mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate

by Linsey Hall

  “Good plan,” Aurora said. “You do that, I’m going to try to find some folks. I’ll be back soon. Hopefully with some fighters.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Malcolm pounded on the great wooden door of Corrier’s house. He’d left Sofia at Aurora’s flat on the university campus. He’d return to help her recruit assistance, but first, he had something to do. This would hopefully only take a few minutes and then he’d be able to return to Sofia with news that would bury their troubles.

  Cold wind whipped down the valley, making this part of Norway seem more desolate than he remembered it.

  Or maybe, it was his situation.

  His heart raced as he waited for the door to open. Now that he’d committed to this plan, nerves and anticipation thrummed beneath his skin.

  What if there wasn’t a way to forfeit his warlock’s power and stop being an Oath Breaker?

  The thought sent a chill over his skin.

  That was not an option. He’d find a way around this. Once the battle was over and he had no use for his immense power, he’d forfeit it. There would be a way. There had to be.

  Finally, the door swung open to reveal the same woman who had opened it on his earlier visit with Sofia. Her green eyes widened at the sight of him.

  “You return so soon,” she said.

  “Indeed. Corrier?”

  She nodded and stepped back into the hall. The sense of familiarity washed over him again at being in Corrier’s home. He’d spent so long here. Met Sofia. Made stupid decisions.

  “Malcolm.” Corrier’s warm voice carried down the stairs. His cloak flowed behind him as he walked, presenting an impressive figure. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  Malcolm nodded. “Could we speak in your study?”

  “Of course.” Corrier led the way, his steps quick.

  Malcolm accepted the glass of whisky Corrier handed him, but ignored it. “I need to no longer be an Oath Breaker.”

  Corrier’s eyes widened and the glass halted halfway to his lips. He lowered it. “That’s not possible. Warlocks are Oath Breakers. That’s the curse. There’s no way around it.”

  “Then I need to no longer be a warlock.” It didn’t phase him a bit to throw away his power. Not like it once would have. Now, with Sofia on the line, he’d give it up in a second.

  “Ah. It’s Sofia, isn’t it?”

  Malcolm nodded sharply.

  “I wondered when I saw you here last. In fact, I wondered when you were an apprentice. I wasn’t surprised when she opted out.” His gaze searched Malcolm’s. “In fact, I was a bit surprised when you decided to break your vow to Sofia to become a warlock. But then, there’s your family.”

  Darkness settled over Malcolm at the mention of his family. He hadn’t seen them in centuries, not since he’d really understood the pain of losing Sofia. After that, it’d been easy to separate himself from them. But not before. Not when it would have made a difference.

  “I made a mistake,” Malcolm said. “A terrible one. Now I need out. No longer a warlock, no longer an Oath Breaker.”

  Corrier’s face fell. At the sight, a cold sweat broke out on Malcolm’s skin.

  “A warlock’s magic always comes at a price. It’s a power that is not inherent like that of a witch or a sorcerer. It’s greater, but at greater cost. As you know, the strongest spells take something from the warlock. Becoming a warlock took sacrifice and abandoning the path would also require sacrifice. But there’s only one way out.” Corrier’s voice was grave. “The greatest sacrifice.”

  Death.

  “Death,” Corrier said.

  It was a blow to hear, nearly sucking the wind from him.

  “But not just any death. A death in sacrifice. Else you’ll be a warlock and an Oath Breaker in the afterlife as well.”

  Malcolm just stopped himself from crushing the crystal. “Then there’s no way I can be with her?”

  “No. Not short of death, and then, only if she goes to the same afterworld as you. Her beliefs would have to match yours. You knew this when you signed up, yet you did it anyway.”

  Malcolm dragged a hand down his face.

  This was real. And there was no escape.

  “Don’t try to be with her,” Corrier said. His tone was sharp, as if Malcolm were still his pupil. “It will end badly. You remember what happened to Laira. And to those who came before her.”

