Witch's Sacrifice

by Emma L. Adams

  Nods and murmurs of assent filled the room.

  “And we will,” Vance said. “But our present dilemma concerns the Ancients, which represent a threat to the public on a level which we haven’t dealt with since the days of the invasion. An unfortunate side effect of Lord Sutherland’s hoarding knowledge is that most people weren’t even aware of the Ancients’ existence until a few weeks ago.”

  “Yeah, he kind of gave the game away when he summoned a giant fury god in the middle of the city.” Drake lounged back in his chair. “Bit hard to cover that one up. Not to mention the dragon.”

  “The public is terrified, with good reason,” Vance said. “We need to reassure them that we’re doing more than issuing empty words. Have any of you made progress on learning the Ancients’ current movements?”

  “We’re working on translating Lady Harper’s journal.” Ilsa sat up straighter in her seat as all eyes turned to her. “She had dealings with both the Hemlocks and the Ancients, so I assume she foresaw an event like this.”

  “This journal,” said Vance. “It contains information on the Ancients?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Specifically, the war between the Hemlock witches and the Ancients thirty-one years ago, which I’m certain Evelyn is using as her inspiration.” Not that I had the faintest idea how she intended to accomplish that goal without a body.

  “And you haven’t heard from her at all?” he asked.

  Now all eyes were on me, instead. I felt my spine stiffen, my body tensing. Though almost all my allies were here, nobody had forgotten that Evelyn and I had inhabited the same body until recently.

  “No,” I said. “Our connection is severed. I can’t sense her at all, not even using my spirit sight. I’m pretty sure she’s in another realm, and she sealed the spirit lines, locking me out along with everyone else. Believe me, I’ve tried to get through, but the Hemlock Coven is beyond reach.”

  “Then how do you propose we stop this war?” asked one of the mages. “It sounds like we ought to strike first. These gods are our enemies, and they will wipe us out if we let them.”

  “Not all of them,” Isabel put in. “Jas managed to negotiate with the shadow fury, who was imprisoned and tortured by Lord Sutherland. The gods are independent, intelligent entities who are capable of making their own decisions. Even Evelyn knows that. Not all of them will take her bait.”

  “She does,” I said. “Unfortunately, she’s willing to start a war regardless of who gets hurt in the process. Once she strikes, I doubt the rest of the Ancients will stop to listen.”

  One way or another, the odds suggested that when the war kicked off, we’d end up stuck between two magical powerhouses who didn’t care what they destroyed.

  “We’ll wait until after the vote before reaching out to the local mages for their cooperation,” Vance said. “I have already extended offers to the other supernaturals, but we have yet to receive responses from anyone except for the necromancer guild.”

  “What of the mirror?” asked one of the other mages. “It’s still here at the guild, is it not?”

  “There’s no safer place for it,” Vance said. “It may be our only means of sending people to negotiate with the Ancients, if need be. But that depends on what Evelyn does.”

  Once again, everyone looked in my direction.

  “I don’t want a war, if we can avoid it.” My hands clenched under the table. “I believe the Ancients might be open to negotiation. It’s just a question of whether we reach them first—or Evelyn does.”

  “And if Evelyn contacts us before the Ancients do?” he asked.

  Her image stole into my mind’s eye, like she’d appeared in last night’s dream, a crooked reflection of who I might have been.

  I looked out at the council’s expectant faces. “I will deal with Evelyn myself.”

  3

  The meeting broke up, the council members trickling out of the room in groups. On the other side of the table, Ivy picked up her sword. “I still think we should pay a nocturnal visit to Lord Sutherland and put him out of his misery.”

  “I suppose that’s kinda like what Vance did,” said Drake. “When he became Mage Lord.”

  “What…?” I looked to Vance for confirmation. “You killed the person who was Mage Lord before you were?”

  “He got possessed, didn’t he?” said Wanda. “That’s why Vance killed him.”

  “And Lord Sutherland summoned a mad god,” said Ivy. “Who’s still at large, I might add. He won’t negotiate with us.”

  “Believe me, if the Soul Collector so much as sniffs at the guild, we’ll kick the crap out of him,” I said.

