by Layla Nash
Moriah shoved through the crowd until we stood in the front, near Kyle and Anne Marie. Betty took one look at me and hid on the other side of the Morrigan, cowering behind Jacques. Lauren gave me a hard look but inclined her head, and I reconsidered what I thought of her; maybe not a coward, after all. I ignored Leif and Soren, standing across the circle and almost lost behind the wooden beams. Wood and tinder stacked up around the uprights, the coven holding lit torches.
My lip curled in disgust. Wood and a normal fire. Anne Marie knew better. It was not the proper way to send them onward. But the proper way wasn’t something she could do. I thought I’d taught her, years ago, but perhaps she’d forgotten. She still looked tired and defeated from her time with the dark witches, and I searched my heart for a charitable thought. Maybe they just didn’t have the magic for the right way.
Anne Marie didn’t acknowledge me, though it was clear she’d waited. She raised her hands. “We are here to send three loyal war witches on their way. We thank you for your service, Rosa. We thank you for your service, Joanne. We thank you, Andre, for your service.”
Her voice broke and she paused. I hated her with an unreasonable rage. I would have done it better. They deserved better.
She bent her head. “You died in service to the Alliance. You died saving junior witches from the claws of a demon, and sacrificed yourselves to protect your coven. You survived ten years of war only to be felled by treachery in the peace. Your deeds, your grace, and your sense of humor will always be remembered. Your deaths will be avenged.”
When she looked up, she looked only at me.
Yes. Yes, they would be avenged. They would be avenged in such a blaze that the entire world would feel it. My breath came hard, fast, as rage built with every word. I would create another Remnant in their honor.
Anne Marie didn’t look away. “The saints shepherded these witches through the war, and guided their cast in peace. The saints will shelter them, protect and guide them, as they continue on their journey. We should not mourn too deeply.”
But we would mourn. They would be mourned.
Anne Marie took a deep breath, bringing her hands together. “We ask the saints to guard our sisters, Rosa and Joanne, and our brother, Andre. We ask the saints to guide them through the dark. We ask the saints to shelter and lift them up. We ask they be remembered always in the stars.”
The coven moved forward with their torches and my heart jumped. Not yet. Saints, no. I couldn’t say goodbye yet. It wasn’t time.
Anne Marie raised her hand and they froze. Betty flushed, as if embarrassed she’d missed her cue, and I hated the girl more than when she let Rosa die.
Anne Marie faced me, her eyes rimmed with red. “I shared their coven, but you were their friend.” Her hand trembled as she gestured at the pyre. “You should send them onward.”
Silence echoed through the crowd, so palpable it rippled. I hadn’t expected her to admit being the Morrigan, but it was the Morrigan’s job to send them on. That she ceded her right meant something. At least, I hoped it meant something.
I dragged my eyes from hers eventually, and looked at the pyre, at the silk-wrapped bodies. I could have said something, could have provoked Anne Marie or challenged her lies. Revealed how I was their Morrigan first. I could have reclaimed my place in the War Coven, seize everything she’d stolen from me six years ago. It would have been my moment.
But it had nothing to do with me. I couldn’t see as I stared at the pyre, keeping my eyes wide so I wouldn’t embarrass them with tears. It was their journey, not mine.
I brought my hands together to draw power. The sludge from Sam burned away as I dragged deeper. I needed the ocean of power, though only a lake responded. I summoned more and more, until it filled me up, until it built around me and pushed others away. And still I pulled in more magic, attention on a length of silk, rippling in the breeze.
Kyle eyed me askance and shuffled back, catching Moriah’s arm to pull her away. Then Anne Marie retreated. The circle widened until everyone stood six feet behind me and I was alone by the pyre.
Until I was alone with Rosa and Joanne and Andre.
There was much to tell them, more than I’d been able to during the reconstruction. Too much for words, really. The magic bubbled and seethed under my control, and I formed it carefully into a spell I hadn’t used in five years. Hadn’t ever wanted to use again.
“Saints guide your path,” I whispered.
The spell blazed in blue-white flames from the base of the pyre. It unfurled in a ladder of fire, consuming everything as it built and built, until the heat burned my cheeks and the roar deafened me. Until it was only a small step into the flames to join them. A very small step. I swayed forward.
I looked through the inferno and found Leif watching.
Death comes eventually to us all, Anne Marie whispered in my ear.
The blue fire churned higher, consuming everything until not even ash remained, and reached hungrily into the sky to burn the clouds.
