by Linsey Hall
“Fine!”
They raced to the east end of town. Her boots sloshed in the water, sticking in the mud and rain poured from the sky, an awful deluge that make it hard to see which combatants were friend and which were foe. Kitty had had to turn to smoke just to travel. They stopped near the edge of the battle.
Malcolm threw out his hands and the water surged back, faster than even Logan had managed. He must have refilled his power, because it was immense despite the fact that he had given some to her.
At her right, five shimmery forms appeared, along with Vivienne. She recognized the shimmering white light immediately. Souls. They approached and she could make out their features.
Her mother. Her grandmother. Great-grandmother and the two who came before her. But not Oriva, the one who had started it all.
“What are you doing here?” she screamed as she fought off a corpse that had gotten her by the arm. “How?”
“They contacted me!” Vivienne yelled. “It’s one of my powers. Told me to get Inara. We went to them and got them out. Temporarily.”
“We cannot stay for long,” her mother said. She looked like herself, only transparent and ephemeral. “But we can help, daughter. After what Oriva did, we must help.”
Sofia’s eyes teared up at the sight of her mother and the sound of her voice. “Thank you.”
They floated off, then split into two groups. Though they couldn’t really fight because they were incorporeal, when several of them surrounded a corpse, their energy destroyed it.
They were slow and not very effective, but just having them here made Sofia’s heart swell. It felt like they had a chance.
She turned back to the battle, her gaze catching on Malcolm. He held the water back with his hands while his silver wolf lunged around him, tearing at any figure that ventured too close.
The battle raged around her as Sofia shot jets of flame from her wand, felling corpse after corpse. Though she couldn’t see the High Witches, she felt their power. Dark and cloying, it wrapped around her. She fought harder, desperate to beat them.
To live.
Just as the river started to hold steady at its original water line and she thought they might actually have a real chance, the wind began to roar. Clouds swirled overhead, coalescing into a funnel over the river. A dark spot formed on the water, spiraling out and upward until a tornado of water rose to meet the cloud above. In the distance, the High Witches raised their arms and screamed.
The mutant waterspout surged toward them.
“We have this!” a feminine voice yelled. “Keep holding the river back!”
Sofia searched frantically and saw Aurora, Esha at her side. They raced toward the river and splashed in up to their knees. Their familiars followed. Fangs bared and coated in mud, they turned to smoke at the water and hovered by their mistresses. Aurora and Esha raised their hands, black hair and blond whipping in the wind.
A tornado formed in front of them, as big as the waterspout. They directed it toward the oncoming disaster. Wind shrieked and leaves flew through the rain.
Sofia fought a skeleton that went for her throat. She tore its slimy grip from her throat, then blasted him with fire from her wand. She whirled to watch the tornado. Wind and water clashed. The water poured back into the river as the waterspout was torn apart by the soulceress’ tornado.
Hope flared in Sofia’s chest. They were beating back the rising river and the waterspout. If they could hold them off, the High Witches would run out of magical power and the corpses would fade. Then they could kill the witches.
They could win this.
The waterspout flared back to life, bigger than ever. A second joined it. The air roared with the wind as the river surged forward. It broke past Malcolm’s defenses, past Cam’s and Logan’s. Sofia was up to her waist in a second, her chest a moment later.
The High Witches weren’t fading. They were destroying enough of her village that they were reaping the extra power. They’d be fueled until they destroyed them all.
She wanted to scream her despair to the sky, but she couldn’t. That wasn’t her role.
They weren’t going to win. She was going to die. But she wouldn’t go out like a coward who’d abandoned her people.
“To higher ground!” she screamed. “We fight from the roofs!”
She was about to aetherwalk to one of the gently sloping roofs when a great force picked up. Though it was invisible, it squeezed her chest and yanked her off the ground, like an angry child with a doll. The earth dropped away from beneath her and fear roared in her chest. She kicked and clawed, but couldn’t break free as she soared through the air.
Malcolm roared as something squeezed his chest and lifted him into the sky. He thrashed, trying to see what held him, but it was futile. He could see nothing but the view below.
The floodwaters devoured the town as the enormous waterspouts overpowered the soulceresses’ tornado. Mytheans had moved the battle from the wharf to the streets, where they fought in waist-deep water.
Whatever carried him dropped him onto the rooftop patio of one of the tallest buildings in town. He crashed to the ground next to Sofia. They scrambled to their feet.
The Salem Coven surrounded them. A quick glance revealed twelve of them. They were soaking wet, hair straggling around their faces and their grins manic. Had they come all the way from Massachusetts to join the battle?
Fuck.
He glanced at Sofia. She stood, bedraggled and wet, but straight and tall with Kitty clutched to her chest.
A witch wearing a green cloak waved her hand at Sofia and said, “You think we’d let you wear the guise of power in our presence?”
Sofia’s Crone form and clothing disappeared, replaced with her normal visage and apparel.
“Didn’t think you’d see us again?” The witch who spoke was the Salem Coven’s High Priestess, if he recalled. She hadn’t shown up that night in Salem until their escape because she’d been away. A crazed light gleamed in her eyes.