  I wouldn’t deny taking Lord Sutherland out of the picture would solve at least one of our problems, but that would give him an easy way out. No, a lifelong jail sentence to reflect on what he’d done would be more than enough punishment.

  “Excellent,” said Drake, bounding towards the door. “Right. We’re going to the pub. Want to join us, Jas?”

  “Can’t. I have to translate Lady Harper’s journal.” I pulled a face. “See you later.”

  “Let me know if you uncover any sordid affairs,” Drake called after me.

  I waited outside the door for Ilsa to catch up with me. “Made any more progress on the journal?”

  “I was working on it when they called the meeting.” She headed for the stairs up to the archives, a small room which I’d once presided over in my spare time. The front desk was covered in so many towering stacks of paper, it was a wonder she could find any of her notes. Lady Harper’s handwriting was nearly indecipherable even when she wrote in English, let alone ancient faerie languages, but Ilsa had made more headway than I had.

  “You have been busy.” I walked around the desk and tripped headlong over a body, catching the back of a chair to break my fall.

  “Ow,” Morgan said.

  “What kind of place is that to take a nap?” I let go of the chair and stepped back, rubbing my ankle.

  “Let me guess,” said Ilsa. “You were in the spirit realm, eavesdropping on our meeting.”

  “Really?” I folded my arms. “Wouldn’t Lloyd agree to hide in a cupboard with you this time?”

  Morgan’s face went brick red, and fragments of ice fell from his hands as he pushed to his feet. “He’s patrolling. Anyway, I’m the guild’s only high-ranked psychic. I need to know these things.”

  “No, you don’t,” said Ilsa. “The Council of Twelve will stop meeting here if they figure out they’re being spied on.”

  “I’m not a spy,” he protested. “I wanted to know if they had any more leads on the Ancients. That’s all. I don’t give a shit about the mage elections or whatever.”

  “You could have waited and asked me,” Ilsa said. “I planned to tell you anyway.”

  “You did?” His mouth opened a fraction, and he sat down on the desk. “All right, point taken. I won’t do it again.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said. “Morgan, can you not sit on my notes? I spent hours getting them in order.”

  “Ah. Sorry.” He climbed off the desk. “What is all that junk? I can’t read it.”

  “Nobody can,” I said. “It’s what, an ancient faerie language?”

  “Even they don’t use it anymore.” Ilsa tapped a pen on her notepad. “It’s believed to be the primary language used for communication in the age where the Ancients lived in Faerie, before their exile.”

  “Who cares?” said Morgan. “What’s the deal with this old journal anyway?”

  “Lady Harper spent a lot of time in the Ancients’ realm a few decades ago,” I said. “Since it’s where Evelyn is right now, we need to find out what she knew.”

  Morgan frowned at me. “Are you really going to kill her?”

  “Morgan!” Ilsa slammed down a pile of notes on the desk. “Either make yourself useful or get out.”

  “I can’t read that crap, Ilsa. You know I slept through all Mum’s lessons in faerie languages when we were kids.�
�

  “Not to worry, I wrote out the major symbols.” Ilsa pressed a piece of paper into his hand. “I’ve photocopied each section of the journal, so you can take the document and use it to translate each page. I also have a system where you can leave a marker where there’s a symbol you don’t know—”

  “Good lord.” Morgan shoved the document at me. “I’d rather go on a four-hour patrol followed by cleaning duty.”

  “Then go.” Ilsa grabbed the document back. “Find Mackie before she breaks into the boss’s office again.”

  “She did what?” I asked, as Morgan left the room, grumbling to himself. “What was she looking for in there?”

  “Who even knows.” Ilsa dropped her voice. “Actually, I think she was after information on the Soul Collector, but please don’t say that in front of Morgan.”

  “The boss knows as much as we do.” I sank into an empty seat. “Besides, the Soul Collector is more likely to go after Evelyn than any of the other Ancients are.”

  “You’re sure you want to handle Evelyn?” asked Ilsa. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re more than capable of it, but you shared a body for almost your entire life. She knows how to get to you.”

