Witch's Spirit (The Hemlock Chronicles Book 3)

by Emma L. Adams

  A heartbeat passed. “It’s someone with access to information nobody else has,” Keir said, echoing my thoughts. “You already said the mages had been compromised…”

  “By their own leader.” Crap. “I can’t think why he’d summon an Ancient, but he does have a team of powerful witches on his side. I’ve never even met all of them. And he seemed confident he’d be able to protect himself even after he shut the witches out of his meeting…”

  Because there was one already in the building.

  “Shit, are you sure?” Lloyd said. “The mages summoned that—thing?”

  “No, a witch did,” I said. “It doesn’t matter who—anyone can be controlled against their will, or coerced. Lord Sutherland has enough power that it doesn’t matter.”

  “In that case…” Keir looked at me. “The witch must be hidden inside the mages’ headquarters.”

  The air trembled. A blast of wind knocked us backward into the alley, and Vance appeared. His hands were wrapped in claws, and he stalked towards us with murder in his eyes.

  23

  I tensed, my heart sinking. The witches I’d trapped in Asher’s shop would break free in seconds. Death by possessed witch or death by murderous shifter-mage? Not much of a choice there.

  “Vance!” I said. “It’s me. Jas.”

  His arms were covered in scales, his grey eyes had blanked out, and the aura of menace surrounding him made me take a step back despite my immunity. I sincerely hoped that as a part-shifter, he didn't have the same paralysing-with-terror power as the Ancients did.

  He turned his back on me, stalking forwards, eyes fixed on the horizon.

  “Er, Vance, where are you going? Where's Ivy?”

  What had happened to Ivy’s contingency spell? Wasn't it supposed to knock him out if he ended up under the control of one of those stones?

  Speaking of stones… I reached into my pocket. The instant the stone’s glow lit up, Vance turned around, his eyes narrowing.

  “Hey, Vance,” I said, holding the stone up. “I’m asking you to come to your senses.”

  I didn’t quite dare try using magic, but his gaze was fixed on the fragment of stone in my hand. Then he shook his head, lifting a hand. A piece of stone was clenched in his own fist.

  “What? You were holding it on purpose?” I blinked in confusion. “I thought you knew the enemy was trying to lure you in.”

  He gave me a glare, his eyes clearing. “Where is Wanda? You know where she is?”

  Ah. “If I tell you, will you teleport us to the—”

  “Hey, Vance!” Ivy ran up behind him. “Dammit, she’s not here. This is way too risky.”

  “What are you doing?” I asked, lowering my own hand. “Why do you have a piece of that stone?”

  “The only way to free the shifters is to move the stones far enough outside the city that they can’t affect anyone,” Ivy explained. “But he got it into his head that he can use it to track Wanda.”

  “You won’t get to her,” I said quickly. “She’s behind a barrier that can only be passed by the dead. We’re going to find the person who set it up, and we could use a teleporter.”

  Her eyes widened. “You know who did it?”

  “One of the mages’ witches,” I said. “They summoned an Ancient called the Whisper—she’s the one controlling all the witches, alive or dead, through those symbols.”

  Ivy swore. “And to think the bloody hellhounds were bad enough—where is this Ancient?”

  “Inside one of the symbols,” I said. “I’m guessing she’s still at the site of the ritual summoning. Is it even possible to use a symbol as a talisman?”

  Ivy’s mouth fell open. “The Ancients’ language contains power. Every word. That’s why the Sidhe stole it from them, I think—where is she?”

  “I think she’s inside the mages’ headquarters,” I said. “If anyone has access to the knowledge, they do—and they used a witch to summon her.”

  Ivy swore. “Sounds about right. Vance, we’ll get Wanda back once Jas finds this witch. Can you kill her? The Whisper?”

  I just nodded, hoping I was right. “What did you do to the hellhounds?”

  “They fled from the dragon,” she said. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

  “Never mind the dragon. I have to deal with the witch first,” I said. “Vance, can you transport us to the mages’ place? As close as possible without getting us caught.”

