Cursed Witch

by September Stone

  Poe crosses his arms over his chest. “Some people are squirrelly about death marks. If these people are all about ascending to higher planes of consciousness, they probably want to be as far away from that kind of dark magic as possible.”

  “Not to mention the kind of beings who can wield that magic,” Silas grumbles.

  I turn to him, but he’s looking off in another direction entirely—not toward the temple or any of us, but away. He probably can’t wait for us to break this curse so he can move on with his life. While I know he’s not at fault for what happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if he feels guilty anyway. I would.

  I tried to talk to him a few times since Thalassa’s cave, but he’s been evasive. It doesn’t help that Taj and Calder have barely left my side in the nearly two days since. Although we talked about our kiss—well, kisses—he’s been acting distant ever since, and I get the sense there’s more to say. But I don’t want to mention it in front of any of the other guys. I’m not sure what they would think because, honestly, I’m not sure what I think about it. All I know is in the moment, I was sure I could summon the magic I needed to get us out of the cave if Silas gave the tiniest bit of himself to me. And whether that was selfish or genius, I’m not sure.

  “This is the best plan,” Poe says quietly as Calder manages to pull my foot free. “If we say we want healing or to learn how to meditate or something, who knows how much time we’ll have to waste playing nice with these wackos. This way, we get in, we get the staff, and we get out before morning prayers.”

  I bite back the argument on the tip of my tongue. We went over and over every possible plan back at Elowen’s cabin while we researched the Order of Theurgy. Poe says I’m too trusting, and maybe that’s the case. But I think he’s unnecessarily duplicitous, which can be its own sort of problem.

  “No more talking,” Poe says. “We should be there in a couple of minutes.”

  As if it’s the cue we’ve needed the whole time, Silas, Calder, Taj, and I are suddenly ten times quieter and more effective moving through the pitch-dark forest. Adrenaline spikes in my veins, making time seem to slow down as I follow Poe’s footsteps. I’m suddenly terrified to make too much noise in case one of the temple priests hears me—which is ridiculous, considering everything we’ve read about them points to the Order of Theurgy being filled with academics and hippies. Mostly, I don’t want to endure Poe’s wrath if I screw up his plan.

  A cold breeze whispers through the surrounding trees, nipping at the exposed flesh of my hands, neck, and face. What I wouldn’t give to be somewhere warm. We’ve been traveling most of today, and between cramped quarters in our rental car and tromping through untamed forest, my body is weary and ready for some simple comforts. A cozy bed. A crackling fire. The warmth of a body snuggled up against mine. Hands massaging the tension out of my back and rubbing the ache out of my feet.

  I’m so wrapped up in my fantasy that I don’t notice when Poe comes to a stop in front of me and plow into him from behind. He turns to glare and I hold my hands up in apology. After a shake of his head, he points ahead of us.

  It takes a few moments before I can make out what he’s indicating. First, I see stars, which means we’ve reached a clearing. Then, a dark silhouette against those pinpricks of light that’s too sharp and angular to be natural. We must have reached the temple.

  From behind me, Calder links his hand with mine. For a moment I consider pulling away—after all, this isn’t exactly handholding time. But after a second, I understand what’s happening and reach for Poe’s wrist. My fingers barely make it halfway around his arm.

  Those documents were out of date, Poe says in my mind. There’s not just one temple. I can see three buildings from here, and there may be more.

  Squinting, I stare off in the direction Poe indicated, but I can’t see what he does. It’s a marvel I could make out that there’s one building there. If they have electricity here, we’ve either arrived past lights out or they’ve got some amazing curtains keeping any hint of it from escaping through the windows.

  That’s not good, Calder replies.

  Where do we start? Taj asks.

  I’m not sure, Poe says after a moment. The closest one looks like it’s the biggest. The scent of people is pretty strong, so I’m guessing that’s where they sleep. If it were me, I’d keep the staff as far away from others as possible, so I’m thinking it’s probably in the third building.

