The Were Witch Complete Series Omnibus

by Renée Jaggér

“So,” he wrapped up, “you can see part of the reason I chose you to be my protege, beyond your obvious power and talent. Your situation, in a fashion, mirrored my own. For all that your position in shifter society was that of a virtual outcast, you have since become a hero and your people’s champion.”

  She grinned. “Thanks. I try not to let it go to my head, but not gonna lie, it’s nice hearing you put it like that.”

  “Of course.” He returned the smile, but it faded quickly back to his usual stony expression. “But your rise has led us directly to our current predicament. You have, without intending to, upset the other gods and goddesses. You’ve forced them to alter their thinking about mortals and the types of possibilities that they allow for them. That is significant, Bailey. And though they feel you’ve been a force of chaos, you have also been a force for unity between Weres and witches, something never seen before.

  “The script has changed. They recognize possibilities for good in what you’ve done, but they also feel threatened by it. You can see how immortal beings who have existed for eons would be frightened by things that are new and different.”

  Bailey thought back to conversations she’d had with Roland about how they both sometimes felt as though hollow, hidebound traditions were holding them back. “It makes sense,” she agreed. “It’s like when all those alphas and shamans thought I was coming to take away their positions, though that wasn’t the idea.”

  “Of course.” Fenris’s mood darkened in an odd way. “Given what happened yesterday, it seems fair to say that one deity in particular is more threatened by you than any other.”

  She frowned. “Yeah, I guess.”

  The wolf-father stood up. “I do not mean to imply that my sister is...evil, only that she’s been compromised by her feelings and overreactions to recent events. Freya’s mindset is irrational, and if it does not improve, things will get worse for us.”

  “So,” Bailey queried, “how do we improve it?”

  “Any way we can. But,” Fenris added, “it may not be possible. We can try to persuade her with both words and deeds, but we cannot change her fundamental nature. If she refuses to see reason, there is the possibility of...confrontation.”

  The girl didn’t like the sound of that.

  “You told me before you didn’t expect us to fight. I sure as hell don’t want to, and it wasn’t that long ago that the two of you made a truce and helped me revive Roland. It’s not like she’s anywhere near as bad as Aradia, right?” She stared into the darkness under his hood.

  He spread his hands and shook his head. “I do not know. We will try everything else first, but we must consider that it might happen. If it does, you must be ready. I think we should run through a basic review of how to fight a goddess, and how, if need be, to kill one.”

  I did that once, Bailey thought. No desire to do it again, but Fenris is probably right. It’s better to be safe than sorry, and he knows Freya a lot better than I do.

  “Consider,” her mentor extrapolated, “all the deaths she’s indirectly responsible for through her choice of Ragnar to watch over you. Consider also how many people back home you’re responsible for now. If Freya decides that you are her potential enemy, all those people could be in danger.”

  The girl put her hands over her face and shook her head. “I don’t want it to come to that. We just finished one war against a goddess, and we don’t need another one. Shit!” She sighed. “Let’s do the review, then, but let’s also talk to her before we try anything more drastic, y’know?”

  Fenris stared at her. “So be it.” He motioned for her to rise. She got up, then strode across the floor to the open space before the fireplace.

  “If,” the wolf-father began, “you must fight the Lady of Sorcery, then there are two things to remember, both of which are of immense importance. The first is that the basic process is no different from when you battled Aradia—grounding yourself, opening up a conduit between you and her, and draining her power. The second is that Freya is substantially stronger than Aradia was, so you would not be able to overpower her through brute force. You’d have to fight defensively, relying on your Were abilities to give you the physical strength to resist the process rather than meeting her on even ground in a duel of magic.”

  She frowned. “I see.”

  Fenris rubbed his chin. “I’d like you to practice once again, using me as an anchor and reservoir. Oh, and a final thing to consider. It might come to pass that you must fight Freya without killing her. Embarrassing her could compromise her position and force her off the council. Then she would be bereft of the clout that led to yesterday’s disaster.”

