by Riley Storm
“What’s going on here?”
Christine barely heard the muffled voice from the hallway.
“We’re responding to the summons, same as you are,” Altair responded. “It can only mean one thing.”
“Well, it can mean a number of things,” Jessie’s voice said, followed by a sound that could only be her own door closing behind her.
“It means that Lord Berith has escaped your peers and has come here. To our jurisdiction. We are to be sent after him,” Altair stated.
Christine shoved her soiled robe into the closet, beyond grateful that Jessie had been just late enough exiting her room not to see and ask questions as to why Christine wasn’t wearing it. The last things she needed right now were jokes about messes being made. There were other things to focus on, as Altair was saying.
“I mean, that’s one way to interpret Circe’s summons,” Jessie said, waltzing into the room. “But what I really meant, was what’s going on with the two of you being here. Together. At this hour? Hmm?”
“I’ll meet you at Circe’s office,” Christine said, giving her friend a look, hoping she would pick up on the hint and go.
“Oh. It’s like that, is it? Good night then, I take it.”
Christine groaned. “Out. Jessie. Go!”
The other woman snickered, flashing them both a broad smile as she exited the room. “Don’t be too long in there,” she said, flinging the parting barb just before pulling the door shut.
“That woman annoys me so much,” she said affectionately, already thinking up all the ways she was going to make Jessie pay, even as she grabbed a new robe from her closet and slid into it. “What are we going to tell her and the others? Anything?”
She decided to change her shoes too, feeling like boots would perhaps be the better choice. If Circe was summoning them now, at this time of night, the issue was likely to be urgent. They could be sent after Lord Berith now, and not in the morning or at any other time. She needed to be prepared.
“Altair?” she asked, bent over, tugging one boot on. “What do you think we should tell them, if anything? About us, I mean. If we arrive together, people will talk, they’ll have suspicions. Do you care, do we want to nip anything in the bud before it gets out of hand?”
When he still didn’t respond, she started to get a little irritated. One boot on, one not, she stood up and turned around.
“What’s wrong? Can you answer me please?” she said hotly as her eyes landed on the big frame of the dragon.
He was standing over her desk. A piece of paper folded once in his hand, thick fingers propping it open. Slowly, he turned, lifting his head.
As he did, her eyes realized what it was he was holding. She understood his silence now, and the pain that was filling his eyes.
Oh no.
“Altair,” she started to say, knowing exactly what had just happened. “Listen, it’s not what you—”
“So,” he said hoarsely. “You already have someone, do you? Someone close enough to write to?”
Each word ripped at her.
“It’s not like that,” she stated, trying to get a word in. “You’re misreading things.”
“With all my heart, I cannot wait to see you again. You have been on my mind. I look forward to us renewing our acquaintances again,” Altair quoted, looking sick. “With care, Julian. Renewing acquaintances. How polite a way to put it.”
Christine gaped at him. He couldn’t seriously think?”
“Then I see here, you’ve even started to write back to him,” Altair said, stabbing a finger down at her desk to the letter she’d started. “So, don’t tell me it’s not what it seems.”
He dropped the letter on the desk. “Was everything you said a lie?”
Before she could answer, he was gone, sweeping out the door, leaving it wide open as he disappeared into the hallway. Christine ran after him, but she was buffeted back by a sudden surge of wind, and by the time she emerged into the hallway, he was long gone.
“What happened?” Jessie asked, stepping forward from where she’d been leaning on the wall out in the hallway.
Christine didn’t even bother yelling at her friend for not going on ahead like she’d asked her to. Just then, she was happy to have the comfort.
“I think I just got dumped,” she said quietly.
Jessie’s eyes went wide with surprise, but like a true friend she didn’t hesitate, sweeping forward, gathering Christine up in a hug. “Oh no.”
Christine allowed herself several long moments to hang there, staring down the empty hallway, trying to figure out how things had gone sideways so quickly.
“Are you sure he’s not just over-reacting?”
“He is,” she said, explaining what happened.
Jessie sighed. “Men. Go tell him the truth. Show him, Christine. Make him understand.”
“Maybe,” she said, straightening. “It won’t be that easy. He’s…there’s other things going on.” She didn’t want to betray Altair’s confidences, not even now. But she knew that with the hurt he was already feeling, the judgment he assumed everyone was casting on him, it would make it difficult for the hurting dragon shifter to believe her even if she had evidence.
Still.
She slipped free of Jessie’s embrace and darted back into her room, grabbing one last thing.
“Okay,” she said. “I can’t dwell on this right now. We have more important things to do, and a meeting to attend. Once we handle the situation, then we can relax, and I can tell him how dumb he’s being. Maybe.”
Jessie smiled supportively. “Just let me know how I can help.”
The two women started off together, heading for Circe’s office.
It was time to do what they had trained all their lives for.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Christine
They rushed into Circe’s office after a quick knock, knowing that they were probably late by this point.
