The Witches of White Willow

by Angela Addams

  “It’s my bed and no, that’s not what I do.”

  “So what was that?” He waved toward Tate.

  Hazel shrugged. “He’s a sweet guy. With no history of sleeping with a Master Healer. And he has no interest in Bridget.” She hadn’t meant to say that—it just slipped out.

  Duke opened his mouth, closed it, narrowed his eyes at her. “What does Bridget have to do with this?”

  It was Hazel’s turn to narrow her eyes at him. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “We have a history.”

  Hazel crossed her arms. “So I’ve heard.”

  “And what, you thought I was a virgin when we met?”

  What would be wrong with being a virgin?

  “I asked you how you knew her. You had an opportunity to tell me about your past,” she said instead.

  “I didn’t think it was important.” He mirrored her stance, arms crossed, shoulders squared, eyes locked on hers.

  “So you get to decide what I need to know? Just like you get to decide what my destiny really is? What I’m really meant to do with my life?”

  “No…I—”

  “That’s all you’ve been doing here. Mocking my beliefs, questioning my life. You want me to believe you care about me? Well, then, you should accept that I can make decisions about my life for myself. If you really cared about me, you’d do that.” She uncrossed her arms and took a step back. “And you’d leave me the hell alone because I can’t give you what you want me to give you.”

  A beat of silence had her heart ramming hard against her chest.

  He lifted his finger, pointing at her and stabbing the air. “You don’t fool me, Hazel Knight. You want me to believe that you don’t love me. You want to push me away, to piss me off so that I turn my back on you. But I won’t. I can’t. I’m going to see this through until the end. Until you step into that Circle and shut me out for real. Until then, until that moment, it’s fair game. That’s life, Hazel. Things don’t always go as planned. I may not have been part of your plans, you maybe didn’t factor me in, but I’m here, and I love you and I’m not going anywhere. No matter what you do to push me away. So go ahead. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you want nothing to do with me. Flirt with another guy. Lie about your feelings. Until I hear it from your heart, I won’t believe it.”

  Hazel balked. How dare he! “You presumptuous ass—”

  He leaned forward and brushed his hand over her cheek. “I won’t rest until you understand what we could do together if you stay with me. If you choose me. Deny it all you want. Flirt with Tate all you want. I know, deep down, what your heart craves.”

  “And there you go again, trying to tell me what I’m feeling.”

  “I’m an empath, Hazel, and you’re wide open to me. I’ve always known your heart even when I didn’t know your identity. I feel your uncertainty, your fear, your dedication. You’re blinded by that dedication. If you choose to join the Circle, I’ll accept it, I will, but not until I know you’ve been honest with yourself. Honest about your feelings.”

  “I won’t sleep with you again.” Hazel couldn’t think of what to say other than that. A small thing she could control. Fine, he could see into her heart, or whatever—she’d never been good about concealing her feelings. Her mother could read her like a book as well. Which was why her usual tactic with her mother was to evade and deflect. Evade and deflect would have to work with Duke as well.

  “Everything okay here, Hazel?” Tate asked, his looming figure coming up next to her.

  Duke didn’t bother to look at the other man. Instead, he cocked an eyebrow at her then turned and walked away.

  “Healer Hart!” Chanda bounded toward him. “Can you take a look at my arm? I heard you have some skill with deep bruises.”

  “I enlisted Chanda’s help,” Tate leaned into her to say. “They seemed to be getting along yesterday.”

  Hazel watched Duke put his hands on Chanda and felt jealousy lick up her spine once again. “Yeah, good idea, I’m going to go dismantle my tent.”

  “I’ll help you,” Tate said cheerfully.

  With another look in Duke’s direction, Hazel sighed, then started up the hill. “That would be great, Tate, thanks.”

  Why was it that Hazel was surrounded by people who seemed to always know what was best for her? Like her destiny was locked in place.

  Hazel stutter-stepped on that thought.

  Like her destiny was etched in stone.

  For the first time in her life, she had a niggling of something that was so foreign she wanted to reject it outright—vile, toxic doubt.

