The Witch's Complement

by Elle Beauregard

  Scott nearly stopped on the first floor, but Abby grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and turned for the next set of stairs. The magic was above them—it wasn’t on this level. With Rhia in the lead, Abby’s legs were burning, her heart pounding even faster than her feet, but she couldn’t stop.

  Cecily was in trouble because the spell she’d cast hadn’t been enough. Because, somehow, she’d missed something important. Something in how they were being watched, or how she manifested the spell. Bottom line, this was all her fault.

  And she was not going to let up until she’d fixed it.

  As they reached the second floor, she could feel that they were closer, the magic sharp like the earache sensation of hearing discordant notes, but all over her body and without a sound. It was falling from above them, radiating downward.

  “Keep going!”

  One more flight. She started taking the stairs two at a time, the way Scott was.

  They skidded to a stop when they reached the top floor.

  “Down at the end.” On jelly legs, Abby marched into the magic pushing against her, trying to make her turn around.

  The magic in the hallway was so dense it felt like pushing through sludge with every step, like she was sucking down tar with every breath as she trudged forward.

  But fuck that.

  “You came to play, motherfucker?” She held her hands down by her side while she called magic into them, concentrating it into her palms. “I’ll play.”

  With Rhia stalking beside her, and Scott bringing up the rear, she heard rather than saw the others join them. Out of the tangled energy of Callum, Zander, and Alyssa, she felt Wren’s magic reaching for hers, offering support and assistance Abby didn’t have to ask for and Wren didn’t have to offer with words. Rhia lowered her head, ears plastered back while a low, menacing growl issued from between her barred teeth.

  “We’ll find her,” Abby murmured to her.

  A scream, ragged and piercing, cut her off.

  “Gotcha.” In two long strides Abby reached the door the scream had come from as black tentacles of magic began seeping from underneath it.

  She shoved her hands forward, the force of her magic pulling a yell up her throat when the door blew inward—and everything snapped into slow motion.

  Cecily was on the floor, her arms and legs spread wide and tied at the wrists and ankles to thick eye bolts that had been screwed into the floorboards. A circle was drawn around her—

  Abby stopped her forward momentum.

  That wasn’t just any circle. That was a summoning circle.

  Scott darted around her, dropping to his knees at Cecily’s side at the same time Callum made a beeline to the man who was just turning, indignation thick on his expression.

  Marcus.

  Abby knew what he was trying to do.

  “Wait!” she rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside Scott, throwing an arm out to stop him. If he touched her now, he could become the host to whatever power Marcus had been attempting to summon. “Wren!”

  “Already on it!”

  Abby turned to see Zander step up to the edge of the circle at Cecily’s feet. She stretched her arms out in front of her, and when her fingers closed, an opal’s sheen bent beneath them.

  The cloak. Abby had never seen someone manipulate the veil like that.

  When Zander pulled her arms apart, a spotlight flooded the room—and a shadow darted toward it, drawn to the light. She was knocked off her feet and hit the floor hard about a yard away when the shadow hit her.

  Abby planted her foot, ready to leap to her aid, but she couldn’t let go of Scott who was liable to get himself killed if she let him go before it was safe. Instead, she looked for Callum—and found him across the room at the very moment he slugged Marcus across the face.

  The guy’s head whipped back, then he went on a stumble that crashed him right into the wall where he slid to the floor—total K.O..

  Callum darted to Zander’s side, who was already pushing herself up off the floor. Satisfied she was okay (and more than a little impressed with Callum’s right hook) Abby turned—and stopped short.

  Wren was holding a Shadow. With her bare hands, she was pulling it back, away from Zander’s light that still flooded the room.

  It was incredible.

  Abby lowered the arm she’d been using to keep Scott back and immediately he lurched forward, bringing his hands to the side of Cecily’s face like he was making sure she was still in there and still breathing. Abby spun on her knees, searching for something to use to cut the ropes binding Cecily to the floor. Scott needed to get her outside, away from this circle and Marcus’s stolen magic.

