Mist, Murder & Magic

by Dionnara Dawson

  She flashed back to the Witches’ Wares, keeping the spell strong. Hella sent out a pulse of energy that obliterated a new wave of demons. They could not pass through the pentagram, but if ever they gave up or decided to wander away, the rest of the town would be in imminent danger. With each appearance and disappearance, Hella gave Piper’s hand a squeeze and her mother returned it. Whatever else Hella’s feelings of the woman might be, today, she was Hella’s rock.

  Hella flashed back to the library. ‘I’m here to tell you a simple truth, not just about the deaths, but about the world we live in. Some of you may know me, others may not. My name is Hellora Corvime, and I’m known as the promised witch. I’m here to tell you that magic is real, and we’re in danger.’

  The hundreds of people began to clamour to get a look at her. A few braved the pentagram—Hella had thought of that and made sure that the touch wouldn’t be fatal, but they received a jolt like a serious electrocution and each time staggered back.

  ‘You all need to believe me. I am your friend, your ally. You’ve nothing to fear from me.’ Despite her words, of course, there was fear in each set of eyes she could see. ‘I need you to listen to me carefully.’

  Hella flashed back to the store, sending another jolt of power through Piper—squeezing her hand—and through the pentagram. She was pleased to see that their magic was holding up well.

  Piper glanced down at her. ‘The promised witch,’ she breathed. There was pride in her voice. ‘No one else could do this, Hella. It’s working.’ Hella sent out another pulsating wave, obliterating more demons as they frothed forward, like the tide coming in on a beach.

  Everything was going to plan. The earth shook as the demons surged and fought to get inside. The tunnel would hold, and they would all get out. Piper’s coven was waiting for them all in West End. Piper used the tunnels that had been made a hundred years ago, and added her own magic—and that of her entire coven’s—to use it a doorway to get to West End. Thinking of all the magic she was using (or had instructed to be used), Hella knew The Force was going to have a field day with her after this. Hella squeezed Piper’s hand again—

  —and flashed back to the library. ‘Magic is real, and it can be good,’ Hella told the gathered humans. She could see adults clutching at their children. A few had already run away screaming. She reached out a hand. ‘But there’s a threat here in our town, and I need to keep you all safe. I need you all to leave, there’s an escape route already planned out. Go outside, find the police officers, they will take you to a tunnel. Run. Go, now.’ Hella’s energy began to fade, and she astralled back (she had time to see some people nodding, others turning to leave, to find the police) and she was relieved. It had worked. There would be a lot of ramifications about that later, but for now, they were doing as she had hoped.

  Back in the store, Hella squeezed Piper’s hand and sent out another wave. She could see now that the thicket of mist was thinning, they were getting through them. Then her eyes found something yellow as her gaze landed on Azazel. Her mouth fell open. ‘You,’ she breathed.

  ‘Surprised I’m not dead?’ Azazel asked casually. He was edging away from the pentagram and toward the double doors, behind which Harrow and Net hid. He wrenched them opened and grabbed up Harrow by the scruff of his neck, his collar choking him.

  ‘No!’ Hella screamed. With her yell, a new blast—stronger than before—exploded from the pentagram, killing a chunk of demons. Hella almost let go of Piper’s hand, but her mother’s grip was firm; their connection was a key part of the spell, breaking it would significantly weaken their stance.

  ‘Hella, hold firm. You can’t save him, too,’ Piper said quietly, the crackle of the wall of flame hiding her voice.

  ‘Put him down,’ Hella yelled. Something inside her flared: something dark and uncontrollable. It was the same panicked, desperate feeling she’d had when she had gone too far in healing Harrow. Panic drilled into her chest as Harrow looked her steadily in the eye. He was not afraid. She could see that now. But Hella was terrified for him.

  Through the large windows in the adjoining room, right by Net, the glass blew inward, and two figures jumped through. One was a woman with dark hair in a tight ponytail, the other was a man with bright blond hair, slicked back. Who the hell is this? she thought, her only goal was to save Harrow. Why couldn’t everything just go according to plan? Shit.

