The Rise of the Dark Lord

by Ashley, Kristen

  He did some deep breathing and got it under control because he was Ash.

  I kinda wished he hadn’t (not only because I liked that he displayed he was human with a human’s emotions, but that he trusted that to me).

  But he did get it under control.

  “Okay, so more evidence outside the fact she made you that she was totally awesome,” I whispered when he pulled his face out of my neck.

  “Yes,” he agreed gruffly.

  “Love you, baby.” I kept whispering.

  “And I you, sweetheart.” He was also whispering at the same time running his thumb over the wet still on my cheeks.

  “We’re totally gooey,” I told him.

  “Name one gooey thing that isn’t good,” he demanded of me.

  I couldn’t think of even half of one.

  See?

  My man was all around the greatest.

  “Did you really read when you were five?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Well, I’m kinda a prodigy like that too. Mom could never find me when she took me to a bookstore because I was always in the magazine section, flipping through a Vogue when I was five. And four. And three.”

  He grinned at me.

  I grinned at him.

  Then he kissed me.

  Just so you know, the dress fit like a glove.

  Magic.

  So, the next day, I get a Facetime demand from my mom.

  I accept it.

  And she’s lost her mind.

  But as was becoming familiar, she’d thought I’d lost mine.

  I knew this when she shrieked, “Mathilda Honeycutt, have you lost your mind?”

  To which, my obvious reply was, “No.”

  Just so you know, she was calling because I’d told Su about the gown, Su told Viv, Viv told Mom.

  Enter Facetiming with my mom shrieking at me.

  Then she says.

  Get this.

  “Has it occurred to you that I might want you to get married in my gown?”

  Now, there were two (scary) parts to this declaration.

  Part I: Since learning of my father’s existence, I’d seen their wedding pictures. And my mother was an Earth Mother. And this didn’t happen when she became a mother. As far as I knew, she’d been born an Earth Mother.

  In other words, her gown was crocheted from top to bottom.

  With hemp yarn.

  ACK!

  Part II: I was not liking where this was going because no way I was going to be one of those brides whose mother hijacked their wedding.

  “Mom, you got married in crocheted hemp,” I explained, thinking that was a pretty thorough explanation since she’d known me since before I was born.

  “And?”

  And?

  “Uh…”

  “Now, you know I’m sensitive to Sebastian’s loss, but—”

  “Mom, you do know that Hell will freeze over before I wear crocheted hemp to my wedding.”

  Complete and utter silence.

  And okay, that was harsh.

  But I was not going to have a Momzilla taking over my wedding.

  I quickly filled the silence.

  “No offense. The pictures are sweet. As usual, you worked it. It’s just not me and you know that.”

  “You do know, Mathilda…”

  Oh man.

  She rarely called me by my full name.

  She only did it on certain occasions.

  So I settled in mentally because I knew I was in for it.

  “…this is not what’s considered a traditional ceremony.” She went on. “It’s traditional, for certain. But not for witches. What’s traditional for us is a handfasting ceremony.”

  Confession Time:

  I know I’m supposed to be saving the world.

  I know I’m supposed to be tracking magickal relics and girding my loins for the battle of my life.

  And when I was not, I should be practicing on my broomstick, learning our history, perfecting my craft, and generally making up for thirty years of life where I was not at my studies when other good young witches were testing spells, getting their broomstick permits, learning to rhyme and so-mote-it-being all over the place.

  But I told myself I was learning our ways by boning up on the handfasting ceremony. How the elements are brought in. How the Goddess is served. How the congregation is involved.

  Etcetera, etcetera.

  So I knew how Ash and my ceremony would go.

  Down to the second.

  “Mom—” I tried to cut in.

  “Your officiant will be a stand-in for the Goddess,” she declared.

  “Mom—”

  “And you must prepare, for you must bring the rain, the wind, the earth and the fire, and I doubt very seriously Sebastian’s mother’s gown is fire retardant.”

  Like hemp was.

  “Mom—”

  “And the weaving, and who will do it.”

  “Okay, Mom, but listen—”

  “Now, your father and I decided we would let slide Sebastian doing something so un-wiccan-conventional as giving you an engagement ring, but only because he wears your own token which is unconventional for humans. And, of course, we both know how much you like diamonds.”

  “Mom, would you—?”

  “But really, I must step in at this juncture and—”

  Oh my Goddess!

  Enough!

  “Mom, Gran’s going to be the officiant. You, Dad, Gabe, Su, Viv and Marcus are going to do the weaving. And I’m going to conjure spells to keep us dry when the rain comes, safe when the fire comes, and steady when the earth moves.”

  And protected when the winds came, but I wasn’t going to mention that because Mom wouldn’t think we needed protection from that, but nothing was going to mess up my hair on the Big Day.

  I had not passed all this by Ash, but I didn’t think he’d have an issue with it.

  I wasn’t sure if Mom had issue with it because all I was getting was more silence from her while she stared at me over the phone.