  The silver glint of stainless steel caught her eye just a couple of feet away from where Marcus was out cold.

  “Cal! The knife!” The portal magic and the wailing of the Shadow were so loud in the room she had to shout to be heard.

  Callum looked over, then pushed to his feet and stayed low across the short distance. He turned the knife with a flat palm when he reached it, and slid it across the floor to her, handle first.

  The long, silver blade, curved and sinister looking, slid through the nylon rope like peeling an apple, and in the work of four quick cuts, Cecily was free.

  “Get her out of here!” Abby shouted, but Scott hadn’t needed the instruction. He was already cradling Cecily in his arms, pushing to his feet like she weighed no more than a ten-pound sack of flour—which was what she resembled, pale and lifeless.

  “Abby!”

  She spun on her knees, feeling Wren’s struggle before she saw it. The magic she was exerting to keep the writhing, shapeless mass of darkness under control was tremendous. It bent the air around her in blue waves—she was at maximum capacity and it wasn’t enough. Abby sprang to her feet and sprinted for Wren.

  “Magic delivery!” She stepped up behind her complement and reached around her, laying her hands onto Wren’s arms, stretched forward to contain the Shadow. Then she sent her magic out through her palms, out of her body and into Wren’s skin.

  Wren was humming, a single wordless note, and Abby knew what she was doing. She was trying to match her wavelength to the Shadow’s. It was brilliant. So Abby matched her wavelength to Wren’s to give her more power, let her access Abby’s magic more deeply—but it wasn’t enough.

  They could hold the Shadow this way, keep it in place, but they couldn’t move it. They couldn’t force it back through the circle.

  Where was—

  But before she could finish the thought, a snarl ripped the air in two and Rhia bound into the circle—at twice her normal size.

  “What the fuck!” Callum looked like he was seeing a ghost for the first time.!”

  Apparently, Callum had never seen his dog’s magic at work.

  Rhia’s lush coat floated around her body as though she moved underwater as she lowered her head. Then she leapt forward on her long legs, razor teeth gnashing, and latched onto the Shadow in Wren’s hands.

  It felt like having the weight removed from their arms, the release of Rhia’s vicious magic turning the Shadow’s weight into feathers instead of lead.

  “Push it back through the circle!” Abby shouted. “Break the circle as soon as Wren’s hands hit the floor!”

  The static charge, nails on a chalkboard sensation that pushed against them as they began to force the darkness back through the portal made Abby want to scream. And then Wren was yelling, her hum becoming a shout of you-will-not-fucking-win-this determination at the Shadow that was screeching its demise, writhing and fighting her hold. But Wren never wavered, her magic never shrank back. Even as Rhia thrashed her head, tearing at the darkness and nearly knocking Wren’s hold loose. Even as her knees hit the floor.

  The second Wren’s hands flattened on the hardwood, the screeching sound and the itching, stinging static in the air ceased, like a line cut. For one breathless moment, Abby felt like she was weightless, the silence a welcome deprivation.

&nbs
p; Water splashed onto the floor from somewhere over their heads, a great torrent that erased the chalk and ash circle in giant swaths.

  It was over.

  Abby’s knees gave out and she flopped to the wet floor with relief, her arms sliding from around Wren.

  When Wren’s eyes met hers, hands still plastered to the floor, breath sawing, an exhausted, triumphant grin spread across her mouth.

  The red that dripped from her nose, landing on the wet floor wiped all victory from Abby’s mind. “Wren. Baby, you’re bleeding.” She sat up and reached for Wren who sat back onto her knees.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted when Abby put her hand on the side of Wren’s neck.

  “Tilt your head back.”

  Wren laughed. “That’s actually the last thing you want to do with a bloody nose. It’ll stop in a second.”

  And sure enough, after that initial drip and one good wipe with the back of Wren’s sleeve—thank goodness she was wearing a black long-sleeve tee—the flow stopped.

  Abby pulled, and Wren leaned until their foreheads were pressed together. “You were incredible.”

  “There’s no way I could have held it without your help.”

