Which Witch is Which? (The Witches of Port Townsend)

by Kerrigan Byrne

  Nature was all she knew. She didn't know what to do. Maybe her blood sugar was low? Either way, if she didn't cool off and get ahold of herself, she was going to cry.

  And she'd cried too much lately.

  The attic was even hotter than the kitchen. The air was stale and roasted her lungs as she dragged it in. She knew right where to go, as if the crystal called to her. A copper-metal box huddled beneath some old whatnots in a trunk that had been tucked in the corner. Tierra had seen it years ago, and something had made her return it to the bottom, hiding it under sweaters and old clothes. Her hand went right to the box, and she opened it. The crystal glowed in welcome, and her mood lifted at the beauty of the prism on a long golden chain. Clutching the crystal in her hand, she ran back down the four flights of stairs.

  “Here!” she exclaimed. “I knew I'd seen it.” She set the crystal in the middle of the table.

  “Wow,” Moira said, reaching for it. “That's purty, all right.”

  “It feels really old,” Aerin said. “Like ancient. Where was it?”

  “In the attic.”

  “And you just found it?” Claire asked, her brows furling into a frown.

  “I suddenly remembered seeing it years ago when I was, you know, shopping for clothes up in the trunks. It, like, called to me.”

  “Let me see that.” Claire held out her hand for the crystal and placed the stone next to the picture with the scrying spell. “This has to be the same crystal used by this Malcolm de Moray. Eerie.”

  “Seems like we've entered another dimension. Every day is freaky,” Moira said.

  “And exciting,” Claire said. “You have to admit, you feel alive.”

  “Sure, until we're all dead.” Aerin nodded.

  “Get me a map.” Claire motioned for Tierra. “I'm dying to try this.”

  Tierra produced a map of the state of Washington, and they cleared off the table. “For some reason, I think you need some mugwort, cinnamon, nutmeg, and yarrow.” She gathered the items and sprinkled them over the map. “Okay, go.”

  “Stand back, in case…well, you know, just in case.” The three of them stepped back and Claire repeated the words of the scrying spell. She let the crystal drop from the chain as she held it loosely in her hand.

  “Wait!” Moira called, scaring them all into jumping. “Sorry, but what do we do once we find them? And what if they feel us find them?”

  “There's been no indication that our magic alarms them if they're not in our vicinity,” Aerin said, but she didn't look as certain as her tone.

  “We don't know that,” Moira fired back. “Hell, we don't know anything.”

  “Well, what do you suggest?” Aerin asked. “Sitting around with our thumbs up our asses and waiting for Death to show on our doorstep looking for revenge?”

  “I agree,” Claire said. “I'm sick of waiting.”

  Tierra wasn't afraid. She was just plain sick.

  “Who do we look for first?” Moira asked.

  Aerin pointed to Tierra. “Death. It's all she's thinking about, and he was the last one we came into contact with, so there might be some residual essence or something.”

  “Hey! That's…well, true, I guess.” Tierra rubbed at the butterflies in her stomach. “Go ahead.”

  “Okay, here goes nothing.” Claire held the crystal absolutely still. “Show us Death.”

  Moira whispered, “Am I the only one who feels like we should be chanting or somethin'?”

  The crystal started in a slow circle over the state of Washington, getting larger and speeding up. Its trajectory closed into a tight, fast spiral, then stabbed its sharp point into the map.

  “Never mind,” Moira said.

  “Where is the bastard?” Aerin asked.

  Tierra's stomach churned and her heart thudded in her chest. “Here. He's here.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Wait,” Aerin said. “Don't panic. He can't enter the house. We made sure of that with the last spell we did. None of them can.”