A quick headcount as they approached the desk of Winterspell’s headmaster told her that they were, in fact, the last ones to arrive. Not that she needed to count. The look Circe gave her was all she needed.
It was amazing that a woman who never showed her face could convey so much with sheer body language alone.
“We’re late,” Jessie whispered, earning her a lifted hand from Circe and a roll of the eyes from Christine.
Altair was there, she noticed. He’d positioned himself on the far side of the grouping, as far from the door as possible. It would be far too noticeable if she tried to make her way over to him now.
Which is exactly why he chose that place to stand. So that he can be away from you.
She desperately wanted to go to him, to prove he was misinterpreting things, that his continual search for disdain and contempt from those around him was guiding his thoughts, not rationale. Now wasn’t the time for it though. Circe had begun to speak, and Christine listened. This was serious and she needed all the information she could possess.
Lord Berith was nothing to scoff at. The demon lord would be her toughest challenge yet. Perhaps the toughest of her entire life.
“As I’m sure you have all surmised by now, I haven’t called you here for tea and a talk,” Circe said quietly, guiding them beyond her desk to the giant rift displaying the ocean that sat on the rear wall.
Christine followed the group, gasping in astonishment with the others as the image abruptly changed.
“A team from the Hexe Institute was tracking Lord Berith, who so far has managed to remain hidden from their detection. They got as far as here,” Circe said, gesturing at the rift.
No more ocean waves crested and fell. The background had been replaced with an image of the white cliffs of Dover in England.
Except they were no longer white. One giant section was covered black, the ground around it burnt, as was the cliff side itself. The damage was unmissable. Nor was the size of it, she realized, noting one of the moving dots in the image was a human.
&nb
sp; “They pinned Lord Berith against the sea, but the demon managed to escape, killing two of the members sent against it,” Circe said. “The rest of the team is convinced that Lord Berith is heading here.”
“To North America?” Christine said, speaking up.
“No,” Circe said quietly. “To Winterspell.”
The entire response team seemed to frown as one, looking at each other, then at Circe. They were each confused, not understanding.
“But that’s nonsense,” she said quietly, drawing looks of approval from the others.
“What makes them think that?” Altair asked, his gaze fixed on Circe. “And when can we expect him?”
Christine stared at him, hoping he would look over at her at some point, so she could tell him she was sorry, even just mouthing the words—but he steadfastly ignored her.
She needed to talk to him before they went out on a mission. Christine was scared that he was reverting back into his original mindset, the one where he felt he needed to sacrifice himself, to atone for his past sins. She’d thought they were making headway on that. His attitude over the evening had changed as the two of them had opened up to one another, confessing some of their feelings.
But now… Now she wasn’t so sure.
“This is why,” Circe said, interrupting her thoughts as the powerful witch cast another spell.
The vision on the screen paused, then seemed to flow backward. There was an audible gasp as the blackened spot on the cliffs disappeared and was replaced with the towering figure that could only be Lord Berith.
The demon lord was huge. Easily twenty-five feet tall, perhaps closer to thirty, it occupied the entire center of the rift. Fire circled between two horns off the top of its blackened head, the terrifying beast-like face laughing as the witch team from the Hexe Institute deployed into battle with him.
Spells flashed, fire blazed. Berith used a wicked-looking maul size appropriately, swinging it at the various witches, sending some flying, their defensive spells only able to protect them, not deflect the physical force of the blow.
The battle wasn’t going well. The team wasn’t operating as smoothly as she would have liked to see. They were inexperienced, needed more training.
Just like us.
At one point, Berith was pushed back to the edge of the cliffs. The witches appeared to be winning.
“You cannot stop me!” Berith boomed, spewing fire from its mouth, driving the witches back. “Once I have my hands on the new magic, I will be stronger than all of you!”
Then the demon exploded in a ball of fire, searing the beautiful cliffs black as it disappeared. The image wavered, and then was replaced with the ocean scene once more.
“New magic…” Christine said, voicing her thoughts out loud. “Does he mean them?” she asked, pointing at Altair. “The dragons?”
“That was my thought,” Circe said quietly.
“Impossible,” Becca said, speaking up. “Even Lord Berith cannot be stupid enough to attack Winterspell. He would be defeated by the combined powers of the Coven and you, Circe. He isn’t strong enough for that. Nobody is.”
“I appreciate your candor, Apprentice,” Circe said. “But you know as well as I do that I and the rest of the Coven, as powerful as we may be, are also powerless, in a way.”
Christine frowned. How could they be powerless? What did Circe mean?
“The Outpost,” she said quietly. “There are always two dragons stationed at the Outpost. He means to strike there, where you can’t get him.”
Circe nodded. “That is my fear, yes. If he comes to Winterspell, the Coven will dispatch him. But we cannot leave its walls undefended without knowing for sure where he is. If we leave and it’s a diversion, then Winterspell would be wide open to his attack. Too many would die.”
