The Witches of White Willow

by Angela Addams

  “Her arm is broken,” Bas said as he picked her up gently, the frail little thing nothing in his arms. “It snapped, just now.”

  “Something is causing this,” Hazel said. “We need to remove them from the source.”

  “Where are the other Hags?” Duke asked.

  “Dead. They’re dead!” Peter was on his knees wailing, his hands covering his face. “I saw thaim. Heads torn richt aff! They’re dead!”

  “Peter came just as Bridget went down, carrying this Hag. We got them back here somehow. We didn’t know what else to do!” Chanda’s eyes were darting all around. “It’s some kind of infection, right? We brought it here now, didn’t we?”

  “Lock it down, Chanda.” Duke was trying to get Bridget into his arms but she was convulsing too badly to secure her. “There’s no infection. There’s no magic here. Hazel would feel it—I would feel something. We don’t know what this is but we do know that it’ll kill them if we don’t do something.”

  “We need to get back to White Willow,” Hazel said. “We need to bring them to my mother.”

  “How do we get back? Bridget was the only one who could time shift!” Chanda’s voice was still high, panic edging every word.

  “We can’t bring them back to White Willow,” Duke huffed as he wrapped his arms around Bridget. “They’ll never make the journey.”

  Hazel’s brain was spinning, the feeling of panic rising higher until it was thudding painfully in her head. She needed Chanda to tamp the Chaos down. “Slow down…wait…we need to—”

  “Hazel can do it,” Chanda yelled, snapping her out of her thoughts. “She knows how to time shift.”

  “They’ll never make it,” Duke yelled. “Tate, I need you here, now.”

  “It won’t work,” Hazel said. Tate’s magic would kill Bridget. “Duke, think about it. Her body is too frail. If Tate zaps her—”

  “It has to work. We’re out of options! I will not have her die out here. Not on my watch.” He was so fierce, with his strong arms wrapped around Bridget.

  And she felt, what? Jealous? She gulped, shaking it off. Bridget was going to die if they didn’t figure something out.

  “Everyone needs to calm the fuck down,” Bas said, still holding the Hag. “Chanda, lock your shit down, now! The Chaos is building.”

  It was an order, spoken without the heat that everyone else seemed to convey. It snapped like an elastic band and everyone looked to Chanda, who stood there blinking like she’d been slapped. She nodded, closed her eyes and within a few moments, calm had settled.

  Hazel felt her mind clear of the panic that had been thundering. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her mother’s amulet. “We don’t need to shift time lines.” She pulled her blade with the other hand.

  Chanda opened her eyes again, swaying a little as she did. “What?” She sounded drowsy, her eyelids fluttering as she struggled to focus. “We can get home?”

  Mahdyia nodded knowingly, reading Hazel’s thoughts as only a cousin could. “Of course.” She pulled her blade too. “I’ll encase us—you do the rest.”

  Hazel nodded back. “Move closer together. Bas, I need your blood for this too.”

  Bas didn’t argue. He turned to Tate and passed off the Hag gently before pulling his own blade and making the cut. “Ready.”

  Mahdyia was already forming a bubble around them, encasing them in a spell that would keep them bound to one another for the journey. Hazel’s mother had given her the summoning stone—a stone that kept them connected always. Perhaps it allowed her mother to siphon from her, Duke was right about that, but more importantly, it gave her an open door to wherever her mother was. A one way ticket.

  “Hang on, folks,” Hazel mumbled. She cut her palm, clasped the amulet then lifted her hands up. “Mother, I need passage.”

  The spell swept her up, pulling the rest of the group along for the ride. A portal opened, shimmering above, a gaping maw of darkness that looked ominous. Hazel felt her mother’s power pulse and reached toward it. In a heartbeat, they were all sucked in.

  They landed to the shocked expression of her mother, who was sitting behind her desk in her huge office. The second Hazel’s feet touched the floor, the amulet shattered, splintering into a dozen pieces in her palm.

