Chapter Three
Tessa
Teresa Mea lay in her bed at Warlock House sleeping soundly when she felt a tight, gripping fear wrap around her throat, choking her. She woke with a cry, sitting up in her bed. But nothing was there. She was alone.
It took her a moment to realise that the pain and fear was not her own. Tessa scrambled out of bed, ran to the room next to hers, and pounded her fist on the door to wake her sister. Hunter emerged from the room, long black-and-teal hair tussled.
Hunter’s girlfriend called from the bed, ‘What’s going on?’ A moment later, she too emerged, wrapping a dressing gown around herself.
‘What’s wrong, Tessie?’ Hunter asked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She was wearing shiny teal pyjama shorts and a singlet which matched her hair and smudged eye make-up.
‘Something’s wrong. Hella’s hurt. I can feel her.’ Tessa put a hand around her throat, the pain worsening.
‘You can feel Hella from here?’ Lola asked. She was a witch, not a Cambion, and was ever-curious of their abilities. Tessa nodded.
Hunter’s blue-green eyes bulged. She knelt and took Tessa by the shoulders. ‘Tess, your neck.’
Lola leaned over, concerned. It was the first time Tessa had ever seen the woman’s normally artfully braided blonde hair unkempt. ‘It’s bruised.’ Lola’s pale brows furrowed.
‘We have to get to Hella,’ Hunter said sharply. ‘You have empathy,’ she said to Tessa. ‘How can whatever’s hurting her be hurting you?’ She went back into her bedroom, quickly changed, and re-emerged, hauling Tessa down the spiral staircase to the entrance. ‘We have to go. Do you know where Hella is?’
Tessa closed her eyes. Lola exchanged her robe for jeans and a jacket with the click of her fingers. Tessa tried to focus. Hella was the only person, so far, that her faerie powers had connected with. ‘She’s at Remy’s store. I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s bad. I feel like I can’t breathe. Someone’s killing her.’
The three of them slid through to the dark entrance of Faerie House. Tessa pulled on her boots by the door and ran out into the night, hoping they wouldn’t arrive too late. A nagging thought pressed on her mind. Now that the angels were gone, who could possibly be trying to kill her, and why?
Chapter Four
In a place called West End, a suburb which runs along the curve of the Ross River, a breeze carried over the water. A powerful coven of witches chanted their midnight blessing by the light of the full moon, as their leader slept upstairs. The Goddess hadn’t blessed her tonight; she slept restlessly.
The milky light of the moon glowed over the witch’s storefront: a small, discreet corner in a building, hardly discernible if you did not know what to look for. And most people did not, for their own safety. Their clientele was a specific shade of grey; nothing too white-witch as tarot readings or crystal-ball fake fortune-tellings. This was not a place for stupid humans or ignorant tourists. Nor was it a place for ridiculous demon-summoning, and they did not abide by the selling or distribution of Cambion Marks or products made with them. That was a hard rule.
No, this was a place squarely in the middle. This shop, The Shadow, was in the business of some shady things and had the collective attitude of a North-East moral compass. The store was two stories, and the coven leader lived upstairs, in a modest apartment—more like a granny-flat—while the rest of the coven lived in the other apartments of the same building. The borderline-illicit business paid well, but it was safest to stay beneath the radar, together. The Force, or indeed unwanted human or Cambion attention, was not desired.
Tossing and turning in her bed, the leader of the coven dreamt of blood and danger. She drowned in dark waters, trying to claw her way upward, unable to breathe. Something smothered her beneath the waves as tendrils of black mist grabbed at her. No bubbles escaped her mouth in the void of darkness as she tried to scream.
She awoke with a start. All the candles both here and, she could feel, downstairs, burst to life in a rush of purple-white light. She imagined it would have surprised her coven, still mid-ritual. ‘Hellora,’ she whispered. Piper Harlem got out of bed, fully dressed. She grabbed a bag, packed a few things, mostly weapons, potions, and a change of clothes. Downstairs, her coven were surprised at her arrival. They were sitting in the store, in a circle, with a cauldron in the middle, bubbling happily, as they chanted to the Goddess. One witch, Piper’s dear friend Zoe, stopped chanting, looking up at her with concern. The flames of the candles still burned purple-white: Piper’s magic colour.