Death comes to us all. But not yet.
I threw my hands apart and the spell severed, the fire rolling up and disappearing into the sky.
The silence was deafening. The fire exposed the bedrock, the ground cracked and scorched. I patted my face, skin tight from the heat. I should have known better than to stand so close. Singed eyebrows certainly didn’t do anything to balance the bruises and cuts on my face.
Anne Marie’s expression remained stoic as she walked away, coven behind her. The Peacemaker strode over as a crew began unloading white stones from a flatbed. He jumped as heat seeped through his boots from the earth, and he gave the rest of the blackened ground a wide berth. Kyle and Moriah retreated as the Peacemaker confronted me. Leif remained on the other side of the thinning crowd, conferring with Mick.
“What the hell was that?” Soren asked, and I could see him calculating the destructive force for future use.
“Baelfyr,” I said. “The only fire for a proper pyre, the only way to guarantee they will find their way.”
“Ah,” he said, and frowned at something behind me. “I am short four war witches.”
“Yes, you are.” My knees trembled from using too much magic.
“You are staying with Moriah, I am told.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Soren smiled, a predatory look sharpening his features. “I know where to find you.”
With that, he strode off.
Leif supervised the crew laying stones, but caught me watching. His mouth opened as if he would speak. As if there was more to say.
I flushed and spun around so fast I ran into Moriah. She steadied me. “Those were some impressive fireworks.”
She glanced up as Leif stalked past, barking orders as the shifters lugged the stones to where the pyre had been. Moriah watched them as she said, “You should talk to him.”
I went rigid. Leif stood close enough that his shifter hearing would catch everything, whispered or not. I took a deep breath. “I...” One of the shifters dropped a stone and I trailed off.
“Go talk to him.” She nudged my shoulder. “I know you want to.”
“I do,” I said, and Leif tensed. I begged his forgiveness. “But I can’t.”
“Coward.” She was only half-joking.
“The witches won’t stop until I’m dead. They’ll use anyone to get to me. He’s already a target because of who he is. I don’t want to make him more of a target because of who I am.”
“Shouldn’t that be his choice?” she asked.
I squared my shoulders against the bone-deep ache of regret. “Maybe. But right now I have too many other things to worry about—and I don’t want him to be another thing on my list.”
“He asks about you.” Moriah grinned as Leif tripped, righting himself with some semblance of dignity, and cuffed a wide-eyed young shifter. She needled the Warder for his blatant eavesdropping. “Tries to be subtle, but...”
“Soren told me,” I said, even though
it was mostly a lie. I owed Soren some trouble.
My phone vibrated and I checked it: Eric. I made a face at Moriah, “I should take this,” and hobbled away before answering it. She could overhear, but we’d gotten good at pretending. “Hello?”
“Hey sis,” Eric said, chipper even when using her deep male voice. “Still alive?”
“Barely.” I glanced back as Leif harangued Moriah in a red haze of pack magic. “Glad to see you survived. I had my doubts.”
“I can run when I need to. But I take it the Warder hasn’t caught them?”
“Not yet.”
“We’re still looking as well,” she said. “You’re on the list of interesting people we want to talk to, but not at the top. Sorry.”
“I’ll get over it.” My mind wandered as I gazed across the field. She claimed to know others like us, had a plan to gain us safety, if I was really what she claimed. She could teach me about it, show me the way. I could get what I needed from her, enough to control that side of me before it got me killed, and then get the crazy External out of my life. “That…proposal of yours. I’d like to hear more.”
“Of course.” Glee bubbled in her voice. “But it can wait. You look like death warmed over.”
I started to argue, then exhaled my irritation. “How do you know?”
“I’m staring right at you, darling.” A light reflected far away in the trees. “You think the Bureau would let pass an opportunity to observe an Alliance gathering? Please. We’re human, not stupid.”
“And I suppose you saw the fire.”
“Mm. Baelfyr,” she said. “Impressive. We’d heard of it, but no one had seen it performed. You’re not the primary dark witch suspect, but you moved up on a few other lists.”
“Can’t I say goodbye to my friends without you using it against me?”
“Don’t pretend we raided an intimate candlelight vigil. I’m sure if you asked the Warder, he’d seize the tapes, no? We’re parked along Woodsall Road, we won’t be going anywhere until the shifters leave.”
I offered a grudging, “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” she chirped. “And Lil?”
“Yeah?”
“You shouldn’t wear green—it really washes you out,” and the line went dead.
