Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books)

by Brenda M. Collins

  Her heart flinched as Marcus stumbled towards her. He favored his right leg, the raw, blistered flesh exposed through the rip in his jeans. His shirt was scorched in several places and the elbows were smeared with dirt. He held his hand over a slash above his eyebrow that was still seeping.

  He reached Avy in three long strides. “Are you all right? How badly are you hurt?” He ran his free hand over her shoulder, arm, and then eased her back a step obviously still looking for damage.

  “Not me. Look at you.” She fumbled the buttons on his grimy shirt before slipping it off his shoulders and ran her fingers along his ribs. He winced so she pulled back immediately.

  He took her chin in his free hand and raised it to look into her eyes. “I’m fine, honey. Just a few scratches.” He smiled, “Warrior, remember?”

  She heaved a sigh that crossed somewhere between relief and frustration. “Right. Forgot that.”

  She kept her hand hovering over his waist, not ready to step away but afraid to cause pain with her touch. “How did you know Ferran came after me?” She found a small area just below his rib cage that appeared to be undamaged and lay her hand there. “I needed you.” A muscle jumped under her hand.

  “By the time I made it home, I’d decided I was an idiot for leaving you alone. I’m so used to putting the Witches Council ahead of everyone else, I just didn’t think.” He looked down at her hand on his chest and covered it with his own. “Thank the Fates, Ferran didn’t bother to hide his trail.”

  She sighed and sank to the ground. "So witches do leave a trial. I wondered."

  Marcus angled down beside her, stretching his sore leg out in front.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” He was no longer looking at the dirt or bruises.

  “I’m fine, really.” She wasn’t nearly as sure as she sounded. The cuts and bruises would heal but she didn’t know about the rest of her. Only a few days ago, she’d been a normal person, a mortal, going about her average daily life, worrying about her next bill, her work, her future. Then, tragedy struck—the loss of her parents—and her entire, ordinary existence unraveled in an instant. Beneath lay a hidden world with power and corruption, magical life and not so magical death. How was she supposed to be ready for that? Especially when her parents hadn’t shared any of their secrets with her.

  She’d lost all track of time, but the air had chilled and the sun was low on the horizon. As if of one mind, they both glanced at the now silent boulder imprisoning Ferran. It lay still and silent. She shivered. “Did we kill him?” she asked. She held her breath, afraid of his answer.

  Marcus used his shirt to rub grime off his hands before he reached for her. “No, we didn’t.”

  “So he’s still alive,” she said. “Inside a rock?”

  “It’s a rock prison. It usually takes the power of the whole Council to make one after sentencing the guilty. We just skipped a step by putting Blake in right away.”

  * * *

  Warrior or not, Marcus couldn’t shake the tremor in his gut when he looked at what he and Avy had created by joining their magic. When he’d acted as a conduit for her magic before to help her call back the storm, he'd suspected their bond was powerful. This time they’d fused their magic and it had shaken him to his core. Their magic had bonded for life Whatever plans Council had for Avy, the Fates had made their own decision. Everyone else just had to catch up. He wasn’t sure how he felt about a lifebond with her, but he was sure Avy wasn’t going to cooperate when he told her.

  “Do you know who he was?” he asked, looking over at their captive.

  “I didn’t at first. Then I remembered seeing him with the Mayor the other day at Ma’s Kitchen. And, again, near the bank robbery. He was supposed to be some government guy. He said his name was Blake Ferran.”

  Marcus felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. How had he missed Ferran’s presence in town? He’d been too distracted by everything else on his mind. The murder, the amulets, Avy, and the kill order.

  “He has a problem with you,” she said.

  He brought his attention back to her but she was looking down at her finger, using her thumb to twirl the heavy silver ring.

  “Not me personally. His problem is with what I am.”

  “He said he was a guardian too. He wore an amulet.”

