Gula: The Oswald Witches

by Mathew Ortiz

  “Morning.” Duncan spoke so softly William could hardly hear him.

  “Chef Tjeed made a wonderful breakfast, sweetie. Can I have him get you a plate?” Reeka asked as she set her almanac down.

  “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

  “But Duncan, you need to eat.”

  “I said, no thank you!” His sharp reply made Reeka blanch, and the tension rose in the room. William frowned.

  “You need to eat, Duncan.”

  “I’m fine.”

  William’s temper exploded. “Are you fucking insane? Are you blind? You’re not fine! You look like an Auschwitz prisoner. I know you miss Zeke, bu—”

  “No, don’t you fucking dare, William!” Duncan’s sallow face blazed angrily. Oliver’s anxiety transmitted to Donovan, and Donovan’s unwavering reassurance steadied Oliver’s frayed nerves. “You don’t know. How could you? Your bondmate sleeps with you every night.” He gestured wildly at Rush.

  “Dun—”

  “Don’t, Rush. Don’t. You told me once that bonding with William was the best thing that ever happened to you. That he completed you. I had that! I had that, and it was taken away from me. Why? Why? Am I such a horrible person that I can’t be allowed to be happy? Am I so bad, so unworthy, that the fates only want me to suffer and be alone?” Coffee spilled upon the floor as his hands shook in grief. “I finally find someone who loves me, and of course he is taken away. Everything I love is taken away. My childhood, my mother and father, and now the only man who loved me for me.”

  “Oh, Duncan…” Jaime murmured, wet lashes holding back new tears.

  He waved her off, turned and dumped his coffee in the sink then started to the door.

  William jumped out of his chair and hurried over to him. Gently grabbing Duncan’s shoulder, he made his brother look at him with a soft shake.

  “Please, Duncan. I—”

  Duncan shook his head. “Don’t, William. Don’t. I can’t deal with this anymore. Seeing you and Rush so happy is a bitter pill to swallow. Now Oliver has Donovan, and all it does is slap me in the face, reminding me that I’m alone… again.” He huffed out a joyless laugh. “Always the bridesmaid…never the bride.”

  “Dunc—”

  “Don’t worry about me, William. I’ll be with Zeke soon enough.” He shook off William’s hand and disappeared into the house. His footsteps echoed as he walked up the stairs to his room.

  “This is bullshit!” William shouted, causing Reeka and Jaime to jump in fright. Rush looked worried. Donovan moved closer to Oliver, his hand carding through his blond curls. “I’m not going to sit back and let him die! I won’t!” Storming out of the kitchen, William marched through the main entrance toward the library.

  “William! William, what are you doing?” Jaime yelled.

  “Fixing this. Once and for all!” he shouted back and flung open the library door, Jaime, Oliver and the others hot on his heels. William found the statue in the corner of the library and turned it. The wood inlaid medallion on the floor opened and cascaded downward. He turned and addressed the group.

  “I’m going to make him forget Zeke.”

  Jaime’s hands flew to her face, and Aunt Reeka paled. Rush and Donovan stiffened.

  “You--you can’t do that, Blondie.” Rush came closer to William and took him into his arms.

  “I can’t let him die, Rush.” William’s voice cracked as the tears slid down his face. “I can’t! He’s dying, and he wants to be with Zeke. Call me selfish, but I want my brother here!”

  Pulling away from Rush, he put a hand to his chest to stop him. “Stay here.”

  He started down the stairs and looked over his shoulder at Oliver and Jaime. “I can’t ask you two to help me, but I need you. His power level and his eidetic memory will require me to use a high level spell. I can’t do it alone.” Beseeching, his gaze flitted from Jaime to Oliver. “Please, I can’t…we can’t lose him.”

  Jaime sniffed hard and nodded, taking the first two steps behind William.

  “This is wrong, William. You’re talking about mind-wiping our brother!” Oliver hedged.

  “No, I am talking about editing his memories to remove his pain.” William held out his hand to Oliver. “Please, Ollie. He’s dying. Please.”

  Oliver dashed away his tears and took William’s hand. “He’s going to hate us if he ever finds out.”