I hobbled back to where Moriah and Leif argued. “Don’t get excited, but there are humans in the trees to the south with recording equipment. You might want to check it out.”
Leif wandered away without a word as the white stones piled up. The cairn grew as other shifters nonchalantly dispersed south, radios clicking, and the tension simmered.
Moriah concentrated on the stones. “Do I want to know how you know that?”
“Magic,” I said, and she snorted.
I imagined the noose tightening around the Externals, and hoped Leif didn’t kill Eric.
Moriah glanced over. “We should go. You look terrible.”
“Not yet,” I said, hand clenched around a ring in my pocket. Tracy’s black pearl coven ring. Anne Marie didn’t know I had it. I’d meant to keep it, add it to the collection of rings I kept in a cigar box, but it didn’t feel right. She’d been a good witch for a long time. Part of her died in battle when she fought the temptation of dark magic and lost.
The shifters climbed higher on the cairn, balancing the stones so the wind whistled through in an eerie song.
I didn’t look up as startled yells echoed from the trees, supplemented by a lot of growling. “I’m ready.”
Moriah put her arm through mine as we walked to the car. “Want to wait for Leif?”
“Yes,” I said after hesitating. “But I can’t.”
She only shook her head as she started the car, and I closed my eyes so we wouldn’t have to talk about it.
Chapter 59
A week later, I gathered the courage and strength to return to the Skein. I'd been putting it off as I recuperated at Moriah's house, but the black pearl coven ring seemed to find me no matter where I put it. It was bad enough the jade ring felt heavy and malignant; I didn't need a second ring chasing me around.
Moriah didn't like me going back there, so she and half a dozen of the young wolves in her pack went along. They circled through the Slough's tangled trees, searching for danger, and it was only when they declared the whole park empty that Moriah walked with me to the witches' memorial.
She hung back, out of sight, but demanded I use the airhorn she'd given me in case any trouble arose. The wolves wanted a fight, it seemed, because half of the young ones looked excited to face down Externals or dark witches.
If they only knew.
When I was alone in front of the memorial, grief wrapped iron bands around my chest until I could hardly breathe. Most of the trees had been badly burned as I tried to fight the dark witches; there was no way anyone could sneak up on me with all the undergrowth and vegetation burnt to ash. All the beauty and serenity disappeared from the memorial, until only mangled, charred trees remained.
I went to my knees at the edge of the circle and just breathed, searching for a hint of the sacred. Meditation had never been a strength, despite Joanne's guidance and advice, but I leaned back against one of the less-singed trees and tried to find a calm place in my head.
Brandr hadn't been found. Not a trace of him remained at Tracy's house, which still stood but had been condemned due to the damage from the fire as well as dark magic contamination. The wolves, particularly Cold River, searched the entire city for hints of the Old World alpha, and I'd scried for him half a dozen times, but the dark witches hid him well. I believed he lived, despite that Soren wanted to build a cairn for him in the memorial field out west, and every night I Called to him, promising to find him. Asking him to keep fighting. To survive.
I ran cleansing spells on myself for hours at a time, desperate to get rid of every last trace of Sam's magic. I still didn't feel truly clean. Maybe I never would.
Tracy's pearl ring shone in the sunlight that blazed down on the memorial without the leafy umbrella over me. I held it up and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't stay, that I didn't see when you felt lost. I should have been a better friend."
Only a soft breeze answered.
I pushed to my feet and approached the blackthorn tree, kneeling so I could dig a small hole near the trunk. I put her ring in it and covered it up, patting the dirt firmly in place. "I hope you found some peace, Tracy."
The blackthorn offered a convenient crutch as I hauled myself upright, and I paused to stretch as I stared up at the sky. Hopefully the First Coven had the time and power soon to help tend the memorial, so the foliage re-grew and all the trees healed from the fire. I didn't want to desecrate the memorial with even a hint of Sam's magic. Maybe in a few months, a year—maybe then I'd feel clean.
I frowned as I caught sight of one of the blackthorn branches that should have been brittle from burning, and a spot of green stood out against the ash. Leaves. Tiny buds, growing out of the destruction and devastation.
A tiny speck of hope.
The tree survived, and so did I. We would fight again another day. There was much to do—finding Brandr, killing Sam, freeing myself from the bonds to Soren and Kyle—and there was, as Mother used to say, no use standing around gathering moss.
My missing finger ached as I turned away from the memorial and went to find Moriah. I wasn't the Morrigan anymore, but I was still a war witch—and it was time to go to war.
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