  Marcus felt apprehension build in his gut. Blake had been talkative. “He is—by Council decree. One of the Council members, Pelles Ferran, is the end of his direct line. They weren’t sure how to handle it.”

  “Oh. So the balance of power was at risk again.” She shook her head but kept her eyes cast down, picked up a twig from the ground and tossed it away. “I wish I’d paid more attention to social studies in school. I was never into politics and trying to follow it for a magical world is even harder.”

  “It’s more like a history lesson really,” he said. “Even here, most monarchies can pass their thrones to direct heirs like a son or daughter, right? If that isn’t possible, the throne passes to the next in line of the extended family. That’s what Council decided to do. They agreed Pelles could pass his position to his eldest nephew, Blake.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Except, for some reason, the Goddess didn’t agree. He wears the family amulet but the usual power rush didn’t happen.”

  “Power rush?”

  “A guardian gains exceptional magic powers, beyond those of an ordinary witch even within their own family.”

  “And that hasn’t happened for Blake. His magic powers stayed the same?”

  “Right. He resents that. A lot.”

  Avy looked up at him, at last, her eyes curious. “He said finding the amulets would change that. He talked about a ‘new order’ taking over from Council and he’d be part of it. I couldn’t follow everything he said so I’m not sure if that was about the amulets or not.”

  A twig snapped in the woods behind them. When a black shadow emerged from the trees, he couldn’t have moved fast enough to stop her bolt forward. “Busby! You’re okay.”

  The familiar stopped his slow, uneven progress towards them and brought his head up. His fur was matted with twigs and leaves, but dangling from his mouth was the amulet he’d snatched from Ferran. As Avy skidded to a stop in front of him, he sagged to the ground. Marcus, close on her heels, dropped to a squat beside them. He eased the amulet away from the animal, put it in his pocket and then stroked his hands over the familiar’s coat. When one hand came away covered in blood, Avy gasped and her face paled to the color of death.

  He put both hands back near the wound and focused healing energy on the torn skin and broken ribs. Avy was making calming sounds. Busby was calm and still under his touch. He felt the bones warm and the ragged edges of the bones slowly knit together. The skin drew the magic from his hands and quivered as the cells regenerated and healed the torn muscles.

  When he felt the process was complete, Marcus lifted his hands. The beast grunted, rolled to his stomach and put his head back down on his paws. Avy pulled in a shaky breath, and stroked his back. “My brave boy.”

  Once it was clear Busby was fully recovered, they found a seat on a fallen tree trunk in the clearing while the familiar settled at their feet. With the threat removed, critters emerged from their hollows, birds resumed their twittering in the branches, and the forest came back to life. The smell of sulpher still hung in the air, but even that was slowly drifting away in the breeze off the mountain. Other than the state of their clothes, they could be a happy family out for a picnic.

  Marcus didn’t want to think about politics and power struggles when he’d nearly lost Avy…again.

  She used her arm to wipe sweat from her forehead. “This isn’t over, is it?”

  “No, they’ll keep coming until they get your amulets.”

  “If I’m following all this, any Guardian the Gwynns and Kemenas assign to Council without the amulets will be like Blake, right? They won’t get the enhanced powers.”

  Marcus was a bit stunned that
she could think so clearly right after the latest shock. Her clothes were dirty from the truck, her long braid looked more like frayed rope. Her face and hands were scratched and dirty. Her eyes, though, were as dark and clear as sapphires.

  He nodded, when he realized she was waiting for a response. “Yeah, that’s probably why they haven’t tried to replace your parents yet.”

  “That’s a long time to wait.”

  “Time doesn’t work quite the same way in The Otherland.”

  She chuckled. “This is complicated enough. I’m not even going to ask you to explain that. Let’s stick to Council politics.”

  “Blake was talking treason.” Marcus still struggled to believe it of a fellow Guardian.

  Avy stopped twirling her ring and clenched her fingers around it.

  “Didn’t anyone know he was dangerous? Why was he allowed to wander through the portal and kill people? Is it because he’s from a Council family?”

