“Listen,” Moira stepped forward, resting a hand on her alarmingly large belly. “Whatever Cunty McSkinsack has told you about our prophecy and our children are rank lies. Y’all witnessed Tierra’s winged angelic miracle and I think you are powerful enough to sense that she’s nothing but a beam of light in this world. And this little’un is fixin’ to replace this Mephi-syphilis as Ceann Dorcha, The Dark One. Not dark like this satanic taint stain, but dark like the night. Like death and shadow and repose and renewal. Her purpose is balance, but in the way of nature, not the way of power. Read the book. Learn the truth. Summon the specters of the past to bear witness.”
Aerin started as Claire nudged her from her place at her right side, gesturing to something behind the devil. Threads, it seemed. Little dark spools, almost too faint for the eyes to see, wending their way to her from each of the gathered witches.
The coven saw it too. Their reactions vast and varied as they realized what Lucy was taking from them.
“Better women than you have sought to replace me,” Lucifer vowed, “Your spawn will never get the chance.” A miasma of black overtook her pupils, her irises, and then the whites of her eyes until her gaze was nothing but unfathomable evil. “I will imprison you here, Moira de Moray with the same chains I used to geld Conquest. I will suck the power from the unborn, and then it’s life. I am the Ceann Dorcha and will forever be.”
The threads tying the coven to her became stronger, more corporeal and she undulated like a woman in the throes of ecstasy. Grim dropped to her feet as a black swirling cloud levitated her above the ground. Dark tendrils streamed from her hands, lashing toward Moira.
Without a second thought, Aerin dove in front of her sister, allowing the tendrils to encircle her own wrists.
She knew this spell. She knew this power. She’d read about it in the back of the Grimoire. In the pages that were verboten.
Insatiable Chains, it had been called. A spell used to steal from its victim. Youth, beauty, luck, and, when applicable, power.
Life.
A chilling pain lanced through her as she felt the spell go to work, ripping her away from herself in slow, agonizing increments.
Her sisters rushed to retaliate.
“You will not,” Tierra drew her fingers into claws and the building shook.
“We’ll end you first.” On Aerin’s other side, flames ignited in Claire’s hands. She could sense Moira draining the air of moisture, could hear it knocking about in the pipes below them.
Claire’s fireball hit Lucy in the arm, knocking one of the chains free.
Aerin screamed in agony as a scorching burn blistered her skin.
“Whatever you do to me now, will be done to those in my thrall,” Lucy warned, her lips pulled back in a smile of brilliant glee as her sisters hesitated.
Around such putrefying power, Gwen’s features, like all the rest, were beginning to disintegrate. “You burn me, you burn your sister. Drown me, imprison me in ice or vines, and so shackled is Aerin. What would you do? Trap all these women in a blaze? The walls are warded and can only be penetrated by darkness. No magical being, witch, nor horseman can get in or out.”
“Maybe,” Aerin labored to speak around the unfathomable pain. “But Hillbillies can.”
Summoning her dwindling powers, she activated Plan B.
Aerin was barely given time to enjoy Lucifer’s almost dog-like glance of befuddlement before the windows to the Raven Rook shattered and four ridiculous humans blew inside, straddling brooms and whooping up a ruckus.
Sal, wearing the armor of an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and ratted jeans, crash landed by them and wrestled his broom to the ground.
“Ha!” he hollered. “And they kicked me out of hog ridin’ on account of me bein’ dumped on my head so much.” His victory smile was cut short when he took in their situation. With a motion smooth and strong for a man his age, he scooped up the girl who’d been like a daughter to him, and deposited her sidesaddle on the broom.
“C’mon Moira Jo, time we git the hell outta Dodge.”
Moira didn’t tear her eyes from Aerin, though she clutched at the broomstick as if afraid to fall. “I can’t leave!”
“You’re the only one who can,” Aerin gritted out. “Darkness. The baby will unlock the wards.”
