Feathers, Tails & Broomsticks

by Dionnara Dawson

  ‘What did you say before? Astra…?’

  Azazel looked at her with pity. ‘Oh, dear. They haven’t even told you the words to live by, child. Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.’

  ‘What does it mean?’ She held tight onto the card.

  ‘It means: the stars incline us, they do not bind us. It means, despite who we are or what we’re born with—demon blood, magic—we make our own destiny, little witch. And so should you.’ He dropped his yellow eye in a wink, smiled, then left the store.

  Hella watched as he dispersed into a dark mist, then vanished into a storm drain by the road. She swallowed then looked down at the card. It only had an address on it. An apartment, about a ten-minute walk away. Hella read it aloud, and then, like Azazel’s dark mist, the ink rose up off the card and vanished after its master, leaving the card blank.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Meele

  ‘I don’t believe it. Are you okay?’ Meele took Hella by the shoulders, examining her thoroughly. There were no signs of any new wounds, but it had been a close one. Azazel knew how to find her, their precious promised witch. Meele wondered if Remy had cast any spells to protect her store, and if she had, why they had failed so spectacularly. Whichever the case, someone should be protecting Hellora at all times. Meele wondered if the Faeries would offer a guard for her.

  ‘I’m sure, I’m fine.’ Hella waved her away.

  ‘Are you positive it was Azazel?’ Meele sat with Hella on the couch. Remy peered over from her armchair. Harrow leaned by the fireplace, brooding. The human friend, James, was nowhere to be seen.

  Hellora nodded. ‘It was the same guy I saw that day. Yellow eyes. He told me that was his name. Why would he lie?’

  ‘I can’t believe I slept through a demon visit. Why didn’t you call out for me?’ Harrow asked, clearly distressed at having missed his opportunity to help her, which, Meele thought, was sweet.

  ‘I… honestly, I didn’t think of it. To call for either of you, I’m sorry, I just...’ She trailed off. ‘Everything else vanished from my mind. It wasn’t like the attack in the park where I knew that angel wanted to hurt me. Azazel just’—she paused—‘he wanted to talk, and I wanted to know why.’

  Meele frowned, leaning closer to examine her face. ‘Are you positive he didn’t hurt you, threaten you? I can’t believe I was here the whole time. I didn’t hear a thing. Damn silencing headphones. I was just reading.’

  Hella exhaled, as if in frustration. ‘I told you all, I’m fine. He didn’t do anything to me. He was pretty nice for a demon. Certainly, nicer than the angel.’ Hella’s hand moved over her leg. As her head moved, the almost-healed line across her throat was still visible.

  Harrow leaned forward. Meele noticed the almost imperceptible twitch as he did so, the pain from his still-healing wound. ‘What did he want to talk about?’

  ‘He told me something. I think it was Latin. Astra in—something—it was about choosing your own destiny.’

  Meele and Harrow spoke at the same time. ‘Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.’ They recited.

  Meele glanced at Harrow with a smile. ‘It’s our words, Hella. We are afflicted with demon blood, a curse, or a disease. We have these words to remind us that we have not lost our humanity. I mean, werewolves and vampires, eek, but, the rest of us do what we can.’

  Hella nodded, understanding. ‘Azazel said that it’s for witches, too. That I don’t have to be what you tell me to be. I can be what I want.’

  Remy frowned. ‘He’s trying to lure you, Hella. To his side. Don’t listen to him.’

  Meele blinked, realising. ‘Oh, no. Hellora. A witch as powerful as you, of course Azazel wants you to walk with him. If you joined his kin, walked with his darkness, you would be a force to be reckoned with, but you would be pure evil. And your destiny is with us. To help us defeat the angels.’

  ‘Don’t I get to choose that?’ Hella asked.

  Everyone in the room paused. Remy frowned. Harrow tilted his head, as if considering.

  ‘Hella, your destiny is already written. I’ve seen it,’ Meele said.

  ‘Is that a “no”, then?’ Hella leaned forward.