  “Blake is arrogant and a big-talker. He doesn’t think the rules apply to him. But I’ve never known him to be violent before.” Marcus felt instinct nudge him. He was missing something there. “He’s never been into anything this serious. I can’t see him suddenly going on a killing spree,” he said. “Not on his own, but, if there are others involved in this new order—

  “So it’s a crime in your world to kill someone. Even witches outside the Otherland?” This time she searched his face for the answer as if not quite trusting him to give her an honest one.

  He worried about where she was going with this but kept his voice neutral. “And harm to none. That’s the rule.” Recent events made him wonder how far Council was prepared to stretch that particular rule. He hated that things had gone this far even as he asked himself who else was involved?

  “So why could Council order you to kill me?” Her face was a mask, blank, but hurt echoed behind her words. His gut clenched. She knew. He could see the tremble of her lips and the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

  She didn’t wait for him to speak, as if she was afraid of what he’d say. She was right to be. “You said my parents shouldn’t have been able to conceive a child. I thought you meant I was unique,” she said. “But Ferran said it made me a threat to Council. He said it was all about their political power.”

  Marcus didn’t have a good answer for her. He’d been blind. He felt self-disgust mix with anger at the Council he had served and respected. Obviously Blake had told her about the kill order. But that left the question, who told Blake—who wasn’t present when the order was given. It had to be one of the others. This was getting so much bigger than the random killing of two witches that he’d started with. “Ferran must be smarter than he looks. It took me ‘til now to figure that out.”

  “So they did tell you to kill me.” Again, he could see her tension but she didn’t cry. The color rose in her cheeks and she worked her jaw muscles as if she wanted to chew him up and spit him out.

  “Not at first. I was just sent here to find out what happened to your parents.” He leaned into her and took her hand in both of his. “I’m so sorry, Avy. I was stupid.” When she didn’t pull away, he squeezed her hand. “I couldn’t believe Council actually gave me an order to destroy another witch. It’s against everything we believe in. I meant what I told you. And harm to none.”

  There it was again. The cardinal rule. The most basic principle of their kind yet Council no longer seemed to believe in it. That made them the dangerous ones. The realization packed more power and pain than anything Blake had thrown at him.

  A sudden jolt of concern shot across their clasped hands and brought his focus back to Avy.

  “Marcus, I’m here because you came after me. You stopped Ferran. And you didn’t kill me when you could have.”

  Her voice eased the guilt that still burned his gut. “I’m a Guardian, not an assassin.”

  The instant the words left his mouth, the air snapped with magic and mist dropped over the forest like a pall.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marcus shot to his feet and shielded her from this new menace. Beside her, Busby was hunched and snarling through bared teeth.

  “What the—” A shuddering fear kept Avy rooted in place. Reality seemed to be suspended. She just stared, frozen, as five shapeless forms floated towards them. She didn’t need anyone to tell her this was The Witches Council. An old movie line popped into her head, They’re hee’ere! A shiver crawled over her scalp and the mist thickened until it felt like she was trying to swallow cotton wool.

  Marcus drew in a sudden deep breath as if readying for battle. She wondered how he’d managed to get enough air. All she could do was straighten her spine, square her shoulders and try to slow her racing pulse.

  She shushed her familiar. Busby stopped snarling but remained alert at her side.

  She didn’t need to ask who had joined them. She whispered to Marcus, “Where did they come from?”

  Marcus replied, keeping his voice just as quiet, “The portal to the Otherland. It’s not far from here.”

  “I thought it was in Lost Lake?”

  “The lake is only a communication channel. We can’t travel through it.”

  She nodded and didn’t ask any more of the questions swirling around her brain. The five figures seemed solid but, with the mist, she couldn’t be sure. She still knew so little about Marcus’s world. Her new world.

  The group stopped a few feet away from them, and then stood motionless. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but they looked like ordinary people. They were all wearing similar, full length cloaks, which obscured their body shapes. Their heights, however, varied widely.