“Not particularly.” He glanced over the side of the building. Every bit of help they could hope for was already engaged in a battle for their lives. He swallowed hard and looked back at the witches.
“We owe you one for destroying our Grimoire and half our house. We hadn’t intended to pay you back so soon, but then we caught wind of this when the villagers were seeking help from outside Bruxa’s Eye. Well, we couldn’t let the opportunity—”
An icy chill formed at Malcolm’s back and dark power prickled along his skin as a voice demanded, “How dare you!”
With dread rising in his chest, he turned to see the thirteen High Witches standing behind him. Malevolent power seethed around them. Their white cloaks were dry despite the rain and they were exponentially stronger than they had been when he’d first met them, no doubt from feeding off all the power caused by the destruction of Bruxa’s Eye.
“They’re our kill!” the High Witch bellowed. Her voice made the roof tremble. “Yet you encroach upon us?”
“We didn’t start this.” The High Priestess’ voice was so dark that it chilled Malcolm’s bones.
In a second, he knew it.
He and Sofia were going to die.
The village was drowning, their fellow warriors all engaged in battles for their lives. Even the backup from the university was occupied below.
And he and Sofia stood between twenty-five immensely powerful witches who would vie for the right to kill them. Rage at their fate overwhelmed him.
He deserved this, but not Sofia. Every terrible thing he’d ever done—the worst of it to Sofia—could land him here and it would make sense.
But not her.
Fighting their way out of this was likely impossible. The odds of rescue coming in time were slim to none
When the brilliant white forms of the souls of Sofia’s ancestors appeared at her side, the answer hit him. They were creatures of the aether. What power they had was tied to it.
“What’s this?” the
High Witch yelled.
“Can you protect Sofia from an aether blast?” he hissed at the nearest soul. Her mother, he realized.
Her mother’s eyes widened, shocked. “Y-Yes. I believe so.”
“Then do it now.”
She gasped, then whirled. In a split second, she and the other souls formed a protective circle around Sofia. Her mother and grandmother and those that came before. A dome of protective light surrounded her and Kitty.
He took one last look at her shocked face, his heart breaking, then spun away. He extended his arms in the opposite direction and focused on the aether, calling it forth.
Then he did what no self-preserving warlock would ever do and tore a hole in space that would spell his own death.
The brilliant white light of the aether radiated, growing fast. As the power sang up his arms and vibrated his muscles, he held fast, letting the aether grow.
“No!” Sofia’s scream tore at his heart.
But it was the only way. He didn’t have a chance to make it out of here, but she did. Even if he lived, he couldn’t be with her. Fate demanded it. His past choices ensured it. She’d sacrificed so much for her village. And he’d been the one to set them on this path by stealing the dagger.
It was only right that he do this.
He could see to it that she escaped. That what was left of her village survived.
Pain sang along his nerves as the energy of the aether began to spiral out of control. The witches shrieked, falling to their knees. He could hear Sofia crying behind him, screaming at him to stop. He forced the sound away.
Peace suffused him. Though it meant his death, he’d been given a gift when the Salem Coven had arrived. In their rage and desire to be the ones to kill Sofia, the High Witches had left their protective circle.
And he was now close enough to kill them all.
As the white energy of the aether consumed him in unbearable heat, his last image was of Sofia.
Sofia fought against the souls containing her, shrieking as a blast of pure magical energy consumed Malcolm. It radiated outward, immolating the witches who surrounded her and destroying the building beneath her feet.
She stayed suspended within the protective bubble created by the souls of her family, the world now eerily silent. It only emphasized the pain ripping through her heart. She had felt him go. The warmth of his presence was gone now.
She felt so alone.
Tears blurred her vision. The witches were dead, but so was Malcolm.
He’d sacrificed himself.
The area around her was chaos. The entire building was destroyed. Forty feet across at least. In the street, the flood waters had receded immediately and the waterspouts had disappeared.
Her friends were scattered in the street, some standing but not all, the battle stopped mid-fight. It was chaos still, but tragic and silent.
The souls of her ancestors lowered her to the ground. She nearly collapsed to her knees when she felt the solid surface beneath her, but forced herself to stand.
Her mother stood before her.
“Why?” Sofia whispered.
“Of course we had to protect you,” her mother said. “Of course. I love you daughter.”
With a last smile, her mother disappeared. Sofia wanted to scream her grief to the sky, to tear at her hair.
Her people turned to look at her, but it wall all she could do not to scream. Through blurry vision, she saw Felix and Aurora approach.
Felix. A timewalker. Of course.
She ran to him. “Felix. Malcolm is gone. You have to take me back in time. Back to before he did it.”
Grief crumpled Felix’s brow and his fists clenched. Aurora clutched his arm and Sofia was struck by envy that she could do that. That her man was still alive.
Why hadn’t she tried to be with Malcolm sooner? She should have taken what she could get.