  Bailey hadn’t thought about it that way. “Okay. Let’s get started.”

  * * *

  Someone knocked on the door. After their long discussion and practice regimen, Bailey and Fenris had relaxed, taking a break before they resumed the werewitch’s defensive magical training.

  The werewitch stood up. “I’ll get it.” She left Fenris sitting by the fire, though he kept an eye on her in case a new threat emerged.

  Beyond the door stood Carl. “Hello,” he greeted her. “Am I disturbing you? If not, I’d like to talk for a few minutes.”

  “Nah,” Bailey informed him. “We were chilling out before we worked on some stuff. Come in.”

  The scion stepped over the threshold and immediately locked eyes with her mentor.

  “Hello,” he said again. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Bailey and the wolf-god exchanged a quick glance, and she sensed that it would be better not to divulge his true identity. She recalled the name her teacher had gone by when he’d posed as a mortal.

  “This is Marcus,” she explained. “He’s a veteran were-shaman from the Cascade Mountains back on Earth. He’s been by my side this whole time, teaching me new stuff every step of the way. I would never have gotten this far without him.”

  Fenris rose and shook the other man’s hand. “Good to meet you. Bailey seems to like and trust you.”

  Carl squirmed a tad at the comment as though it embarrassed him. “Well, that’s good to know. Anyhow, at this point, the proverbial cat is out of the bag. As I said before, yes, I was sent by Balder to watch you, Bailey. I hope you still trust me, regardless. There was no facade, nothing dishonest about how hard I fought Ragnar. It was to protect everyone, but you especially. I don’t think you’re a threat to the council or anyone else unless they deserve it. I mean no harm. Nothing I’ve seen inclines me to deliver a negative report to my patron. Ragnar only thought you were dangerous because he was crazy. I wanted to clear the air between us.”

  The girl watched his face as he spoke. It occurred to her that a shapeshifter would make an excellent liar, but somehow she didn’t think he was trying to deceive her. And it was true about the recent fight with the berserker; he’d saved her life.

  “Okay,” she remarked. “You’re forgiven, and I see no reason for us to stop being friends. I’m glad I know the truth, but I believe you. Balder never seemed like he bore me any ill will. He confronted my boyfriend and me once and tested us, but he just seemed, I dunno, cautious. Not hostile.”

  Both Fenris and Carl nodded. “Yes,” affirmed the scion, “that sounds exactly like him.”

  They chatted about other things then, obliquely discussing the techniques they’d used in their fight with Ragnar without having to discuss the Viking since deep down, they both regretted having to kill him. Bailey revealed more about her background, though she took care not to divulge who Fenris was while she was at it.

  After a short while, the shaman entered the conversation. “Carl,” he began, “I am curious to see you in action. The particular combination of heritages you represent is uncommon, so I’d like to know what you can do.”

  Carl smiled but fidgeted, obviously feeling like he’d been put on the spot. “Well, what would you like to see?” he asked.

  A sly twist found its way to Fenris’s mouth. “How well you fight,” he sa
id. “I’m curious what skills Balder imbues his students with. Not against me, though, against an individual at your level. Bailey, for example.”

  The girl cocked an eyebrow at her teacher before looking at Carl. He seemed uncertain, but she told him, “Might be a good training exercise. Are we allowed, though? I dunno why they’re keeping us in our damn rooms since the threat has been neutralized.”

  Fenris moved toward the door. “I’ll take care of it. Come. I think we all would do well to get some fresh air right now.”

  The werewitch and the scion followed. Bailey put a hand on Carl’s arm.

  “Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “Marcus is a hell of a teacher. He can be rough, but he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to either of us. Besides, this oughta be fun.”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I suppose so.”

  They closed the door behind them and traversed the halls toward the main entrance to the manor-barracks, where a pair of valets tried to stop them.

  Fenris drew himself up to his full height. “Let us pass,” he demanded, his voice low but powerful. “You know who I am. It would be better for everyone if you did not interfere with my wishes. The murderer has been dealt with, and I’ll not have my pupil’s time wasted. She and her sparring partner need training as long as they’re here. I shall supervise.”