  What if her destiny wasn’t so clear after all? What if she did have a choice?

  “Hey, Hazel, you okay?” Tate was at her side, helping her to come the rest of the way up to her tent. “Thought you might slide down the hill there.”

  Hazel frowned, rubbing her hand over her heart. She looked down the hill at Duke, who was still touching Chanda. Her heart ached more. He glanced up at her then, eyes fierce, frown firmly in place. He knew. Oh goddess, he knew.

  Her uncertainty was shining back at her, reflected in his gaze. But there was something else too. He’d said he loved her and she hadn’t even flinched. Why? Because of all the things she couldn’t get a handle on, that wasn’t one of them. Duke wore his heart on his sleeve and whether he said the words or not, she knew his heart was hers. What she didn’t know was how he expected her to give him hers when it belonged to the Circle.

  So she did what she did best. She avoided him. Not completely hard to do once they got back on the trail that was not a trail. The forest was thicker on the other side of the stones, the magic headier. The general noises were different too. Animal sounds odd, otherworldly.

  “I’ve heard folk tales about feral familiars living in these woods,” Tate said. He’d taken up as her walking partner again, letting her move ahead when the trail narrowed, lifting away branches that threatened to knock her out or tangle in her hair. At one point, he’d even lifted her over a fallen log. That had been over the top; she’d frozen like a rod. He’d easily put her back down and whispered an apology. Quick learner.

  “It’s not a folk tale,” Bridget said over her shoulder. “There are ferals roaming around here. Some of those noises you’re hearing are familiars.”

  “They’re drawn to this place. The magic is so potent,” Duke confirmed. Chanda was next to him again, walking side by side when she could.

  Although Duke wasn’t as attentive to Chanda as Tate was with her, Hazel did note when he pointed out a tripping hazard or chuckled at something she said or let her hand linger a tad too long on his arm.

  It wasn’t fair. These feelings of jealousy. The fact that he knew she had those feelings. She wanted her mind to be quieted and was half-tempted to ask Bas to bind her again.

  “I’ve heard they’re dangerous when they’ve gone wild,” Tate said. “Untamed familiars only cause trouble.”

  “My mother had a familiar,” Bas said, startling everyone enough that no one seemed to know what to say. He cleared his throat. “A cat, of course. She loved that thing to death.”

  Familiars typically attached themselves to human witches. A magical companion that bolstered a human’s powers and offered some element of protection. It was rare to see a witch from any clan with one. It suggested weakness. Wrongly suggested, but as with most prejudices, it didn’t have to be based on fact, only belief.

  “She was an apothecary, pretty old school. Trained under her father in the old country.” Bas wasn’t talking at any of them in particular, that was clear. He kept his eyes on the trail, his tone even but his shoulders were tense, like a coil that was ready to spring. “Her familiar, Echo, came to her when she was…” He paused, cleared his throat. “In need. A stray, already a cranky old fucker of a tomcat. He was wild, untrained, would spit and hiss if you looked at it the wrong way. Hated men.” He chuckled awkwardly. “But that cat stayed with her right up until… Well, until the end. Damn cat threw
himself into the fire.”

  “Your mother was burned?” He’d said as much the day before but Hazel prodded anyway. If he was talking, she wanted to know what happened.

  “Her shop was targeted, yeah. A kid died, one she’d been treating. The humans, they turned on her. Got themselves into a frenzy. Even the sheriff turned his back on her. It was a mob. I was away—” He coughed. “I wasn’t there when it happened. I saw the aftermath, heard about the cat. I believe he was trying to get her out but she was trapped in the back. The door had been deliberately barred. He didn’t leave her. He stayed until the end.”

  “Oh fuck.” Chanda covered her mouth.

  Hazel understood now, why he hated humans so much. Why he was so resistant to work with them.

  “Anyway, that’s not why I’m telling you this. I didn’t mean to tell you that actually.” He mumbled the last part, like he was silently chiding himself for the spill. “My point is, familiars are loyal as fuck, so saying that the wild ones are dangerous is bullshit. When they find their witch, when they choose you, they’ll fight alongside until the bitter end.”