‘Can’t sleep?’ the ever-kind Zoe asked with sympathy in her old eyes.
‘Hellora’s in trouble. I have to go to her. I need you all to send me there. Driving would take hours, so would a plane. She needs me now,’ Piper said.
Five sets of alarmed eyes raked over her. ‘Are you insane?’ Zoe hissed. ‘Child, the Scire won’t let you—’
Piper held up the bag. ‘I’m going. As your coven leader, I demand your assistance. A sister witch is being killed—would you like to help her or not?’
Freya, the youngest, stood up from the circle. ‘You’re not allowed,’ she told her leader.
Zoe, the eldest, nodded. ‘She knows, little one.’ Zoe looked at Piper. ‘Why this time? She’s been in danger a-plenty these past weeks.’
Piper put a hand around her throat. ‘She can’t stop them. I think it’s a Nympha. I dreamt of dark water, smothering her. He’s stronger than her somehow. Caught her off-guard. We have to do something. Now.’
Freya, the rule-follower, opened her mouth to protest, but Zoe waved her down. ‘Piper is right. Above all else, Hellora is a witch.’ She looked dutifully up to her leader. ‘Where do you need us to send you?’
‘Mill Valley.’ There was a cloying lump in Piper’s throat, a fear that she would be too late. After all the hell that had gone down in Mill Valley, she would not let this happen, no matter the consequences.
Chapter Five
Tessa
Tessa raced out of the Faerie House and ran toward the Witches’ Wares store as fast as her short eleven-year-old legs would take her. She had to save Hella. If not for their magical connection, then because Hella had saved her. The angels had abducted Tessa—as well as Amara and Meele—and would have ripped off her wings if not for Hella, who had astral projected there and saved them.
Tessa was alive today because of her. The force of her need to protect Hella drove her forward, into the night, where she still held a fear of being out in the open. Hunter and Lola were behind her somewhere, their footfalls heavy in the quiet night. Their haste, their rush to get to Hella, was an odd reflection on the quiet, seemingly peaceful streets. Even the stars shone bright in the sky, unburdened by the troubles that always seemed to plague the earth. Her heart beating faster than ever, Tessa pressed on, finally rounding to the right street. She could see the store, a glimmer of light inside. Someone was in there, killing her. Why?
Hunter tried to grab Tessa—to keep her out of danger no doubt—but Tessa ran straight for the front door. Whatever was happening to Hella, she could not hold on much longer. She collided into the wooden door, too hard, but grappled with the handle when a surprised voice spoke.
‘Tessa? Hunter, Lola? What are you doing here?’ the voice asked.
The three women all squeaked in shock as they turned to see the one friendly angel that ever existed. Well, ex-angel. Nerretti. He was standing on the side of the street, hands in his pockets. Tessa ignored his questions—there was no time—and burst through the door.
Behind her, Hunter said, ‘Someone’s killing Hella.’
They all rushed in, through the sliding doors and into the side room. The main room was still destroyed from the battle of the angels.
Tessa froze. ‘Harrow?’ He faced away from them, but his unique tail swished angrily, clearly marking his identity. Then, Tommy, who seemed to have been asleep on the couch, sat bolt upright with a start. Tessa saw Hella,
her pale face drained of colour, as she fell limp into Harrow’s arms. He caught her, then let her fall to the carpeted ground with a thud. They all stood frozen. Harrow cared about Hella. Was this some trick? ‘I don’t understand,’ Tessa said, rushing to Hella. ‘What were you doing to her? I could feel it, Harrow. You were killing her.’ This must all be some big mistake.
For the first time, Harrow acknowledged them all. He looked at each of them in turn. His lip pulled up into a smirk as Tessa stared at him. Tommy scrambled to the floor and shook Hella urgently, her eyes closed. He then began giving her mouth-to-mouth, trying to wake her up. She had stopped breathing. Tessa put a hand on Hella’s arm. She was very still.
Hunter approached Harrow cautiously, noting his warlock-form. ‘Harrow, what the hell is going on?’