  But even Azazel was distracted. The two people, Hella realised, wielded bladed weapons which gave off a dull glow. Deme blades. The guy slashed out at Azazel, who moved to bat the boy away. The boy’s weapon drew a deep gash along Azazel’s arm, and the demon howled in indignation, dropping Harrow. Net pulled Harrow away, to whatever relative safety a corner offered.

  ‘Wyatt?’ Harrow said in shock, staring up at the blond guy.

  It was him, Immego (Wyatt, whatever), and his sister, Jacqueline. Hella could see Azazel’s blood from here, black and seeping like his mist. She held her focus, now that Harrow was no longer in as much danger, and sent out refreshed waves of power to the main force of the demons. The part of her that was emotional, exhausted, and panicked, though, flared within her. She stared at Harrow, wide-eyed and on the ground by Net.

  If her powers faltered now, in the pentagram, they were dead. If she let go of Piper’s hand, taking the main force behind their stand, the demons would devour them. Hella held on as tight as she could, but it was like a separate part of her slipped away.

  Without her volition, Hella astralled.

  The rolling hills were familiar, pasted with blood, they more than earned their name. The Unending Field of Blood in Valhalla was filled with battling warriors, hard at their training. Suddenly, an idea struck her. Hella raised her hands, purple fire blazing high. ‘Soldiers!’

  One by one, they all turned to stare at her wearing identical expressions of surprise. She supposed no one ever really visited Valhalla, not like this. It was Malachai who was nearest her.

  ‘You,’ he said, like last time. ‘What the hell are you doing here now?’

  ‘Do you want to save Nerretti?’ she asked in a rush.

  Malachai blinked. ‘He is alive?’

  ‘He is. But he’s in grave danger.’ She made her voice louder, to carry as the soldiers gathered. ‘You are all here because you are strong warriors,’ she called to them. They nodded proudly. ‘I need you, now, to come with me to Earth where the demons pose a great threat. They have already killed many thousands of people, and at this moment, they break down my doors, ready to kill us all. Including your brother.’ She looked Malachai in the eye and remembered what had passed between them once, a conversation outside the burning remains of the Cambion Den.

  ‘Malachai,’ she’d pleaded, ‘I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. You’re killing innocents.’

  Hella looked at him now. ‘I need you to do what you were created for,’ she said, stressing her words, knowing that at any moment, her being here could cost them all their lives. ‘You’re angels, and you were born to protect your father’s creatures—humans, witches, Cambions—from the evil of demons. Malachai, you know that. And we need you all, now.’

  An angel with auburn hair approached. ‘She’s right, Mal. That was always our mission.’

  A woman with a long staff appeared before her and gave Hella a quizzical look. ‘I know of you, promised witch. You need my warriors?’

  Malachai’s eyes widened, as if in fear of this woman.

  ‘Yes,’ Hella said desperately.

  The woman who Hella realised must be a Valkyrie—or someone even more important—simply looked directly up, as if through the clouds and the sky, to earth, and frowned. ‘Demons run free, causing chaos,’ she said, annoyed, then glanced around to her soldiers. ‘You may have your angels back, but not the human soldiers—humans are not meant to fight demons.’ As if a switch had been flipped, each of the angels lit up in a brilliant white light and spread their arms wide.


  ‘Our wings,’ the auburn-haired angel said, grinning.

  The Valkyrie woman smiled. ‘Ascend, my warriors. Fight another day.’

  Hella met Malachai’s green eyes that she had for so long remembered as smouldering with contempt, and was surprised to see that the contempt was gone. He gave her a half-smile as they were all sucked into the sky and Hella was slammed back into her body.

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Harrow

  Hella fell in what felt like slow-motion as the demons surged around the pentagram. Harrow had been in relative safety, out of their sight, but he couldn’t help it, watching Hella fall, he dashed forward.

  Since he wasn’t originally supposed to be here, on this side of the fight, he had no information on the spell or the battle, or more importantly, what might happen to him if he touched or tried to get through that pentagram. But he was already moving, Net trying to pull him back, to keep him safe. Harrow broke free.