  Except if they’re using it as a focus for prayer and meditation, they’ll want it close, Taj counters.

  We can’t check every building, Silas says. Someone’s bound to notice us poking around.

  Then I’ll go alone, Poe says.

  Irritation floods me. No way. We didn’t all hike through a billion miles of forest just to stand here while you go find the staff. We all came because it’s quicker if all of us search together.

  Poe fixes his gaze on me. I can detect the barest hint of starlight glimmering in his eyes and something in me melts. I’m still mad at him, and I’m not going to back down, but I can’t ignore the flash of memory of our time sparring. Poe always has a plan, even if he doesn’t make the details clear to others.

  He huffs. Fine. We all go. But follow my lead.

  Before any of us can respond, Poe pulls his wrist from my grip and starts into the clearing. I rush to follow him, reaching for his arm again before remembering that without being connected to Silas, I can’t speak into his mind. Does he really think this is the best idea, walking out and exposing ourselves like this? Sure, I can’t see more than a few inches in front of me, but that doesn’t mean that other supernaturals can’t. What if there’s a shifter peeking out a window? Does Poe have some kind of shifter radar that tells him when others like him are around? It’s just as likely he’s trying to move so fast he loses the rest of us and gets his wish to go it alone.

  But no matter how much he thinks him going in by himself will be easier, I can’t let him do that. After what happened in Thalassa’s cave, I don’t think any of us should be alone. It’s too dangerous when we don’t know exactly what we’re walking into. If the silence surrounding us is any indication, none of the temple priests are awake at this hour. With any luck, we can locate the staff quickly and get out before anyone realizes we were even here.

  Poe stops and turns to face me and the others. He grabs my hand, which I take as my cue to link up with the others. When the five of us are joined, I hear Poe’s voice in my head. You four stand watch outside the first building. With so many people inside, it’s better if I go in by myself.

  How will we know if you get into trouble? I ask.

  His hand twitches against my palm. I don’t plan on getting caught.

  Even through the mental speak, I can detect the reluctance in the other guys’ agreement. With instructions for me to stay behind him and for the other guys to walk six feet to his right, Poe releases my hand and starts toward the dark silhouette once again.

  My skin buzzes, suddenly on high alert. Maybe it’s finally sunk in the enormity of what we’re doing. The Order of Theurgy has had the Staff of Rahn for generations. Who are we to come along and steal it? How can we be sure Elowen’s purpose for having it is pure?

  I shake off my concerns. The fact is, I can’t let myself worry about it. Without the staff, Elowen won’t break the curse—and I won’t let Calder, Taj, Poe, and Silas die because of me. And I certainly won’t let Silas’ former master siphon my magic.

  I take a few more light steps, doing my best to follow exactly in Poe’s tracks. But something feels off. The whole ground seems to tremble beneath me the closer we come to the temple.

  A crack splits through the night air, and before I can make sense of it, a force catapults me off the ground. I smash into Poe as the two of us fly into the air. A second snap and three cries of surprise tell me that Calder, Taj, and Silas have stepped into a similar contraption.

  My heart hammers in my chest as I try to sort out what happened. Beside me, Poe
grunts and fumbles. He seems to be everywhere at once, and my body collides with various parts of his own—knees, feet, elbows.

  “Rivers be damned,” Poe hisses.

  “What happened?” But even as the words are coming out of my mouth, I know the answer. As we sway back and forth in a closely-woven web of fibers, my stomach drops.

  We’re in a snare. Despite our desire to keep the Order from knowing we’re here, we’ve been swept up into a trap.

  Chapter Ten

  Poe

  Dammit, dammit, dammit.

  How the hell did I walk into something like this? A snare, for rivers’ sake? What am I, some kind of damn bunny rabbit?

  The swaying motion of the net makes my stomach pitch, and I suck in a breath to steady myself.

  Too late I realize my mistake. On my inhale, I don’t get a breath of night air. Instead, I pull in only her—the spicy cinnamon scent of Bryn’s skin, the thick tang of her fear.