  Marcus angled himself between her and the new arrivals.

  Busby edged forward on her other side closing her in from the front.

  Marcus spoke over his shoulder to her. “The two on the left are Pelles Ferran, Blake’s uncle, and Tobias Larcon, Council Second,” he whispered. “The middle one is my father.”

  She glanced around him to the three faces as he identified them, stopping with some curiosity at Jeremiah Egan. He shared his son’s stature. He also seemed to have thick, darkish hair. It could have been his cloaked figure but her main impression was aloof, emotionless. Marcus must take after his mother, she decided. Or maybe, Council thrived on pomp and formality and the wizard-capes were for show.

  “The two on the far right—.” Marcus reached back for her hand although she wasn’t sure he realized it. “—are your grandparents, Joseba Gwynn and Xanthus Kemena.”

  A sharp stab struck her heart. Grandmother Gwynn. Avy mouthed the name but it felt foreign on her tongue. She hadn’t really thought about her grandparents. Even when Marcus told her about her past, they were just story characters, one-dimensional, but the eyes were a solid link to her father. And to her.

  She’d thought she had no living family, yet here were two grandparents. She firmed her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to see their features. Would either of them look like their children, her parents? Like her? After a lifetime without relatives, she just didn’t know what to feel about meeting them now. Her grandmother was ageless, with braided, white hair coiled around her head. Her face was fine-boned, with a complexion as smooth as wax, framing piercing blue eyes. Her father’s eyes. Almost. His were clear and bright like polished sapphires. This woman’s were an ocean at night, deep, dark and cold.

  She looked to the next face, a man. He may have been blond in his youth. The color had faded to grey. His skin was also pale, making his charcoal grey eyes stand out. They held more curiosity than the woman’s but still none of the warmth of her mother’s dove-grey eyes.

  Avy shivered although she didn’t feel the cold. Her eyes began to water and she felt a lump form in her throat. She squeezed her free hand into a fist until the nails bit into her palm. Her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. She wrapped her free arm around her waist, trying to hold herself together.

  Despite the pounding
of her own heart in her ears, she began to hear a pulse beating a slow, steady rhythm. It was Marcus. He looked down at her and raised a brow as if he’d sensed her sudden swell of emotion. She felt the earth throb in time to the pulse and soothing warmth seeped into the soles of feet, crept up her legs and wrapped around her. The light pressure slid across her back, along her arms, as if he were chaffing them. Calming her.

  With her breath more even, the panic dampening her mind lifted, leaving one clear thought. These were her grandparents sitting on Council—the same Council who ordered her death. Finally, she knew exactly what to feel. Damned angry.

  * * *

  Two guardians in an all-out battle, not to mention what Avy threw in—it was no wonder Council felt it and wanted to know what the hell was going on. When they appeared, he felt Avy falter and reached out to her with his magic. Her resilience stunned him as she quickly regained her balance.

  Marcus scanned the faces he’d once respected and trusted without question. The political maneuvering must be reaching theatrical proportions if they were wearing their ceremonial cloaks. They hadn’t dusted them off in more than half a century.

  He looked along the line of dispassionate faces and took a steadying breath. Avy wasn’t the only one whose reality had changed forever. This was the Council to whom he’d pledged his life. One of them had discovered the two lost Guardians in Bandit Creek, and was prepared to commit murder if that’s what it took to get their amulets. All for more power over The Otherland. He glanced at Pelles, and tried to imagine his lifelong friend and mentor manipulating his own nephew to gain more power. He just couldn’t see it.

  Pelles didn’t offer a smile or any sign of encouragement. He simply nodded and said, “Speak.”

  Marcus hoped they wouldn’t shoot the messenger. It could be his imagination but he felt animosity rolling off them. That wasn’t good. Not that he expected an unbiased hearing. Three of the Council Masters had skin in the game. Or rather, family genes.