  Everyone got quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Hazel was lost to hers, cycling around Bas and what she’d seen in his head. Puzzle pieces clicking together. When she’d been in there, she’d felt so much shame, so much pain and so much hatred. She hadn’t understood at the time. Hadn’t made the connection because she hadn’t known about his mother but it made sense now. He’d said he’d been gone when she was killed and for some reason, in some way, Bas felt responsible for her death.

  16

  “So, since we’re all about the sharing,” Chanda said with a glance toward Duke. “I guess you guys figured out that I’m endowed with Chaos.” She looked over her shoulder. “I mean, I know Hazel has it figured out, what with her ability to pick up on that kind of thing.”

  Duke shrugged. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Your gift is impressive.”

  “It’s dirty magic.” She raised her hand. “I know, I know, that’s not politically correct or whatever but it’s true. Slime ball magic. I’ve heard it all before. I can corrupt, I can persuade. I can make a situation very, very bad.”

  “Were you born with it?” Duke asked. He was curious. It was a rare skill, especially for a Healer.

  “Yep. Had it all my life. Had to learn the hard way that controlling it, keeping it contained, was the only way to deal with it.”

  “I’d imagine that you’ve faced quite a bit of adversity because of it,” Hazel said, sympathy clear in her tone. “It’s strong. It must take so much energy to contain.”

  “Yeah, it does. It’s exhausting actually.” Chanda sighed. “My parents didn’t know what to do with me. A Chaos witch, what a disaster for the Healers of my family. Such an embarrassment.” She chuckled bitterly. “I’m not whining. My parents are good people. There’s a tradition of Healers in my family though and a Chaos witch just didn’t fit. Much too flashy, too dangerous for them. I learned how to control it. For a while I just worked very hard to suppress it, so I wouldn’t embarrass them, or hurt anyone. But they didn’t ask me to snuff it completely, or to deny its existence. That was on me. They hired some of the best Battle witches around to help me with controlling it once I realized that I couldn’t contain it forever.”

  “You’re Battle trained?” Bridget asked, her curiosity obviously piqued. She gave Chanda a once over, an appraisal that could mean many things for Bridget. Her lust wasn’t restricted to any gender. She was an equal opportunity kind of lover. Or so Duke had heard.

  “Yeah, I am. Had to learn Battle magic to better control my Chaos.” Chanda didn’t notice Bridget’s hungry gaze.

  Duke wondered just how many of the interns Bridget was set to corrupt or, as she put it, educate off the books.

  “And they didn’t want you? I’m surprised they didn’t recruit you right then and there,” Bridget said as she sidled closer to Chanda.

  “Oh, they tried. But like I said, my parents wouldn’t have it. I was going to be a Healer, no negotiation. Follow in my parents’ footsteps. I do have a lifetime offer to join the Battle witches if I want though.” Chanda shrugged. “It took a lot, like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole, ya know? I learned how to use it incrementally with healing. It helps with the patients. Gives me a way to sooth them.”

  “I’ve seen that,” Duke acknowledged. “You are very good with your bedside manner.”

  “Thank you.” Chanda blushed.

  Duke felt Hazel, her energy spiking. Was she jealous? He didn’t probe. She’d made it clear that he needed to keep his distance. The last thing he wanted was to push her away more. She’d found out about Bridget, fine. He wasn’t exactly keeping it a secret. Okay, he was totally keeping it a secret. His past with Bridget was complicated and tied up in a lot of emotion. She’d used him, then stolen from him and finally discarded him. At the time it had been devastating, and that was embarrassing in and of itself. Now he saw it for what it was, despite his reluctance to prove her right. It had been a learning experience. A hard one. He’d learned to protect what he valued and to be limited in his trust. Not a bad idea when you were dealing with magic wielding folks.

  Hazel finding out about it the way she had, mainly not from him, was not the way he wanted things to go. She deserved to know about his history. Even the less appealing parts. For that to happen though, he needed time alone with her to talk. Something she had proven to be very resistant to.