  “He's not in the house,” Tierra said. “But we have to get the potion around the perimeter before he destroys my gardens. We need my plants.” She had to protect them and couldn't forget how Killian had destroyed the vines and willows she'd tried to restrain him with. No way was he touching her gardens. “Divide the mixture into pitchers,” Tierra instructed as she got her wits about her. “Aerin, you and Claire take the front, Moira and I will take the back. Start at the same points, about a hundred yards from the house, and move outward, circling around. We'll meet in the middle. Pour slowly and steady in a thin stream. We only have so much and each drop is precious.”

  “I think we should—” Aerin started.

  “Just do what I said, and don't argue with me. We must protect the gardens.”

  “And keep Death at the gate.” Claire shrugged “What? Someone had to say it.”

  They distributed the potion in fours and Claire and Aerin went out the front while Moira and Tierra exited through the kitchen beyond the gardens.

  It was dark for a summer evening. The sun had set fast, or time had gotten away from them. Tierra glanced around as she and Moira separated from each other, pouring the mixture onto the earth.

  She could feel Killian—Death—looming, but she didn't know how and from where. She wished she'd paid more attention to the premonition she'd felt earlier. Could he have been watching her—them—all day?

  What was he waiting for?

  Moving quickly, she poured the concoction as steady as she could with hands that shook. A slight mist rose from the ground and she welcomed power from the earth seeping through her bare feet into her core.

  A raven dove from out of nowhere, its black wings flapping in front of her. She gasped, jumped back and dropped the pitcher, spilling the contents at her feet.

  Killian Bane manifested from the mist like the Prince of Darkness.

  The massive blue-black of his wings spread to the sides and sent dread shooting straight to her bones. This was more of the image she thought of when picturing the Fourth Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Instead of the hooded, silent, scythe-carrying skeleton, he was a fallen angel from Heaven come to carry her off.

  “Hello, my gazelle.” His raspy voice washed over her in sensual waves, taking her right back to his lovemaking and how he'd called her that in the throes of passion.

  Regardless of the heat still simmering in the night, she shivered.

  “Your heart is racing. I can hear it.”

  Yeah, she bet he could. That was probably something Death was really good at, since he would be there to collect when her heart stilled.

  “Why are you here?” She struggled to speak, struggled to move, but he held her bewitched. She'd never seen anything like him. He was frightening, yet, so sexy he stole the breath from her body. She wanted to reach out and touch him, trace her fingers through the soft blue-black feathers of his wings, and feel again what it was like to be held by him.

  “We know of the preparations you've been making to try and thwart us. They won't work.”

  “Then why spy on us like a peeping Tom?”

  “We are enemies.” He raised devilish brows. “Enemies can still want each other. How are you feeling after our—”

  “No, don't go there. It didn't happen.”

  “Want me to remind you of what we did together?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “You haven't been able to stop thinking of me, have you?”

  “How am I supposed to do that when you're trying to kill us?”

  “I'm not referring to that. I'm referring to you and me, when I took your virginity, when you gave yourself to me.”

  “Oh, you mean, when I buried you?”

  His lips twisted into a smile as though he didn't want to find her fascinating but did in spite of himself.

  “Fate might have us destined to destroy each other, but that doesn't mean I want you any less.”

  “I don't believe in fate,” she whispered, h
er heart quickening at his admission. “You need to leave.”

  “Do you have any idea what the sight of you does to me? Watching you today, the moisture of your sweat making your clothes cling to your body?” His tone turned dark and dangerous. “I can see your nipples through your top right now. I know how they taste, how they hardened for me, only me. How my tongue can make you scream my name. I can smell your arousal. You want me now.”

  “No, I don't.” She swallowed the lie.

  “It wasn't easy climbing out of the grave you put me in,” he admitted.

  “If you don't leave now, you'll find yourself at the bottom of another one.”

  Quick as a snake, he reached for her. His hands clamped over her upper arms and he lifted her off the ground. Suspended, she lost her valuable connection to the earth.

  “I wondered if that might limit you.” His wings wrapped around her, encasing her within his deadly embrace. “How far would I have to fly for you to completely lose your powers?”

