The Were Witch Complete Series Omnibus

by Renée Jaggér

  Heads turned and the gods all looked at one another, exchanging subtle nods and gestures. They looked back at the young woman before them.

  “We agree,” Thoth said, “that you seem to possess greater control than you had when you were first brought before us. The difference is not as pronounced as we would like, but the fact remains that you have shown improvement in a very short time.”

  The girl blinked. She’d expected them to throw another bullshit accusation or challenge her way. Instead, they’d complimented her.

  “Uh, thanks,” she stammered. “I try. And I usually succeed.”

  Thoth went on before she could comment further. “However, this by itself is not enough. We must know more about your abilities, your judgment, and your temperament. Each of us has specific concerns of his or her own. Thus, in order to proceed, you must pass a series of tests put to you by every member of this council.”

  Bailey tried not to grimace. Fuck. Nothing can ever be easy, can it? Well, Fenris told me they’d require this.

  The six stood up from their seats, continuing to stare straight at her, then five of them turned and filed to the sides of the chamber, circling its periphery before making their way out through the hazy barrier. None objected to the presence of Carl, who had remained standing near the far corner of the chamber.

  The deity who remained was Balder. Rather than follow his brethren, he took two steps forward, his bright blue eyes staring into Bailey’s while his beautiful face became somehow grimmer and more severe.

  “Good day, Bailey,” he began. “I will be the first to challenge you, a simple test. Combat. Not to the death, merely an assessment of your skill as a melee fighter. Have you a preferred weapon?”

  Bailey wondered if she could trust a god to play fair in a duel. She didn’t think he intended for her to beat him, simply make a good showing.

  “Short swords,” she suggested. “Two of them, if possible, or one short sword and a buckler?”

  Balder smiled. “Done. Look behind you.”

  She turned, and floating in midair was a blade much like the ones she’d used at the training grounds, something halfway between a Roman gladius and a Viking-era sword, though much finer. Its hilt was worked with gold and diamonds, and the blade was so polished it could double as a mirror.

  Next to it was a small handheld shield that looked like it was made of solid silver, though it must have been a harder and stronger metal that was enchanted or overlaid.

  Bailey took both items in her hands and turned back to the god of light and beauty, who had drawn his own sword and raised his own shield. They were similar to hers but slightly larger, and his shield was gold rather than silver.

  Behind her, she saw Carl tense as he watched the pair fall into a fighting stance.

  The deity raised his golden shield toward the girl, his sword held high behind him. “On your guard, Bailey Nordin. Begin!”

  She brought up her buckler in time to intercept Balder’s stunningly fast sword stroke. The shining blade slid off the curved surface, but the force behind the blow was enough to drive her back a step.

  Balder pressed his advantage, as she’d figured he would. She moved her buckler in a small circle before her, the better to ward off blows from multiple directions, and two strong hits sent shockwaves up her arm. At the same time, she ducked down and forward, swiping her own sword at Balder’s legs.

  She did no real damage, but one stroke to his knee gave him enough pause for her to shove her shield into his side while stabbing at his face. She knew he’d avoid it; the goal was to distract and imbalance him.

  For a moment, it seemed she’d succeed. Then the god rallied and pressed her with stunning speed and power. It was all she could do to keep her shield in front of her face or torso while relying on her were agility to protect her limbs.

  Then her sword came down on Balder’s arm an inch or two above the elbow; the wound was not severe, but on a mortal, it would have drawn blood. He bled shining golden ichor instead.

  Balder’s sword lunged out in retaliation and grazed the girl’s hip as she pivoted away, leaving a cut in her pants and scratching the skin. The combatants separated, eyeing each other.

  Surprisingly, the tall god smiled and sheathed his sword. “We are done,” he stated. “I could have fought harder had I wished to vanquish you, but I did not go easy on you either, and you made a good showing.”

  “Thanks,” she panted. The blade and buckler vanished from her hands.

