“Nonsense. You know I’ve warded it. It’s waterproof. I’d prefer you kept it on you at all times.”
“I know, Mother, it’s just that it tangles in my hair.” She could totally lie to her mother. Mahdyia would be impressed… Actually, she’d roll her eyes, but whatever.
She placed her hands on Hazel’s arms, giving her the look that brokered no further argument. “It stays on from this moment forward. If you need me…well, I can bring you back here with a snap of my fingers. Rest easy, daughter. I will never let you venture too far without my assistance at the ready.”
Hazel gulped. She was taking the damn thing off as soon as she was out of her mother’s sight. The gem was her mother’s attempt to shackle her with her version of love. She didn’t need to wonder about her mother agreeing to the trip. It had to happen, fine, but it would be on her mother’s terms. No way she’d let Hazel go without a means of retrieving her. Out of sight—maybe; out of mind—never.
“You know I’d go with you if I could but I must stay behind to deal with this zombie mess.” She sighed. “One of the families tried to raise their deceased daughter and the spell went the wrong way. Not the first time we’ve dealt with something like this. Necromancy is not for the average witch but the grieving families just don’t understand sometimes. I need to be here to make sure the family is dealt with properly.” Her mother smoothed down Hazel’s hair, her hands moving to the sides of her face. “Make me proud out in the field, darling. That’s all I’ve ever asked. You are destined for great things. Everyone saw that today when you stepped up to take care of the problem. I expect you to rise to this occasion as well, as challenging as it may be.”
Hazel nodded, that familiar feeling of obligation nudging her. “I will Mother, always.”
“I know you will.”
And Hazel heard the underlying message there…because if you don’t, you will be such a bitter disappointment to me.
“Better get going. They don’t call Bridget ‘the Enforcer’ for nothing.” Her mother chuckled as she exited the bathroom, leaving Hazel to stare after her.
She reached up to finger the amulet once again with one hand and pulled her hair from the tight elastic with the other. “I live to serve, Mother.”
Destiny demanded it.
6
Travelling along time lines was an art rather than a science. Only a few witches could navigate successfully that way, though many had tried. Bridget Rose was one of them. Duke, not so much. It was a dangerous bit of magic. Only the strongest could survive the journey, let alone master the art. All Healers needed to have the experience, if only to weed out the weakest.
“This is so exciting!” The interns were tittering off to the side. All hiding their anxiety, which Duke could feel amplified with each second that passed. They didn’t grasp what was about to happen, the cost for convenient travel.
Duke was standing by the launch pad, waiting on Hazel. She was late. Had she figured out a way to get out of it after all? Had her mother decided at the last minute that her precious prodigy would get her field hours in another, safer way? The interns had said that Mother Knight had paid them a visit, had reminded them about the importance of making a good impression. So where was Hazel? Being coddled? Hugged? Seemed unlikely. From what Duke remembered of Mother Knight, she was not actually the mothering kind.
“Create a circle,” Bridget commanded, motioning for the group to round up and fall in line. “You’re all familiar with the chant? In theory, at least?”
Even with his back to her, he could sense Hazel’s approach. She was moving quietly, a cloud of heavy thought surrounding her like an aura. He had to wonder at the level of devotion to her mother’s grand plans that would cause her such feelings. An encounter with her mother garnered pensive eyes, a closed expression, no smile.
He couldn’t help but feel that this mother-daughter bond was hard on Hazel, harder than she realized, that the devotion alone was costing her bits of her personality, certainly her free will. That she would deny her feelings for him, the chemistry they’d had—still had—was enough to tell him of the battle that waged in her head. What they’d experienced over the last year had not be a mistake or a tryst. The feelings he’d developed for his sweet village girl would not be dismissed because of duty—not without a fight, anyway. The fact that Hazel was so torn, that he could practically feel the battle waging, boded well for him. It meant she wasn’t completely devoted to her destiny, or at least there was enough dissonance to give her pause. The field trip was a perfect opportunity for him to show her a different destiny.