  “That’s why, if he does, I’m the one who’ll take the blame. I’m the eldest, it’s my call and my shame.” He held up his hand to stop their aunt. “No, Aunt Reeka. We have to do this. I won’t have you dragged down if this goes south.”

  Reeka gave him a weak smile. “I understand. The boys and I will check on you later.” She motioned for Rush and Donovan to follow her, which they did with reluctance. The three left the room. Oliver and his siblings descended the stairs to their family’s sanctum sanctorum.

  Pointing his finger, William popped the lights on and strode over to the dais. Waving his hand over the book, he opened the tome before closing his eyes and saying, “Help me make him forget.” The pages shivered then flew by rapidly, finally stopping. William opened his eyes. “I need three white candles and three red ones, a piece of parchment, a sprig of rosemary, the small cauldron, and matches.”

  Jaime and Oliver hurriedly gathered the items. Oliver reached out a hand and mentally picked up the fat, squat black iron cauldron. A flick of his wrist sent it sailing overhead, landing softly in the center of the altar. Jaime opened the cupboard and found the candles she needed. Placing the candles red, then white, and so on in a circle around the cauldron, she gathered up the matches.

  Oliver found a quill pen, rosemary from a jar by the cabinet, and the parchment, and then padded over to the altar, facing Jaime across it. William stepped down and joined them, forming a triangle. Hesitation hung in the air.

  “If we do this, there’s no turning back.” Jaime bit her nails in anxiety.

  “If we don’t, he dies,” William murmured.

  “Let’s just get this over with before I chicken out.” Oliver raked a shaking hand through his hair.

  William took the pen and wrote ‘Ezekiel Abramson’ and the spell in bold slashes on the delicate yellow paper. Folding the parchment, he placed it into the cauldron on top of the sprig of rosemary Oliver had laid in the pot. Jaime pointed to the candles, and all six lit. William held out his hand, and all three siblings linked up. He cleared his throat and focused, and a small flame erupted, lighting the rosemary under the parchment. It snapped and popped as it slowly burned.

  “Wise Hecate, hear our plea. Find the memories of Ezekiel Abramson in our brother’s mind that they should be discovered and exposed for us to see!”

  Smoke billowed upward, and they were in Duncan’s mind. Images undulated in the smoke, and William blushed as intimate scenes played before their eyes. Jaime cast her eyes down and Oliver looked up at the ceiling. More images flashed and came to a slow halt, joining the others within the smoke. William mentally flashed the spell to Oliver and Jaime. In shaking voices they all chanted as one.

  “Bit by bit, Ezekiel Abramson shall fade, he shall disappear. Day by day, this is as we say. All memories of him shall disappear into a forgotten bay. As this paper is consumed in flame, all memories of him shall burn with it, bit by bit. So let it be. So can it be. So make it be.”

  The paper caught flame from the rosemary, and it blazed high, a conflagration of light and heat. Power surged, and a golden light pulsed like a living thing, then faded. Jaime staggered back, grabbing the table for purchase, and Oliver swayed. William looked nauseous. The spell done, the three of them returned to the main floor.

  As they made their way through the main entrance, Ming came flying down the stairs, eyes wide. William caught her as she nearly raced past him.

  “Ming? What’s wrong? Is Duncan—?”

  She spun and smiled at him. “He’s awake and starving. He asked me to bring him breakfast.”

  Jaime sobbed, and Ol
iver grabbed William’s shoulder to steady himself.

  William swallowed thickly and said, “Take him anything he wants, Ming. Anything!” Ming nodded and hurried off to the kitchen. Oliver watched worriedly as Ming rushed off.

  What have we done?

  ***

  It was only a week until Dathan was to arrive, and Donovan was a mess. He spoke to his brother daily, keeping the topics neutral and his tone light. His brother didn’t suspect a thing. At least he thought so. Hell, he hoped so. Donovan loved his brother dearly; however, when Dathan was angry, he was one scary motherfucker. Unable to keep from thinking about it, he had decided to take a run one night after Oliver fell asleep.