  A white flash made me jump. Vance spoke through gritted teeth. “There's only so long I can resist. The stones are affecting every shifter within reach.”

  “I’ll stop her first,” I said. “Don’t go after Wanda yet. The Whisper wants you to turn on us.”

  “I'll make sure he doesn't,” Ivy said. “Jas—are you sure you can handle this?”

  “Yes, she can.” Keir stepped in behind me. “I’ll go with her. Keep the others safe and we’ll be back before you know it.”

  His faith bolstered me, but I shook my head. “Keir, if they catch you, you might lose your freedom.”

  “I’ll risk it.” He nodded to Vance. “I’m ready.”

  “Likewise.”

  In a rush of air, we landed in a deserted corridor. Vance disappeared a moment later, leaving Keir and me alone. The others wouldn’t be happy at being left behind, but Ivy would help them. They’d stay safe. And I’d use my Hemlock magic to end this.

  For Isabel, for Wanda, for everyone hurt by the Whisper. And by the Mage Lords.

  I tapped into the spirit realm to scan for anyone present in the building. A few mages, stragglers from the meeting, maybe people hiding from the battle. But I didn't know every one of them by spirit sight. “It would help if you could just tell me where the witch is hidden, Evelyn.”

  “I don't know,” she said. “I can't see everything from this view.”

  “You can see through the spirit realm, can’t you?”

  She gave me a look. “That’s your area, not mine.”

  Shit, of course. I was a trained necromancer. Evelyn wasn't. She hadn't been present for most of my training, and besides, learning to extend your consciousness to find someone was a skill mostly developed intuitively.

  “You can sense me, right? Same principle. Look around. Nobody can see you.”

  “I'm used to that, funnily enough.”

  “Ha.”

  What the hell, I'd had long enough to get used to her. And she’d be my only companion in jail, assuming she didn’t leave my body to become a permanent ghost.

  I slammed the lid on the thought and reached out my consciousness, searching every corner of the mages’ headquarters. The Ancient, if she was here, would be trapped behind a barrier, but it wasn’t possible to hide a spell so powerful without side effects. The place was too quiet. Maybe I’d guessed wrong.

  “The whole building ought to be trembling,” I said to Evelyn.

  “Not if the spell is contained.” She appeared at my side again. “You don’t have much experience with rituals, do you?”

  I didn’t dignify that with a response. The spell is contained… like when I summoned a ghost into a circle of candles, its spiritual energy was contained within. The same principle applied when I used a chalk circle to create a spell. Without it, the raw energy escaped, causing damage to anything it touched.

  To hold a god captive would require a hell of a powerful circle. A containment spell, at the very least. And the enemy didn’t care what they sacrificed to do it. But where was it hidden? The mages’ headquarters held no shortage of forbidden rooms and corridors.

  Hang on. Their jail was underground, in the dungeons. Aside from a select few trusted individuals, nobody was allowed into the high security area. The place they locked up anyone who practised illegal magic and survived it.

  I drove my consciousness down, below the earth. A faint glow caught my attention—barely a blip, but there was definitely something there. Magical. Alive.

  “They did the ritual in the dungeon,” I sai
d to Keir, returning to my body. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Whereabouts is the way down?” he said, his face pale.

  “Very good question.”

  Evelyn appeared beside us. “This way. It’s warded.”

  “No shit.” I ran after her floating form, Keir at my side. We moved through ornate corridors decorated with the portraits of Mage Lords past. I didn’t stop to look at them, though stray thoughts chased through my head. How many of the mages worshipped as heroes had committed crimes as heinous as Lord Sutherland had? How far did this conspiracy stretch? I might be facing a lifetime imprisonment at the very least, but left to their own devices, the mages could do much worse than flood the city with zombies. They could kick-start another war with Faerie.

  Finally, we came to a stairway leading down to a metal door covered in wards. My Hemlock magic lashed out, shattering the security as easily as cutting through paper. They didn’t even try. They didn’t need to. Soon, more than soon, they’d be able to do whatever they wanted without any outside interference.

  I opened the door, checked Isabel’s spell was ready on my wrist, and walked into the dark.

