A Witch's Harem: Reverse Harem Fantasy

by Savannah Skye

  I couldn’t imagine my life without them anymore. Seamus had said the four aspects of magic would guide me like a compass. But secretly I thought they were my compass, the four points of a star that balanced and completed me. Each of them filled my heart to the brim in a way I never thought possible.

  While I still hadn’t experienced that profound moment Seamus had spoken of, I fell a bit harder each day. And I knew it was the same for them. More than once, with all of them, I’d caught them gazing at me and not paying a bit of attention to the lesson at hand.

  However, by some unspoken agreement, we’d put intimacy on hold while I trained. That, and I’d fallen asleep more than once during lessons, waking up in one of my guys’ arms as they carried me upstairs and tucked me in with a kiss.

  Tonight, though, for the first time, I wasn’t exhausted and ready for bed. I was exhilarated. Today, I’d worked with all four of them and all of them had been impressed by my progress.

  As though hearing my thoughts, Seamus spoke up, “Sadie will make short work of Skinner.”

  “Aye, that she will, our fierce warrior queen,” Mick said, raising his tankard in salute. “You should have seen our girl send me flying with one blow today. She’s as strong as a dragoness now. Given time, she’ll be greater than the goddesses of the seas and moon combined.”

  “Wish she’d take a shorter shower, though,” Michael grumbled. “Taking her damn time, daydreaming up there.”

  “You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you, Mike?” Patrick asked slyly.

  I stifled a laugh as Mick and Seamus roared, while Michael’s expression became sheepish. About to go in and join the fun, my phone vibrated in my pocket and I stepped away.

  I expected it to be Belinda, as we’d chatted a few times and she’d told me Samwise was doing well, though he missed me. I’d also clarified what was going on with the prophecy. And Belinda, best of best friends in the world, had declared she wasn’t surprised at all.

  “The Good Witch of Salem, Sadie, of course that’s you,” she’d said, almost casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m so honored to know you. Don’t worry about a thing and train hard. And I can’t wait to meet the guys.”

  When I pulled out my phone, it wasn’t Belinda’s name flashing. It was Delia’s.

  “Yikes,” I muttered. I’d been expecting this, although not tonight of all nights.

  “Sadie Matheson, are you out there eavesdropping, you imp?” Michael suddenly roared and I jumped. I held a finger to my lips as he and Mick stuck their heads out the door.

  “What, mother?” I asked, not happy about having dinner interrupted.

  “Sadie, oh my dear,” my mother said and my blood went cold. I’d never heard her sound like this, so shaken and unsure. “Thank goodness, oh of all things…”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, turning away from the boys. “Is it Grandmom?”

  “No, no,” my mother dithered. She never dithered.

  “Something’s wrong,” I said in a sharp voice that surprised myself. “Tell me.”

  “You need to come home,” she said and I gripped the phone. “Something terrible has happened in Salem.”

  Chapter 15

  Debates broke out as soon as I said I had to go to Salem. Whether I should go, who should go with me, and that nonsense. Ignoring it, stomach filled with dread as I replayed my mother’s words, I wondered if the ceaseless storming had been a bad omen. One right under my nose.

  Closing my eyes, shutting out the anxious brogues around me, I let my senses expand.

  A waxing moon turned in the sky, pulsing and shimmering. Then I realized it wasn’t the moon, but my heart crystal, throwing off light and scattering through the ether like stars. Suddenly, a shadow snaked out of the ground and swallowed it whole.

  My eyes flew open.

  “Patrick,” I said.

  Michael broke off mid-sentence. “Pat?”

  “Me?” Pat asked, grinning, but his eyes were worried. “Not Mick?”

  “Yes,” I touched my throat, “it should be you. I know it, somehow.”

  “Trusting your instincts,” Seamus said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Pat, you go.”

  The two of us went to the foyer, Patrick pulling on a cloak, while I had a jacket. Holding out his hands, I stepped into Patrick’s embrace and he asked in a whisper, “Where to?”

  “The shop,” I said, my stomach knotting at what I would find.