“I can’t do that.” Felix’s voice was rough. “It’s against timewalker law to change such a big piece of history. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Malcolm chose that fate. If he hadn’t, you would be dead. He chose your life over his own. Malcolm was the smartest man I’ve ever met. He knew it was necessary or he wouldn’t have done it. It was his choice and I’m going to respect it.” His voice was nearly gone by the time he stopped talking.
“No! You have to!”
“I won’t.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said, her golden eyes sad. “We have to go.”
They disappeared, no doubt returning to their lovely home.
The rest of their help from the university approached: Vivienne, Sylvi and Logan, Cadan and Diana, Esha and Warren. All had survived, though most were dripping blood or limping. They were too powerful to kill, but not powerful enough that any had made it to Malcolm in time.
“Thank you,” she choked out, forcing away her grief. “For helping. We wouldn’t have—wouldn’t have—”
“We understand,” Diana said, her voice kind. “We’ll send back healers from the university to help your wounded. Call upon us if you need anything else.”
Sofia nodded blindly, barely noticing when they departed. Kitty pressed against her leg and Sofia reached down and picked her up, holding her to her chest. She looked out at the remnants of her town.
Her people staggered in the street, helping the injured to their feet. The building Malcolm had destroyed still smoked. The street was mud and littered with debris. The tornados and waterspouts had destroyed several buildings near the wharf.
In the distance, she saw Aleia helping Inara walk.
The sight of her friend—of her village and her people—hit her in the chest. She sucked in a ragged breath and pushed the near-crippling pain down deep inside her.
The High Witches were dead, destroyed in the aether blast, but she was still the Protector of Bruxa’s Eye. And her job wasn’t over yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sofia staggered down the street, so filthy and exhausted she could barely see straight. It’d been nearly six hours since Malcolm had died and the battle had ended.
Every muscle hurt, and with the oncoming dusk, it was becoming harder to see the street and debris in front of her. If she tripped and fell on her face, she’d probably just stay there. Kitty would probably sleep on her back.
She hugged Kitty closer. Normally she didn’t carry her, but everyone was exhausted after the battle this morning.
“It does look better,” Aleia said from beside her.
“Yeah, much.” Inara’s voice sounded as exhausted as Sofia felt.
Sofia glanced around at the main street. At least there were no more bodies amongst the debris. Their dead—over a dozen in all—had been sent to their afterworlds. The afternoon had been a time of mourning and goodbye. Though the loss of her people—of Malcolm—stabbed her like a dagger through the heart, they’d been lucky. As bad as what the High Witches had thrown at them, that hadn’t been the death blow.
Losing only fourteen wasn’t so bad.
Except that they were her friends. Other Mytheans’ loved ones.
Like Malcolm.
She tried to force the thoughts away. There was so much left to do that she couldn’t collapse. She had to focus on the good. Only fourteen. It was terrible to think only in front of that number, but she’d been a Mythean long enough to know the nature of their world. They’d have lost more if the university hadn’t sent healers. The gravely wounded were too many for Cata, the healer of Bruxa’s Eye, to handle. Sofia had been able to lend a hand, as had others, but they’d needed more.
The university had stepped up and she’d been grateful. As the healers had swept through town in their white cloaks—so different from the white cloaks that the High Witches wore—she’d realized that they were going to recover.
“We’ll rebuild,” Sofia said. “Though I want the building that was destroyed turned into a park. A memorial.” Her throat
burned at the thought, tears trying to escape.
Aleia squeezed her shoulder. “That’s a great idea.”
Sofia nodded. They could move the three-story bar that had been there before. The village had loved it, but they’d understand.
“And I think we should loot the High Witch’s afterworld.” Vindictiveness seethed pleasantly in her belly. Thinking of it pushed away the hurt. “We’ll take back every tribute I ever gave them, every piece of gold, then burn the place to the ground.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Inara said.
Sofia nodded. If she were going to keep it together, she had to focus on duty and vengeance. Duty had to be done, but vengeance would keep her spirit from sinking into oblivion.
They reached Aleia’s apartment over the apothecary and stopped in front of it
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over? Inara’s in the second bedroom, but my bed is big enough to share,” Aleia said.
Sofia shook her head. Though it was tempting, she wanted to force herself back into normal life as soon as possible. Malcolm had only been back in her life for less than a week. So short a time. She could get over that if she tried.
“No, but thanks,” she said. “Kitty and I are headed back to mine to check it out.”
“All right. I’ll see you in the morning. The rebuilding won’t be so bad.”
Sofia glanced down the street towards the wharf. A whole row of buildings had been destroyed by the waterspout. Piles of timber and debris stood along the front of the river.
If Aurora and Esha hadn’t been here to help, would all the buildings have been destroyed?
Probably.
Grateful. Be grateful. It could have been worse.
But the worst did happen, part of her whispered.
To her, yes. Losing Malcolm had been the worst thing that could have happened to her. Worse than her own death, even, because feeling like this wasn’t something she wanted to live through.
But she had more than her own problems to worry about. For over four hundred years, she’d been the Protector of Bruxa’s Eye. Just because the High Withes were dead didn’t mean she could throw away that mantle so quickly. She had to be grateful that more of her village hadn’t been destroyed, that more lives hadn’t been lost.