  ‘I’ve seen the future, Hellora, and I’ve watched you do great things. You’re not meant to be a dark witch. It’s you that will save countless lives; humans and Cambions.’ Meele reached out and grasped Hella’s hand, imploring. ‘Hella, you’re so new. I understand that you want to choose, but you’re already on the right path. You found Remy all on your own. You’re doing the right thing, don’t you see that?’

  Hella seemed to consider. Harrow waved at Meele for her to move over.

  ‘Hella,’ he said seriously, ‘when warlocks are young, we go through a change. We’re part demon, part human. But when we’re around twelve or so, the demon blood hits us, hard. It makes us do bad things—yep, it’s basically a surge of evil puberty—don’t laugh, I’m not kidding. It really sucks. Our moral compass is upside down, and we want to do bad things. We have to fight to be good. You don’t have to do that. You’re already good. Don’t throw that away.’

  The young witch peered at him curiously with a shade of sympathy. ‘Do all warlocks do that?’

  Harrow nodded.

  Meele tried to smile. ‘You make choices every day, to be good, to be yourself. You know that Azazel only wants you for your power.’

  ‘So do you. You want me for my power, right?’ Hella pointed out.

  Meele swallowed. She shook her head. ‘No, Hellora. It’s my destiny to ensure that you do what needs to be done to save thousands of lives. Does that sound selfish to you?’

  The young witch took her time to answer. She was smart, cautious. Finally, she shook her head slightly. ‘No, it doesn’t. But I’d like you to tell me more about what you want me to do. How you plan to defeat the angels, save everyone.’

  Meele smiled. ‘Of course. Remy and I didn’t want to put too much on you at once, that’s all. We’ve never tried to hide anything from you.’

  Harrow shrugged. ‘Well, except for the fact that you’re a witch.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Remy

  ‘Get your paws off it,’ Remy snapped at Meele. In the backroom of the store, where Meele had set up her things, the women huddled together over a seemingly blank white business card.

  ‘For the record, no one has paws,’ Meele told her sternly. ‘And are you sure it’s Hella’s? What if it’s just a piece of cardboard?’ The faerie peered over her. ‘There’s nothing on it.’

  ‘I’m sure. I know everything in my store. This was in her pocket. I saw it fall out.’

  Meele frowned down at her. ‘Well, what do you think it is?’

  ‘I think it’s something Azazel gave to her. Something to let her know how to find him. And if we can find him first, we can see what he’s up to, and maybe keep him away from her.’ Remy leaned over the card, rubbing her wrinkled hands together.

  ‘I didn’t think witches could scry like that.’ Meele looked surprised.

  ‘We can’t. I would need something important that belonged to Azazel for that. Or his blood. I’m just trying a Restoration spell.’

  ‘Is there a reason we’re not telling Hellora about this?’

  Remy paused. ‘I think she’s tempted by whatever the demon said. I don’t want to upset her by chasing this up on our own. I’m protecting her.’ Remy laid a hand on the small white card. As she murmured a spell, her blue amulet glowed. Sparks flew from her hands onto the card, and then a flood of black ink poured from it, all over and down the table, splashing up the wall and over both women’s shoes.

  Meele stepped back. ‘Woah. Was that supposed to happen?’

  Remy frowned as ink dripped into her socks. ‘No. It was not. He’s protecting himself somehow.’

  Meele picked up the card, soggy with black ink. ‘I’ve never seen a demon use such trickery.’ She shook the card, sending a spray of ink everywhere.
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  Remy blinked, ink on her cheeks. ‘Why would you do that?’

  Meele hid a smirk. ‘Because your spell worked.’

  Underneath the dark ink, Remy’s blue sparks spelled out an address. ‘He’s close. We should go. Together. Let’s see what this demon wants with our Hella.’

  ‘You sound as if you’re fond of her.’ Meele tilted her blonde head.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Remy snapped. ‘She’s part of my coven. I’m her guardian. It’s my job to keep her alive. To get her to help our cause.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’ Meele’s golden eyes seemed to bore into Remy’s, as if trying to read her thoughts. Though Remy knew she couldn’t, she was neither a faerie nor an angel.

  ‘Yes,’ Remy snapped again. ‘Why are you pestering me?’

  ‘I just don’t want to see you hurt like last time, Remy.’ Meele put a hand on her shoulder.

