Witch's Sacrifice

by Emma L. Adams

  The hill stirred again. One of the Ancients was buried there? In a very deep sleep, if it had required a magical bell to awaken.

  “How did she do it?” Ivy struggled against the bonds, sweat beading on her forehead.

  “She used this magical item. A bell.” I bloody well hoped the others had moved it far away from the Ley Line. “Evelyn, you’re going to get people killed. The vampires already want you dead.”

  “The vampires are dependent on me for their own survival,” she said. “They will make the right choice, the one that benefits them the most.”

  “You mean the choice that benefits you.” Damn her. Not only had she woken the Ancients, she now had an entire army of vampires. And what better force to face down the Ancients than their own descendants? “You’re not fussed about using the same scheme as Lord Sutherland did? I suppose you think it’s okay if you’re the one in charge. You’re more like Cordelia than I ever gave you credit for.”

  A rumbling noise echoed through the earth, and the cliff slid to the side. Then, a scaled head rose to the surface, dislodging fragments of earth. Ivy cursed, gripping her sword tighter, and I stared transfixed at the new arrival. The Ancient’s head was long and flat, covered in brown scales, with a pair of horns on either side of its bleary eyes.

  “Don’t try to fight it,” said Evelyn. “If you use your magic, then that beast will tear open the Ley Line and escape into Faerie.”

  “What the actual fuck,” said Ivy, staring at Evelyn. “You want to piss off the Summer and Winter Courts, too? Are you trying to unite everyone against you? Because it’s working.”

  “No,” she said. “My enemies tried to bury me before. They tried to make me forgotten. Now I will always be remembered.”

  “Because everyone will curse your name.” My words were lost in a rumble of thunder as the dragon lifted its head. Its clawed hand broke free, swiping for the nearest target—Ivy.

  The ropes snapped, falling to the ground as Ivy pivoted away from its attack. Ivy raised her blade, moving down the hillside out of reach of the monster’s claws. The cliffs shifted beneath her feet, her feet skidding as she drove the blade into the beast’s flank.

  “Don’t kill it!” I warned. “That’s what Evelyn wants.”

  “I’m trying not to,” Ivy said through gritted teeth, yanking her sword free with a spray of blood.

  Adjusting her balance on the sloping earth, she swung again, and my heart climbed into my throat. If Ivy dealt a killing blow, Evelyn would win her immortality, but if that beast took to the skies, who knew what chaos it’d leave behind?

  “Damn you, Evelyn.” My hands clenched, unable to call my Hemlock magic without making the situation worse.

  “There’s another one,” said Evelyn, with barely restrained glee. I’d never seen her look so alive in all her days as a ghost.

  Heart sinking, I rotated on the spot. A shadow approached with jagged wings, blotting out the sun. The shadow fury flew towards us, his body cloaked in shadows, his skeletal wings beating. Threads of darkness trailed behind him, and a shriek escaped like a thunderclap, rendering me still.

  “Stop,” I whispered. “Stop. You don’t have to fight us.”

  But I was not the beast’s master, and he had his sights set on the other beast, not me. The dragon stopped fighting Ivy, raising its head to face the intriguing new arrival.

  Then, with one swift bound, it pulled itself free of the hillside and launched into the sky, colliding with the shadow fury. More shrieks erupted like fireworks over the rooftops, and to the people living below, it must look as though the apocalypse was nigh.

  “Maybe they’ll finish one another off,” said Evelyn from my side. “That would be more convenient for all of us, wouldn’t it?”

  Magic sparked from my hands, cutting through her. Evelyn’s eyes flew wide, her ghostly form flung back. If she’d been human, my blow would have sliced her body into two halves.

  I gathered the magic into a whip in my hands. “Don’t try me now, Evelyn.”

  “I hoped you’d understand by now, Jas.” Evelyn took in the sight of the two Ancients grappling in mid-air. Droplets of blood scattered over Edinburgh like crimson rain. “This was always inevitable.”

  “Because you made it so.”

  Screeching cries echoed over the peaked roofs, as one beast broke away from the other. They flew beyond the city’s boundaries, over the countryside and out of sight.

