but magic dampened to the point that it doesn’t register as such. If they’ve been able to control their magic, maybe there’s hope for me.
Fiona grabs my hand and squeezes. “You listen to me,” she says. “Is there something inside you fighting to take over? Yes. But you haven’t let it. The simple fact that you’re fighting it tells me that you, the person you really are through and through, is not evil. Neither is Egan. So many people in your position would have given up long ago.”
I bite my lip and stare into Fiona’s pale blue-green eyes. “It’s so hard.”
“I know, sweetie. And it will be a battle. If you’re a white witch and that’s something that scares the covens, you’ll be dealing with more power than anyone you know has. There may be the temptation to use it in the wrong way, maybe even thinking you’re doing the right thing at the time. You might begin to think you don’t have to take advice from others who aren’t as powerful. But I have faith that you will make the right decisions in the end.”
“How can you say that? You barely know me.”
Fiona releases my hand and gestures toward the basement. “I’ve seen how hard you work, how much you want to find a way to keep everyone safe. I suspect you’re even willing to sacrifice yourself.”
“I am.” I’m surprised when Fiona doesn’t try to convince me otherwise. Instead of being hurt by that, it makes me like her even more. She sees the big picture that protecting so many is more important than a single life.
“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” she says as if she’s been reading my thoughts. “But sometimes heroes don’t have a choice.”
“I’m no hero.”
“You will be. I feel it in my bones.”
I don’t argue with her. The darkness stirs, not liking the idea of me being a hero one bit.
“We’ve waited for an opportunity like this to rid the world of the covens for a very long time,” Fiona says, adding another finished bundle of herbs to the basket at her side.
“But I haven’t even found the way to make everything right.” I can’t hide my frustration.
“I think the answer is within you, and in your willingness to let others help you.”
We tie up a few more bundles in silence. Despite my boatload of worries, the simplicity of the task and the quiet surrounding us are nice.
“Tell me about your mother,” Fiona says suddenly.
The familiar stab of pain hits me in the chest, but I find I do want to talk about her. “She was so beautiful, so kind, which of course was her downfall. The covens see kindness as a sign of weakness. We were constantly reminded that kindness brought our ancestors nothing more than death sentences. But Mom wasn’t obvious about it, not with anyone but me. She kept herself under the radar except for her painting. She was incredibly talented, and she made herself useful to the coven by commanding top dollar for her work.”
“What changed?” There’s a soft, kind touch to Fiona’s question. She knows the next part is difficult for me to recount.
“She tried to escape with my sister and me, but we were caught and brought back to the coven.” I swallow hard against the lump rising in my throat. “They put her in a Siphoning Circle, a circle of rocks spelled with the ability to rip out a witch’s power.”
“They tortured her.” It’s not a question.
I nod. “No witch has ever lived to tell what it’s like to be siphoned, but I saw it with my own eyes. My sister and I were forced to watch as a warning. If we hadn’t been children, we would have been siphoned right alongside our mother.” I pause, hearing the echoes of my mother’s screams. “I imagine it must be like your body is being ripped to shreds from the inside out. First, they drain the witch’s power, which by itself is excruciating. But even when my mother’s power was gone, it wasn’t enough for my father and the other leaders. Then they began draining her life force, and it was agonizingly slow. Eventually, her body just shut down.” I blink against hot, fat tears. “I remember the exact moment the life went out of her eyes, and then she was gone.”
“And you determined that someday you would leave.”
I nod and have to swipe at an escaping tear. “If Egan and I are captured, they’ll do the same to us.”
“You have something your mother didn’t—friends who will help you until their dying breaths.”
“I don’t want anyone to die, not for me.”
“It wouldn’t be just for you. We have a chance to free the world from the covens’ evil. If that’s not worth dying for, I don’t know what is.”
I sit in silence, letting her words sink in for several seconds. “At first all I wanted was to be left alone to live a normal life. But that’s not enough anymore.” I take a deep breath and pull myself up straight. “Now I want nothing more than to find a way to make sure my friends are safe, that no one is ever harmed by a dark witch again.”
Fiona’s attention is diverted by a couple of customers coming into the shop. She greets them and waits until they wander away from the front counter before looking up at me. “I’m so sorry about your mother,” she says. “No one should ever have to see something like that, especially when you’re a child. But it’s made you who you are, a yo
ung woman with a powerful sense of right and wrong. You will end this, Jax. I feel it more deeply than I’ve ever felt anything. And I will do whatever I can to help you.”