  “You seem more in control,” the blond deity added, “more measured and tactics-minded. And though it may not have been obvious to you previously, you were bleeding excess magic when you came before us the first time. You have gained control over the worst of that.”

  Indeed, she hadn’t known, but now that she’d learned more, she believed it.

  Balder went on, “Carl has told me good things about you. Between that and your fine performance here today, I believe you deserve a chance. Carl? Do you still feel the same way?”

  The dark-skinned scion stepped forward and gestured at the girl as she stood catching her breath.

  “Yes, my lord. Bailey has done well, and I’ve no reason to suspect her motivations or question her integrity. I agree with your decision.”

  Balder smiled at the girl. “You have my ‘yea’ vote, Bailey Nordin.” He stepped back, then strode toward the arch.

  The werewitch called after him, “Vote for what?” He did not respond and vanished behind the screen of effervescent mist.

  Clemency, she supposed, but beyond that, she had no understanding of the significance of yea versus nay.

  Before she could ponder the matter further, in stomped Thor Odinson.

  “Bailey!” he roared. “It is my turn. I’ve come to test you with Mjölnir. Are you ready?”

  With that, he pulled his hammer out of thin air. Mounted on a short handle, its double-sided head looked especially mighty and incredibly heavy. She could not say what material it was made of, possibly a strange amalgamation of stone, steel, and perhaps platinum.

  She drew herself up to her full height. “Do I get a weapon too?”

  The god laughed. “No, we’re not fighting. Mjölnir is a weapon, but it’s more than that. It has always been used to test the mettle of those who might wield it. As a youth, I was self-centered, impetuous, and foolish. I had to improve before I could lift the hammer. We shall see if you require similar refinement.”

  With a flippant motion, he tossed the hammer in front of him. It moved in a short arc and then fell to the floor with a heavy clank, head down, the haft sticking upwards.

  Thor raised a finger. “To clarify, the test is not to see if you are like me. None are! Rather, it is to determine if you have the self-control any god must possess.”

  He lowered his voice for the first time, speaking little above a whisper. “Can you put your duties above your personal desires, Bailey Nordin? Can you enforce the discipline you’ll need to do the right thing?”

  The girl looked at the hammer that rested two paces in front of her. She stepped forward and made ready to kneel, staring at it. It didn’t look that heavy up close.

  Yet, something about the way it had landed as if someone had dropped a two-ton anvil on a powerful magnet...

  She wrapped her hands around the hilt and waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

  Am I doing something wrong? Shit. Think about what Thor said, Bailey. Duty. Self-control. That’s what’s important.

  She reflected on all Fenris had shown her, the responsibilities of shamanhood and godhood, and the people back home depending on her.

  Bailey lifted, and the hammer rose in her hands. It felt like it weighed perhaps three pounds. Her eyes widened in shock.

  Thor clapped a hand to his belly. “Ha! Ha, ha, oh, that’s rich! What do you plan to do with it now?” He looked at her askance, one eye staring into hers beneath its bushy red brow.

  Raising the hammer, she found that it didn’t seem all th
at powerful. It wasn’t much different from a basic mallet she might have used in Gunney’s shop.

  She shrugged and handed it back to Thor. “It’s yours, not mine,” she said. “But I passed, didn’t I?”

  “Indeed!” The thunder god put the weapon behind his back, and it vanished into thin air. “Mjölnir would not have served you or empowered you the way it does me, for it is bound to me alone, yet its ability to refuse to be picked up by the unworthy applies to all. Well done.”

  With a respectful jerk of his wide chin, Thor left.

  Bailey sighed and exchanged satisfied glances with Carl, who’d continued to watch from his corner. Before they could speak, the shimmering barrier parted again, and in came Coyote.

  “Why, hello,” the trickster greeted her, pawing one of his ears. “You seem sharp. Perceptive. But not everyone, or everything, is as they seem. Let us test the true extent of your capabilities.”