He leaned into her as she stepped up toward the group, closer than was necessary for sure, but he wanted to touch her so badly and this was the next best thing. “We need to talk, I’d say.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wary, expression still guarded. She worried her bottom lip.
“I miss talking to you—”
“Mind if I slip in here?” The chubby kid Tate bullied his way between them, his bulk and proximity taking Duke by surprise, parting him and Hazel. “The sun’s in my eyes over there, can’t concentrate.”
Duke did mind. He was about to blast the kid when Bridget spoke instead.
“You need total focus for this to work with such a large group.” Bridget held a blade in her hand, lifting it to show the group. “We need blood so ante up.”
Duke glanced at Hazel, watching as she drew her own small blade from her leather forearm sheath—standard equipment for all Healer-kind. Hers was ornate from what he could see, jewelled and bearing filigree that would help channel her power.
Quite a bit of magic required witch blood. It was a catalyst but also an adhesive, binding the words, the magic together. A few spells couldn’t withstand the magic if they were performed dry and would cause skewed results. Or no results, which could be deadly given their line of work.
Duke pulled his blade out as well. It was nothing special. Gifted to him by his father, it had been in the Hart family for centuries, passed down for initiation purposes. Since Duke had no one to pass it along to, he’d kept using it. It was practical, if ugly, or rather plain compared to Hazel’s. The blade was perpetually sharp and the cut true. He had nothing to complain about.
Everyone made their cut. A few probably cut too deep, the men wincing as they pumped their fists, trying to get the blood really flowing. Tough guys, including himself.
“Join hands,” Bridget said again.
Duke wanted to be next to Hazel. He wanted to feel her flesh again, even if it was just a benign touch. Instead, he was stuck holding hands with Tate, who gave off a surprising jolt.
Duke leaned in. “You pack a punch, eh?”
Tate cocked an eyebrow and curled up one side of his lip.
Not as friendly, or as timid as he would have expected from a lowly intern. Duke suspected that Tate had been underestimated a lot in his life but the kid was concealing a ton of raw power. It made him more intriguing to be sure. Something for Duke to investigate when he had the time.
“Is anyone here familiar with time shifting?” Bridget surveyed the group, her expression suggesting that she already knew the answer.
No one spoke at first, rather looked at one another. It was more than likely that none of them would have had experience with this—typically a procedure reserved for Healers who needed a quick form of travel to get to the injured. It demanded a lot of power from the Circle so it required special permission from the Mother.
“I have,” Hazel said. “Once.”
A few of the interns gasped.
How am I not surprised? Mother Knight had taken Hazel’s education very, seriously it seemed.
Bridget narrowed her eyes, taking Hazel in like she would an annoying insect. “Do you remember the words?”
Hazel nodded.
“Very well. You’ll lay down the base for me. The rest of you will focus your magic on us. Bolster, don’t distract. Remember your training. If one person deviates, it can send us off in different direc
tions entirely. We’ll be shifting approximately five hours to the left. You’ll feel the time lines as we pass them, you may even see a bright, colorful rope of light. Do not touch! Or reach out or even stare too hard. You could send us off course. I will guide us. Understand?”
The interns nodded. Hazel appeared to be readying herself, her shoulders squared, her face set into an expression Duke was coming to recognize meant business. She might be the Promised One, but she clearly didn’t take that for granted. She was ready to work—he could see that in the tension across her shoulders, her steady gaze, her mouth moving oh so minutely as she presumably rehearsed.
She was exceptional. He knew this already. Her sweet voice, her lithe body, her moans, the love she’d given him: understanding, acceptance, comfort.
“Healer Hart, you with us?” Bridget’s words were edged with sarcasm. “Perhaps you can bolster too? Give Hazel something to draw from? Show these interns what a strong partnership of magic can really do.”
Ah, those words. Duke smiled.
He saw Hazel startle. She shifted a quick look his way, eyes narrowing. Just a coincidence, nothing meant by it. Bridget didn’t know. Right?
