witchesintheweeds_GEN

by Lila Dubois

  Nim had her black dress on and held the slim gold needle in one hand.

  Harris took the lead, and as he passed through the narrow entrance to the foyer cave, his heart started to beat faster. There was something wrong.

  It was morning, the sun bright and warm. The forest glowed with health and buzzed with sound—the rustling of small animals, the hum of insect wings, and the gentle swishing noise of the trees. The sunlight that pierced between the trees was a kaleidoscope of colors, as if it were being filtered through stained glass. He watched as a beam of pink sunlight hit a fat white mushroom growing at the base of a tree. The mushroom doubled in size and developed a lacy pink edge to the crown. He waited to see if the strangely tinted sunlight was the source of the feeling, but instinct was telling him he needed to climb, that the problem was on the other side of the ridge.

  “Hurry,” he insisted. “We have to go.”

  Trajan and Nim, who had been gaping at the colored streams of sunlight, shared a glance, then followed him. They didn’t question him, didn’t fight for dominance; they trusted. They followed.

  He tried to climb the steeply sloped soil beside the boulders, sliding back with each step. Trajan scrambled up the rock itself, then reached down to help them. Once they were past the steepest part of the slope, Harris took the lead again, heading straight up toward the ridgeline. They’d been trying to reach the ridge, and Nim’s bunker, since the transformation. Something had always stopped them.

  Harris was glad for his bare feet that kept him connected to the growing. When he glanced over his shoulder, both Nim’s and Trajan’s eyes were glowingly faintly—they too had their magic at the ready. Trajan exhaled, and a gentle gust of wind flowed down the mountain.

  Smoke. The air carried the smell of smoke.

  “Fire,” Harris breathed. “The forest is on fire.”

  They started to run.

  * * * *

  Robert Smith-Saden spun in place, right hand extended. A circle of fire was the only thing protecting him from the evil that lurked in this forest.

  He was going to kill Rowan. That asshole had texted him to ask for a favor—help find a couple of other practitioners who had gotten lost in the forest.

  Robert had done his share of search and rescue. Most wilderness firefighters were avid outdoorsmen, and better equipped than most volunteers to be in a search party. Rowan hadn’t said anything about the search taking place in an evil, magic forest.

  The drone-sized bugs that had swarmed him had retreated when he set the ring of fire. He’d bludgeoned the one caught inside the circle with him with the retractable walking baton he carried, and it had been like trying to smash a melon.

  He had a satellite phone in the large pack on his back, along with other rescue operation essentials and food and water for this Trajan guy he was supposed to find. He didn’t dare stop moving, or let his concentration waver, in order to get the phone.

  Unlike the other members of his own coven, Robert was a weak practitioner with relatively poor control. He had come to terms with that. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t known he was a practitioner until he was an adult. The way Rowan had explained it to him, magic was like intelligence. Everyone was born with a certain amount of ability, but that innate ability wasn’t nearly as important as the education and training. Robert was the magical equivalent of a kid raised by wolves who didn’t learn to read or write until he was grown—the mental connections and pathways just weren’t there.

  But he had sufficient power to hold the ring of fire. Maybe if he held it long enough, the creatures would retreat and he could make a run for it, back down to his ATV.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  The voice startled him so much that Robert jumped, the fire flaring to four-foot-tall flames before dying down to embers. Shit, he’d lost it.

  Three people were running downhill toward him. Two men and a woman. They looked like wild, savage forest people. Both the men were half-naked—barefoot and bare-chested. The woman wore a loose black dress that flapped as she ran, exposing her legs.

  Robert desperately tried to restart his fire.

  “Don’t!” the woman shouted.

  The ground wobbled under him, then dirt puffed up in a ripple that smothered his flames. Shit.

  Robert raised both arms, reaching over his shoulders. He yanked free a small hatchet with one hand and a can of bear spray with the other. The man who’d been in the lead—tall, brawny with brown hair—threw out his arms to stop the woman and white-haired man from coming any closer.

  Robert looked at the white-haired man. “Are you Trajan Dixon?”

  The three people shared a look of surprise, then the blond stepped forward. “Who’s asking?”

  “Rowan Laveau sent me to find you.”

  The blond man groaned and let his chin fall to his chest. “Fuck.”

  “Rowan Laveau?” the woman asked. “Isn’t he heir to the High Magus of Saol?”

  “Yes,” the blond said. Robert was fairly certain the man was Trajan Dixon.

  “What the hell is the heir to the High Magus of Saol doing sending someone to look for you?” the brunet man asked. “That’s my cabal.”