  “Mother…” Hazel tossed the pieces aside. The men were lowering Bridget and the Hag to the carpeted floor. “There’s something wrong with Healer Rose and this Storm Hag. We can’t figure out what it is.”

  Her mother was on her feet, eyes wide with dawning realization. “You brought a human Hag here?” A dark blush of scarlet started rising from her chest, to her neck, her fists clenched at her sides. She was clearly ready to blow. “What were you thinking?”

  Her mother’s rage had never been the bellowing kind, but it brought the thunder in its quiet delivery.

  Hazel flinched.

  “This. Ground. Is. Sacred…It’s—”

  Before she could utter another word, Hazel felt the rumble of magic, rolling through the floor, up her legs, into her body. She stared down at Bridget and the Hag, who were lifted from the ground, like puppets. Unconscious on invisible strings.

  Bridget’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head, the whites visible as her body shuddered with another seizure. The Hag’s head lolled on her neck, her body limp, hanging in a grotesque pose.

  Their mouths popped open, closed, then open again and a faint cackling began. “Foolish, foolish witches. How easily you are tricked.” And then the cackling grew louder as magic swelled out from the bodies.

  Oh, shit!

  Hazel looked to her mother, who had come around her desk to face the new threat, her expression set in battle mode. “You are not welcome here.”

  More wild cackling. “I was invited. Brought by a Promised One. An offering was made and now I’m here. And I will take my fill.” A gruesome smile on the Hag’s face, teeth stained with blood. “I will always take my fill.”

  “What is it?” Mahdyia whispered.

  But Hazel couldn’t speak. She couldn’t voice the unbearable mistake she had brought upon herself. To invite such a thing into White Willow. How could she be so stupid?

  “Bacchus Demonius.” Duke cringed, his gaze on Hazel as he raised his hand to his heart. “Like the granddaddy to the Magika.”

  Hazel watched like it was happening in slow motion. Duke, Tate, Chanda, Mahdyia, all falling, hands to their chests, pain on their faces, gasping for breath. The magic was swelling like a wave, sucking into a vortex that was this demon. It was feeding and it would take and take.

  “Mother!” Hazel clasped hands with her Mother, the two of them bound, a shield of protection raised by the Great Mother, spreading out to cover her friends.

  “You must cast with me, Hazel. You must follow my words.” Her mother’s voice was sucked away, taken as the demon fed.

  It would suck them all dry—every witch in the hospital, every magical artefact. It would obliterate the Circle. The shield would only hold for so long.

  What had she done?

  The shield shimmered around as the demon tried to invade. Hazel watched as Duke and the others slowly started to rouse, shaking off the effects of the demon. Bridget and the Hag were still being used as puppets, conduits for the beast to channel the magic. Eventually, the power would overwhelm their corporal bodies and they would be obliterated just as the Hags back at the village had been.

  It was so clear to Hazel now. Years of theory, education that had been stuffed into her brain was playing out in front of her. But that was the problem with book learning. It was words on a page. It wasn’t real until it was real.

  “Hazel.” Her mother’s voice was strained, veins popping in her neck. “You must go to the Circle. I will give you a passageway. You must go.”

  “I must join the Circle?”

  “It’s the only way. I need the power. I need your power. Unite the Circle or we will all die.”

  “No!” Duke shouted, wild eyes darting from
Hazel to her mother. “No Hazel! Don’t join the Circle. If you do, you’ll never be able to leave.”

  He was right. Once she joined, it was a lifetime commitment.

  She locked eyes with him. Her mother’s voice battering against her at the same time.

  “Hazel, go now, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this going. The passage is open. Go, girl, go now!”

  Duke shook his head. Eyes pleading silently. “Use this circle.” His voice was in her head. “Claim your destiny, Hazel. Harness the power around you.”

  He wanted her to go to the Circle?

  And he opened his palms, deep strikes from his blade already there, then turned his back to her, arms splayed, the full depth and breadth of his empathic magic exploded in the room as he left the shield.

  Hazel and her mother flew backward. Everyone else fell to the floor, covering themselves from the debris flying around the room.