  The manor spun away and I closed my eyes, holding on to Patrick tightly. His soft gasp when we stopped made me keep my eyes shut a second longer. An acrid smell met my nose as I raised my head and coughed on billowing smoke. Slowly, I opened my eyes and let out a cry.

  “Oh, lass,” Patrick murmured.

  At first, I thought we’d wound up in the wrong place. But then I saw the sign, sticking out of a pile of rubble, half burned, the witch on her broomstick unharmed, but the words gone.

  As was The Witch’s Keep and everything inside.

  “My shop,” I said, staring around at the skeletal, smoking ruins.

  “Sadie,” Patrick said, as I stepped forward, unable to reconcile that these piles of ash were the walls I’d known and decorated. Or the trinkets I’d once tried to sell. My books and belongings.

  “Sometimes, in bad storms, there’s electrical problems,” I said through numb lips. “I tried to protect the building, but it was pretty old.” I pulled in a shaking breath and Patrick’s arms came around me, pulling me backward into him. “I can’t believe this…”

  If only I wasn’t such a crappy witch, surged up.

  “This is not your fault,” Patrick whispered in my ear.

  I let him hold me for several more moments, then I patted his arms and slipped free. Walking in, I saw with a watery laugh that great-grandmother’s tablecloth had survived, though it was smoking at the edges. Reaching out, I picked it up and folded it over my arm.

  “Huh,” Patrick said, coming forward and fingering it. “Old magic is woven into this, generations of it.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s quite a precious heirloom.”

  “I know, it was my great-grandmother’s and hers before that. So on and so forth. I’m not surprised it made it, although I’ll have to fix the edges.” I sighed. “Or I could buy a new tablecloth.”

  “This isn’t a tablecloth,” Patrick said, his brown eyes lighting up for a moment as he looked down at me in the driving rain. “You’ve been using this as a tablecloth? Ingenious.”

  “Yes, I have,” I said with a genuine laugh, glad Patrick was here.

  “But, lass, this is Callista’s cloak. Callista Matheson. I recognize it.” Patrick held up a corner. “Magical objects are my expertise. And I researched what Matheson heirlooms might come in handy. This was one of them. I can’t believe you have it.”

  “What?” I asked, my fingers stroking across it. “I thought that was long lost... Callista was the first of my line, she was one of the most powerful Matheson witches of all time.”

  “Yes, till you.” Patrick’s smile was proud and I flushed with pleasure. “More than that, though, this cloak – whatever burned it was no ordinary fire. It’s humming with power; can you feel it?” He placed the folds of it in my hand and a shock went through me. “It’s still sensing danger…”

  “Maybe we should look around,” I said, raising my chin and squaring my shoulders. I’m not the same witch who left here two and a half weeks ago.

  While Patrick walked along the edges, I moved into what was the workroom and sighed as I looked at the shattered glass sparkling among the rubble. It looked like fairy dust.

  My beautiful table was gone and I bit my lip hard, suddenly feeling as though I’d betrayed my shop. In fact, it was still burning as I stepped closer and gasped.

  “Patrick!”

  He came running and stopped at my shoulder, staring down and letting out a string of curses. My stomach was knotting again and this time it was in real, raw fear.

  On th
e floor was a perfect pentagram, drawn in ash with a sickle running through it. Flames outlined the sickle, throwing a ghastly light on our faces.

  And I knew this was no accident.

  Moving closer, Patrick crouched down and studied it. An angry sound escaped him as he straightened and met my eyes. “It’s the Rathbone Coven,” he said. My ears pulsed as I gripped the old cloak even harder. “Skinner’s calling card.”

  “But it’s not even December,” I said through numb lips.

  “Skinner must have sensed your presence and decided to end his nap early,” Patrick said in a disgusted voice. His eyes flicked back to the symbol and his face twisted. I’d never seen him so angry, although I also saw worry there as he gazed back at me. “Dammit, Seamus was right, the bastard did have precautions. He’s here to ensure you don’t foil his plans.”

  “The Purging could begin any day?” I asked, hugging the cloak tighter. “No, no, we should have had weeks, I’m not ready. I can’t do this. Why did Oralee pick me?”

  “Sadie, no, don’t give in to fear. Oralee knew what she was doing,” Patrick said, striding over and cupping my face. “Everything is going to be alright.”