  “And I know her, too,” I said. “She’s deeply lonely and insecure, and for all her power, it’s like she has this bottomless pit of rage and anger inside her which will never be satisfied. In betraying me, she killed a part of herself as well.”

  “You really get her, don’t you?” she said, her voice soft. “She’s like a…”

  “Sibling?” I arched a brow. “Not that I ever knew my blood siblings, but have you ever gone to war with yours?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I couldn’t imagine having to hunt either of them down.”

  “Not even if someone offered you a million pounds?” Morgan was back. “I’d take it.”

  Ilsa scowled. “Hilarious.”

  “Morgan, you have all the sensitivity of a blunt instrument,” I said. “It’d have been nice if the mages had offered me a cash incentive to bring Evelyn in, but there’s the whole end of the world thing to consider as well.”

  My light tone didn’t quite land. I didn’t need a cash reward. I needed Evelyn to see sense, but despite what my subconscious seemed to think, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was too late. She’d made her choice, and now I’d made mine.

  “I thought you were looking for Mackie,” Ilsa said to her brother.

  “She’s out on patrol with Lloyd. So I guess I’m helping with your wacky journal thingy. And by the way, I know Mackie’s after information on the Soul Collector. Anyone with half a brain could guess.”

  “I’m counting on you to keep her out of trouble,” said Ilsa. “There’s a reason you wear the… why aren’t you wearing the iron?”

  Morgan yanked his sleeves down. “I took it off.”

  “Because you felt like risking possession from an evil entity?” she said. “You know Mackie takes direction from you. Besides, half the ghosts you hear are maniacs who want you to hurt yourself or other people.”

  His jaw set. “Go lecture Mackie, not me. I’m your brother, and if I can hear spirits on the other side of the city gossiping about magical artefacts, you’d better believe I’m gonna listen in.”

  Oh. He wasn’t indulging in ridiculous self-destructive behaviour out of habit, but to find Ilsa’s missing talisman. If anybody in the spirit realm had seen the Gatekeeper’s book, using his psychic powers was the fastest way to find out.

  And it might lead us straight to Evelyn.

  Ilsa’s mouth parted. “What did you find out?”

  “Now you want me to spy on people, do you?”

  Ilsa’s hands twitched like she wanted to punch him. “It’s more than a book, Morgan, it’s my talisman. Tell me what you heard.”

  “Nothing much,” he said. “Psychics don’t make a load of sense most of the time. I don’t think any of them have seen Evelyn, but I figured it was a good way to keep an eye on the situation. I mean, an angry shade marching around the spirit realm carrying a glowing book is pretty memorable, you know?”

  “Yes, it is, which is why we’d have already heard if any ghosts had spotted her.” Ilsa rubbed her forehead. “Evelyn shouldn’t be able to use my magic, but if she misplaces my talisman, I’ll strangle her. I know she’s a ghost, but I’ll find a way.”

  “If she was in the spirit realm, I’d be able to summon her,” I said. “But she’s not. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t like my chances of summoning anything from the Ancients’ realm without bringing something nasty into the guild.”

  Morgan cleared his throat. “I may have already tried it.”

  For a moment, I thought Ilsa’s head was going to explode. “You did what?”

  “I used a blood summoning.” He spoke in a defensive tone. “Don’t look at me like that. You and Lloyd did the same when Jas got trapped on the other side of the spirit line.”

  “Jas is alive,” she said. “And not evil.”

  “Glad we cleared that up.” I looked between them. “What happened when you tried the summoning, then?”

  “Well, nothing,” said Morgan. “Why, do you think it would work for you?”

  Would it? No way would it be that simple. Besides, summoning Evelyn into the guild would put everyone in the building in danger. While I was more than willing to meet her head-on, I wouldn’t risk my friends’ lives, knowing how little she valued them.

  “It might.” Ilsa’s expression turned speculative. “Not here in the guild, but if we drove her into a corner, it’s a safer bet than confronting her on the Ancients’ turf.”