  “Duke!” Hazel screamed. “No!”

  The demon dropped Bridget and the Hag, bodies falling in lumps to the ground and picked up Duke instead. Its feeding was noisy, grotesque, and obviously consuming the demon’s attention.

  “Healer Hart has made the ultimate sacrifice,” Mother said. “It’s time for you to join the Circle and make sure it was not done in vain.”

  Hazel’s heart was shattering right there in her chest. She tore her eyes away from Duke to her mother.

  “Make his sacrifice worthy. Claim your role, child, so that I can save the Healers.”

  Hazel blinked, her brain so fuzzy. Duke didn’t want her to join the Circle. He didn’t want her to commit herself there.

  She felt something tug at her hand, and looked down to see Mahdyia there, on her knees, rising, grasping Hazel’s fingers, then her hand as she pulled herself to her feet.

  “Use the circle, Hazel,” she yelled. “Our circle.” She motioned to the others, who were slowly rising also, stumbling into a circle.

  The circle. Like what she’d done at the village.

  That’s what he’d meant.

  “Mother, I need you to hold that shield.” She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she moved in closer to her circle of friends, her supporters. “Open your palms, witches, we’ve got a demon to destroy.”

  24

  Duke only had one thought, and it started and ended with pain.

  The demon feeding from his magic was excruciating. It tore and ripped through him, shredding the magic from his very core.

  He had to hang on. He had to keep it distracted so that Hazel could do her thing.

  Please make her do her thing.

  But he thought that would never come, the pain was so bad, so intense that he couldn’t see anything past it. He couldn’t feel Hazel even.

  That is until he did feel her.

  Like a swell of water, he felt her rise beneath him, the foundation of her power bolstering him as she built up her spell, layer by layer, brick by brick. The demon was gorging, unaffected by her presence, not realizing what she was doing, what any of them were doing.

  Duke would have smiled if he wasn’t in such agony, an agony he knew was about to get worse when they ripped the beast from him.

  He clenched his eyes shut, bracing for what was to come and wasn’t remotely prepared when it did.

  “You ready?” Hazel’s voice was in his head. “’Cause this is gonna hurt like hell.”

  And it did. Like the burning fires of hell were scorching him from the inside out, his brain short-circuiting, his thoughts zoning in on only one thing.

  Hazel. Please. Make it stop.

  He wasn’t awake. He knew that. It was too foggy, too languid. He was lying on the forest floor, staring up through the trees with his arms behind his head and Hazel draped over his chest.

  “I wish we could stay like this forever,” she said, her words muffled.

  “We can.” He lowered one arm, tightening it around her waist, before kissing the top of her head. “We can stay like this forever.”

  She giggled, her head popping up so she could look at him. “You wouldn’t rather me be like this forever?” She pushed herself up, straddling him so that her slick pussy was hovering just over his aching cock. Her naked breasts swaying slightly as she wiggled her hips. “Or like this?” She nestled herself lower, sliding her wet lips over the shaft of his dick.

  He half chuckled, half groaned, bringing his hands up to cup her breasts, to flick his thumbs against the hard peaks of her nipples. She threw her head back, her hips still moving, still teasing him with her wet folds.

  “I’d rather you like this,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her back and brought her closer, higher so that he could taste the sweet pebble that jutted so prettily. Rolling his tongue against her nipple, sucking and then stroking until she was the one moaning, the movement of her hips more urgent, slower.

  “Like this,” she gasped as she lowered her hand and moved his cock so that the tip was sheathed. “Or like this.” And then took him all in, right down to the base, her cream slicking to his balls.

  He released her tit from his mouth, so he could palm her breast once again. She rocked her hips, sliding her pussy up and down, grinding her clit against his shaft.

  Her eyes were locked on his. Intensity there, burning to his very soul.

  “You are mine,” he growled.

  She nodded, didn’t speak, then closed her eyes and pulled herself up, knocking his hands away so that she could play with her own tits. Flicking and pinching, writhing on his dick, her pretty lips parting with gasps and moans.