  Zander said something Abby couldn’t make out, but her voice drew Abby’s attention, nonetheless. She sat back and looked past Wren, checking to make sure everybody was okay.

  Zander was sitting on the floor with Callum kneeling beside her. She looked like she’d had her bell rung, but otherwise, she appeared unscathed.

  That’s not what captured Abby’s attention, however.

  It was the young guy crouched at Zander’s side—and the beautiful, blond woman standing alongside him.

  Bridgette looked her way like she felt Abby’s gaze. All of her glowed with a golden light—both of them did, but Bridgette’s golden hair amplified the effect so she looked like an angel. Her smile stretched and her fingers, down by her side, gave a discrete wave.

  The kid—man, he was a man, but so young it made Abby’s heart ache—was reaching toward the arm Zander held up to him.

  “I need to go check on Cecily,” Wren said, pushing herself up off the floor. She threw a look at Callum. “Are you and Zander gonna stay here with Marcus?”

  Oh yeah, Marcus. Abby looked to where she’d seen him last and—yep. Still out cold.

  Callum threw a mean punch.

  “Yeah, we’re good here. Go make sure Scott and Cecily are okay.”

  Abby waited for one beat, half expecting Wren to see the spirits with Zander and Callum. But when she simply pushed herself to her feet with a nod and headed for the door, all Abby could do was follow. She allowed herself one last look, turning in time to see Zander close the invisible cloak—and Bridgette disappear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Thank god,” Scott breathed when he first heard the sirens, faint and far in the distance. He hoped there was an ambulance among the group.

  He hugged Cecily’s limp frame closer to his chest. Her head lulled back against his arm and he took the opportunity to stare at her beautiful face, to brush the strands of hair out of her closed eyes and off her soft, pale cheeks.

  She’d started to shiver when he’d first brought her outside, even though the afternoon was warm. It had taken him a moment to realize it wasn’t cold-shivering, but the kind of shivering that racked Callum after an intrusion. But just when he’d started to panic, it had stopped. Her body had relaxed and she’d sighed like she was comfortable.

  “Thanks, Trey,” Scott mumbled, hoping Trevor could hear him even though Scott couldn’t see him.

  “What is that on her arms and legs?” Alyssa asked, coming close for the first time since the three of them had burst out of the building and Scott had sat his ass down on the front steps— not because Cecily was too heavy but because his legs had been shaking so badly he’d been worried he would drop her.

  He pulled his eyes from her face now and looked to the arm Alyssa was holding gently in her hands. His chest got tight. “They’re runes,” he said. “Dark runes.”

  Runes for control and manipulation, summoning, sedation, lashing—tying her down.

  Alyssa looked up at him. “What do they mean?”

  But Scott shook his head and lied. “I don’t know.”

  Marcus had clearly known about them. He’d written them all over Cecily’s limbs in what looked like ash.

  Jesus. What else had he done to her?

  Scott eyes burned and he held her tighter.

  He looked up in time to see Alyssa pull her phone from her back pocket. She held Cecily’s limp arm up by the hand and snapped a picture of the symbols. Then she did the same with her legs.

  “May I?” She nodded to Cecily’s other arm, pressed against Scott’s chest, her hand resting on her belly.

  Scott nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

  Maybe she wanted to study the symbols, Scott thought as Alyssa gently took Cecily’s hand in hers and straightened her limp arm before taking one last picture. “Don’t write those anywhere,” he found himself saying to her. “And don’t keep them on your phone. They’re bad shit.”

  Alyssa’s brows furrowed like she was taking what he said seriously—which was a relief. “Yeah, okay. I’ll delete them as soon as I pass them off as evidence.”

  Huh?

  The door to the building opened behind him and Abby appeared at his side.

  “Hey. How are we doing?” She sat onto the stair next to him and Wren stepped around her to take Cecily’s wrist in her fingers like taking her pulse.

  “She’s breathing but she hasn’t woken up.” He looked to Abby. “The shit he wrote on her...”

  Abby’s eyes were scanning Cecily’s arms and legs. “That fucker.” She looked to Scott. “You got a pen? You can counteract these.”