  Nobody knew where Evelyn was hiding. It was a safe bet she wasn’t in the forest—I’d seen to that—but now she’d sealed the spirit lines, she might have gone anywhere. If I sneaked through the mirror without the boss’s permission, I’d wind up alone in a hostile realm inhabited by dragon shifters I had no way to guarantee weren’t working with the enemy. Summoning her into a location of our own choosing would remove that risk… with one obvious downside.

  “She’s carrying the entirety of the Hemlock magic and your talisman, Ilsa,” I said. “She’s too powerful for me to bind, even if I had my share of the Hemlock magic back. Which I don’t.”

  “Then we’ll take away her power.” Morgan reached into the deep pockets of his coat and pulled out some candles. “Starting with your talisman. The book controls the gates of Death. How long before that starts having long-term effects?”

  Ilsa’s mouth parted. “I’ve gone two weeks without it and I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit.” Morgan placed the candles on the floor. “Okay, how’s this? I’ll keep summoning ghosts until we find one who’ll tell us where Evelyn went. Or failing that, where to find the Gatekeeper’s talisman.”

  “I doubt it’ll be that simple,” I said. “And we’re not summoning Evelyn.”

  “Chill out, Jas. I’m not summoning your demented cousin.” Morgan laid down the last candle, and they ignited with a snap of his fingers. “Testing, testing…”

  Ilsa dropped her pen and marched to his side. “If you think I’m gonna watch you get possessed again—”

  He pulled his arm out of her reach. “I know what I’m doing. I summon you, Arden.”

  Ilsa’s eyes widened. The circle remained still, grey smoke filling the gap, but nothing happened.

  “You said the Ancient whose power is in the Gatekeeper’s book is dead.” I glanced at Ilsa. “Is that why you haven’t tried summoning him yet?”

  “No.” Ilsa knelt down. “Arden is just the name we gave him. To summon a god—”

  “You need his real name,” I finished. “The one no human can speak aloud without being torn to pieces. Right?”

  “Mm.” Ilsa tapped her forehead, and silvery threads appeared, intertwining into a symbol I couldn’t read. Then she put a finger into her mouth and ran her teeth over it. “Paper-cut from earlier. Should be enough.”

  “Oh, so I’m not all
owed to let myself get possessed, but you’re allowed to do a blood summoning?” said Morgan.

  Ilsa lowered her hand and daubed a bloody fingerprint into the centre of the candles.

  Then she spoke a word, and the world cracked open. A roaring rose in my ears like crashing thunder. The circle’s lights blazed, and a torrent of air ripped through the room, rattling the bookcases. Papers flew in all directions as the momentum sent the desk crashing into the wall, and Morgan and I threw ourselves flat to avoid being knocked out cold by a heavy textbook.

  Ilsa fell backwards, blood streaming down her forehead. Morgan caught her shoulders, then exclaimed in alarm. The circle shimmered, and then light blasted outwards, depositing a clawed, snarling fury in front of us.

  “Don’t let it damage the books!” Ilsa said hoarsely, clutching her head.

  “Great idea.” Morgan grabbed a textbook and lobbed it at the fury. The book hit it in the forehead, knocking its sharp claws away from Ilsa. Black and red scales covered its long reptilian form, while its curved beak was covered in blood. Crap. Guess it doesn’t care that I made a pact with the shadow fury, then.

  Morgan hurled another heavy book at the fury, hitting it square in the mouth. I rolled out of the way of its claws, grabbing a chair to use as a shield.

  The fury went for Ilsa instead. Dropping the chair, I grabbed the nearest sharp object—a pen—and jumped onto the wobbling desk. Then I lunged, jabbing the pen deep into the fury’s eye socket.

  The fury writhed and flailed, and I let go before its talons impaled me. The pen remained stuck in its eyeball, blood streaming down its red-black scales.

  Morgan leapt off the desk with another textbook, delivering a strike that sent the fury tumbling back into the candle circle. Ilsa shoved two candles back into place, and a wave of light blazed, sending us all flying backwards once again.

  When the light faded out, the fury’s body was gone.

  “Ow.” Ilsa sagged against the desk, her forehead screwed up with pain. Blood dripped down the furrows, crimson threads trickling from the Gatekeeper’s mark.