  Malcolm’s jaw clenched.

  “And Sofia is in danger now, is she not? Her village under a curse by the High Witches?”

  Malcolm nodded. “They’ll attack in three days.”

  Corrier gripped his arm hard, fingers digging in. “You must not fall in love with her. Make no commitments. She’s already in danger. Fate will take this opportunity to tear you apart. Our world is dangerous. There are many opportunities for a cursed union such as yours to fail, but this is just asking for it.”

  A cursed union.

  Sofia sat on the plush red couch in Aurora’s flat, Kitty at her side. Malcolm had gone to do some kind of errand and she’d been too distracted to ask. He hadn’t seemed like he wanted to share. As soon as he’d left, she’d felt the tattoo connection between them break. She’d grown used to it and really only felt it when he arrived in her vicinity or left, but it was still odd.

  She bounced her knee as she waited for responses to their requests for help. Most were made by phone, though in some cases, allies needed to be tracked down via aetherwalking. They already had Esha and Warren’s promises of help, now she awaited assistance from Aurora’s other colleagues.

  Gods, how she prayed that the council members were having luck convincing their factions. There were so many Weres, vamps, and fae in the world, but they weren’t all a united front. They couldn’t count on the entirety of the Were or fae population to come to their aid, but those Mytheans who lived in her village often had friends and family in other places who would step in to save those they loved.

  And fates, it was so necessary now. Every Mythean in her village had a target painted on her head. A target drawn by her own ancestor. Her own blood.

  It made rage sizzle in her chest, fighting the despair that tried to drag her under. It would not win. They had a lot on their side.

  Aleia was in Aurora’s bedroom, sitting on the floor and using her seer’s vision to try to get a glimpse of the battle to come. Though she wasn’t all-seeing, her visions were the most reliable of any seer’s. Though it was almost impossible to circumvent fate, Sofia believed in being prepared.

  A moment later, Aurora appeared in the living room, three people at her side.

  “Found them!” she said. “Loki and Sylvi were in Mnemosynia. Vivienne had to take me to get them.”

  “Mnemo-what?” Sofia asked.

  “Mnemosynia,” said the tall, dark haired man with a wicked smile. “A place of memory on the abandoned afterworld of Moloch. It’s for lost souls waiting to be reincarnated. I’m Logan. Though everyone insists on calling me by my better-known name.”

  He stepped forward and extended his hand. She shook it.

  “I’m Sylvi.” The tall blonde at his side smiled, then tipped her head toward the statuesque brunette standing nearby. “This is Vivienne.”

  “Hi,” Vivienne said. She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. Sorry you’re in a bind.”

  “I am. But if you’re here, I assume you’re willing to help?” Hope fluttered in her chest. Logan was a full god, Sylvi a demigod. They were powerful. And Vivienne—whatever she was—looked willing to help, and that’s exactly what Sofia needed.

  “Yes,” Logan said. “Aurora helped us once. We’re happy to return the favor. And I don’t like what the High Witches are doing.”

  “Bitches,” Aurora said. “Can’t keep their greedy hands to themselves. That’s the problem with Mytheans whose magic comes from destruction. They’re wild cards. They play by the rules for a while, but eventually they pull something you don’t expect.”

  “Thank you,” Sofia
said. “Really. Having a god and a demigod on our side will really help.”

  “Andrasta will help too,” Aurora said. “And her man, Camulos. Ana and Cam, they prefer to be called. That’s another god and demigod. Esha just told me the news. Ana is her best friend, so she’s got pull there. And Vivienne here is a Sila Jinn. She can access afterworlds.”

  Ah, so that’s why she’d been the one to get Logan and Sylvi out of Mnemo-wherever.

  “I’m pretty new to the world of Mytheans, but I’m good with a sword and have some other nifty powers, like traveling to afterworlds. And frankly, I like a good battle.” Vivienne grinned.