I hold Fiona’s gaze then smile past the sadness of the memories. “My mother would have liked you.”
“And I have no doubt I would have liked her, too. She would be proud of you.”
I like that idea. I like it a lot.
I walk through the night dressed all in black, the thick folds of my dress flowing around me in the wind. My eyes are as dark as coal. I must be terrifying to behold, and that makes me smile. Another woman makes the mistake of stumbling into my path and I send a blast of power into her body, making her bow backwards for a moment before falling to the ground dead.
Suddenly, there are people everywhere, staring in disbelief at me, evil incarnate. I kill them indiscriminately. Men, women, even children. A familiar voice cries in the night and I stalk toward it, electricity arcing at my fingertips. When I see him, I feel nothing. Only when I send the full force of my power barreling into him, ripping his insides apart, do I smile. When he’s almost dead, I let him drop to the ground and walk toward him. As I look down into Keller’s agonized face, he only has enough strength to utter one word.
“Why?”
“Because I can.” And then I finish his pitiful little existence.
I jerk awake with my heart hammering. I suck in deep breaths then cover my face with my shaking hands as I fight tears. I lie there, forcing my heart rate to slow, telling myself it was just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream. It’s a miracle I don’t wake Toni. Finally, unwilling to slip back into another terrifying nightmare, I slide out of bed and go into the living room. Keller is stretched out on the couch asleep, so I’m quiet as I make my way out to the front porch. Once I’m standing at the edge, I close my eyes as the memory of killing Keller in the dream comes back with too much clarity. The worst part is that I’d enjoyed it, relished it as I watched his life drain away.
When I force myself to open my eyes, I stare out across the farm as the first rays of sunlight break through the fog hanging low to the ground. Is Amos Barrow out there watching and planning his move?
The door opens but I don’t turn to see who it is. It only takes a couple of steps for me to know it’s Keller.
“You’re up early,” he says as he wraps his arms around me from behind.
“Couldn’t sleep. Keep having nightmares.” I don’t tell him that my nights have been filled with nightmares for a while now. I dream about Mom’s death, witches being burned at the stake, but nothing compares to the dream I’d just escaped. “I just want it all to be over.”
He kisses my temple. “I know.”
I take a deep breath and step away from him. The images in the dream don’t fade. Neither does the feeling of immense power coursing through me. I pace, unable to stand still. I reach for the light magic within me to try to calm down, to remind myself that I’m not that evil person in the dream. But fear shoots through me when I can’t find the light, no matter how hard I try.
“What’s wrong?”
I tell him, and he pulls me into a firm hug. “You’re tired and upset. Just give yourself a little time.”
Concerned, I call Sarah, but she doesn’t answer her cell or house phones. She’s not at the library either, all of which only agitates me more. It doesn’t help that as we spend the day with weapons training, I notice Keller watching me with concern in his eyes. That concern is not unwarranted, but it grates on my already raw nerves nonetheless.
In the afternoon, we go to town for a hot meal at the Soup Cauldron and to talk strategy. We map out how we might handle things if we face various scenarios—my coven, both Egan’s and my covens, Barrow alone, multiple hunters. But no matter how much we talk, I can’t shake the nightmare from this morning or the overwhelming feeling of foreboding.
Keller calls his dad, but Rev. Dawes hasn’t heard anything else about Barrow.
“He asked Toni and me to come home. Aunt Carol is worrying herself sick over Toni,” Keller says.
I set my spoon down carefully next to my bowl. “You can go,” I say, though I ache at the thought of not being able to see him every day.
Keller reaches over and takes my hand in his. “We will, when you and Egan can go, too.”
“The plot thickens,” Egan says as he stares at his ever-present laptop. “Our mystery witch responded to a message I posted. Says she’s for real, and that she knows of at least two other people who want to leave the covens, too.”
“What’s your read on her?” I ask.
“Hard to say from an online message, but it’s worth exploring more,” he says.
I nod. “But explore carefully.” I get the craziest image of two witch armies squaring off across a battlefield, good versus evil.
Rule texts us from his last class of the day, telling us he’s dying of boredom and to meet him at the shop after school.
“Poor guy,” Egan says. “Too bad he’s not a delinquent like the rest of us.”