  One of the valets bit his lip. The other hemmed and hawed and tried to resist, but he soon gave up and allowed the trio to leave the building.

  Fenris took them out and then through the inner gates toward a dirt yard behind the keep they hadn’t seen, which was enclosed by a low circular wall. It reminded Bailey of a small, crude gladiatorial arena.

  The god pointed at a nearby outbuilding. “That is where the trainers store all the weapons and armor they brought out for you to choose from during the melee. Help yourselves.”

  Bailey and Carl went into the small warehouse, where they saw the familiar lineup of dummies outfitted in armor, along with racks and racks of armaments.

  The scion laughed. “I could stand to blow off some steam. The tension from that lockdown combined with having to sit in our rooms most of the time is driving me insane.”

  “Same,” Bailey agreed. “I’ll say in advance, though, that it’s nothing personal when I kick your ass.”

  “Likewise.” He saluted her and dug into the buffet of accessories.

  Both trainees selected the outfits they’d worn during the free-for-all, with Bailey making sure to don the cape with its magic-reflecting scales. She traded in her second short sword for a light warhammer, figuring it would allow her to inflict more impact damage on Carl’s heavier armor. He, meanwhile, chose the same heavy one-handed mace and powerful gauntlet he’d used previously.

  They emerged and passed through the simple gate in the round wall. Fenris was standing atop one of the thick posts, and he watched them as they padded to the dusty ground in the center of the arena.

  The shaman raised his hands. “Rules. Do not kill one another, and you may use magic, which you will find works normally here, as it did during your spat with Ragnar. In fact, I encourage you,” he paused, “to employ what you’ve learned in your most recent lessons.”

  Ah, I get it, Bailey concluded, Carl’s part-god, so he wants me to practice what I’d need to do to fight Freya.

  “Begin,” Fenris said.

  Carl charged, and Bailey swept to the side before he’d completed his first step. The scion whirled and lashed out with his mace, conjuring a wall of fire three or four steps behind the girl’s position to keep her from retreating too far out of his threat range.

  She retaliated by sending a thin bolt of kinetic force toward his legs, knocking him to his knees, then charging in, whirling her weapons. He blocked her hammer with his mace and deflected the weaker blow of her sword with his armored fist.

  They separated, circling each other. Bailey thought since they both were armored that Carl might try electrocuting her. She focused on the subtle threads of electromagnetic energy in the air around them and constructed a quick and cheap but serviceable ward against lightning spells that appeared briefly as a whitish glyph floating in the air over her shoulder and then went invisible. She could feel its lingering protection.

  Carl instantly tossed a thunderbolt. She wondered if he knew what she’d done and was testing to confirm it. The deadly electrical surge fizzled uselessly about two feet from her face.

  “Ha!” She sneered. “Nice try.” Then they clashed, and her world became a whirlwind of sweat and clanging steel.

  Bailey rapidly found herself on the defensive. Though not as massive as Ragnar, Carl approached him in terms of being a physical powerhouse. He had more reach and upper-body muscle mass than she did, and his divine heritage made him a match for her extra strength as a lycanthrope. She fell back from the onslaught of his heavy blows, grasping that she’d need to try different tactics.

  She sprang away, dodging nimbly and forcing him to chase her. He did at first, then switched to unleashing blasts of magic, including the occasional lightning bolt that continued to be absorbed by her electrical ward.

  Bailey concentrated, her mind seeking the godly part of her opponent. During his next attack, a whirling projectile of sonic vibrations and ice-cold wind, she felt the source of his power, just as she felt Fenris nearby. He would be an anchor if she needed one.

  The girl caught the whirlwind of sound and cold and tossed it aside, then envisioned a pronged wire emerging from her chest to plug into Carl’s heart. She secured it to the ground and felt his power seeping out.

  He gasped and tossed a hasty fireball at her, and she used her cloak’s scales to deflect it, thinking the structure of the cloak was much like the structure of the shields Fenris had told her about last night.