  “Thank you, so much,” Sofia said.

  “Okay,” Aurora said. “At least a dozen powerful Mytheans associated with the university have agreed to help. There’s one more that I want to check with. I’m headed out to do that. I’ll let you know if I have any luck.”

  Aurora left, along with Vivienne, Sylvi, and Logan.

  Sofia was about to get a drink from the kitchen when Aleia appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, her face white and her eyes stark. She supported herself on the doorway.

  Fear shot through Sofia. “What did you see?”

  Aleia opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She tried again, whispering, “Your—your death. In the battle.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sofia’s knees weakened. Kitty’s warmth pressed against her calf, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep her on her feet. She sank onto the couch.

  “How?” Sofia had no voice. She cleared her throat and asked again. “How?”

  Aleia came to kneel on the floor in front of her. Her face was still stark. “I couldn’t see that. Just the moment right before. You’re gasping your last breath, surrounded by sand. It’s very strange. I didn’t see after that, though.”

  “Oh my gods.” Sofia gripped the couch cushions.

  “They capture you during the battle. It’s important to them. They get power from destroying the village itself, but more so from the deaths of the Mytheans who live there. It’s a dark magic. The energy of your life fuels them, and you’re the most powerful Mythean in Bruxa’s Eye.”

  Sofia tried to control her breathing. This wasn’t set in stone. It couldn’t be.

  But fate wouldn’t be denied. She was grasping at straws.

  Sofia reached for Kitty, sinking her fingers into her soft fur.

  Dimly, Sofia realized that Aleia sat next to her and rubbed her shoulder.

  “There will be a way out of this,” Aleia said.

  “You think so?”

  “I do,” Aleia said, but Sofia could tell she was lying through her teeth. Seers were good liars. They often saw things they knew people shouldn’t hear. And Aleia subscribed to the school of better to tell a white lie than hurt someone.

  “Would you mind giving me some time alone?” Sofia asked. “I just need to get my thoughts together.”

  “Sure. I’m headed back to the village. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  Aleia left. Sofia stared at the wall.

  Her mother had foretold this. Being Protector ended in death. It was the way of things. She’d already lived over four hundred years. Short for a normal Mythean, but longer than her mother and grandmother before her, who’d died recovering tributes.

  But she felt as young as any other immortal Mythean—invincible.

  And now she would be cut down.

  But she didn’t have a daughter to whom she could pass on the role of Protector.

  It didn’t matter though, did it? This was to be the end of her village. The High Witches had been done with them for a while now. There’d be no need for another Protector. And she wouldn’t wish this on a daughter anyway.

  She sucked in a breath and stood up. She’d face this like she faced everything else thrown her way. She didn’t have a choice.

  She felt Malcolm’s arrival, a warmth that was specific to their connection, and turned to see him, his dark hair windswept and some strange emotion in his eyes. Her heart thudded, trying to beat its way out of her chest.

  He always did that to her. She was starting to think there was no escape from it.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. He strode to her, then grasped her upper arms and stared into her eyes. “Tell me.”

  “Nothing.” She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want him to look at her like her doom was imminent. Her death might come, but she wouldn’t bear pitying looks until it did. “Just worried about the upcoming battle.”

  “We’ll manage it.”

  She tried to take comfort in his certainty. It was a chore, but she forced herself to nod.

  “Aurora has found more warriors for the battle?” he asked.

  “Yes. More than a dozen. A couple are gods.” They really did have a chance with their help. The High Witches were powerful, especially when together, but they weren’t gods. “I think she’s gotten pretty much everyone she knows.”

  “Good. Come with me, then. I have something you might like.”

  “All right.” The agreement came immediately. She still hadn’t forgiven him and their future was impossible, but she was still halfway to falling in love with him and she didn’t want to think about the future right now. If he wanted to take her mind off of it, she would let him.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and called to Kitty. Once the warm little body was pressed against her leg, Malcolm aetherwalked them away.