  “I have it covered,” I assured her. “Except I didn’t want to share all of that through Facetiming. I wanted to ask you all to be a part of our Big Day at an engagement celebration when the world wasn’t in danger and then I’d give you each your thread. And also, I’m wearing flowers in my hair so I need you to get on that and design what you think you want to do so I can approve it before you make my laurel for the day.”

  No silence then.

  I watched my mom’s face crumble and heard a muffled sob.

  “Mom,” I said softly.

  “You’re very far away,” she sniffled.

  “Okay, I’ll stop planning until all this business is done and we’ll pick it up when we’re back together.”

  “You’re in England, Matty.”

  I was confused at this information being parlayed when I was the one in England, so I already knew that.

  I still said, “Yeah.”

  “And your vision…”

  Oh.

  Right.

  She knew about that.

  “Mom, I’m okay.” I was back to assuring.

  “Sebastian said you weren’t going there,” she replied.

  “Well, we had a homicidal elf to sort out,” I noted.

  “And you did that. So I don’t understand why you’re still there.”

  “I’m not close to The Gables.”

  “You’re far closer to The Gables there than you are in Denver.”

  I couldn’t argue that.

  “Mom—”

  “I’m a mother. I worry.”

  It was time for me to give her silence.

  “I’m your mother, Matty. And I’m worried.”

  Crap.

  “I know, I’m sorry—” I began.

  “I don’t have good feelings.”

  Crap.

  “And I’m not getting good visions or readings,” she went on.

  Goddess dang it.
r />   “It’s gonna be okay.”

  Yep, more assuring.

  And maybe lying.

  But time would tell.

  “You know, I never wanted it to be you,” she blurted.

  Whoa!

  Really?

  I totes did not know that.

  “Your father and I talked about it,” she shared. “We even fought about it. He said we were honored the fates bestowed on us the Prophesied One. I thought that was bunk. Who wants their daughter to save the world?”

  I never thought about it, but yeah.

  Electrocution. Kidnapping. Magic-stripping ceremonies. Kill spells.

  Totally yeah.

  That’d probably suck.

  “You know, when I do it, it’s gonna be pretty cool. I might get a national holiday. Maybe an international one.”

  And if I did, I was petitioning for it to include everyone having to wear glitter.

  Patrick got green.

  I get glitter.

  “That’s you,” she muttered. “That’s my Matty. You always looked on the bright side. You might have to climb into your princess fortress for a spell to find the bright side, but when you climbed out of it, you’d found it.”

  Mom knew about my princess fortress?

  “You know about my princess fortress?”

  “My dearest, sweetest girl,” she said in a voice I’d never heard. And seriously, it was the dearest, sweetest voice in the whole world. “You’ll learn. Mothers know everything.”

  Crap, crap, crap!

  I started crying again.

  “I am honored, you know,” she said through my tears. “That you’re mine. But I’d be that even if you didn’t save the world.”

  Yup.

  Cried harder.

  “There’s Sebastian,” she said just as Ash stalked in, glaring at the phone in my hand like he was going to annihilate whoever was on the other end, upsetting me. “I’ll let you go and don’t listen to a mother’s worried prattling. I have every faith in you. I might not have understood all the things in your life that you wanted, but I admired how you found a way to get them. And you always did, Matty. I may be worried, as is a mother’s wont. But I don’t doubt. That won’t end now, my precious girl. Hello and goodbye, Sebastian,” she said to Ash who was now hovering, scowling over my shoulder at Mom.

  “Hanna,” he grunted.

  She smiled a small smile and disappeared from my screen.

  I dropped my hand and looked up at my man.

  “Do I need to lock your phone in the closet with the television?” he asked.

  How was I going to stay on top of my @WorldCookeryDomination Instagram account (yes, that was what I named Lucy and my Insta) without my phone?

  “No,” I answered.

  “We’ll see,” he muttered, bent, touched his mouth to mine and prowled right back out.

  So, yeah.

  Two emotional days.

  Upside: I have my wedding gown and it ticks so many boxes (most especially the one that would make our wedding even more special for my man), it wasn’t funny.

  Downside: If Mom was worried, then everyone I loved was worried.

  It isn’t like I didn’t know that, on some level. I just didn’t think about it.

  Now I was thinking about it.

  So the writing was on the wall.

  Or the face was on Facetime.

  I had to pull my finger out.

  Take care of Darling and Bligh.

  And get on with the good parts of life.

  So everyone I loved could do the same.

  23 October

  You know, this Prophesy business is weird.

  But shizzle was finally becoming clear.

  Because we were reaching critical mass with all this malarkey about the supernatural world and the normal one and there had been a few (but thankfully only a few, elves couldn’t be messed with, witches either, really) ugly reports of some clashes that weren’t all that great.

  But it couldn’t be denied that there was some hysteria building and Prunella (and I had to admit, Agent Perry) and their ilk were speaking out and they were good spokespeople.