  I’d been in the necromancers’ dungeon a couple of times, and this place was built along similar lines. The guild rarely arrested anyone, because rogue necromancers tended to die before they could face trial. Here, too, most of the cells were empty. The smell of old wards, magic gone bad, filled the air, borne on an icy breeze.

  Evelyn floated alongside me. “There are sealed chambers for magical criminals. This way.”

  I ran from one door to the next, following her lead. The cells became larger, the doors locked and barred, wards lapping at my Hemlock magic. I know how to find which it is.

  I pressed my hands to the nearest door, pushing my Hemlock magic at the wards. No reaction. I moved to the next, my heart bouncing against my ribcage.

  “Jas.” Keir stopped outside one of the sealed doors further down the row. “My spirit sense can’t go past this door. Someone’s inside.”

  I moved to his side, reaching out. Even from here, my magic sparked at the feeling of wrongness on the other side. The antithesis of my magic.

  Evelyn’s hands lit up next to me, and she blasted the door with power. I did likewise. Wards sparked. The ceiling lights flickered on and off. My teeth chattered, and Keir swore quietly, taking a few steps backwards.

  Break, damn you. Maybe Isabel’s spell was intended to be used on the jail door and not the Ancient.

  The door cracked open. Magic oozed out like slime, warping grey symbols snapping at my heels.

  Evelyn and I pushed back with our combined strength, and the wards on the door snapped like a mousetrap. The door flew wide, revealing the room was covered in symbols, all over the walls and floor. They swam up and down, warping and twisting. Witch spells. The Whisper must be hidden somewhere underneath, protected by layers of magic.

  Keir shifted behind me. “There is something alive in there.”

  A pair of eyes blinked at me from the wall, from behind the layers of symbols. I jerked backwards. “Crap. She’s like the Hemlocks.” The witch had been trapped here—ripped out of her body and trapped in her own magic. Now, that same magic fuelled the wards protecting the Whisper.

  What kind of sick monster was the Mage Lord? He’d had her held captive beneath our feet the whole time, unable to escape.

  The symbols on the walls warped and twisted, becoming tendril-like appendages. They crept out of the door, and grabbed my ankles, lashing me into the wall. Sparks exploded before my eyes. “Ow! I’m here to free you—"

  Keir made a choked noise as more tendrils of magic tightened around his throat. I rose to my feet, and the sound of footsteps came from further down the corridor.

  I met Keir’s alarmed gaze. The witch wasn’t contained by the cell. She’d kill anyone who got close. And if we ran, the mages would have me executed before I ever got above the ground.

  “Let. Him. Go,” I bit out, lashing at the witch with my own magic. Keir couldn’t use his vampire ability on someone who was barely alive. “Let him go!”

  Magic chewed into magic. Evelyn appeared again, her whole body aglow. The witch’s gaze went to her—and Keir broke free, gasping for breath.

  Threads of magic snapped, catching Evelyn instead of Keir. They swamped her, holding her in place. Those spells can even trap a ghost. Of course—they held the witch, after all, and if her body was still in that cell, I couldn’t see it.

  The footsteps grew louder.

  Keir said, “I’ll handle them.”

  I glanced over my shoulder in time to see him tackle one of the approaching mages. Then another thread of magic locked around my ankle, pulling me to the ground once again. I kicked it away, calling my Hemlock magic. Evelyn. She was trapped, her body suspended above the swirling mass of magic inside the cell. Despite the hunger with which the tendrils lashed at me, the magic inside the room felt stale, trapped.

  Underneath was its barely beating heart—the Whisper.

  “Let her go,” I said to the witch. “You can’t want to be trapped down here. We’ll set you free.”

  “What she wanted ceased to matter long ago,” purred the Whisper’s voice from below the swirling magic. “You will not destroy me. You will be destroyed.”

  Evelyn screamed, throwing her head back, as the symbols rose to cover her transparent body. Unbearable agony tore through my own spirit, and I was yanked from my body, still glowing with magic.

  The symbols were affecting our link, tearing us apart, inch by inch.