  He shifted his eyes and gazed at his mate. Naked as the day he was born, Oliver sprawled on his stomach and snoring softly. Only a small corner of sheet lay across his smooth right leg, and, licking his lips, Donovan allowed his eyes to travel the length of his mate’s leg to the pert globes of his ass. Dear lord, he was falling in love with that butt. It was round and high with little jiggle, and Donovan had spent an hour tasting, licking, sucking, and tonguing those glorious cheeks as Oliver whimpered above him. He would sink his cock deep into the firmness, feeling Oliver’s muscle give way to the constant pressure. Quivering, the flesh would hold tight, then open and let his cock slide in until his balls slapped Oliver’s.

  The thought of it perked his cock up, and he thickened. Damn, and that was after three hours of fucking! He always wondered why mated couples were so happy. He knew now. Sex was incredible. It was awe-inspiring. It was…more than that. Each time he touched Oliver, each time he scented him, and each time he kissed him, their bonding deepened. Donovan was aware that mated shifters were connected by a kind of tug or pull that drew them to each other. In his pack’s case it was the dominant wolf’s desire to claim and protect his mate. With Oliver, it was very different.

  The steady presence of his mate’s consciousness in his mind bothered him at first. He worried that Oliver would invade his thoughts and that he would never have privacy again. He couldn’t have been more wrong. It was true that Oliver was with him. The feeling was like a hand touching your neck, running fingers through the hair on the back of your head. You knew it was there, and it felt amazing. But it wasn’t intrusive. Unless he deliberately projected a thought at Oliver, his guy didn’t bug him. Hands down, the bonding had perks. Instant communication was one. Another was if he was stressed, he was able to lean on Oliver and draw strength from him. Vice versa, Oliver leaned on him as needed. Most important was that Donovan didn’t feel alone for the first time in his life. Even as a member of his pack, he was still alone.

  Oliver mumbled in his sleep and turned over on his back. He screwed up his nose and his hand came up and scratched it. Donovan heart warmed, and then it hit him. He was in love with Oliver Blackthorne. They hadn’t spoken of love. In fact they both had avoided the ‘L’ word. Several times he had come close to saying it, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he was sure Oliver had almost said it a time or two. So why hadn’t they said those three little words to each other?

  Oliver was his mate. He would protect him from all danger. I would die for him. A flood of emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Rather than lose his shit in front of his mate, he snuck out of the bedroom and quietly padded over to the big windows on the far side of the room. Clicking the latch on the window, he swung it open, letting the warm summer air caress his bare skin. Looking out the window, he judged himself to be about twenty feet above the ground. Piece of cake! Hopping up on the ledge, he crouched, took a long breath, and called his wolf to come.

  He leapt into the night air and shifted mid-leap. Skin flowed like water. Bones shifted, flesh rearranged, and he was in full wereling form when his legs his the ground. The thud of his landing echoed in the night. He inhaled sharply and swung his gaze around. The black and white world of his lupine vision was sharp. The smells of grass, animals, magic, and the lingering scent of Oliver drifted along his consciousness. His ears perked up at the sounds of the deep night. An owl hooted. Leaves rustled as mice scampered amidst the undergrowth. All was his. A fanged grin split his wereling muzzle. His wolf howled in him, and he finished the shift to his full wolf form. Donovan sniffed the grass as he trotted around the large grounds to the back of the house. The odd tinge of magic--what that fuck was that?

  The fetid and rancid scent was very weak but still burned his nose. What the hell was making that stench? Over the weeks he’d been here, nothing had smelled like that…like death. He sniffed harder, trying to localize the scent’s path, but it disappeared. Uneasy, he looked up at the open window. Oliver would be fine. Nothing could enter the house unless invited, another little trick Oliver had let him in on. No member of the Supernature could enter the house unless invited by one of the family or the staff. Chuffing out a breath, he bolted into a flat out run. Tearing across the lawn, he headed into the deep forest behind the Maze. He howled in pure joy as he reveled in the humid, lush night.

  The legend among the shifters was that they came from an indigo pool in the Deep Green. The Deep Green was the forest all shifters aspired to go to one day. Six of the seven continents had a Deep Green. It was a place most holy to shifters. Here, when the moon rose high, shifters from all over would meet, sing the songs of the moon, and make love. Here in North America the Deep Green was located in northern New York State, far from humans in a section of the forest that was sacred. Here shifters came from all corners to commune with the moon, the water, and the green and to renew their connection with their world. He had been once before. In the Deep Green, his powers sang and his blood raced in his veins. It had been indescribable. One day he wanted to take Oliver there and make love to him under the moonlight on a bed of cool spongy moss. He wanted to share this place with his mate, to howl to the moon in sheer exuberance that he was in love, and his mate was by his side.