  He could die right here. This had to be paradise.

  “I am yours,” she echoed his words, her voice husky.

  She lifted her hands away from her breasts; he wanted to reach up and play again. To fondle and cup. She was bouncing on him now, working into a frenzy, his climax rising, building with each pump. Her ass sliding down so low that it kissed his balls, her pussy gripping so tight that he thought he was going to scream.

  He lifted his hands to her hips, helping her ride, rolling his groin up to meet hers.

  And just as his climax was there, within reach, cresting and ready to blow, she stopped. She stopped and looked down at him like she was confused.

  “I can’t be here right now.” Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. She pushed herself off of him, leaving his dick to jut and throb, the cool air bringing pain.

  “Hazel…what…”

  But she was walking away, her naked back to him.

  “Hazel!” He tried to get up, to rise and chase after her but he couldn’t move, not a finger, not a twitch. It was like he was bound, strapped down. He couldn’t see anything holding him though.

  “I am yours, Duke. Yours for eternity.” Hazel was standing just in the distance, facing him now.

  A cloaked figure approached her from behind, a glinting blade in a covered hand.

  “Hazel! Look behind you!” He struggled to release himself. Strained with everything he had. “Hazel!”

  The blade rose high, Hazel turned toward it, not at all surprised. “It’s my destiny.”

  And then the cloaked figure slashed Hazel across the neck, somehow sending a splatter of blood to land on Duke’s chest. The drops burned into his flesh, making him scream. “Hazel!”

  But the cloaked figure didn’t stop, opening her wide, trailing the knife down her middle, blood soaking, muscle and sinew popping, veins bulging and all the while she just stared, her lips moving silently.

  “Hazel, no!” he screamed and thrashed, but he could do nothing to stop the torrent.

  25

  His dreams were obviously awful. Hazel tried to sooth Duke the best she could, pressing a wet cloth to his head as she murmured to him, cooing sweet words, hoping he could hear her.

  “Duke, I’m here. Please wake up. Come back to me.”

  He’d been like this since they had vanquished the Bacchus Demon. As she’d ripped that nasty beast away, it had taken part of Duke with it.

  It’s
my fault you’re like this. Please wake up. Please, Duke.

  That had been two days ago.

  And he’d been cycling through horrid dreams that made him sweat and scream and lash out.

  Nothing calmed him. Nothing she did, anyway. He would settle, would even get a smile on his lips at times and then it would start all over again.

  His screams were so disturbing, so tortured, that they’d moved him to a private room of the hospital. Deep in the basement where a wing was reserved for the most gravely ill. Death row, the orderlies whispered, thinking she couldn’t hear. Death row.

  They’d spared no expense in this section of White Willow though. The room was decorated luxuriously, more like an upscale hotel room than a hospital room. Walnut furniture, wide screen TV, ensuite bathroom, a recliner and sofa for guests to rest and wait for their loved one to die.

  Duke, wake up! You’re strong. You can beat this. Please.

  What had she done wrong? How could she have done it differently? She replayed the battle. It was the same spell she’d used on the Magika back at the village, only magnified because she had the White Willow Circle there bolstering her and the others, her friends forming their own circle, a super charge of power that sent her spell out almost beyond her control. But she had controlled it, directed it with Bas’s and the rest of the interns’ help. She’d obliterated that demon. Bridget and the Storm Hag had recovered almost immediately. But Duke—he just lay there, a crumpled heap, no visible wounds, but unconscious and unresponsive.

  “I’ve been hearing rumors.” Her mother was standing at the doorway and startled Hazel from her thoughts. “About you and him.”

  Hazel closed her eyes, her shoulders bunching under the heavy weight of her mother’s judgment.

  “It’s not what you think.” Hazel couldn’t imagine what her mother had heard. She couldn’t imagine who would have ratted her out. Mahdyia? No. Never. Bas? Tate? Chanda? She didn’t think they would. Or was her mother just surmising based on the fact that Hazel hadn’t left Duke’s side since he’d fallen, since he’d been moved to the dungeon of a suite?