“It’s impossible,” Lucy screeched.
“No, it isn’t.” Aerin laughed triumphantly. Or maybe she moaned, it was hard to tell. “You forget that not only did you live in my body, I lived in your mind, too. I know how strong you are… but I know your weaknesses too.”
Moira shook her head. “No. I’m not leaving the three of y—” Suddenly she doubled over and clutched her belly, her breath obviously stolen from her.
“Sal!” Aerin screamed, as a pulse of power drove her to her knees.
“10-4!” With a salute, the broom took off beneath them and he steered it toward the window. The entire room held its breath as he approached the window and then deflated as he wooshed through without so much as a hiccup. His entourage went YeeHawing after him with their legs kicking in the air.
Aerin’s relief was short-lived, however, as the three of them turned back to the devil, who had just had her best laid plans shit-kicked out of her.
And still, she held them a prisoner of her wrath.
As Aerin’s powers slid away from her, she felt the spell go to work on her life.
46
“We have something you want.” Julian’s cultured baritone crashed like a rogue wave over the din, leaving smooth silence in its wake.
The entire room turned to where two of the four horsemen stood, each framed by a separate shattered window, unable to advance any closer.
War, enormous and stone-faced, planted his boots on the left ledge. His awe-inspiring sword rested across the span of his shoulders, one hand grasping the hilt, the other hooked over the blade. His eyes blazed with the kind of wrath that had ended entire civilizations.
Pestilence stood two windows to the right, leaving a space in between them. Tall, dark, and impeccable, his expression was so mild as to be enigmatic as he pulled at the tips of his gloves one by one, sliding them from his graceful, masculine hands.
Conquest, Aerin assumed, would be found at Moira’s side, ushering her to safety.
There was no sign of Death.
Her heart surged at the sight of Julian, and her eyes drank in every lovely line and sinew of him. She wanted to call to him, to reach for him, but she’d barely the strength to keep her eyes open.
And he barely spared her a glance.
Instead, he addressed the assembly, though the daggers in his gaze were aimed directly at the Devil. “If any of you persist with any part of this endeavor, then I’d caution you not to have plans to leave this Inn alive. For it will become your prison and your graveyard. You’d better trust that Lucifer is a devil of her word and will keep the wards intact. Because the moment you fall into our hands, you will learn every meaning, every dark and terrible facet of the word suffering.”
Anxious glances and quiet murmurs thrummed through the coven as they took in the awe-inspiring sight that were these astonishingly masculine immortals.
Lucifer scoffed, yanking on the dark chain still imprisoning one of Aerin’s wrists, tumbling her to her hands and knees on the hard marble floors. “If you’re here to offer yourself as trade, you needn’t bother. You’ll belong to me soon enough.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Julian said blithely. “We’re here to offer you something you crave far more than any of us. Something you covet more than victory, revenge, or even power.”
“And what might that be?” she scoffed.
“Yourself.”
Death descended from the sky, strong and majestic. He landed in the middle window, his eyes burning holy condemnation and his onyx wings drawing in like an arch angel.
The limp body of a lithe woman draped over his arms.
Aerin felt the spell draining her slightly abate, as if its at
tention had gone elsewhere.
“We always knew this would be a last resort, but here we are,” Julian motioned to the remains, kept in a strange torpor of shadow. “I sent Bane on a quest to find your body. The only one that will not be rotted by the decay in your soul.”
Hunger gleamed in the abysmal wells of Lucifer’s eyes, even as her skin began to putrefy. “Why would I trade, when I can kill one of the four and thereby win the day?”
Claire stepped forward, the fire in her palms catching on her hair, in her eyes, igniting her with a beauty so fantastic, even Aerin wanted to cower before the heat.
“You don’t have the power to fight us all as you are,” she said, the carpets at her feet catching as she began to lose control of her temper. “And if Aerin dies here, so does everyone who watched it happen, including Gwen’s body.”
