by Wendy Knight
But Destiny, no. His little runner had to barrel in there on foot and now she was gone.
****
DESTINY SLID THROUGH THE shadows, praying her blue eyes wouldn’t give her away. She saw the witches above her, had to dodge the potion they were raining down on the warlocks, and as the heathens burned in front of her, she had to dive away from their sparks and their claws as they reached for something, anything that could stop the pain.
The ones that weren’t burning, though, those were her targets. She was grateful for the hoodoos because there were so many, so close. She could slide from shadow to shadow without being seen. And as she went, she threw the potion, a drop at a time, guiding them with her finger to the warlock’s gaping, sharp-toothed mouths. It was tedious and time-consuming, and there were hundreds of warlocks here. She saw no way she, her mother, and Fate could administer that many potions to that many warlocks before being killed, but what choice did she have?
Under her breath, she chanted the spell, over and over. “One drop, one heart. One beat, true love. Drive hate from this soul and give back what you stole. Free what’s been taken, let the spirit awaken.”
She wasn’t sure what would happen when all these warlocks fell in love with the witches. Would they just follow them around forever like puppies? What if the witches had families, husbands, boyfriends? It all sounded very messy, but hate certainly wasn’t stopping this war.
So love must.
She would have liked to go in a bit more prepared, though. A better plan would have been nice. More knowledge would sure have been helpful.
At first, she just tried to move as quickly as possible, fear making her knees weak and her hands shake. If they saw her, she was as good as dead. There were too many for her to fight back against, even with her pretty new wand and her non-magical, but equally important, pretty black boots. So she didn’t stop to see the effect, just made sure to keep moving, keep moving, keep moving.
She didn’t realize her mother was next to her until Alina reached through the shadow and grabbed her hand. “Look, Destiny. Look what it’s doing.”
Destiny paused. She could see Fate now, with Damien and Luca, leaping from hoodoo to hoodoo, scrambling up and around them like geckos. Fate had this innate ability to somehow throw one drop at a time, and she never missed.
Destiny had just been splashing potion in every which direction and guiding every single drop with her finger.
“Look, Destiny,” Alina whispered again. She hid in the shadows so well, because her dark eyes didn’t give her away. Destiny couldn’t even see the hand on her wrist, only felt her mother’s touch.
She tore her eyes from Fate and turned in a half circle, keeping the smooth rock at her back. The warlocks who weren’t burning from the witches’ potions were changed.
They were witches again. No more red, glowing eyes. No more zombie-like blankness in their faces. They were witches, hunched and confused. “The hate is driven from their hearts,” Alina said. “Your potion that burns them alive breeds hate. It killed some of them, but more were spawned because of it. But this potion—” Alina held up the pink vial. “—this eradicates the hate. And ends the war.”
“Winnie!” Fate screamed.
Destiny jerked her gaze from the shadows and searched for Fate. But it wasn’t Fate she saw, it was her aunt, looming above them.
“You should have stayed where you were. Everything was fine until you decided to come out of hiding.”
“Winnie, it doesn’t have to be this way. You’ve made some mistakes—” Alina spoke quickly, moving in front of Destiny. “—but nothing unforgivable. It can all be forgotten, Winnie. Let it go.”
“You have no idea what I’ve had to do to get the recognition I deserve,” Winnie hissed. “Always living in your puny little shadow. And then it’s you who has the twins. They have all the power, Alina. More than they understand. And I’m tired of watching you try to hide it.”
“They’re here! They’re fighting!” Alina spread her arms wide. “What more do you want?”