  As though a stopper had been released, symbols started to flip through his awareness: Runes for freedom, protection, alertness, and peace.

  “In my pocket.” He leaned, shifting Cecily’s weight in his arms so Abby could reach the pen he kept on him always, a simple black, fine tip Sharpie. Then he sat Cecily’s bottom half against his leg and freed his left hand. Abby slapped the pen into his palm, he wrenched the cap off with his teeth, and went to work.

  Forehead, collarbones, her chest. He handed the pen to Abby. “The tops of her feet. Protection. Release. Unbind.”

  Abby said the words as she drew the runes on Cecily’s feet. “Protection. Release. Unbind.”

  Wren shook her head. “Her pulse is thready. Where are the EMTs?”

  Thready? What did that mean? Scott held one of Cecily’s hands out to Abby. “Write them on her hands.”

  As she made the final stroke, he expected Cecily to wake up. Or to draw a deep breath.

  Even just a release of the tension in Wren’s expression would have been good news.

  Instead, the crease between Wren’s brows deepened.

  “Nothing?” Abby asked, voice urgent.

  Wren’s eyes were wide when she looked at Abby and shook her head.

  “There’s gotta be another one. Something we’re missing.” Abby got to her feet and began moving Cecily’s arms and legs, checking for what, Scott wasn’t certain. She pushed first the right and then the left straps of her tank top aside.

  Then she stopped.

  “Her belly.”

  Abby wrenched up the hem of Cecily’s shirt, revealing a set of runes drawn in a circle around her navel.

  Scott’s breath left his lungs.

  “I’ve never seen runes like this before.” Abby’s face was full of fear. “Scott, what are they?”

  “He made them.” Scott’s voice was low. “He created them to steal the baby’s energy.”

  For one beat of a moment, both Abby and Wren stilled, then Abby spoke. “Can you counter it?”

  As soon as she asked the question, he could see the rune he needed to draw. One single sigil that contained all of his love, devotion, and commitment. “Give me the pen.”

  As th
e felt tip slid along Cecily’s soft skin, Scott poured everything inside him into the lines it left behind. Into Cecily’s body, into the tiny human within her he had yet to meet.

  As soon as he finished the last stroke with tears blurring his vision, Cecily drew a deep, hard breath and Scott’s heart leapt into his throat.

  The pen left his fingers. “Alyssa, take this,” he heard Abby say as he pressed his forehead to Cecily’s. “We didn’t draw any of these on her. Understand? None of us believe in this magic shit.”

  “It goes without saying,” Alyssa replied. He glanced up in time to see her wipe the pen off with the hem of her sweatshirt and tuck it into her bag.

  Wren was at Cecily’s wrist again, measuring her pulse.

  “Is she okay?” His voice broke when he spoke?

  Wren gave a nod and her smile was cautious but relieved. “Her pulse is stronger now. She’s doing good.”

  Police cars screamed around the corner then, three of them tearing through the turn and coming to halt in front of the building. The tightness in Scott’s chest loosened by a degree when an ambulance tore around the corner next. It parked along the curb and two EMTs jumped out.

  Wren met them as they came for Cecily. “Probable head trauma, ligature marks to the wrists and ankles. Heartrate was uneven for a spell, but has picked up and is strong now. No clock, but I estimate it’s about eighty bpm.”

  It was chaos after that, with EMTs asking Scott a whole hell of a lot of questions he didn’t know the answer to—has she taken any drugs? When did she hit her head? Is she or could she be pregnant?

  Oh wait, he did know the answer to that one. “Yeah. She’s pregnant.”

  The EMT didn’t bat an eye as he loaded her into the back of the ambulance on a stretcher. “How many weeks?”

  “Uh... 7 maybe?” He thought that was right.

  And Wren stayed by him for all of it. He was so grateful for her help he could have cried. At one point, he did.

  ⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

  “So you kicked the door in, and stormed the place?”

  Zander hesitated, but ultimately nodded. Jeez. The whole thing sounded pretty bad when the officer put it like that.