  “Let me go.” She hated the plea in her voice. She'd never been a fan of heights, and maybe this was why.

  He groaned as she struggled in his arms. “Don't do that.”

  Another problem arose and pressed against her belly, and his mouth swooped down and took hers.

  The kiss wasn't soft and exploring like the first time he'd kissed her. This one bruised and punished. Yet she softened under the pressure as another darker awareness welcomed him back.

  The combination was her undoing.

  He held her imprisoned and took her mouth, his tongue diving deep, his hands molding her to his flesh. Just as quickly as he'd kissed her, he tore free, breathing hard.

  “Fuck.”

  Yes, please. No. No, she didn't want to sleep with him again. Couldn’t. Tears threatened.

  “Get your grubby paws off of my sister or I'll pluck you like a chicken!” Moira yelled.

  “Pick,” he snarled. “Just pick one of them and we can be together. This will be over. Not all of you have to die.”

  He tempted her like the serpent had Eve.

  Aerin and Claire ran toward her too. Her sisters coming to her rescue, yet she could be the reason one of them died. Panic filled her and iced any desire that remained.

  “Let her go, you cock-sucking bastard!” Aerin screamed.

  He raised his head and glared at her sisters. Then he threw his head back in pain as Claire sprayed him with the potion. Smoke and the smell of burnt flesh billowed up from where the liquid hit him. He released her.

  Tierra fell to the ground and immediately linked with Mother Earth. The rush of power was heady as it swept through her.

  “Bury him, Tierra,” Moira growled.

  Tierra shook the ground under his feet.

  “Don't you even think about it,” he gritted out through his teeth.

  “Then leave.”

  A black, inky cat suddenly appeared between her and Death. The cat hissed, and Death retreated a step.

  “This is not over yet, gazelle.”

  The cat hissed again, arching its back. Its rumbled growl resonated over the still evening. On a curse, Killian Bane reverted back into raven form and flew away.

  The four of them stood there in the dark.

  Not even the light of the moon helped illuminate the night. She couldn't be the only one questioning what they'd just witnessed.

  “What the shit is in this stuff?” Claire asked, breaking the quiet. “Forget Smith & Wesson. We need this potion loaded into water pistols.”

  “No kidding,” Aerin said. “If we bottled this we could make a freaking fortune. We could call it, Death Repellant.”

  “A fortune ain't gonna help us in our present situation.” Moira helped Tierra stand. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks for showing up when you did.” She let out a deep breath. “That was close.” Closer than her sisters knew.

  “Let's get you inside,” Moira said. “We need to cook up some more of this kickass potion.”

  “I spilled mine,” Tierra admitted still stunned. “Sorry.”

  “You're lucky that's all that happened,” Aerin said.

  “Hey!” Claire stumbled over the black cat. “Where the hell did this cat come from?”

  “I think I conjured it.” Tierra held her hand out for the cat.

  “Don't touch it,” Aerin said.

  “It scared—well, maybe not scared Killian—Death—but he reacted negatively to the cat.” The feline in question jumped into Tierra's arms and climbed up to her shoulders where it lay like a stole, purring like a well-tuned machine.

  “Huh,” Claire said. “Would you look at that?”

  “I say we get our asses inside and start another caldron of that shit.” Aerin looked around the back yard as if another Horseman might appear at any second. “The sooner the better.”

  Plus, they needed to find out why her powers reduced when she left the earth. Death knew, which meant the other Horsemen would soon know too. That was a handicap they needed to prevent from happening again.

  Chapter Nine

  “What did you find out?” Julian glanced up from his book-covered desk when Bane entered the library. “What in damnation happened to you?” He stood, his chair scraping back from the large walnut desk. “You were not supposed to engage them.”

  “I didn't.” Well, not them. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

  Julian cursed. “She's bewitched you, hasn't she?”

  Bane glanced around, glad to find the room empty besides the two of them.

  “Drustan and Nicholas are still out. It's just us, brother. So tell me what happened? You know you can confide in me.”