  And as if the simple smell of her isn’t enough, there’s no space between us in this net. She shifts—although whether to put distance between us or to get comfortable, I can’t be sure. She twists for ten torturous seconds before stilling, her head resting on my chest, her right thigh pressed between my legs.

  Snaking rivers, this won’t end well.

  “What now?” she murmurs.

  After some maneuvering, I manage to pull my knife from its sheath on my belt, but I can’t slice through the net.

  The gears in my mind grind together as I try to work out a plan. Every bit of my body is acutely aware of Bryn, and the attention is stealing away my brain power.

  “Taj,” I hiss across to the dangling net a few yards away. “Can you burn a hole in that thing?”

  “Already tried,” Taj says. “This rope must be woven with some kind of metal. Or maybe it’s spelled to be fireproof. I can’t tell, but either way, I can’t get through.”

  There goes that plan.

  “What about you, Calder? Can you use your ability to release the traps?”

  Blondie is quiet for so long I wonder if he didn’t conk heads with someone on the way up and get himself knocked out. When he finally answers with a weak, “I’ll try,” it doesn’t inspire much confidence.

  I tuck my chin to my chest until Bryn’s hair tickles my nose. “How about you? Do you think you can convince these trees to let us down?”

  Her chuckle vibrates against my chest. “I don’t think it works like that.”

  When she shifts again, my cock responds to her movement. I freeze, hoping my stillness will quiet the throbbing member.

  I’ve been doing my best to keep my distance from Bryn since our sparring match the other day. For the most part, everything was just business. I’ve done enough fighting with female partners over the years to know that training is just training. But toward the end, something changed. I could’ve sworn she felt it, too, but then her boyfriends were back and I…

  That’s just it. I’m not exactly sure.

  I can’t lie to myself. Something about this girl affects me in a way I can’t explain. Since the first night, thoughts of her have chased themselves around my head. And smelling her semi-permanent state of arousal does nothing to keep me from fantasizing about how to put her constant readiness to good use.

  But, the fact is, she’s already got someone to take care of any urges she might have. Two someones. And as much as my balls clench at the idea of letting loose inside her, part of me worries one time wouldn’t be enough. But what kind of future could I have with her? Even if she didn’t have two other guys at her beck and call, it isn’t like I can stay with her for the long term. Once this is over and Elowen breaks the curse, I’ll have to go back to the elders. I work for them, and I probably will until the day I die.

  After Calder insists his telekinesis won’t get us out of this mess, the five of us fall quiet. I’d like to say I’m thinking through our options, but the fact is, I’m not sure what to do now. Our best bet might be to wait until the temple priests let us out before staging an escape. I’ve seen the others in action, and I have no doubt we can take down some peace-loving hippies if we need to. And maybe it won’t come to that at all. If we can convince them we’re hikers who lost our way, they might let us go. That leaves the question of how we’ll get to the staff, but I’ve found it’s best to solve problems one by one.

  I’m not sure how much time passes before Bryn relaxes against me. Her steady, even breaths tell me she’s fast asleep. After far too long of trying to keep my fingers threaded through the net, I allow my arms to come to rest on her back.

  Although I got to know the feeling of her body pressed against mine plenty during our sparring matches, this is something entirely different. Instead of rigid and struggling, Bryn is soft and pliable in my arms. Even in her sleep I can smell the sweet-spicy scent of her arousal, which only serves to rouse my cock until it’s throbbing against her thigh. I allow my right hand to drift lower until it cups the swell of her ass. Rivers, what I wouldn’t give to knead the supple flesh. It’s almost as tempting as the mounds of her breasts that press against my chest. If there was any way to maneuver in this damned net, I wouldn’t care if her boyfriends watched as I explored her whole body, as I nipped and tasted every inch of her flesh.

  I shake the thought from my head. It won’t be. It can’t be. The sooner I come to terms with that reality, the better off things will be.