Duke grinned wider. “I’m ready.” He was already feeding her some of his power, letting it roll off him, move through Tate to tickle along Hazel’s arm.
She felt it amplify; he could tell by the sudden widening of her eyes, the flush on her cheeks. She licked her lips then turned her gaze away before closing her eyes. Shutting them all out. She didn’t shut his power out though. Instead, she pulled from what he was offering, giving him the sensation of fingers plucking at him, not in a bad way, but it was like nothing he’d experienced before.
A low hum of magic enveloped the group. A pulse that started like a vibration, a subtle rattling of the air. Hazel was laying the foundation, building the base for Bridget’s spell. Any witch could do it for most spells. It was a basic skill you learned as a child, but the way Hazel was doing it was like an intricate web. He could feel its intensity and marvelled once again at her talent. And for this spell, it took extra talent. Extra care. If Hazel messed up the base, Bridget wouldn’t be able to get the time shifting to take flight.
Minutes began to stretch. Literally. An odd sensation to experience and one that Duke didn’t relish. As the spell started to take hold, a feeling of slowness descended on them. Like an elastic that was being pulled slowly, so slowly, creating tension, building momentum.
Until, with a swell of power, they catapulted forward.
One minute they were there, on the deck, open air all around, then next they’d slipped into the time stream. Dark but for the wisps of time lines swirling all around. He kept his grip firm, didn’t want to lose any of the interns on the trip. It had happened once or twice in the history of time travelling—famous cases of witches lost to a time period or trapped in the time stream. But they were legends mostly, the last one having happened over fifty years ago and not on Mother Knight’s watch.
Unlikely to happen now, what with the powder keg of witches binding the spell together. Still, he didn’t want to be the one to lose an intern on his first day. That would be bad.
Bridget’s voice echoed in his head, snippets of the spell. It wasn’t an overly complicated bit of magic but it did take skill to recite it and navigate the time lines. Despite the danger, the expense of power this would take, it was the best method of travel, especially since they needed to get to the Hags sooner than later. A distress call had been received, more severe than Bridget had let on, according to Ty Cooper. Traditional travel would have taken a day or more—this would only cost them an hour. That and some time to rest.
Oh, and they’d all be without their magic.
The consequence of using a spell like this, going against the natural order of things, meant a magic sacrifice. They’d each be without power for however long it took to recover. Some maybe a few hours, some possibly a day. The more experienced the witch, the less trauma travelling this way had. It was a good lesson to learn.
Duke remembered his first experience with time shifting. He’d been laid up in Bridget’s tent for half a day…moaning and disoriented, completely unprepared for dealing with magic deprivation. Bridget had soothed him of course, taking pity on the intern. Perhaps taking advantage with her expertise. He hadn’t complained at the time. Being favored by an instructor of Bridget’s magnitude had its perks. Many of them, in fact.
Would Hazel be as open to some coddling? Would she be so sick she’d look to him for some compassion? Some soothing touches? He’d be ready if she was. He hoped that she would be—sick that was, which was a horrible thing to think, right? Being this close to her, all he wanted to do was resume where they’d left off the night before. Body against body, her warmth making his desire hum in all the right ways.
They landed with a gentle impact that was consistent with a trained spell caster. Not a sound, not jarring—smooth, gliding, leaving them all on their feet, still holding hands. Duke scanned the group, noted the dazed expressions, the sallow skin, the wobbly legs.
They fought valiantly, held up for maybe a minute at best and then one by one, they each fell down, eyes rolling back, faces slack, sliding to the ground like lumps. Leaving Duke and Bridget to smirk at one another…and to look with mirrored shock at the only other person who hadn’t fallen.
Hazel. Of course.
“We’d better take a look at them,” Bridget said as she turned to the intern on her left, crouching to check vitals.
“You okay?” Duke shook off the disorientation he felt. Mild, somewhat uncomfortable, not life threatening. His magic would maybe spark if he really needed it but it was better to let it rest for a while, give his body time to gather energy from the magic stores that came naturally from the Earth, the humans and from the Circle back home. “Hazel?”