  Bane strode to the bar and grabbed the Patrón. They'd have to get more if he kept drinking it like a babe with a bottle.

  Julian hissed when he saw Bane's back.

  He hadn't looked at it yet, but the wounds hurt like a son of a bitch. He'd dived into the salt water of the Sound to try and neutralize the burning. It had helped, after a fashion. At the first contact of seawater, he'd felt like he'd poured acid on a festering wound.

  “What did they do to you?”

  “They're witches. They've been brewing.”

  “Not—”

  “Worse. Tierra has talent for concocting nasty potions. I don't even think she knows what she's doing or how talented she is. If we don't find a weakness soon and strike, their defenses will be too strong.”

  “What the fuck happened to you?” Dru said entering the library, Nick following closely behind him.

  “Let me guess,” Nick said. “Your dick got in the way.”

  “Doesn't it always?” Dru muttered.

  “The witches are getting stronger,” Bane admitted, but he didn't share that Tierra was weakened when separated from the earth. It was on the tip of his tongue to impart the information, but he couldn't seem to form the words. He swallowed more Patrón. “They've fortified the perimeter of the house. We won't be able to cross.”

  “Not even in winged form?” Julian asked.

  Bane shook his head. “There's a cat.”

  “Ah, shit I hate cats,” Nick said.

  “Yeah, well this one is a guardian. An old guardian.”

  Nick cursed again. “Moira with her fire-breathing pig, now there's a cat. Any of the rest of them have a familiar?” He looked at Julian and Dru.

  “I didn't see one around Aerin, but that doesn't mean she doesn’t have one,” Julian said. “You?”

  “No.” Dru's mouth tightened.

  “Well, that's good,” Nick said. “They each get their familiars, and their defenses will increase.”

  “Did you two find out anything?” Bane changed the subject. He took another swallow and welcomed the numbing effects of the tequila as his skin began the painful process of knitting back together. He'd been burned down through the layers of the dermis to the muscle. In a normal man, it would have been crippling and would leave a scar he'd wear to the end of his days. Guess there was something to
be thankful for that he wasn't a normal man. It would still take him days to regenerate. Maybe a week for a full recovery. “They've learned to scry.”

  Silence followed his words.

  “They'd need something of ours in order to find us,” Julian said.

  “I don't think so. They found me, and they didn't have anything of mine.”

  “Don't tell me all they have to do is envision one of us?” Dru asked.

  “I'm not sure.”

  “Well, I couldn't find anything about Moira,” Nick said. “Woman doesn't even have a birth certificate.”

  “Claire has a fire-trail of dead bodies, if you will,” Dru said. “So far, I've turned up three who mysteriously died in her presence. But no charges were ever filed.”

  They looked at Julian. “I'm having issues locating anything about Aerin other than her considerable business holdings.”

  “What kind of issues?” Bane asked.

  “I think—” Julian looked at Bane “—perhaps, we should focus on a different sister than the ones we've been studying. I found that my concentration is…compromised.”

  Did Julian know Bane had a weakness for Tierra? That he wanted her right now more than he wanted to save the world?

  Of course he knew. He might be into his books and staying out of the public eye, but the man was too damned observant.

  “That's probably a good idea. It might save the world.” Bane repeated Nick's line, “Our dicks are getting in the way,”

  “All right, how do we choose which witch?” Dru asked.

  ****

  “What has been going on here?” Aunt Justine strolled into the messy kitchen and dropped her purse on the buffet table. She regarded each of them with displeasure like they were a bunch of teenagers who'd been left alone all night and had thrown a party.

  Moira, Claire, and Aerin sat at the table with drinks in front of them. Tierra stood in the kitchen waiting for water to boil for tea and held the cat that had settled into her arms and seemed content to stay there.

  The kitchen was trashed from all the potion making, and there was still a lot of clean up to do. Tierra wondered if there was a spell in the book that magically did house cleaning.