  I gritted my teeth, forcing my way back into my body only to be torn free again. Magic swamped Evelyn, and through her, me. Threads of it, suffocating the life from both of us.

  Then the threads recoiled as an explosion hit the symbols. Magic rose to swallow it in an instant, but the threads’ grip broke on Evelyn for a brief second. I landed back in my body as Keir threw two explosive spells into the room. Spells I’d given him. They barely made a dent, but they’d won us time.

  I plunged my hand into my pocket, grabbing the tattoo marker. No time for second-guessing. I’d use the spell or die trying.

  “Did you mean to destroy me, Jacinda?” said the Whisper.

  The marker in my hand exploded. Ink splattered the floor, luminescent and gleaming, and the Whisper let out a guttural laugh.

  Shit.

  More footsteps came from behind us. The mages must have recovered. Swearing, Keir ran behind me to intercept them, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the ink splattering the floor—my last chance.

  Evelyn screamed, caught in the magical tendrils again. She couldn’t use the ink. Only I could.

  My fists clenched, and Hemlock power flooded my veins. Raw power vibrated in my hands, pushing the threads of magic away from Evelyn. She screamed something in my ear, but a roaring noise drowned out everything else.

  More. More.

  The ink moved, inching over my feet and up my legs, climbing to my hands, until my whole body was encased. It didn’t feel like liquid, but more like standing under a waterfall of pure magic. The surface rippled with glyphs, like the walls in the Hemlocks’ cave. Whoa. The tattoo markers, made by humans who hated witches, had trapped the magic in the ink. Now, it was free.

  I eased Isabel’s spell from my wrist and threw it into the cell, with the ink as the final catalyst.

  The room exploded. Magic sizzled and burned, the walls warped, symbols merging together. The Whisper screamed, and so did the witch in the wall.

  My back hit the floor with the force of the blast. My skin felt oddly loose. Ink swirled up and down my hands, my arms. I pushed to my knees, willing it to form runes. Amplifying ones.

  And I pushed everything I had left into the shaking cell.

  The magical tendrils recoiled, shrinking in on themselves, revealing a single symbol burning beneath. My vision swam, and I jerked my gaze away, continuing to feed destructive power into the room.

  The ink dissipated, explo
ding outwards from my skin and mingling with the blast. The Whisper’s high-pitched scream shattered windows, splintered doors, shook the spirit and physical realms all at once.

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the blinding glare of light. When I opened them again, the symbol was gone. So was the witch whose eyes I’d seen staring at me from within the spell. She’d had no body left either. All that remained of her had been absorbed into the magic.

  I stood, shakily. “Evelyn?”

  For a heart-stopping moment, I feared she wouldn’t reply—that the Whisper had severed our link forever. But I’d used her magic. Our magic.

  And since when did I care if she lived or died?

  She was unpredictable. Manipulative. Yet she’d almost destroyed herself to bring down the Whisper.

  “Right here.” Her voice spoke close to my shoulder, and I wheeled around, looking for Keir. He lay on the floor, thrown back by the blast, too.

  “Shit.” I ran to his side, staring down at his inert body. “Keir!”

  His eyes opened. “Hey, Jas. I’m okay. Nine lives, remember?”

  “That's my line.” I heaved out a breath. “The mages—”

  “I left them alive.” He pushed to his feet, indicating several inert bodies. “I think.”

  I looked around. “Let’s give them a new home. There’s no shortage of cells in need of inmates.”

  Keir flashed me a smile. “Yes. There are.”

  We ‘helped’ the fallen mages into the nearest cell, and I threw a ward over the door. With any luck, it’d be a while before someone came looking for them.

  When I’d finished the ward, I checked my hands for tattoo marks. None remained. The ink had gone, burned out along with the Whisper.

  We retraced our steps in silence, knowing there was no chance the mages wouldn’t be waiting for us upstairs after the force of that blast. Someone would have felt it, and my luck was about to run out. I just hoped I could stall them in time for Keir to escape. He deserved to get his brother back, even if I never saw the light of day again.

  When we reached the lobby, however, we found it deserted.