Hazel blinked a few times, seeming to zone in on him as he sidestepped Tate’s prone body and moved closer to her. “Yes.”
He ran his hands over her arms, flipping her left hand to inspect the cut she’d made. It was closing rapidly, a good sign. “You don’t feel dizzy? Disoriented? Nauseous?”
“No.” Hazel pulled her hand away and wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering a little as she did.
“Not at all?” Duke scanned her again. “How’s your power? Feel drained?”
She should have. For such a young witch. She should have been on the ground like her peers.
“I’m fine.” She leaned into him, her hand on his chest. His breath caught. He moved closer to her, raising his arms to embrace her. And then he felt it. Her touch growing warm, hot even, for a second or two. Like a match to a wick, her magic ignited his power, washed away any fatigue, disorientation and gave him back what he’d lost.
“What the…”
She didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence and instead moved around him, that intense look of concentration on her face. Crouching down, she did the same with each of the interns. A second, maybe two at their side and she’d move on to the next, leaving a trail of rousing witches behind her. All sitting up, shaking off their disorientation, marvelling after her as she moved.
Bridget stopped what she was doing, watched like the rest of them, a look of awe on her face that she couldn’t seem to hide. He knew the feeling.
Hazel stopped at the tough guy, Bas, the last one and ran her fingers through his hair first, tenderly stroking his cheek and then laid her hand on his chest. Did she know this guy? Why such familiarity? Jealous reared. Until he realized that Bas wasn’t rousing like the rest of them had. He wasn’t moving, in fact.
“There’s something wrong with him.” Hazel locked eyes with Duke. “I don’t feel anything inside of him. No spark. I’ve given what I can but there’s something missing.”
“Duke, didn’t you check that one?” Bridget bullied her way past him to crouch at Bas’s other side
“No, I…” He’d been too preoccupied with Hazel. He hadn’t noticed the way Bas’s
mouth hung open or how limp his body seemed. “Is he breathing?”
Hazel’s cousin pushed past him as well. “Here, let me see.” She knelt down next to Hazel, sharing a look of concern as she put her hands over his torso, her eyes sliding closed as she did. “There’s something wrong with his heart. It’s barely beating.”
“I can help,” Tate said. “Everyone needs to take a few steps back. Give me some room.” He positioned himself above Bas’s head, straddling him so he could lean over his chest.
Duke felt the air around him crackle, the hair on his arms rose. He took another couple of steps back, mirroring what the others were instinctually doing. This kid…he had an impressive Elemental skill.
With fingers splayed, Tate zapped Bas’s chest, jolting him once and then twice before Bas sprang upward looking like he’d been electrocuted, which he kind of had. His blond hair was almost standing on end and smoke wafted off his clothes.
“What the fu—”
“Your heart wasn’t beating properly.” Chanda offered her hand to help him up.
He ignored it and instead looked up at Hazel. “You were in my head. What the hell did you do to me?”
“I…uh…”
“She restored your power, dickhead,” Mahdyia said. “She restored all of our powers. Lucky for you that she did, or you’d be dead right now.”
“No way she could do that,” Bas scoffed. He pushed himself to his knees, brushing away dirt as he moved. “Only the most—”
“—powerful witches can do that?” Bridget finished for him, her eyes locked on Hazel. “Yeah, well, behold. Now you know why the Promised One is so revered.”
“Once you join the Circle…” Chanda said with awe.
“That kind of power…” Tate shook his head. “Well, it’s impressive.”
“It’s freaky if you ask me,” Bas said, rubbing his chest and pointing at Tate. “You zapped me.”
Tate shrugged. “You kinda deserved it.”
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Bas mumbled as he walked away. “I need a minute.” He disappeared into the trees, trailing his fingers along the bark as he did.
The Witches of White Willow: A Witch Hospital Romance Page 5