Nodding, Christine understood what Circe meant by powerless. All the magic combined, but they had to use it to protect Winterspell itself. They were almost chained down by the decrees of the High Council of Witches, the laws that governed all the schools equally.
“Apprentice Gardener,” Circe said formally. “Take your team to the Outpost and prepare them for battle. If the demon Lord Berith attacks, you are free to do as you must. If you can pin him down, the Coven will join you if need be. But you must trap him first. We cannot leave the Academy vulnerable.”
Christine kept her composure as the other woman was named the head of the team, but it wasn’t easy. She’d worked so hard for it. Though she couldn’t fault Circe, Madison would have been her second choice, and the woman she would have tapped to be second in command. It still stung though.
Madison nodded once. “Of course, Circe. We will not fail you.” She turned to the other witches. “You heard the boss. We leave in one hour from the courtyard. Get yourself ready, this isn’t going to be pretty.”
Christine nodded in understanding, but she stayed put. There was a question she needed answered by Circe first. She needed to know why.
At least from Circe, she could hope to get an answer.
Her eyes fixed on Altair, who also remained rooted to the spot.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Altair
There wasn’t much more preparation he had to do before they left, besides wolf down a quick meal, so Altair lingered behind as the others rushed out of the room to do their last-minute preparations.
He had some questions for Circe that he wanted to ask, things about her briefing that didn’t quite add up. Calling the head of Winterspell out in front of the others hadn’t seemed like the best idea though, so he’d waited.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Christine was waiting behind too. He sighed. Couldn’t she just leave? He didn’t want her around just then. It was too painful. They could talk later. Maybe. There wasn’t much more to say to her though. The letter had said everything he needed to know.
“I take it the two of you have something to say?” Circe asked once they were alone.
“Go ahead,” Altair said, wanting Christine gone as soon as possible. If she could ask her question and go, he could find out what he needed to know. What was important to him and his kin.
“Oh no, by all means, you go ahead,” Christine said with a tight smile. “Please, be my guest.”
Altair stiffened. “No. I said you go first, and I meant. Please.” He couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of the last word.
“Enough,” Circe said quietly, her voice cutting between them like a knife. “I do not care that the two of you are sharing the same bed. Those rules have been lifted, and you are free to make your own choices. However, if your choice of bed partner is going to affect the working relationship of the team, then one of you will stay behind. End of story.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Altair ground out, covering up his surprise that the other woman knew. “It’s not an issue.”
“Well then,” Circe said, echoing his earlier sarcasm. “That’s wonderful to hear. What can I do for you, Altair?”
“How did he know?”
Circe’s hood tilted in his direction. “Pardon?”
“The demon lord. How did he know about this ‘new magic’ as he called it? How could he have known about us, Circe? From my understanding, demons reside on another plane, in the Abyss. Not here on earth. They aren’t friendly with witches. In fact, quite the opposite. So, tell me, how is it then, that he is aware of a secret that you have not told any of the other schools about?”
Circe nodded, the motion visible through her hood. “That’s not entirely accurate,” she said. “There is one witch who has knowledge of dragons. Who might be inclined to want harm to come to Winterspell.”
Altair groaned. He’d thought that they were done with this woman. “Loiner,” he snarled. “You think that bitch told a demon lord about us?”
“I don’t see how else it’s possible,” Circe said, her voice hard. “I do intend to find out, however, and if she did, then I promise you that will be the end of her. No amount of high-prof
ile patronage will save her this time. She will pay for it. That is for me to deal with. You must handle Lord Berith.”
He was about to protest, to insist she be brought to justice already, but as Circe continued to speak, Altair realized that the other woman was pissed off. Beyond pissed off, really, at the thought that one of her own might have endangered the dragons and the rest of Winterspell.
I would not want to be Master Loiner when that woman catches up with me, he thought.
“I understand.”
“Good. Now, I will handle that issue. You two will handle your own issues?” Circe asked, her hood turning back and forth between them.
Altair stiffened at the reminder of what had happened between him and Christine.
“There are no issues,” he said, and stalked out of the office without a backward look.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Christine
She watched the door close behind the dragon shifter.
“What happened?” Circe asked quietly, now that the two of them were alone.
“Pardon?” Christine shook her head, refocusing her attention on the woman in front of her. The head of Winterspell deserved her attention more than the ghost of a man who had just walked out of her life.
“The two of you. You were together. Now you aren’t? What happened there?”
Christine frowned. “How did you know about that?” she asked, voicing the question she’d been holding in since Circe had first stated she knew the two of them had slept together. They hadn’t told anyone that. After all, it had just happened for the first time earlier that night.
“I am the headmistress of Winterspell, my dear,” Circe said gently, almost condescendingly. “I know what happens in my castle, in one form or another.” The other woman shrugged. “Perhaps one day, if you choose to sit in my place, you will understand as well.”
Christine’s eyes flew open. Her, sit as Circe? It seemed…unlikely, even if it had been a dream of hers. Yet the other woman thought she was capable of it? But that made no sense.