  “I have to go into Faerie,” Ivy said, her face chalk white, leaning on her sword for balance. “Someone needs to warn the Courts in case the Ancients target them next. But the council needs to know, too.”

  “I think they might have guessed, considering.” I indicated the spot where the two Ancients had vanished. “I’d lie low, Ivy, in case she’s still planning on using your talisman. I shudder to think what she’d be able to do as an immortal after this.”

  “You nearly had her there, Jas,” Keir said. “I’m going to find my brother—if she’s after the vampires, she might have got to him, too.”

  I nodded to him. “I’d better get back to my body before she takes it over again.”

  To my relief, my body was back where I’d left it, and no dragon-shaped shadows blotted the sky. The vibrant puddles of dark red blood in the streets made dread coil in my chest. Evelyn had set them loose, and it seemed she had no intention of dealing a killing blow herself.

  I would make sure we were both bound to the forest before she got her hands on the lifeblood she craved.

  I ran back in the direction of the necromancer guild. Someone did need to warn the rest of the council of the Ancients’ awakening, but there wasn’t a soul in the city who hadn’t seen the gods’ aerial battle. Shocked faces pressed against windows, while the puddles of blood gleamed with an odd blue sheen. In the witches’ market, stalls lay abandoned, their owners having fled into the nearest houses or failing that, down the alleys or side streets.

  In the mouth of an alley, Asher waved to me. “Jas—where is Isabel?”

  “Back home, with her coven.” The two of them needed to have a serious chat, but if Asher’s god woke, too, we’d have bigger problems.

  His expression shuttered. “Oh.”

  “Asher—look, I’m sorry, but I have to run,” I said. “Evelyn woke up every Ancient in this realm, and maybe outside it, too.”

  “I know,” he said. “Whatever she did… it affected my blood magic. My curse is accelerating.”

  “Shit.” I stared as he pushed up his sleeve to reveal a mark similar to the silvery symbol on Ilsa’s forehead—a mark that named one of the gods. It wavered and shimmered, unreadable to my eyes.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen for months.” He coughed into a handkerchief, which came away stained red. “Jas, I wouldn’t ask this of you, but…”

  “Let me see if I can help.” Now I had my Hemlock magic back, I’d be able to ensure he had as long with Isabel as possible.

  I took his arm, pressing my fingertips to the mark. Magic sparked in my hand, the same erasing magic I’d used on the marks controlling the witch-controlled zombies. But those were just witch marks. This was the mark of an Ancient, impossible to erase without harming Asher.

  Asher hissed in pain but held his hand steady. “You can’t heal it.”

  “Do you have any other marks I can boost?”

  He pushed his sleeve up, showing witch marks old and new. I touched the marks for amplifying and healing, then turned the settings to max. “I can touch up the mark which will draw you back into your body if you find yourself under the control of someone else, but I can’t say for sure it would work against a god.”

  “I doubt it,” he murmured. “I barely notice the mark most of the time. The god isn’t interested in possessing my soul or anything. The blood bond just ensures I get to keep my magic, while the mark filters my life force back to its owner.”

  “Still a risky move,” I said. “About Isabel—you should know, an Ancient killed her former coven
leader. That’s why she reacted the way she did. She knows it wasn’t your fault, and I think she’ll forgive you.”

  “I hope so,” he said. “Because I don’t think I have much time left.”

  You aren’t the only one.

  “If you’re willing to risk running into the Hemlocks, you can go through the forest to find her,” I said. “Since you’re a witch, you might be able to convince Cordelia to let you in. If she kicks up a fuss, then tell her I sent you, and she owes me more than she can repay in a lifetime.”

  Gratitude shone in his eyes. “Thank you, Jas.”

  I had to trust him and Isabel to work it out. It wasn’t worth expending my remaining time lamenting on how few lives I’d saved compared to the ones Evelyn had taken. I’d always been a better necromancer than a witch. We didn’t save lives, we laid them to rest to keep the living safe.

  I turned away from the witch market and found myself face to face with Neil Sutherland.

  The kid was a mess, his fancy clothes filthy, his straw-like hair streaked with dirt. Life behind bars was far from cushy even for the son of the now-deceased former Mage Lord. Of all the times to break out of jail, he had to pick now?