  “Wait, are you Harris Barclay?” Robert asked. Rowan had told him that Trajan had gotten lost looking for Harris Barclay. Robert had some choice words about whatever dumbass had sent a city-boy from Chicago to track someone down in the woods.

  “I am,” the brunet said.

  “I’m Trajan.” The blond held up a hand.

  “Nimue,” the woman waved. “And don’t set my forest on fire again.”

  “Wait, your forest?” Robert looked around. “Uh, were you aware it’s an evil forest?”

  “It’s not evil, it’s enchanted,” she said.

  “Right, right, that explains the huge, evil bugs.” Robert reached back and tucked away his bear spray. “How about we get out of here and then figure out the details?”

  The trio looked at one another, then back to him.

  “Out?” Nimue asked. “How did you get in?”

  “Four-wheeled it along an unmarked road about a mile down the hill. Parked and was hiking in. About ten yards back I felt the forest…change. Like there was magic everywhere.” He shook his head. “Then the giant bugs.”

  “Out.” Trajan breathed the word like it was a prayer. “I would really like to get out of this forsaken place.”

  “Do you have more dampeners?” Harris asked. “Once we’re out of the forest, we’ll need them.”

  Robert blinked. “Wait, yeah, how are we all standing here together without something crazy happening?”

  “No one is using active magic,” Trajan said.

  Robert frowned. He’d thought that even standing close to another practitioner was dangerous because their passive magic fields could react to one another, never mind touching a practitioner from a different cabal the way Harris was touching Nimue.

  “Worry about that later,” Trajan said. He must have been able to read the confusion on Robert’s face. To Harris he said, “I do.”

  “Right. Let’s go.” Robert turned and started down the mountain, calling back advice on foot placement. The woman, Nim, came to stand beside him, watching the ground as they walked.

  Five yards to go.

  Up ahead he could see the point where the forest stopped being evil, enchanted, whatever. It took him a minute to pinpoint what the difference was, but once he saw it, it was painfully obvious. The trees past the invisible line of demarcation were shorter, duller—the green of their needles and red-brown shade of their trunks muted in comparison to the trees closest to Robert.

  Two yards to go.

  A bug whizzed by in front of him, and it was huge—a bee of some kind, maybe. It sounded like a light engine aircraft, and everyone ducked.

  Robert carefully swiveled while still in a crouch to check if everyone was okay. No one had a giant bug attached to their face.

  “Let’s do this, people,” Rober
t said. They all nodded.

  By silent, mutual accord, they moved quickly.

  One yard.

  The forest trembled, limbs shaking, wood creaking. On the other side of the ridge, something howled.

  “Run!” Robert ordered.

  Two long strides and he was out. He felt it the moment he passed out of the evil part of the forest. A dull, heavy feeling settled over him.

  Nimue, Trajan, and Harris all stumbled to a stop beside him. They turned to look back the way they’d come. Nothing had changed—the trees past the line of demarcation were still verdant and vibrant, a huge bee buzzed by, and as he watched the piercing beams of sunlight started to change colors.

  “We did it,” Nim said. “We got out.” Her voice was dull.

  “Yep,” Harris agreed.

  “Uh, why do you sound so sad?” Robert asked.

  They shared a glance but didn’t explain.

  Robert knelt and swung his pack off his back, pulling out the satellite phone. “I’m calling Rowan.”

  “Trajan, you never explained why the heir to the High Magus of my cabal would send someone to look for you.” Harris was looking at Trajan suspiciously.

  Robert was looking down, powering on the phone, when Trajan spoke. “I hate to say this, but I think we have a problem.”

  Nimue let out a sad little laugh. “One thing at a time, Tray.”

  “I’m turning to stone.”

  Chapter 19

  Harris yelled, “What?” at the same time Nim leapt for Trajan.

  “No!” Harris leapt in front of her. “You can’t touch him now, and no magic!”

  “Look at his foot,” Nim said.

  Trajan’s bare foot was speckled gray and black, shot through with seams of blood-red, like dark toned granite.

  As she watched, the skin above his waist started to change, the warm, living flesh becoming hard, cold stone. Nim raised her hand. It was stone, she had power over stone. Maybe she could stop this.

  “No magic,” Trajan said, but his voice was strained with fear.

  “I have to try. You’re turning to stone.”

  “It’s okay, lady.” He inhaled as the change rose. The skin over his ribs hardened and he did not exhale. It was all happening too fast. Too fast. His eyes were wide and wild with fear, pain, or both.

  The higher it spread, the faster the change took him. Two heartbeats later and his chest was completely gray, then his shoulders. His arms changed in a single flash, and then his face. The last thing he did was close his eyes.

  “What. The. Fuck?” the newcomer whispered. The fire witch was looking at Trajan in horrified shock.