Harrow smiled sadly. ‘Did Hella ever bother to mention to any of you how she managed to save us all? Get rid of the angels, kill the ones that attacked us? Right here, in fact?’ He gestured to the main room of the store: the ceiling still caved in, the store lay in ruins. Harrow growled, his voice low and angry. ‘Did she happen to mention that she brought me back from the dead—I died saving her, by the way—and it cost me my soul?’
As Tessa looked at him, cowering from him, she suddenly yelped. His eyes. They were entirely black.
No one answered his questions. Harrow was met with shocked and silent fear.
‘You knew, didn’t you?’ Harrow looked at Nerretti. To his credit, Net did not cower. He was much taller than Harrow and straightened up under the warlock’s glower.
‘I did,’ Net admitted. ‘We didn’t know what it really meant. Hella never meant you any harm, Harrow.’ His voice was soft, like soothing an angry bear.
Tommy leant back as Hella breathed in a gulp of air and began coughing violently. Most of the colour rushed back to her face, resembling the fire-red of her hair.
‘Hella!’ Tessa wrapped her arms around the witch, relieved. The pressure finally abated from Tessa’s chest and throat. It was still very sore, but not on-the-brink-of-death painful.
‘Tessa?’ Hella was surprised to see her. Her voice came out raspy and broken, as if her vocal cords had been twisted together.
‘I felt you,’ Tessa said. Hella didn’t know about their connection—Tessa hadn’t had a chance to tell her. ‘He was killing you.’ It was more like a question. Tessa didn’t know how he could do such a thing. Hella hugged Tessa back, then gently removed her. The witch stood up, and Tessa could see her strength slowly return. She was the promised witch, after all.
Hella went to Harrow, her hands raised to show she meant no harm. ‘I saved you,’ she said, her voice hurt. She was hurting for Harrow. ‘I didn’t know what the cost would be. I didn’t understand what I was doing. I’m sorry. We can find a way to—’ She broke off as Harrow shook his head firmly.
‘Hm, no,’ he said shortly. He raised his hand, and Hella was raised off the ground. Tessa saw a sheen of cold blue ice creep over her skin, up her arms and over her face and neck.
‘He’s freezing her!’ Tessa screamed, feeling the cold run through her own blood, an arctic grip. ‘Let her go!’ Tessa’s eyes filled with tears.
Hunter was holding onto her, then burst toward Harrow. ‘Stop it!’ Hunter reached out, but Harrow’s tail flicked at her. Hunter flinched back and Tessa saw that her stomach was bleeding: a long red line.
Lola changed then, all passive concern to fierce protection. She drew an athame from inside her jacket and flung it at Harrow’s back. With one hand, the Nympha held Hella up in the air, freezing her blood, veins and organs; her skin started to gleam blue with frostbite. With the other hand, Harrow caught the athame mid-air, froze it solid, then let it fall to the ground where it shattered on the tiled hearth. ‘Don’t do that,’ Harrow told her. ‘She took something from me, now I get to take something from her.’
Nerretti’s silver eyes were wide as he looked from one panicked face to the other. Tessa realised he was powerless against Harrow—against anyone, now that he was basically a human.
Tommy growled low in his throat, the only other warlock in the room. ‘Harrow!’ he barked. ‘You’re not thinking right. You said yourself, your soul is gone. You care about Hella, in fact, I believe you even love her. Stop this. You won’t be able to forgive yourself if you kill her. Look at what you’re doing.’
Tessa was sobbing. She could not breathe. The cold was unbearable. She felt her blood harden, her limbs growing rigid. Hunter held her close, gently rocking her. There was nothing else her sister could do. Lola searched the room, looking for anything that could help. There was nothing. A strong Nympha warlock was not to be messed with; a bad one was scary. They weren’t powerful enough.
Harrow ignored Tommy. So the Terra warlock used his magic, and the earth began to shake. Harrow glanced over at him, annoyed. ‘I am trying to concentrate, would you quit that?’
‘No. Let her go.’ Tommy was kind, but his face was hard, his courage immovable.
Tessa’s skin matched Hella’s: paper-white, turning blue. ‘I can’t move,’ Tessa breathed, almost choking on the words as she lost all feeling in her body. She knew that Hunter’s arms were wrapped around her, but she could not feel them. As Hunter held her close, Tessa could feel her bones freeze in place, and as she tried to breathe, a rib cracked and a cry escaped her lips, almost frozen shut.