  Normal-looking.

  Articulate.

  But even so.

  Even if they were sharing genuine information to combat the misinformation.

  Even if the FWA and the BWC (and their ilk across the globe) had put up websites, created Facebook pages (etc.), started public chat rooms and were organizing speaking tours that debunked (or would debunk) some of the shit that was being spread, and instead shared the real story.

  It wasn’t getting through as hysteria was a pretty tough barrier to break.

  As for me, I was neck deep in my hunting down the baddies business and I was at a crucial juncture where I was thinking I might have another lock (this time, on the grimoire! If we got that, it’d be huge!) and I didn’t have time to be the Material Girl Next Door Spokeswoman for All Witches.

  Then Josie came forward.

  And it wasn’t until her interview, when she intelligently, knowledgeably and succinctly explained her time with witches. How she was a target of unknown forces, and how a witch had protected her, brought her into the family, took care of her and her son.

  How she’d gained sisters, and he aunties.

  And how she did not know where she’d be without us.

  What she did know was that she very well might be dead.

  It was emotional, but not too emotional.

  She was sincere and conveyed that.

  Really, she was just believable. Trustworthy. And made sense.

  Her interview aired here, prime time, BBC.

  But within a couple of days, it was—in whole or parts—released on networks everywhere.

  Not to mention the internet.

  It wasn’t like everything calmed down immediately.

  But there was a definite positive reaction that if this normal, everyday chick trusted “them” with herself and her son, maybe “they” weren’t all that bad.

  And then, more Spellbound came forward and shared their stories.

  Not thousands of them, but Josie broke the seal.

  They wouldn’t seem weird or crazy that they’d trusted a witch with their woes.

  And that seemed to be getting through to people.

  Not to mention, as we sprang into action and took care of Maithieliel like we had, it was coming clear, in large and small ways, we’d been taking care of humans for centuries.

  So yeah, I could see it happening from here.

  This springboarding Josie to what she was meant to be.

  A leader for the future.

  Where all of us lived together, if not in harmony, or understanding, at least, well…

  Not in hiding.

  And that was something.

  26 October

  Lucy’s in town and she brought Daphne!

  Yay!

  She’s working with a photographer to take pictures of our stuff for our cookbook!

  Yay!

  We’ve met with the BBC and I shared I was a witch (not that they didn’t know, they’d seen the video footage) and they were all excited and wanted to use that in marketing and with the program as a way to spread tolerance and understanding of witches!

  Yay!

  Now all I had to do was save the world.

  Boo.

  31 October

  It is of note that the following passage was not written with Mathilda Guinevere Honeycutt’s own magic.

  But instead, her residual magic.

  As communicated to this Book of Shadows during the happenings on Hallowe’en in London and at the residence of Mavis Honeycutt…

  The Gables.

  31 October

  I woke, my eyes snapping open, to bone-chilling cold.

  I was under the covers.

  On his bed, Ash had a down duvet as well as a coverlet (this was England and his flat was in a building that was like, 2000 years old (exaggeration) so at night, it got c
old, because, in England, except for about three months out of the year, all the time it was cold).

  In other words, it wasn’t just cold that was chilling me.

  I was cold from the inside out.

  I sat up, looked left, and the bed was empty.

  My world tilted.

  Where was Ash?

  “Ash?” I called into the dark.

  Nothing except a mew of warning from Daphne.

  Oh no.

  I threw the covers back, turned on the light and jumped out of bed.

  The instant my feet hit the floor, pins and needles shot up my legs due to the ice that was freezing me from marrow to skin.

  “Ash!” I yelled, seeing the bathroom door open, the light out.

  I still raced there, turning on the light, scanning the empty space, my chest hollow, my lungs finding it difficult to function.

  Something was wrong.

  Wrong, wrong, wrong.

  I ran back into the bedroom.

  As normal, his pillow didn’t have an indent.

  Because he didn’t use it.

  He used mine, curled into me.

  We slept that close, and he was so good at cuddling, it never got annoying.

  And we were in England, and his body was warm, so he made it so that I was never cold.

  We’d gone to bed together.

  I’d woken in the middle of the night alone.

  But I hadn’t felt him go.

  Panting to try to draw in breath, and my lungs burning so I knew I was failing, I dashed out of the bedroom, down the hall into the living room, and through the rest of the flat, turning on lights, Daphne on my heels.

  When I didn’t see him anywhere, I looked for notes.

  Gone running.

  Or.

  At the gym.

  The usual.

  I knew I wouldn’t find these because it wasn’t early morning when Ash usually liked to work out.

  It was the middle of the night.

  Where was he?

  I raced back to the bedroom to snatch up my phone.

  Dialing him, I looked to his nightstand just in time to see his phone light up and sound with my call.

  My heart stopped.

  He never went anywhere without his phone.

  Where…

  Was..