  Sensing that his magic had weakened, Carl resumed attacking using brute force. Any of his furious blows might have knocked her out, and he was pretty fast. Bailey was faster, and her shifter capabilities and long training with Fenris had given her stamina and endurance he couldn’t match.

  He began to falter. Exulting in the prospect of victory, Bailey struck him with a wave of gently-electrified water that paralyzed him with nasty static shocks, then hit him with a blast of cold, freezing the moisture that had gotten through the cracks in his armor. He could barely move. She jump-kicked him to the ground, then whacked his breastplate with her hammer and his helmet with her sword.

  Carl reeled but swiped up with his mace while grabbing her ankle with his gauntleted left hand. There was no way to dodge the blow entirely. Instead, she turned her body so it glanced off her chest, conjuring a spring and a rippling shield at the point of impact.

  Her hasty magic wasn’t perfect, but it was enough that the mace struck with only about a quarter of the force it should have had. She let out an oof, but she wasn’t injured. She hit Carl with another electrical shock, followed by a second strike to his helmet with her hammer. Her ward protected her from being shocked as the metal head of the bludgeon struck the sparking steel.

  Carl raised a hand. “Yield,” he gasped.

  Bailey stepped back, breathing heavily. “Not bad,” she congratulated him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fenris watching her closely and listening.

  The scion had trouble getting up after the drubbing he’d taken, so she helped him to his feet and shook his hand. “It was a good fight,” she said. “You’re damn strong and fast. I guess I’m used to having to fight many different kinds of opponents creatively.”

  He shook his head and pulled off his dented helmet. “Did you do something to me? I suddenly felt...drained, and my magic wasn’t working as well as it should have.”

  “Not that I can recall,” she lied, sensing that she ought not reveal what Fenris had taught her to do. “I threw a lot of shit at you, and it all happened too fast to think about it too hard. In all fairness, I barely won.”

  The tall shaman leaped down from the post. “I will return to the room,” he told t
hem. “Perhaps you two should go eat.”

  They agreed and headed to the mess hall, where the cooks briefly argued that they were still supposed to be in their rooms before grudgingly serving them a meal of thick beef and vegetable stew, along with buttered cornbread and more hard cider.

  “Well,” Carl mused, “now that I’ve had more time to think it over, I suspect that warhammer was what really won you the battle. Swords can’t do much against plate armor unless you get a pointy one and thrust it through the armpit or something like that. Bludgeon-type weapons are better. That was why I chose the mace, though since you weren’t in heavy armor, I might have done better with a sword.”

  She laughed. “Live and learn. You never know what kind of armor, weapons, magic, or whatever else an opponent is going to have, so it helps to know how to fight in multiple ways.”

  The thought entered her head that Carl had probably not been briefed about Fenris’s involvement. If Balder had told him, he had done a fine job of disguising his recognition. Bailey suspected the scion didn’t know and legitimately believed that “Marcus” was a regular albeit wise and powerful were-shaman. She’d wait until Fenris gave her permission before she revealed his identity.

  They continued to chat over their meal, finally retiring to the manor hall, where Bailey said goodnight to her friend at his door.

  He nodded. “Goodnight, yourself. Give me a day or two to recover before we spar again.”

  “Deal,” she acceded, then returned to her room.

  Fenris was waiting for her, as she knew he would be.

  “Well done,” he intoned. “You used a limited form of grounding to weaken him without killing, and you managed a crude deflective shield under pressure. There’s work to do on that front, but you have your foot in the door, so to speak.”

  “Thanks.” She sat down, realizing how tired she was, and kicked off her boots.

  Fenris stood up from his seat by the fire the same instant she lay back on the bed. Without looking at her, the wolf-god added, “You’ve done enough for today. Tomorrow, I will be leaving to speak to the council again. Freya needs to be confronted. Not yet with violence, but with the facts of her own foolishness where the other gods can hear. When I see how everyone reacts, I can tell you more.”