  “I’m disappointed that you forgot about me,” he said. Or rather, the Soul Collector did.

  Oh, shit.

  “I guess you heard the bell, too.” I sighed. “Yes, Evelyn’s back. No, she doesn’t want to talk to you, and I’m not in the mood to mediate an argument. I have an apocalypse to stop.”

  “Maybe I’ll kill you both,” said the Soul Collector.

  “No,” said Evelyn from my side. “you won’t.”

  A dozen lights sprang up in the spirit realm, surrounding the Soul Collector. Evelyn appeared, hovering above the road, along with the glowing spirits of her army of vampires.

  “You’re dying, Soul Collector,” she said. “Even a vampire can finish you off with ease, and you know it.”

  The vampires closed in, resolving into shadowy human-like shapes etched in blue light. The Soul Collector screamed—and so did Neil. His real consciousness broke through, his face twisted in panic. “You can’t kill me! I don’t want to die.”

  “Then speak the name,” said Evelyn. “I know your father taught it to you.”

  Fuck.

  Lord Sutherland had known the names of the Ancients—names no human could speak aloud.

  Names that would call the gods right here.

  “Stop!” I launched myself out of my body, but the vampires surrounded me, pushing me backwards. Cold, clammy hands gripped my arms, eager to feed on my life force.

  “Don’t hurt her,” said Evelyn. “I still need her. Neil… choose wisely.”

  Neil opened his mouth—and froze. Curtains of ice flowed over his face, sealing his mouth shut, binding his arms to his body. He choked and struggled, and Evelyn’s eyes rounded. She hadn’t planned this. That’s not witch magic.

  Behind him, Wanda approached, her hands glowing with her mage power. “Let Jas go!” she shouted.

  Oh, god no. Wanda was only an apprentice mage, the same level as Neil, but it was the Soul Collector whose furious stare shone from Neil’s eyes.

  “Enough!” he roared, breaking the spell. Ice flew in all directions, and several vampires moved in on Wanda, stopping her from getting close. “Make your choice, mage.”

  Sweat beaded on Neil’s forehead. Ice dripped from his hands, the remnants of Wanda’s magic, but she’d gone still, her eyes wide. This would be the first time she’d felt the deep chill of a vampire’s touch—or a dozen at once—and it’d stopped her mage powers dead in their tracks.

  I broke free of the vampires and lunged for the apprentice mage, but too late. A word tore from Neil’s mouth—a single syllable, cold and sharp.

  The world tilted sideways. My ears rang with Neil’s scream, and I flew from my body, through a haze of grey. Screaming vampires rose on either side of me, the shape of Death’s gates beckoning them into its embrace. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stop, in time to see Neil Sutherland and the Soul Collector swept away through the gates on a tide of screaming spirits.

  I blinked into my body and found the mage apprentice’s crumpled body at my feet.

  “That,” said Evelyn, “is what happens when a mere mortal speaks the name of a god.”

  Translation: don’t even think about asking your godly friends for help. As if I could. My body felt numb, shaky, and if not for my shade abilities, I’d likely have been dragged through the gates, too.

  “You tricked him,” I said to Evelyn. “Just like the vampires. Look at yourself, Evelyn. You’re everything Cordelia despised.”

  “But it worked, didn’t it?”

  A shadowy form descended overhead, coalescing into a beast with sharp jagged wings. The shadow fury. Of course that would be the Ancient’s name Lord Sutherland had given his son. He’d tried to sacrifice me to summon the same god, and now the empty vessels of a dozen vampires stood as testimony to the power of an Ancient’s true name.

  The Ancient, however, was in a bad way. Wounds lacerated his scaly skin, souvenirs from his vicious battle with the other dragon-like beast, and thick blood dripped onto the cobblestones.

  Evelyn smiled at the god. “Thought you could get away, did you?”

  Understanding hit me, Evelyn, like any human, couldn’t speak the Ancients’ names without suffering instant death the same way Neil had. Only the Sidhe, or humans who wielded their magic, could voice those words at all. Since she’d failed to coerce Ivy and Ilsa into summoning the gods, she’d been reduced to sacrificing Neil Sutherland.