“Damn straight.” Tierra agreed, plaster pouring from the ceiling as the building shook with her rage. “Try finding a witch to possess then. And if you do, we’ll keep forcing you out until we figure a way to vanquish you for good.”
Whispers and murmurs intensified behind Lucifer as the witches processed what she had done to them. The proof of their pilfered magic. One of them snatched up the Grimoire.
Julian, held in check by the wards, ran his finger across a shard of glass still in the pane. “Tell me, would you rather wither again and again in a shell that will not contain the entirety of your power? Or would you prefer to have an immortal body back?”
Aerin scowled up at him. “Does this… seem like… a shit… idea to anyone else?” she managed.
“Done.” Lucifer released Aerin from the spell and lifted her hands to her sides prompting the darkness to levitate her upward toward Killian. “Give it over.”
Dru sliced through the air with his sword, creating a barrier. “Lower the wards first.”
Aerin felt the magic imprisoning them into the Raven Rook loosen and then fall.
“I’ve done my part.” Lucy reached for the body in Death’s hands. “Now keep your end of the bargain.”
“Have you guys lost your mind?” Aerin screeched. They were handing Lucifer exactly what she wanted to grow stronger. They might as well be handing her victory.
Death drew Lucifer away through the window, and out of their sight.
“Come on.” Claire said, wrapping one of Aerin’s arms around the back of her neck so she could stand. “Let’s get you out of here.”
With a flick of her finger, Tierra blew the sturdy wooden door off its hinges, testing the wards by marching through it.
On Aerin’s other side, Martha took her arm, looking over at her with an expression of conciliation. “We’re coming with you,” she said. “Well some of us are.”
They hobbled out onto the porch and sat down in the sunlight, breathing in the air.
Because of the power required of Lucifer to do what she’d done to Aerin, some of the witches had been nearly as drained as she. Claire and Tierra made several trips back inside to conduct a quick assessment of the damage, and spared precious time ministering spells and herbs to those who were pale, drained, frightened, and wounded.
“We never should have doubted. Never should have let fear take root,” Martha tutted, laying her hand against the burn on Aerin’s arm and murmuring a healing spell. “Not that it is an excuse, but no one is equipped for times like these. No one knows which side is the one with the truth, sometimes until it’s too late.”
“I understand,” Aerin replied, and she did. “I know what it’s like to be seduced by the darkness.”
Later, by the time all the witches had been led out onto Water Street, Aerin’s wound was little worse than a nagging sunburn. With what little strength she had left, she summoned her broom, noting that Claire did the same.
Tierra herded maybe half the coven down the street toward the fountain where they could climb the steps to uptown. “Everyone collect your things and your loved ones. You’ll shelter on the de Moray grounds tonight. We’ll ward the hell out of it.”
The other half…had gone with Melody. Following Lucifer, it seemed.
After a time, Death glided down on his ebony wings. “She’s gone for now,” Killian said, grabbing Tierra and kissing her. “It’ll be at least a full rotation of the moon before she can resurrect into an immortal body. If we’re lucky, it’ll take her longer.”
“Oh, good,” Aerin said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “We have twenty-four hours until all of our hard work is completely unraveled.”
Killian’s eyebrow lifted. “Uh, you’re welcome for saving your life.”
Aerin felt like growling. Screaming. Punching him. And thanking him. “I would have given my life if it would have meant the end of her! If it would have meant an end to this.” She thrust her hands to the destruction wrought on Main St. “My death would have been worth it if it saved lives.”
Lightning crackled across the cloudless sky, causing many of them to jump or cover their head out of impulse. Thunder followed, shaking the ground beneath their feet with the power of a Santa Ana earthquake.
“That wasn’t me,” Tierra said, glancing around with eyes wide as gooseberries.
“Nope.” A smile split Claire’s lips ear to ear as she beamed at what Aerin was now holding in her hand.