  Something shimmered and wavered. The girl couldn’t see what was happening for a second or two, then suddenly, a dozen Coyotes stood before her. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and when the deity spoke, she couldn’t tell which one the sound came from. It may have been that all spoke simultaneously, the sound blended into a single voice.

  “You may point only once,” Coyote explained. “Observe, and point at the one of us who is real. The others are but illusions. Choose wisely, Bailey.”

  Crap, she cursed. This is like that thing in the temple with the two statues, but they at least gave us riddles, and we had the signs to go by, too. No hints this time, and if there was a way to tell where the real Coyote was as he conjured the others, I missed it.

  Sweat stood out on her brow, and her stomach fluttered. Then she thought of something.

  Closing her eyes, she created an illusion of herself, then doubled it as Deona the trainer had taught her, and further doubled the doubles until she had sixteen plus her original self; more than Coyote’s twelve. She dismissed the four “extra” ones.

  The werewitch spent a moment synchronizing the clones’ movements to her own. When she was confident they’d act in flawless unison, she had them line up in front of the dozen Coyotes.

  Then all of them pointed at the figure in front of them. Once.

  The doglike figures all let out short, barking, yipping laughs, and eleven of them vanished, leaving one two spaces to Bailey’s right as the real deity.

  “Clever!” he admitted and kept chuckling. “Technically, you are correct since you did point only once, and you did point at the real me. Your solution rivals the best of my jokes, and it demonstrates a mastery of that flexibility of thinking we require to power through situations when the rules seem to make things all but impossible.”

  He gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder as she stood, trying not to grin too blatantly, then ambled out of the chamber.

  Thoth was next. He did nothing save stand before her, his tall, dark form imposing but not malicious. He reminded her of the principal of her elementary school, whom she’d been sent to a couple times after misbehaving. The silence between them dragged out until the girl felt like shouting at him just to break it.

  Then he did. “What, Bailey Nordin,” the Egyptian god of wisdom queried, “do you intend to do as a goddess?” He fell silent and waited.

  The werewitch had to admit she was pretty much baffled by the question.

  “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “Watch over things, help my people, and take care of them. Beyond that, I don’t know; I’ll deal with it as I come to it. I’m willing to listen to the council’s advice. Doesn’t mean I’ll blindly do whatever you say since I can make judgments of my own, but I’ll consider your expert opinions before I jump to any conclusions.”

  Thoth did not respond or react in any way. It appeared that he wanted more out of her.

  “Honestly,” she went on, “all I ever wanted was to have at least a little freedom to myself, but otherwise, for all the people I care about to be happy and safe. I’d use my powers to help the people I’m responsible for, but I’d be smart about it. I’d listen to the rest of you on how best to do that without messing things up.”

  The eyes of the deity rolled slightly back in his head, and she perceived that he was contemplating her words.

  His broad mouth spread into something that came close to a smile, though not quite. “Very well,” he stated. “Wisdom, magic, and truth are part of my mantle, and I detect no lie in your answer, which is sound and will suffice. You shall move on.”

  She sighed. “Good.”

  With no further words, Thoth turned and left.

  The instant he stepped through the barrier in one direction, Loki passed him from the other. The Norse god of mischief, his black hair trailing behind him in the air, did not stop or alter his pace, but walked straight toward the girl, halting a single step in front of her.

  “Hmm,” he said, looking her over. “Eh. She’s fine. No test.” He gave her a wink, smirked with amusement, and turned to go.

  Bailey stood blinking, and Carl came up beside her. “He probably thinks it’s funny,” he mentioned. “Undermining how seriously the other gods are taking this. But it means you got another ‘yea’ vote.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.”

  Loki’s departure left only one more deity.

  In came Freya, moving with a slow, swaying gait, faintly ethereal while seeming real and earthy in her subdued haughtiness. The greenish light that hovered around her head resembled the glow of lightning in distant storm clouds.