  Magic formed a whip in Evelyn’s hands, hooking around the shadow fury’s neck. The beast struggled, its hook-like claws flailing, unable to get a grip on her,

  “He’s weak,” Evelyn said. “I can finish him myself. It looks like I don’t need you after all, Jas.”

  The whip squeezed tighter.

  “Stop!” I called on my own magic, my whip striking Evelyn’s aside, but not before it found its mark. A torrent of blood spilt over the road. It had an odd bluish taint, not like human blood, and from Evelyn’s vicious smirk as her magic dissipated, I was too late, far too late.

  The shadow fury gave one last piteous shriek, then fell silent. Shadows rose to consume its body, leaving nothing behind but ashes and blood.

  “Happy now?” I choked out.

  Evelyn hovered above the puddle of blood, which rose like liquid shadow. Colour folded over her transparent form, turning her into a young woman with pale skin, long dark brown hair, and a tall, lean figure clothed in jeans and a plain jacket covered with old bloodstains. The clothes she’d died in. Her body appeared more solid by the second, more like the person I’d seen in the vision. The person I’d been in the vision.

  Evelyn Hemlock was alive. Immortal.

  “Now,” she said, “I walk among the living again.”

  18

  The last of the Ancient’s blood slid from Evelyn’s feet, evaporating among the shadows of the dead god. Everyone was silent, the vampires’ vessels empty of life. Neil Sutherland lay still, dead. And beside him—

  “No.” I dropped to my knees in front of Wanda’s lifeless body. “No!”

  As a necromancer, I always knew the difference between unconscious and dead, and the last of the god’s blood had evaporated.

  Evelyn had killed the first best friend I’d ever had.

  A sharp, merciless pain built in my throat, and for the first time I understood how Mackie’s scream could rent the spirit realm in two. With an inhuman roar, I lunged at Evelyn.

  She sidestepped with blinding speed. I caught my balance, spun, lashed her with Hemlock magic. My whip circled her ankles and broke in the same instant. She conjured a whip of her own, and her attack knocked me off my feet. I rolled over on the cobbled road, breathless, yet my rage seemed as depthless as the void. Silvery threads sliced at her like guillotines, yet she dodged them all, moving as fast as a Sidhe. She’d given herself a few upgrad
es when she’d been reborn, yet she resembled her human self on the outside. We had the same power, but she had an immortal vessel to hold it. She could strike me down on the spot, and end this.

  I met her eyes. Bring it, then.

  Her gaze broke from mine. Her magic dissipated, and emotions I couldn’t read flickered in her eyes as she took in the bloodstained street, the bodies, the vampires’ fallen vessels.

  Then she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing on the cobbles. Each clack was a blow against my heart.

  Bruised, reeling, I crouched at Wanda’s side. My hands sifted the god’s ashes, stirring phantom shadows that slid through my fingers. One snap and I could raise her body; one step over the line that divided the dead from the living and I could yank her back into existence as a ghost; one symbol and I could turn her into a zombie slave. But the one thing I couldn’t do was bring her back to life the same way she had been before.

  I punched the ground, so hard that my fist dented the stone. Greyness covered my knuckles, spreading from my wrists to my hands. A gasp caught in my throat. I shouldn’t have let Evelyn run, not before I inflicted every inch of the Hemlocks’ curse upon her.

  A surge of energy whooshed over my head, following the curve of the spirit line. Magic sparked in the air, threads of light coalescing into solidity made up of symbols… Hemlock symbols.

  “Evelyn,” I whispered. “What the hell did you do?”

  I lifted Wanda’s body into my arms, staggering on the shaky cobblestones. In mid-air, the symbols swirled, reforming into tangled tree branches and roots. The spirit line had cracked so deeply that the forest was here, ripping through the middle of the city, carving a deadly path through the roads and houses. Trunks burst from roofs, the earth cracked as roots rose to the surface and broke through the cobblestones.

  If this was happening up and down the country—

  —Then it would hit the necromancer guild.

  Not them, too.

  A hoarse scream tore from my throat. I hardly felt Wanda’s dead weight in my arms as I flat-out sprinted down the road and around the corner, towards the necromancer guild. All my friends were in there. Damn her. Damn her.