  “I’ve got a question.” Bas’s voice was gruff and sharp. “Doesn’t it bother you, Tate, to have such a feminine skill? Elemental right? That’s women’s magic.”

  “Why would that bother me?” Tate stood taller, whether subconscious or not, his spine straightened, chest pumped up. He was a big boy with big magic. “I’m not the only male with Elemental skills.”

  “Yeah, but you are rare. Come on, admit it. You got teased a lot as a kid right?” Bas was smirking over his shoulder. Deflecting, no doubt, the discomfort he felt for unloading his personal history on everyone. That over-share had been surprising.

  “Hey, listen man, I get that you had a shitty, traumatizing experience with life. Your mom dying, that sucks, but I’m not rising to the bait. My mother is a white witch, endowed with Earth magic and so am I. I think having some sense of femininity within helps me better understand my patients. Gives me more compassion. And it certainly helps with the ladies.”

  Bas snorted.

  Duke had to admit, that last bit wasn’t very convincing. Tate screamed nice guy. Too nice. Too safe. It was more likely Tate had seen the bad side of the friend zone way too many times. Hazel might be taking some comfort in her newfound closeness to Tate but Duke didn’t feel threatened. Much. Duke would much rather it be him who was at her side at the moment but he could wait.

  “What, like Hazel? You’re sweet on her, we can all see it. Flirting with the Promised One, as if you had a chance.”

  “Enough, Worm,” Bridget cautioned, then lowered her voice. “We discussed the attitude, remember?”

  Bas snapped his gaze to her, then disregarded her words. “Hazel the closet case. I bet she’s still a virg—”

  “Enough!” Duke had him in a headlock and choking before he could finish that thought. “Show some respect.”

  He wrestled Bas to the ground, only letting go when his face was so red it looked like it would burst.

  Everyone had stopped walking and were staring at him. Duke challenged anyone to say anything, meeting their eyes one at a time. No one did.

  He stepped over Bas. “Time for lunch. The Wilting Trees are over that ridge. We’ll stop there.” Duke turned to Bridget, ignoring Bas as he grunted and groaned his way to his feet. “You better put a muzzle on your dog before I do.”

  Bridget had her arms crossed and was eyeing him, mouth open like she was going to argue. Instead she gave a tight nod.

  He turned back to face the other interns. “Follow me, and keep your eyes open. Weird shit sometimes happe
ns at the Wilting Trees.”

  “So why are we going to stop there then?” Chanda asked, fear edging her words.

  “Because it’s cool weird shit.”

  Duke loved this place. The trees were huge and gnarled, with limbs that stretched out like octopus tentacles. Thick, twisted, offering curves to sit in and plenty of shade to rest under. It was covered in places with soft moss that made a rather comfortable bed in a pinch. The air was fresher there, it seemed. Earthy, mossy, sure, but not in an unpleasant way. The trees gave off this sweet aroma that made you want to inhale deeply with each breath. Duke had always found it relaxing. He didn’t get to visit as often as he liked but when he was in Scotland, this was one of his must-go-to places. He found peace there and a place to collect his thoughts.

  It was also enchanted.

  “Hazel, come here.” Duke motioned to her, ignoring the glare that followed. “Here, stand next to me.”

  She came, obviously reluctantly.

  “Hold out your hand.” He didn’t give her a chance to protest and grabbed her hand, flipping it palm up before letting go. “Blade?”

  “What are you doing?” She pulled out her blade despite the question.

  “I assume you know the basics of shadow casting?” He had his own blade out and quickly made a cut to his palm, motioning her to do the same.

  “Of course.” She drew the blade across her hand. “I know the basic spell.”

  “Recite it.” He folded their hands together and felt the jolt of united magic. It was heady and made him dizzy. “Trust me.” He winked.

  Hazel narrowed her eyes for a second longer, then did as he asked, reciting a simple spell that would summon the shadows. While she spoke, he dosed her with his power, amplifying her magic by stoking it deeper so that it cascaded like a wave in every direction.

  The leaves on the trees rustled, like a strong wind had suddenly taken up.