  “My life’s work is gone,” I said in a choked voice. “Destroyed by him in the blink of an eye. How can anything be alright?” Eyes closing, I murmured, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Sadie. Look at me,” Patrick said in a stern voice, sounding like Michael for a second. Reluctantly, I did so. “I promise you, we will fix this, but right now we have more pressing concerns. You need to snap out of it, lass. Come.”

  He pulled me from the ruins, his cloak billowing around us. On the sidewalk, he stopped, taking great-grandmother’s cloak from me and snapping it out. Instantly, steam rose from it and the frayed edges softened.

  “It’ll have to do,” he said, as he snapped his finger and a star-shaped clasp appeared in his fingers. Quickly he buttoned it around my throat and I instantly felt warmer. “Might as well use ol’Granny Callista’s protective cloak, eh? Keep this on you at all times from now on.”

  I nodded. Patrick was full of crackling efficiency and his face was grave.

  “We’ve precious little time,” he said, leading us through the dark streets of Salem, smelling of rain, wet pavement and ocean. “And much to do. If Skinner has awakened and, by the looks of it, has figured out who you are, we have to train you to fight. We’ll have to skip all the eye of newt stuff and the rest of the potion work I had planned.” He glanced at me and gave me a small smile. “Good thing you put your foot down and brought me along.”

  “Where are we going now?” I asked, trying to keep up with him.

  “We need ingredients,” Patrick explained. “Like I said, you’re going straight to warfare training, learning to battle with a wand.”

  “I don’t even have a wand,” I exclaimed.

  Patrick winked down at me. “We’re about to take care of that.” He stopped in front of a storefront I knew well, but before I could say a word, we’d stepped inside and Patrick had pulled back his hood. “Hello? Lady Belaba?”

  Treysi swept aside a curtain, stepping out and frowning at Patrick. “You again! The sign said closed, boy. Want to spend the night as a toad? Or a cricket? You pick.”

  “Uh, listen, I know, but we’re in need of something from your shop,” Patrick said, trying to smile at her. “Sadie, tell her.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Treysi looked from Patrick to me. “Sadie?” she asked, astounded.

  “Hi, Treysi, so sorry to bother you,” I said.

  Moving forward, Treysi took my hands and looked me over. “Do not be, we’ve missed you.” She studied me and smiled. “You’ve blossomed, young lady. So, how can I help?”

  “We need sand from the Rainbow Mountains of Peru,” Patrick said.

  Squeezing my hands, Treysi stepped back and held out a hand. A small bottle filled with sparkling, multicolored swirls appeared on her palm. “This enough?”

  “More than enough, thank you,” Patrick said in a tone of relief. “We must dash.”

  Treysi glanced between us and her lips set. “Dark portents mutter on the air and endless black skies…” A shudder ran over her. “Something is coming, isn’t it?”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” I said.

  She gave me a surprised look, then smiled. “I believe you, Sadie Matheson. I always sensed there was something special about you.” Treysi tipped up my chin with a finger and said, “Blessed be, my child. I feel better already.” Then she wouldn’t accept any kind of payment.

  Treysi’s words heartened me as we stepped back into the storm. From there, we went to Quill, getting ambrosia and moon dew from him. The tall, dark-haired man gave me a wink as Patrick took the ingredients and then wiggled his eyebrows in appreciation. Like Treysi, he refused to charge us and gave me a kiss on the cheek before we left.

  At Fawn’s flower shop, the soft-voiced girl hastened to get Patrick the plants he needed. Everything from rose petals to a branch of Rowan to pine needles and one perfect gold leaf from an Oak tree. She shivered as she wrapped up our packages and asked, “Can’t you feel the rising storm?” Shaking her dark head, she said, “I fear the worst is yet to come.”

  Reaching out, I squeezed her hands. “Fawn, it’s always darkest before the dawn.” She chuckled and I blinked, realizing I’d rhymed. “It will be okay.”

  “You’re always so sweet, Sadie,” Fawn said, then she smiled. “Somehow, I do feel better. Thank you for that.”