“What do I want?” Winnie laughed, but it wasn’t an amused laugh. “Why didn’t anyone ask me that when I had to slit my wrists and make vows with warlocks to keep our coven alive? Why didn’t anyone ask me that when I had to sneak away in the night and tell the warlocks exactly where your precious twins were? Day and night, I had to spy like a commoner to find out where they’d gone. Your precious girls have reduced me to nothing, and now you ask me what I want? Now? I want their power!” Winnie screamed. The spell came from a hundred different directions. Each spell hit her harder than the last, each one burned and pulled at her magic more painfully than the one before. Destiny heard Fate scream, heard Quin yell her name. She heard Luca, but mostly she heard her mother, telling Winnie that she could not take her daughter’s power, and Alina threw herself in front of Destiny’s falling body.
“Destiny! Move them!” Quin bellowed. He raced across the hoodoos, jumping from one to another, trying to get closer, but she couldn’t figure out why.
Move them? Did he get hit in the head too?
“Move them like you moved me. Now, Destiny, before they kill you!”
It was Quin’s voice in her head. Not Fate’s. Not her mother. It was Quin.
And she suddenly remembered. With one weak hand, she twirled her fingers, putting everything she had left into that small gesture.
The warlocks around her went flying, flung through the air by magic she hadn’t even realized she had.
But Quin was still yelling. “Fate! The blanket thing, now!”
Fate landed hard in front of them, going to one knee just as more warlocks pressed in. She got hit. Destiny saw them hit her, but her brave sister didn’t make a sound. She twirled her finger the way Destiny had, but with more force, and a giant blanket billowed out from her hand. She threw it on the warlocks, covering at least ten, maybe more. Damien and Quin leapt from the hoodoo, swinging their bats like they were in a cage. She could hear the sickening thud and the screams of the warlocks, but Destiny was helpless to move.
Mostly because her mother was lying across her, and she wasn’t moving.
Luca landed next to them. “Alina!”
“Mom!” Fate yelled over her shoulder. But she was busy, throwing the potion on everything that moved, and still not missing a drop.
“I’m okay,” Alina said. “I’m okay. I think Destiny got rid of them before they could hit me.” Alina slowly pushed herself to her feet. She was burned but not bleeding, and the black lines Destiny could feel running through her own blood didn’t line her mother’s veins.
Destiny was weak, but not so much that she couldn’t fight back. Luca could heal her later. Destiny pushed up onto her hands and knees, raised her head. “Oh, Mom— Winnie—”
Alina whirled, fading in and out of the shadows. “Winnie,” she whispered. “Oh, Winnie.”
Winnie was on all fours, too, struggling to her feet. But she had changed. Her skin had taken on a grayish tint. Her eyes were red, now, and glowing. Her teeth were ragged, her hands claw-like.
She lunged, her wand in her hand, holding it like a knife above her head. She brought it straight down toward Alina’s heart, but Luca blocked it easily, knocking her aside. Winnie tumbled but was back on her feet lightning fast. Too fast to follow, too fast to stop. She dove for Fate, screaming unintelligibly.
Destiny didn’t think. She felt the bars slam into place and suddenly she was moving, too, faster than her mother, who was screaming but moving too slow, too slow. Faster than the warlocks trying to steal her magic. Faster than Winnie.
She spun, kicking Winnie’s feet out from under her like Quin had taught her a few days ago — or was it a lifetime? Winnie fell forward, her wand slamming on the ground. It shattered, black shards scattering across the ground.
Quin landed on top of her, holding her down while she thrashed and writhed like an animal.
Fate turned, smiled, and tipped the vial. One last, pink drop rained do
wn on Winnie’s head.
Winnie screamed, clawing at her heart. The witches above them had stopped with the fire potion and were watching in horror. Fate left Winnie, hauled Destiny to her feet and they scrambled up the hoodoos. “Be free, little potion,” Fate murmured, pulling the top from the vial and sprinkling it across the warlocks. Then she jumped down and dodged her way through the warlocks to the next one.
“Hey!” Damien yelled. “Maybe this will help.” Destiny and Fate both looked up as Damien tossed the broomsticks.
Yeah. Someone probably should have taught them how to ride the broomsticks first.
It didn’t matter though. They had to get above the warlocks. The ones who had changed were stumbling around like lost souls, and the burning ones were protecting the others, who still threw spells at the witches through the flames.