  When she opened her eyes, she stood in a small round room. A sitting room of some sort, with beautiful furniture and a dozen windows. The walls were almost entirely glass, with strips of wood between each window. Mountains stretched in all directions. The orange globe of the sun was approaching the mountain ridges.

  “Are we in your home?”

  “Yes. I had this room built for you. Not that I ever expected to see you again. But sunsets have always reminded me of you. I like to come up here sometimes.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes. He remembered. That night at Dartmoor when she’d accompanied him to pay his respects to his mother had been the night she’d fallen in love with him. What could their life have been if he hadn’t made the choices he had?

  She forced the thought away. She wouldn’t spend the last days of her life mourning the past. She’d embrace what little future she had left until fate stole it from her. That included Malcolm.

  If she had one night left, she wanted it to be with him.

  His hand cupped her cheek. “You’re sad.”

  “It’s just worry over my village.” She looked out at the mountains that were now washed in orange light. “Could we just talk? Distract me?”

  “Anything.” He walked to a sideboard and picked up a decanter full of golden whisky and tilted it toward her inquiringly.

  “Yes, please,” she said gratefully.

  Kitty curled up on a chair and Sofia sank onto one of the plush sofas. The golden light of the sunset bathed the room in a soothing glow. When Malcolm brought her the tumbler of whisky, she took it gratefully and sipped. The burn down her throat made her feel alive.

  Malcolm sat next to her and draped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. She stiffened out of instinct, then relaxed into him. Why not enjoy being with him during the few days she had left? He might have taken the dagger and started all of this, but he’d never meant to get her into this mess. Of course he’d thought they could handle the High Witches. She’d thought that.

  Ugh. She needed to think about something else.

  She glanced up at Malcolm. His gaze was grave as he watched the sunset. She didn’t know where he’d gone today, and she didn’t want to ask. Judging by the furrow of his brow and the worry in his eyes, it hadn’t gone well. She didn’t want more bad news.

  She wanted a distraction, and talking wasn’t going to do it.

  Sofia set the whisky glass on the floor and climbed onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs. Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw Kitty slink out of the room.

  Fate, he was big. She gripped his shoulder and met his gaze.

  “What are you doing?” His voice was rough.

  “Distracting myself.” She pressed her mouth to the side of his neck, dragging her tongue along the delicious expanse. His cock hardened beneath her as she bit his neck. Unable to wait, she climbed off his lap to kneel before him. Her hands found the buttons of his trousers and began to undo them.

  He hissed in a breath. “Are you sure—”

  She pressed a hand over his mouth. She’d had a hard day, but she didn’t need his coddling. What she needed was a distraction, and his thick, beautiful erection was just what it was going to be. She hadn’t really been able to spend much time on him before, and fates, how she wanted to.

  With fumbling hands, she tugged his trousers and underwear down around his calves. His thick cock sprang free, thick and long. It was beautiful, with a tracing of veins and a pearl of fluid at the tip.

  “You want this?” he growled.

  She glanced up to see him watching her, desire and some darker emotion on his face. He looked at her like she held the last cup of water in the desert. Like he’d die if she didn’t put her mouth on him.

  It made her sex clench.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He gripped his cock in his big hand. Veins stood out on the back of his palm, so masculine that she shivered. Those big, blunt fingers had been inside of her.

  “Then take it,” he said, and tilted the shaft toward her.

  A groan tore from his throat as she darted her tongue out and lapped up the drop of fluid. Another lick to the tip.

  His head dropped back on the couch and she thought she heard him say something like fates, just once but she was too busy with his taste.

  Musky and dark, it was delicious. It made her breasts throb and her pussy ache. Wanting more, she took the crown into her mouth.

  A groan tore from his throat. His hand threaded through her hair, squeezing gently. It was so dirty, the way he held her head and fed her his cock. The idea made her moan around his shaft.