  Each shop reminded me why I was doing this. And each friend in Salem refused to take any kind of payment. Though they were not all Seers like Treysi, some innate sense warned them danger was on the air and they looked to me to stop it in its tracks.

  The final shop we visited was Deloise DuGraye, who was scowling at the sky through her door when we arrived. She blinked at us in surprise and then waved us inside.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” she said, pulling out a silvery chain from her pocket. “I might be a hell of a hexer, but when it comes to spellbinding, few have me beat. Although, you might change that, eh, Sadie?”

  I blinked at her in surprise. “How did you…?”

  “Treysi isn’t the only one who gets visions. Few hours ago, a chill went over me and I saw a crack of lightning that boded no good. Heard footsteps echoing down the streets of Salem...” Deloise shivered. “But I also saw your face, girlie, and I knew what you needed.”

  “Thank you, Deloise,” I said, reaching down to embrace her.

  She gave me a kiss on the forehead and whispered, “Blessed be, Good Witch.” Louder, she said, “And you, young rapscallion of an O’Sullivan, you take care of her heart.” Patrick jumped as she smiled at him diabolically, her eyes dancing with fire. “Or I’ll take care of yours.”

  For the first time since I’d met him, Patrick was floored. Laughing, Deloise ushered us from the shop and closed the door with a bang.

  “I think I just saw me life flash before my eyes,” Patrick said weakly.

  “Deloise was a man-eater in her day,” I said. “You better listen to her.”

  “By man-eater, do you mean… What do you mean?” I smiled at him and he blanched. “Sadie.”

  “I’m teasing you,” I said, stepping close. “Deloise wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s just overprotective.”

  Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. “They all are. I haven’t gotten this many threatening looks since the last time I was in the Seely Court.” Shaking his head, he checked over our various bags and nodded. “Alright, lass, let’s go home.”

  His arms wrapped around me and we whirled through the night, landing in the kitchen. Michael was sitting on the counter, waiting for us, his hair messy as though he’d been raking his hands through it and his jaw clenched.

  When we appeared, he hopped down and pulled us both into a hug. “Seamus got a flash of what you two found,” Michael said as he let us go. “The burning sickle.” His fingers brushed my cheek
. “And your shop. Oh, lass, I’m so sorry.”

  “We’ll rebuild and it will be better than ever,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

  “Where are the others?” Patrick asked, going to put down the bags. “We got everything, but we need to get started. It might take all night.”

  “Not here,” Michael ordered. “Library.”

  We followed him and the wind screamed around the house, rattling the windows, and the lamps flickered. Patrick and Michael looked at each other, before walking faster.

  Seamus and Mick had shoved aside a table in front of the window and rolled back a rug. A circle was drawn on the floor, candles lined up at intervals around it. Within it was a four-pointed star and a circle of daisy petals.

  The two men ran over and embraced me at the same time, apologizing for my shop and searching my face, ensuring I wasn’t hurt.

  “I’m good, too, thanks for asking,” Patrick added sarcastically.

  Mick reached out and got Patrick in a headlock, letting me go to ruffle his cousin’s hair. “Aye, I’m even glad to see your mental arse. Good job gathering the ingredients and keeping our girl safe.”

  Seamus was going through the bags, lining up everything on the table. He paused when he got to the bag from Valhalla Bakery and held it up. “What is this? Did we need something from a bakery?” He pulled over a book with the other hand. “I don’t recall…”

  “Nah, thought we might like a bite,” Patrick said.

  Everyone laughed and Mick let Patrick go. “Don’t ever change,” Mick told him.

  Seamus handed me a cinnamon bun and I then watched as they got everything ready. Mick lit the candles, while Seamus pored over our Libris Ides, explaining it held specific instructions for my wand. Then, we gathered together where Patrick and Michael were preparing the sand.

  Seamus had taken the branch of Rowan, smoothing it down so that it had no offshoots. Then he tossed it into the air, where it hovered just above our heads.

  “Sadie, watch,” Patrick said, opening the bottle and dumping the contents into his palm. Raising it up, he blew it away and I watched as they sparkled through the air. Patrick moved his hands slowly and they coalesced into a spinning ball, swirling around the branch. Then it stretched out into a cylinder, before coating every inch of the branch.