“Don’t use—use—whoa!” Destiny squealed as she nearly toppled from the broomstick. Cass flew up to her, steadied her, and took a group of potions.
She turned to the others. “Don’t use the fire potion. This will stop them. Use this!” The witches, who had no problem on their broomsticks, took the potions — the ones they said would never work just an hour before — and started raining them down on the remaining warlocks. Destiny led them, albeit wobbly and nearly falling off half the time. Fate, too, struggled, but the witches followed anyway. With their help, suddenly the tide of the battle turned.
“We’ve got a runner!” Fate yelled.
Destiny whirled on her broomstick, nearly tipping over for the eight thousandth time. “I’m on it!”
The warlock sprinted toward the wall of hoodoos in the distance, weaving in and out of the mushroom-like rocks. Destiny clung to the handle, urging the broomstick to go faster, but she just wasn’t good enough. Instead, she crashed into a rock wall and tumbled to the ground.
“Destiny!” Quin yelled.
She pushed herself to her feet. If one warlock escaped, that would be enough to start another war. Or continue this one, as the case may be.
She couldn’t let that happen.
She could feel the sharp claws of the warlock poison losing its grip as they were turned, could feel her own magic fighting back. Gathering her strength, she took off.
Hours and hours of practice spent learning to sprint, working on endurance, form, all these things she thought were just the coaches’ way to torture her, they all came back now, and she raced through the dirt. The warlock was fast, but there was no breeze to fly on.
Destiny could catch him.
Her breath came in controlled spurts, measuring every step, pumping her arms. She didn’t take her eyes off the warlock for a second, because if she did, she could lose him forever.
There were too many places to hide here. Too many places to disappear.
Behind her, the battle still raged. But Fate had it. She could feel her sister’s excitement. But this chase, this was all Destiny. She had to end this herself — no bars to force her to do it, no voices in her head. Just her.
And she ran.
Faster and faster, spinning around corners, skidding down hills, until she could smell it — the rotting onions and decayed bodies she’d recognized so often in Winnie — thinking it was a warrior witch thing, when in reality, it was something so much worse.
Warlock.
Anger coursed through her blood, and she surged forward, roaring. The warlock whirled, spell already raised and ready to push at Destiny, but she leaped, shoving herself off the smooth hoodoo. The spell flew under her as she tumbled through the air. The warlock screeched — whether in alarm or anger, she wasn’t sure, but she tackled it anyway, and they crashed to the ground together.
“Hold still,” Destiny said through gritted teeth as she tugged the cap off the potion. The warlock wriggled and shrieked, trying to free its hands to make more spells.
Destiny finally freed the lid and threw the potion in its face. The warlock gasped and sputtered and just for good measure, Destiny smacked the bottle against its lip, making sure some of the pink, sparking liquid made it down the warlock’s throat.
It stopped thrashing and stilled, hands fisting and unfisting, eyes dazed. Destiny pushed away from it to her feet and backed away, keeping her eyes on it just in case.
The greenish-tinted skin faded. The red swirled out of its eyes. The claws folded in on themselves until a witch, panting and exhausted, lay in its place.
Quin slid to a stop next to her. “Are you okay?”
Destiny nodded, keeping her gaze fixed on the witch. “Not a great day for broomsticks, though.”
“I noticed.” His hand found hers, looping two of his fingers with her pinky. She curled her grip tighter, holding on for dear life.
The witch in front of them shook, pushed herself to her feet, and took off again — back toward the midst of battle.
“Do you think we need to chase her?” Destiny asked. She really, really hoped he would say no.
He sighed and turned, tugging her along with him.
It wasn’t an all-out sprint toward death, but an easier jog.
Toward death.
It was then that the screaming started.
“What the—what’s going on?” she asked, automatically clapping her hands over her ears.