‘Harrow, please! Tessa never did anything to you! Look, you’re killing them both!’ Hunter screamed.
Tommy called the earth, and roots sprang up out of the floor like an open hand, the tendrils like thick fingers, wriggling toward Harrow. Half-heartedly, Harrow froze all the tendrils and didn’t even turn to look as they shattered under his fierce revenge.
We’re both going to die, Tessa thought. A tear slipped from her eye and instantly froze on her cheek. Hunter was murmuring to her, something sweet or reassuring, Tessa thought, but she couldn’t understand the words. Lola looked heart-broken and furious at the same time. So did Tommy.
Tommy looked from Hella to Tessa and back again. ‘Her—their—organs are shutting down. Harrow, stop. Think about what you’re doing, please.’
Tessa’s eyes wanted to close. A cool blanket seemed to settle over her, this time painless. Tessa’s worried heartbeat slowed, beating sluggishly in her ears. She could hear Hunter’s worried voice, close and panicked. Then everything went dark.
Chapter Six
Harrow
Harrow watched Hella intently. Her skin was drained entirely of colour, replaced with shades of blue, similar to his own, and her breathing had halted to a slow, rasping staccato. Harrow now brought Hella down, so that their faces were level and almost touching. ‘Once, I thought you were the fire I would never need to be afraid of,’ he whispered. He knew she could hear him when her green eyes, now dulled, snapped to his.
‘I should have known better. People always let me down. Though, I think taking my soul away really raised that bar.’ With his ice, Harrow gripped her tighter. Darkness swam inside him, drowning him. He wanted her to feel it, too. ‘Feel my pain, Hella. This is your fault.’
The other voices blurred, drowned out by his own adrenaline. He could imagine what they were saying, something about letting her go, he figured. But why should he? She had caused him undeniable pain. It was only fair, logical, reasonable, that he should do the same to her. He enjoyed the irony that the witch should survive a cataclysmic battle with angels, only to die by his trusted hand hours later.
As her bones and cartilage hardened with ice, he felt little snaps and cracks as she tried to breathe, moving her frozen and brittle body where it could no longer move. Her lips were blue now too. As she expelled a final breath, it came out frosty as if she were walking outside on a cool winter evening. Harrow raised his hand to snap her brittle neck—when someone snuck up behind him, lay a hot hand on his head and flung him backward against a wall with a sharp thud. He felt his hair, now slick with blood, drag down the wall. H
e blinked around dazedly for a moment, then got unsteadily to his feet, ready to break whomever had been brave enough to attack him. But he stopped. The woman who had thundered into the room was unfamiliar: tall and blonde. Her hands were glowing in purple-white fire, almost like Hella’s. And she went straight for Hella, who had slunk to the floor with several more cracks as her body moved unwillingly. The little faerie, Tessa, cried out again.
The interrupting blonde woman was dressed all in black. Harrow caught a glimpse of coloured metal around her waist, as if she were carrying weapons. The moment she touched Hella, a blinding purple light blasted everyone backwards, and Harrow’s head cracked once more, this time on the ground. At least it was carpeted. ‘Who the hell are you?’ Harrow demanded. He stared roughly where he thought she stood, but his vision swam, so it was hard to tell for sure.
The woman ignored him, her focus solely on Hella. ‘Hellora,’ she said her full name. ‘Are you okay?’ To his surprise, Harrow watched as Hella’s blood reddened in her cheeks, a healthy flush. The woman helped her stand, Hella’s body no longer brittle and cracking with Harrow’s ice.
Hunter let out a relieved gasp when Tessa finally stirred again. The stupid blonde woman had broken his magical hold, and somehow healed Hella, and therefore Tessa too. Harrow unsteadily got his feet under him, his head felt split open, and he glowered at the woman. He reached out and tried to freeze the stranger but, now facing him, she was not affected. Around her waist, he could see the glimmering metal of seven different athames, each a different colour of the rainbow.
‘You can’t hurt me, warlock,’ she said.
Harrow frowned. She’s powerful, he thought with annoyance. Must be some spell. He’d never met a witch before Hella, and, even having spent so much time with Hella, he didn’t much understand their powers.
Mist, Murder & Magic Page 2