  He skidded to a halt near the stone wall that edged the far end of the estate. Panting hard, it dawned on him how far he had run. No wonder his legs were burning. Flopping down on his belly, he attempted to cool down. Donovan loved cutting loose. He had spent too many nights indoors and not enough time letting his wolf run free. No wonder he had so much pent up energy. Rising up, he ambled down to a small stream near the wall for a quick drink before heading back to the house. Dipping down his muzzle, he lapped up the cold, clean water. The cold helped cool his insides. Sneezing once, he shook his muzzle, ruffing his fur. Enough dawdling, time to get back to the house. Leaping over the stream, he took his time trotting back to the house. His wolf was happy now.

  Damn, he missed Dathan. They loved running late into the night together. Since they were from the same litter, he and Dathan competed for everything as good siblings do. In the end, they supported each other completely. What was it Dathan said? I can talk shit about my brother all I want. But no one else better! It bothered him that he was afraid to tell Dathan about Oliver. He found his mate, something all shifters dreamed of. Except in his case, his mate was a witch. This was going to blow up in his face.

  The house came into view. He was maybe one hundred feet from Oliver’s window when a voice pierced his thoughts.

  Donovan!

  Jerking to a stop, the anxiety Oliver conveyed made his fur stand up on end.

  I’m here, Ollie. I was restless. I went for a run.

  Oh…okay. I--I woke up and you were gone. I—

  He ran over to the window and peered up. I’m on the lawn, outside your sitting room window.

  Oliver’s blond head poked out the window. His long curls cascading over his shoulders. Donovan’s tongue lolled out as his mate’s scent hit him. Damn, he was getting horny again. Hell, he was even wagging his tail. I’m totally losing cool points.

  He pushed away some of his hair and gazed at Donovan. “My, my, my what big teeth you have!”

  Donovan barked once and sat back on his haunches. Really? The big bad wolf fantasy?

  “So you don’t want to eat me?” />
  Donovan’s ears perked up and his tail thumped the ground. I didn’t say that, sexy. Stand back. I’m going to shift and jump up to the window.

  “Don’t sweat it, Wolfie. Hang on to your nuts.”

  Donovan cocked his head to one side and was about to ask Oliver what he meant went he floated upward. Yelping, he fought the force holding him, until Oliver’s voice rang out in his head.

  Stop moving so much. I’ve got you!

  He saw Oliver’s right hand reaching out and drawing him up with his telekinetic power. Odd, he thought, as he levitated up to the window and Oliver. The force holding him was invisible. Like a giant hand holding him was the best way to describe it. And it felt like Oliver. Maybe it was because they were mated and bonded, but the force was gentle. Onward and upward, the distance between the two of them dwindled. Oliver ducked back as Donovan approached the windowsill. Oliver lowered him to the floor, and the warmth of his power dissipated. Shivering, he initiated his shift, and within seconds he stood naked in the room. He opened his arms, and Oliver drifted into them, snuggling in.

  “The bed was cold without you,” Oliver murmured, his face on Donovan’s right pec.

  “I should have told you I was going for a run. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you up.” He kissed the top of Oliver’s head, rubbing his face into the fragrant strands.

  “Come back to bed.” Oliver took his hand and led him to the bedroom. Donovan smirked. Oliver’s junk bounced as he walked. Why do I think that’s adorable and hot all at once? He tromped after Oliver like an obedient puppy. Of course, this puppy was going to get a nice juicy bone. If his nose was reading his mate’s scent right, sleeping was not on the menu.

  ***

  Mohamed sat in the staff kitchen, waiting. Waiting for his counterpart, Elizabeth Carmichael. He had received another letter from Bennett’s family at last. They had not seen the young man. He decide to call them, and when he did, they didn’t seem at all interested in their missing son. Hanging up with them, he sat back and ruminated. It would appear that Bennett Mimieux had disappeared from the face of the earth, and no one gave a crap. Over morning coffee, he had broached the subject with Elizabeth. Normally, she was cool and composed. She spilled her coffee when he relayed the lasted news on Bennett.