Quin shook his head as they picked up their pace, racing back to the rest of the coven, exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
If the warlocks were returning or regrouping or respawning or whatever it was they did, she didn’t have anything left to fight them with.
They rounded the last hoodoo just as Cass landed next to them. “Mom, what’s going on?” Quin had to yell to be heard over the shrieking.
“You drove the hate from their hearts but they’re incapable of feeling love. Their hearts are crushing in on themselves.”
Destiny grabbed Quin’s arm and pulled him with her up the hoodoo so they could see the field below them.
The warlocks-turned-witches were collapsing. Ten, fifteen, twenty of them, and then more and more, so quickly that Destiny couldn’t count. It was awful. Destiny raised a fist to her mouth in horror, but it was too much. She cried, burying her face against Quin’s chest.
Still, with the screaming.
Cass landed next to them “I’ve watched these monsters kill almost everyone I’ve ever loved. I’ve fought them my whole life and never been able to make a dent in their numbers.” She shook her head as Destiny peered up at her. “Hate breeds hate. When we killed the warlocks with spells and burning potions, it just begat other warlocks. But when you fight hate with love…”
Quin glanced down at Destiny. “Love wins.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
QUIN HAD CHECKED ON DESTINY THREE times over the past week. Every time, Fate had told him she still slept and they were under Luca’s orders not to wake her.
But fourth time’s a charm, right? He pulled to a stop and kicked open his door. The big black truck sat silent in her driveway, waiting and forgotten.
Quin knew what it felt like.
The cleanup from the battle had been horrendous. The entire government agency had come in. Eldest had talked to someone very high up and assembled a team to scour the earth, searching for any warlocks they had missed. The problem with greed, though, is that it would always exist. One spell stood between the witches and warlocks making a comeback. Every living witch had to take an oath, and the spell had been burned from every book.
She’d asked Destiny and Fate to lead their new team. Both had declined. Fate said she was a potions witch, not a warrior.
Destiny’s answer?
She had a cross country meet the next week, and she’d already missed enough. She’d smiled over at Quin, then, nearly stopping his heart, and said she also had some Krav Maga classes to make up.
He’d had hope, then. But he’d followed her home, walked her to her door, and she’d passed out against his shoulder.
He hadn’t seen her since.
Quin shut the jeep door quietly in case
Destiny still slept and started for the door.
She was standing on the porch, watching him. Her hair was clean, her cuts, scrapes, bruises — they were all gone. He’d forgotten how absolutely flawless she was, without the constant pain in her eyes and bruises on her face.
He didn’t move, suddenly afraid and unsure of himself. “Hey.”
She smiled. Still exhausted — he could see it in her eyes. They were too huge and too blue to hide anything. “Hi.”
“How ya feelin?”
She shrugged. “I’m still alive.”
“Good.”
She left the porch and padded barefoot over to him. She wore a long, off-white skirt, so only her toes peeked out from the lacy hem, and a black tank top that clung to her curves. It was amazing the way she blended with the shadows from the trees overhead — like it was second nature now, always existing half in the light, and half in the dark.
“How are you?” she asked when she was toe to toe with him, staring up into his face.
“I’m alive.”
That smile again, the one that made his heart stutter. “Good.”
He’d had three days to plan exactly what he was going to say. His mother had coached him, his dad had laughed at him. But now, he was suddenly drawing a blank, lost in her eyes as he was. “I—I need to talk to you.”
“Oh yeah?” She inched away.
He should have stopped there, but he didn’t register her reaction in time. “Yeah. Look, I know you think it’s not a real thing, or that you’ll say we’ve only known each other for a short time, but I know what I feel. I’ve never felt like this before, Destiny. Everything we’ve gone through — it brought us closer. And you need to know how I feel, Destiny.”
Destiny held a hand up against his mouth. “Don’t, Quin.”
His heart stopped. Stopped in his chest and refused to beat again. “What?”
“It was the love potion. It hit you during the battle. That’s all this is.”