  All he could think about was getting to Hella. He had recognised that look on her face: that overwhelming burst of power. Whatever she had done, or wherever she had astralled to, Harrow knew she hadn’t planned it. He rushed through the room, ignoring the demons and Piper’s frantic yelling. She still clasped her hand in Hella’s and even Harrow knew that their connection was part of the spell. He braced himself for whatever may come as he skidded to the pentagram—a jolting zap or hitting the wall—as he slid through one of the star’s points.

  No force stopped him as he came inside the five-pointed star. Hella was already on the ground, now in Piper’s lap. He had never seen the older witch look so freaked out. She was still sending out jolts of power to ward off the demons. Now that Harrow knew the pentagram was safe to enter, Harrow yelled for Net to come inside too, where he would be safer.

  It was too late.

  The demons poured into the rest of the room, breaking the walls and spilling inside, surrounding Nerretti. The usually unflappable ex-angel was wild-eyed and backing up frantically. He was trapped and had no powers. He was just a man.

  Suddenly, a dozen blinding white lights rose up from the ground and Harrow caught sight of golden halos. Hella sat bolt-upright, bringing with her a sharp bolt of magic. Apparently inside the pentagram and on the lines of the pentagram were significantly different when it came to safety: Harrow’s hand had rested on a line carved deeply into the floorboards. He saw Hella’s green eyes widen as she woke, then flash with purple fire as an extraordinary pain in his hand shot through him and he heard his screams as if from a distance.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Tommy

  When Tommy first arrived at the head of the tunnel, he had noticed blood pooling in the dirt. It could have been from anything, a fox killing a bird, someone getting mugged. There were no other signs of disturbance, unless you count that the dirt seemed kicked up, and he might have seen a paw print like that of a werewolf. But the packs had arrived around the same time as he did, and he soon forgot about it.

  His position at the forefront of the tunnel was getting messy and overwhelming: the ground shook as demons poured into the Witches’ Wares store down the street, and hundreds of humans came scrambling down to the entrance, panicked and terrified. Tommy’s post was to keep the tunnel from collapsing from the demons and Hella’s magic-use. They had discussed that it was a real possibility.

  Other Terras were placed at intervals throughout the tunnel, and on the other end of their safe haven in West End, with Piper’s coven who would be organising the first arrivals now: Warlock House had evacuated first, along with Grace and the little Cambions, with the most vulnerable people of their community soon thereafter, and then Faerie House. Tommy even noticed several werewolves and vampires filter into the ground, their heads bowed. The humans were last, and most alarmed. The Sensus Faeries altered their minds so that they, and Tommy, appeared to be human police officers. Familiarity would go a long way when trying to usher them to safety.

  ‘Come on, folks, keep calm. Into the tunnel. Hold onto your children, don’t let them wander. It’s going to be okay, in you go,’ Tommy drawled on. He was pretty sure no one was listening to him, and his mind was elsewhere. Where the hell was Harrow? He was supposed to be down here, with him. Knowing the Nympha, he had ignored the plan altogether, and since Tommy couldn’t stop thinking about Hella, he imagined Harrow was with her. Though, what help he could be against demons, Tommy hadn’t a clue.

  ‘Come on now, stay calm. No need to panic.’ In Tommy’s opinion, though he had meant it when he’d said he trusted Hella, there were in fact several reasons he could think of to panic. But he tried to keep his cool.

  A human woman grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shook him violently. ‘There are magical creatures out here! Don’t tell me not to panic! There was a girl, she was on fire! We have to kill her.’

  Tommy’s face hardened and he ceased his mindless drawling. He glared at the woman. ‘No,’ Tommy said. ‘She saved your life.’ His voice was hard. ‘If you try to hurt her, I will kill you. Either walk down the tunnel and live, or stay here and be eaten by a demon. I don’t care which, just get out of the way.’ He had never spoken to someone like that before. Had never imagined he would. But the thought of someone hurting Hella—anyone he cared about—brought it out in him.

  The woman stumbled back, as if dazed, then wobbled down the tunnel. Without wanting to admit it, Tommy was glad she would not be left behind. The Sensus faeries continued herding people inside, and the humans barely glanced at them.