  Remy’s blue eyes darkened, a storm in the ocean. ‘I’ll not have you speak of my past students. And don’t speak of them in front of Hella, you’ll only scare her.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault that she died, Remy,’ Meele said quietly.

  Remy wiped ink off her cheeks and her hands, onto her long skirts. ‘Yes, it was.’

  Remy and Meele left Hella with Harrow in the side room of the store. They seemed to be getting on well. Good, Remy thought. The more she likes the warlock, the more she’ll want to help. The sun began to set outside, casting pink-golden light through the high window of the store. Remy gathered up a few weapons, tucking them into safe places on her body.

  She offered an athame to Meele, who shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I’m good.’

  ‘I forgot.’ Remy rolled her eyes. ‘You Cambions are so precious about using your own talents instead of weapons.’

  ‘We are not,’ Meele muttered back, but Remy watched as she shimmered into her faerie form, golden hair rippling down her back. The lights in the store glanced off her scales.

  They exited the store quietly. She had left the teenagers with instructions to learn about each other’s magic and abilities. As far they knew, they were off to get supplies for the store. On the pavement outside, Remy looked again at the card, the blue sparks fading now. ‘It’s just up the road, here. We should walk. Too obvious if we drive up.’

  Meele nodded. The women stalked up the road, the sun setting to their left. ‘Do you ever think about your other students?’ Meele asked into the quiet street.

  Remy took a moment to respond, following the path up to the apartment complex in the next block over. ‘No,’ she lied. ‘No point dwelling on past mistakes.’

  ‘Maybe you could learn from them,’ Meele suggested calmly.

  Remy frowned. ‘It was years ago, Meele. I don’t want to discuss this right now.’

  The faerie nodded.

  Remy looked over at the faerie. She had a natural warrior stance Remy had always admired. Slight, and ready for anything. ‘Are you ever going to tell Hella the full prophecy?’

  It was Meele’s turn to be uncomfortable. ‘I don’t see how that would do any good. That’s why we’re doing this, isn’t it? So that she’s not tempted by evil.’

  ‘It’s her destiny to do great things,’ Remy said carefully. ‘The prophecy says nothing about which side she should be on. It’s supposed to be her choice, as she reminded us today. Just because you’re a Scire, an oracle, and can see the future, doesn’t mean you can control how it happens.’

  Meele rounded on her. ‘Do you really want her to be evil?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Remy snapped. ‘I don’t, no. But what if she finds out we’ve been hiding it from her? She might—’

  ‘She won’t find out,’ Meele said sharply. The pair rounded a corner. ‘I think this is the building.’

  Remy looked the building up and down. It looked like a perfectly normal building; old brick, like everything else in town. He was so close to her store. To Hella.

  Meele glanced at her. ‘He’s picked this spot on purpose.’

  ‘I would swear you really could read my thoughts sometimes,’ Remy muttered.

  ‘I just know you that well, old friend. The demon is here because he’s taunting you, and he wants to be close to your prodigy. I’m telling you, if he’s alone, we could take him out tonight.’

  ‘I hope you’ve seen that somewhere and you’ve just neglected to tell me, because a witch and a Scire aren’t the most ferocious cavalry.’ They should have recruited some more fae, but then, the Houses never go looking for trouble. They bury their collective heads in the sand. Remy and Meele were on their own.

  ‘I think we can handle him,’ Meele said.

  ‘Oh, you think so, do you?’ A voice said from behind them.

  The women whirled to see a coalesced shadow, a shape in the darkness. With yellow eyes. Azazel smiled. Meele threw a bolt of golden light at the demon, but it passed through him as he shifted forms, only creating a tear in his suit.

  His eyes glowed yellow. ‘Good evening, ladies.’

  ‘How did you not see that coming?’ Remy muttered angrily to the oracle.

  Meele frowned. ‘That’s not how it works, and you know it,’ she spat back.

  Remy hurled an athame at the demon’s head, but it soared through him, clattering on the road behind him. He frowned, as if offended at the attack.

  ‘Rude,’ he muttered. ‘What brings you to my home?’

  Remy held up the ink-soaked card. ‘You came to my home first. You saw my witch and gave her this.’