Aerin closed her palm around what felt like cold, smooth ivory at the top of which a moonstone was cast into the intricate tinges. The gentle pressure of a crown on her head carried the weight of the entire world’s demands. Of their destiny to either destroy the earth or save it.
Her wand. Her crown.
She’d earned it.
For some reason, she had thought that she’d feel something like victorious after such a momentous achievement. But instead she felt humbled. Grateful. Determined.
She needed to earn this honor. To deserve it.
Returning Claire and Tierra’s congratulatory hugs, she lifted her head and looked for Julian to share in this moment with her.
He was nowhere to be found.
Frowning she looked down into her hand, considering what she’d done. She was not, at her core, a selfless woman. Her entire life she’d only had herself to look after, to rely upon.
To care about.
And in such a short time, all that had changed.
She’d give her life for those she loved. She’d have died for Moira.
Moira! The thought of her bending down and clutching her belly had Aerin hopping on her broom. “We have to get to Moira!” she called to her sisters.
“I was feeling that, too,” Tierra agreed, allowing her mate to lift her in his arms and take off with a great beat of his powerful wings.
“Let’s go,” Claire took a running start and hopped on her broom.
Aerin reveled in the lash of the wind as she blew toward the mansion. She fixated on the spires visible above the rest of the town, knowing exactly which balcony was her sister’s.
The French doors were flung wide open as if in anticipation of their arrival. Aerin did a less-than-dexterous dismount onto the deck, nearly crashing into the fresh-water aquarium Moira kept for the rehabilitation of cracked-shelled turtles.
Though it’d been less than an hour since Moira had escaped, she’d done the impossible.
“Holy fucking shit balls.” Aerin breathed. “It’s a girl.”
Looking resplendent from where she reclined in the bed as deep and comfortable as seafoam, Moira speared her with an aquamarine gaze just as censoring as it was sparkling. “Aw man, now those are the first words little Seraphine Morgana de Moray ever heard from the aunt who save her life.”
Had Aerin not been so awe-struck and speechless, she would have pointed out that the kid had almost certainly already heard worse from her father in her blissfully short life.
The man in question stood next to the bed, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a cobalt blanket.
He stared down at the child with more grace and love than any depiction of a saint, virgin, or deity Aerin had ever
seen. He was a man lost in love and beaming with a heart she hadn’t known he possessed.
Justine had been standing beside Nick in a smart pink house frock, allowing Violet to look down into the bundle containing her cousin.
When Killian and Tierra landed, Justine returned the baby to her parents’ care. “My soul stayed right where it ought to be the entire time,” she said proudly. “And she only sprouted her wings the one time.”
Tierra kissed Violet as they all gathered around Moira’s bed taking a silent moment to stare in wonder at the being who brought them all full circle.
The Ceann Dorcha. The Dark One.
“You should be the first to hold her,” Moira said, nodding to Nick to hand her over.
Aerin balked, holding out her hands in protest only to have them filled with a baby.
“Don’t drop this one,” Tierra snarked. “I doubt she can fly.”
Aerin looked down and, for a moment, the entire word receded. She thought she distantly heard Moira and Tierra remarking about how, though being a de Moray witch came with a great deal of pain and responsibility, one perk was near instantaneous labor.
At least when immortal babies were involved.
Two little eyes the color of black sapphires gazed up at her from a tiny face. She knew babies at this age weren’t supposed to be able to focus very easily, but their eyes connected instantaneously, and Aerin read from within them a soul as ancient as the cosmos.
And a heart as good as it was dark.
“Don’t hide from your darkness little one,” she crooned, touching the tiny nose with her fingertip. “We’ll help you nurture it into something good.”
First, they would have to defeat the devil who was, even now, gathering her strength. Then they would need to save the planet from their own prophecy. But they’d find a way. Because they had to. For Violet and Seraphine.
Tiny fingers wrapped around her extended one with a surprisingly strong grip.
Which Witch is Willing? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 4) Page 24