  “You,” the goddess proclaimed, pointing a finger at Bailey’s face, “are a loose cannon. You are guilty of malevolence through ineptitude. Your inability to control your powers or grasp your place in the greater scheme of things has led to more problems and more suffering than you purport to have resolved. Answer this charge!”

  Rage boiled up in Bailey. She knew better than to give in to it; she also knew how to use it as fuel for her resolve.

  “No one else seems to think that,” she pointed out, her face neutral but her jaw firmly set, “and it sounds an awful lot like you’re accusing me of what you yourself are guilty of to deflect blame and suspicion. Ragnar killed a dozen innocent people before he tried to take me out. How is that my fault? How can you expect to sit on this council, judging me, when you didn’t make a good decision about who to send to keep an eye on me?”

  Freya’s eyes widened, and her face fell as though someone had spat on her. Bailey had seen the look on mortals; it was no different on a goddess. It was the way someone’s face appeared when they were about to lash out.

  “You dare?” the lady of witchcraft rasped. “You dare arrogate the right to question my competence? I, who have watched over humankind for eons?”

  Her hands leapt up, crackling with the combined powers of every element of both magic and nature. She was going to strike.

  There was a flash of light, but not from the goddess. Five forms phased into sight, materializing directly into their chairs. The other gods had returned to the chamber to head off the confrontation.

  “Freya,” Thoth boomed, “that is enough. You would kill her on our floor out of a sense of personal grievance? That would be most reckless.”

  Fuming, the goddess let the power in her grasp fade and choked back whatever comment she was preparing to blurt.

  The Egyptian raised his hand and announced, “We shall hear last testaments from all present before taking our final vote. Then it shall be decided who sits in that chair.”

  When he gestured at the empty seat, Bailey and Freya did nothing but stare each other down.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “We’ve heard enough,” said Thoth. “Let the vote proper commence.”

  The Oregonian werewitch and the Norse patron of sorcery stood side by side, the newer goddess and the old, and waited for the pronouncement. Each deity including Freya had submitted their personal commentary and the results of their tests. Carl had also stepped in t
o defend Bailey, and she’d been given one final opportunity to defend herself as well.

  As the girl waited, she could feel the storm of agitation growing in the powerful entity to her left. Freya was not like Aradia; she was stronger, but also more emotional and elemental. Both of them knew the information favored Bailey’s side of the story.

  Thoth looked around, and something invisible passed between him and the other four who sat on their thrones. Finally, he looked at Freya, who did not return his gaze.

  The Egyptian spread his hands. “So be it. By a vote of five to one, this council finds Freya unfit to fulfill her role at present and agrees to give Bailey a chance to sit in the vacant chair. Perhaps the best test for her is to perform those duties until Freya’s better judgment returns.”

  Bailey closed her eyes as relief surged through her.

  “What? This is farcical! Absurd!” Freya ranted. “She was a mortal mere months ago! This is unprecedented. I demand redress!”

  Thor scoffed. “Redress? You agreed to abide by the council’s decision!”

  Coyote shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s true, Freya. You cannot treat the vote as illegitimate when we all supported it as a means of decision. And you will be allowed to return to the council in time. Perhaps you might enjoy leaving behind the burden of its responsibilities?”

  The goddess did not reply to the thunder-god or the jokester, just spun to face Bailey.

  “I challenge her to combat by magic. If she would sit among us, let her prove she is as strong as we are in a duel to the death!”

  The girl returned the Norse deity’s blazing stare. She was cold inside, though, not only due to the danger involved in dueling another divine being—one more powerful than she’d faced before—but because of the uncanny sense that Fenris had known this would happen.

  Had he? she wondered. Was he preparing me not for a possibility but for a certainty? Did he try to act like it might not happen to bolster my courage or avoid the implications that he was sending me directly against his sister? In any event, he sure as shit did the right thing by training me for it.