  By the time the first rays of morning light begin to brighten the eastern sky, my dick is so hard it’s painful. When Bryn stirs against me, I’m afraid the simple sensation will send me over the edge.

  “Poe?” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.

  “Um hm?” I manage through clenched teeth.

  “I’m sorry. I think I drooled on you.”

  I can’t help chuckling at the misplaced concern. We’re in a snare and she’s worried about a little saliva?

  She twists to stretch her back and my eager cock twitches against her thigh. She stills momentarily before resuming her stretch, but despite her attempt to play it cool, I know she notices the heat of my erection between us. As her cinnamon scent thickens in the morning air, it takes all my willpower not to grip her chin and force her face up to mine.

  She’s only responding this way because she’s thinking of someone else’s dick. Two someone elses. She’s not mine, and she never will be. End of story.

  “Poe,” she murmurs again, turning her face until she’s looking up at me. “There’s something…”

  A scent on the wind catches my attention. “Shh,” I hiss as I try to identify the smell. “Someone’s coming.”

  Several seconds pass before I spot movement by the north corner of the nearest building. Twelve hooded figures dressed in flowing gray cloaks step into view, walking in two neat rows. Their hands are folded in front of them, but obscured by their garments’ wide sleeves. They could be concealing some kind of weapon in the folds of those robes, and that fact puts me on high alert.

  When the group is still several yards away, two figures break from the others and close the remaining distance until they stand scant feet from where we were lifted off the ground. The taller figure removes the billowing hood from his head before addressing us.

  “Strangers, why have you trespassed on our sacred land?”

  I’ve spent enough time with the elders to know how words can be used as weapons. In this simple sentence, they’ve already set the stage for the conflict. We’re outsiders who have crossed onto their land illegally. Any hope of using a lost hiker defense flies out the window. A guy like this probably wouldn’t listen to it even if it were the truth.

  “We’re not trespassing,” Taj calls, and I shoot him a look to keep quiet. The last thing we need is all five of us trying to talk our way out of this. In situations like this, one person does the talking. Any more than that only causes confusion and makes everything worse.

  “And yet you’ve found ourselves in our snares,” the man says, his tone almost
daring. “While we welcome visitors, we have a front door for a reason. If you chose not to us it, and to venture into our territory under the cover of night, you must also have a reason.”

  An icy fist of dread clenches my stomach. I’ve heard Her Excellency Daya use rhetoric like this on people before, and it’s never ended well. He’s already judged and sentenced us in his mind. He’s just giving us enough rope to hang ourselves.

  The man tilts his head, his piercing gray eyes meeting each of ours in turn. “No explanation? Well, I suppose I wasn’t exactly expecting one. I shall leave you to our guards.”

  “No, wait,” Bryn calls.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, not moving my lips.

  She catches my eye, but what I find there isn’t reassuring. I’m not sure she knows the answer to my question.

  “We weren’t trying to trespass. Yes, we snuck onto your land, and yes we came at night—but there’s a reason for it,” she continues. “If you’ll give me a moment, I’m sure you’ll understand why we came this way.”

  Although the man doesn’t turn, his companion still hasn’t moved. “Brother Anson, I think we should hear them out.” The hood falls off the second figure to reveal a woman in her mid-twenties with glossy brown hair and a sharp chin. Surprise jolts my stomach. The whole way here, I’ve been assuming all the priests and whatnot here would be men.

  “What more do we need to hear?” Brother Anson asks, his tone vaguely dismissive.

  “You brought me along for a reason,” the woman says, a stiffness to her words. “Why not allow me a moment with them?”

  The man’s shoulders rise and fall as he heaves a sigh. “As you wish, Sister Kari.”

  The woman takes a half step forward and nods up at Bryn. “Please speak.”

  “We decided to take the back way in and to come at night because we didn’t want to make any other pilgrims uncomfortable,” Bryn says. “We wanted to be the first ones here this morning so we wouldn’t bump into anyone else.”