  They were like sheep that way sometimes. Easy to lead, Tommy thought unkindly. He was stressed, worried sick about Hella, Harrow, Net and even Piper, and her plan for the demons. He began to feel nauseated. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be absolutely sure that Tahlia and his mother were safe, though he saw them walk into the tunnel himself, each of them hugging him before they turned down the darkened walkway.

  A child—a human child—stumbled near him. The boy was almost trampled by the rushing, frenzied crowd. Tommy had seen on the news sometimes, at large events when crowds were scared or impatient, being lost or stuck somewhere was dangerous. The boy was no more than four years old, holding onto a teddy-bear, he lowered his head, his brown hair falling over his eyes as he began to cry. Tommy pushed through the crowd, using his elbows and swearing at people who got in his way, and scooped the child up into his arms and brought him back to the sidelines.

  The child was red-faced, his lower lip quivering. Tommy set him on the ground and held his hand. ‘Are you okay?’

  The boy bravely wiped away his tears on his teddy-bear and nodded. ‘I don’t see my dad.’

  ‘Your dad will be fine. Why don’t you stay with me for now?’ The boy squeezed Tommy’s hand and nodded. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Chris.’ The boy sniffled. He peered through the crowd as the ground shifted under their feet. Several people cried out. Tommy did his best to hold everything steady, hoping that his fellow Terras were doing the same.

  ‘Chris, I’m Tommy,’ he said, peering down at the boy. He glanced at a Sensus, and the faerie lowered the illusion so that the boy could see the real Tommy, or, at least, his human-form. His pale-brown eyes widened, but he smiled.

  ‘Are you like that magic girl?’ Chris’s gaze had slipped from the crowd, giving Tommy his full attention.

  Tommy’s eyes widened. He stuttered, something inside him halted against revealing his nature. ‘I am. Kind of.’ Tommy smiled, proud to be compared to Hella.

  Chris’s smile was sweet. He reached up to Tommy and the warlock picked him up. ‘Can you do magic?’

  The crowd of impatient, self-serving humans began to thin, most of them inside the tunnel now. Terras on the inside would coordinate them, making sure they didn’t push or shove, keeping them moving at a steady pace and keeping the ceiling above them.

  Tommy had never intentionally shimmered in front of a human before, but there was something in this boy’
s eyes that told him to. His skin rippled, now showing grass-green claws and scales. Chris giggled and clapped his hands together, hugging the bear as well as Tommy. Chris petted at Tommy’s scales and was highly amused at how they felt. ‘Bumpy,’ he murmured.

  Tommy glanced around as the last of the humans filed in, a few staring at Tommy, who smiled at them. One man openly flinched back from him, earning himself a glare from Chris who had decided to be protective of his new friend. ‘You know, Chris, there’s magic in this world.’ The boy’s eyes were wide and rapt. ‘There are witches, like the girl on fire, she’s my friend.’

  Chris poked him softly in the shoulder. ‘Fire?’ he said expectantly.

  ‘No, I don’t do that. I’m a warlock. I move the earth.’ He pointed his attention to the ground and summoned a great crack beneath their feet, then sewed it back together instantly.

  Chris made a curious ‘Ooooh,’ noise. He began to look around again, his brown eyes growing sad. ‘Where’s my dad?’

  ‘I don’t know, buddy. It’ll be okay. Do you want to come with me?’

  Chris pointed. ‘In the dark?’ He didn’t seem keen on the idea.

  ‘Yeah, your dad will be in here somewhere. We’ll find him, don’t worry.’ Tommy set him down. Chris’s hand automatically reached up for Tommy’s, so he held it.

  ‘Okay,’ Chris said, braving the darkness. Tommy stepped into the tunnel, the two Sensus faeries behind him were the last ones in. Tommy let them pass and dropped an amethyst crystal on the threshold of the tunnel. Hella had said it would stop any demons from following them. He didn’t understand how, but, like he’d told her, he trusted her.

  A part of Tommy wondered if the outcasts had decided to side with Azazel in the end. If there were vampires and werewolves attacking the store with them. Night began to fall, covering the area in shadows. He could still see the pool of blood in the dirt, now all trampled up. Something tingled at the back of his mind. Had the outcasts known that this was their escape route?