Instead of moving the vehicles, we decide to walk to the herb shop. As we’re leaving the café, the sound of sirens fills the cold December air. It’s not until we’re within view of Wiccan Good Herbs that we realize the destination of all those emergency vehicles.
“No!” I say and begin to run. Everyone else follows, but Egan is the only one who can keep up with me.
When I reach the front of the shop, a cop tries to stop me from entering. I don’t even think before shoving him hard enough to make him trip and fall backward over a large, terra cotta planter on the sidewalk. I vaguely hear Keller doing damage control, telling the cops that our friends are inside.
I stop in my tracks when I see Rule. His face is pale as death, and I’ve never seen such raw pain on someone’s face who wasn’t being siphoned. Next to him, someone has spray painted the front counter. Evil witches, I will kill you all.
My heart lodges in my throat as I only vaguely hear one of the police officers say something about a crazy nut.
I push myself past all the hands trying to stop me from getting to Rule. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I’m sick with fear.
I reach Rule. “What happened?” He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even seem to hear me. I shake him. “Rule, what happened?”
He looks past me, and I follow the path of his gaze. Fiona lies behind the front counter, a hole in her chest and a pool of blood on the floor below her. For a moment, I think I might faint. But then a scream claws its way out of me. “No!” I try to push my way to her, but this time it’s Keller who grabs me and forces me into the back room, away from the sight of Fiona’s body.
My vision changes, and I know my eyes have gone black. The hair all over my body stands on end, and papers blow around the room.
“Stop it,” Keller tells me in an urgent whisper. “Not here, not now.”
“Yes, now.” My voice sounds more like the evil inside me, deeper, animalistic. I feel like an animal. I want to rip the flesh from whoever did this, make them watch as I burn it before their eyes.
It’s Adele’s sound of anguish from the front of the shop that snaps me back to reality. A torrent of tears and hard, wracking sobs replace the evil, and I collapse against Keller’s strong body.
I think back to my conversation with Fiona, how she’d said defeating the covens was worth dying for, that she’d help me in any way she could. But we haven’t even faced the covens yet, and I know in the deepest part of me that her killer wasn’t a witch. She’s dead now because she was protecting me. Amos Barrow killed her for it, probably hoping to draw Egan and me out.
“It’s all my fault,” I cry.
“Shh, don’t say that,” Keller says as he holds me close. “It’s not true. Shh, it’s not true.”
I know part of what he’s doing is comforting me, but I also sense that he doesn’t want the cops asking us questions we can’t answer. Like why I would say the murder of a sweet old lady is my fault. I swallow all t
he pain, all the self-loathing. It will rise to the surface again, but first I have to get away from my friends.
I’m not able to for more than an hour. After the cops question all of us and Fiona’s . . . body is taken away, I race out the back door to the alley behind the shop. My breath comes in fast, ragged gasps, and I fist my hands as I lean against the concrete wall. “Where are you?” I scream. “Come out and fight me, you bastard!”
Keller hurries out the door. “What are you doing?”
“Leave me alone, Keller.” I move to walk away, but he makes the mistake of grabbing my arm. I fling him away, and part of me isn’t even sorry. Instead of taking a hint, he comes for me again. I hold up my fingers to let him see the electricity arcing between them.
“You won’t use that on me,” he says.
“Won’t I? I’m a dark witch, remember? I bring destruction wherever I go.”
“Stop it!” He stares hard at me. He jabs his finger toward the back door. “There are people hurting in there, so this is no time for self-pity.”
I use my witch speed to cross the distance between us faster than he can see. I get right in his face. “Who do you think is responsible for those sad people?”
“Amos Barrow,” he says, not cowed by me in the least.
“And he would not be here, would not even know who Fiona is . . .” I choke. “Was if it weren’t for me.”
Keller grips my shoulders. “She knew the dangers.” His voice breaks, and his own sorrow sobers me, makes me really listen to his words. “We all do, and we stand by you anyway. Because we believe in you, Jax. We believe in you and your goal of ending the coven threat.”
Fresh tears track down my cheeks. “But I can’t even save you from a human. What am I supposed to do when covens of dark witches come at us?”
He lifts one of his hands and cups my jaw. “What you have to. You’ve already saved us once at Shiprock, and I don’t have an ounce of doubt that you’ll find a way to do so again.”
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