  He formed into the shape of a human man in a sharp suit, solidifying. With a distinctly human gesture, he straightened his sleek black tie. ‘I did, yes. And I get you two as visitors instead. Little witch doesn’t know you’re here, does she?’ His eyes narrowed, then he laughed triumphantly. ‘Oh, I knew it. You know you ladies really don’t appreciate the diamond in the rough you’ve stumbled onto. I can sense her power, and it is truly great.’

  ‘You speak as if she’s already allied with you.’ Meele snarled.

  Azazel smiled. ‘I believe she has. I can sense her power, remember? I can feel her. She knows you lied to her. She’s on her way here right now. To see me.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Hella

  Hella watched as Harrow turned from human to warlock and back again in slow ripples of moving skin and scales. She saw his tail swish into existence, then vanish, then swish again, pointed and sharp-looking.

  ‘You’re so…’ She couldn’t find the words.

  Harrow frowned. ‘What? Ugly? Terrifying? Come on, do your worst. I’ve heard it all before.’ He squared his shoulders.

  Hella’s eyes softened. ‘No,’ she said. She was only centimetres away from him. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. If he let her. She wondered if he would scratch out at her like her cat, as Salem sometimes did. She could see the scales on his cheek. Hella wondered if they felt bumpy. ‘Wonderful,’ she finally said.

  Harrow looked taken aback. He quickly adjusted his features. ‘Of course, I’m wonderful. Look at me.’

  ‘And that’s called a shimmer? When you change from one form to the other like that?’

  Harrow nodded. ‘Yes. We call it shimmering.’

  Hella’s eyebrows quirked. ‘Can you sit down with a tail?’

  The warlock laughed. ‘Cats can sit down, and they have tails.’

  ‘Why do you only look this way sometimes?’ Hella sat beside him. Then she paused. ‘Sorry, is that rude?’

  Harrow smiled. ‘It’s not rude. It’s kind of a biological question, actually. It used to be that we Cambions always looked this way’—he gestured down at himself—‘in our natural forms, all the time. Until, oh, maybe a few thousand years ago. That’s when the angels fell, you see. They came to this Earth to hunt demons, that was when it began. Then they found us as well, and assumed we were demons too. And that stuck. Forever. So, Cambions eventually formed the ability to lo
ok like humans most of the time, so that we can hide from those angelic bastards. I mean, we are part human, too. But we look like this when we want to, or if we’re emotional. Scared, or angry or upset, really.’

  Hella nodded. Finally, some answers. The world swirled with questions. She had to remember to write this all down later, in private. There was a lot she still didn’t know or understand. Remy had conjured a punching bag, soft floor mats and hand wraps for the teenagers to use, as well as wall-mounted targets for Hella’s throwing practice. Remy had laid out the beautiful set of three daggers Hella admired, as well as the one Hella kept fondly attached to her belt now, at all times.

  This was now the Training Room, Harrow said. He ignored the wraps. Hella had changed into more flexible clothes, tying her long red braid straight down her back. She had a bad feeling about this. ‘Am I throwing fire at you, or kicking you, or what?’

  Harrow laughed. ‘Whatever you think you can manage.’ He had taken off his shirt to better move around, now only in his black jeans and bare feet, his black scuffed boots kicked off.

  Hella found it distracting, which is why he was able to shimmer into his warlock form and throw a freezing cloud of ice at her head before she noticed what was happening. She tilted her head away just in time. Hella felt the brush of cold along her shoulders.

  ‘Are you paying attention?’ Harrow asked, all business-like.

  Hella nodded. ‘Of course I am. But I thought you couldn’t extinguish my fire.’ She had to learn not to close her eyes when focusing her chakras, she thought, though that wasn’t what had distracted her. Hella’s eyes found the lines on Harrow’s stomach very distracting.

  Harrow smiled. ‘Maybe I was just a little tipsy. Don’t worry about me. You have your gifts, I have mine.’ He nodded at her to try something.

  Her eyes wide open, she felt for her powers, then threw a golf-ball sized fireball at the warlock. The red-tinged purple flames sailed past into the wall behind him with a puff of smoke.