  “Trajan,” she whispered. “No. No.”

  Harris reached out a hand to touch her, but stopped. They couldn’t touch anymore. Couldn’t hold one another now that they were beyond the magic of the forest.

  The magic.

  Nim whirled. “Pick him up.”

  “What?” Harris asked.

  “We’ve got to get him back into the transformed forest. You two, pick him up.”

  “Nim, baby…”

  “I’m not going back in there.”

  She whirled on Robert. “You are or I will have the earth open up and swallow you.”

  “She’s done it before,” Harris confirmed.

  Robert crossed his arms. “Do it then. I don’t respond well to threats.”

  Nim’s stomach was tight, her whole body trembling with barely suppressed grief. “Please. Please help us save him.”

  Robert signed. “Fine.”

  “Nim, baby,” Harris said again. “This might not—”

  “Just pick him up.”

  Harris grabbed the statue-Trajan’s shoulders, pulling forward so the statue tipped. Robert hefted his legs, groaning under the weight.

  “Hurry,” he grunted.

  Nim raced ahead of them. Every inch of her skin tingled and prickled when she crossed over into the transformed forest. Dropping to her knees, she pressed her hands into the soil. Dirt and minerals moved aside, driven by her will, until she had a hole three feet across and six feet deep.

  “Put him in here,” she called out to them.

  “You’re going to bury him?” Robert asked as they reached her.

  “No, I’m going to save him.”

  She rose to help Robert, who held his feet. Their hands brushed as they positioned his stone toes on the edge of the hole and started to slide him in. Robert went to help Harris control the descent.

  Once Trajan was in, she called back the soil, filling in the hole around him to just under his chin. Then Nim planted her hands, prepared to try and draw whatever stone-element it was that had claimed him out of his body.

  She didn’t need to. As she pressed her hands into the soil, sending her awareness out, she could feel the particles of stone and minerals flowing off of him, leeching into the ground, turning what had been fertile soil into rocky, almost unusable ground.

  Nim scrambled around on her hands and knees so she could see his face. His chin paled from black-gray to white, then flushed pink. His mouth opened and he sucked in air. As he exhaled, wind screamed through the trees. She winced at the volume of the sound. Harris dropped down to kneel beside her. They each put a hand on Trajan’s face.

  “Tray, honey,” she cooed. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. We’re here.”

  “We’re here,” Harris repeated.

  The stone receded from his eyes, leaving only his forehead and hair.

  “Can you open your eyes?”

  His lids snapped open, and another burst of wind screamed through the forest. Robert ducked a flying branch and knelt near Harris.

  “Trapped,” Trajan said in a gravelly voice. “Trapped.”

  “No, no, you’re not trapped. It’s just dirt,” Nim promised him. “As soon as the enchantment is gone, I’ll get you out.”

  Trajan’s face was lined with fear, and he seemed to not understand what she was saying. The earth rumbled.

  “That’s not me,” Nim said.

  Harris grabbed her and hauled her back. A second later the earth burst, as if Trajan’s body were an explosive charge. They ducked and covered their heads to protect themselves from the shower of rocky soil. Nim winced as small stones pelted her.

  Trajan climbed out of the crater he’d created, scrambling to his feet. Only a sliver of his forehead near his hairline and one ear were still stone.

  Harris brushed at the light dusting of stone and dirt that covered him and rose to face Trajan. “Tray, man, calm down. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  “I was trapped. No air. No air.”

  “It’s over now.”

  Nim sat up.

  “I couldn’t breath. Couldn’t see.”

  “It’s over,” Harris repeated. “It’s over.”

  But it wasn’t.

  “Harris.” Nim climbed to her feet, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Look at his forehead.”

  The stone was spreading once more, creeping down to his eyebrows and up over the crown of his head.

  “What?” Trajan asked, still wild-eyed.

  “Trajan, get back in the earth. You didn’t let me finish last time.” Nim tried to sound calm and confident, but her voice shook with fear. His right eye was consumed by the creeping stone and he screamed in agony. She flinched. Trajan ran. She had no idea where he was running, blind as he now was, but he ran. He ran until his legs turned to stone, until he could run no more. They chased after him, and Nim’s cheeks were wet with tears when she caught up to him.

  This time his mouth was open in a silent scream, each of his teeth as well as his tongue carefully detailed in stone. His right foot was planted on the ground, his left raised behind him, his arms were outstretched, reaching for something he hadn’t been able to see.

  Nim dropped to her knees, and this time she opened the pit under him, using the moving earth to carefully lower him into the ground. When he was once more buried up to his chin, she pressed her hands to
the soil and waited to feel the stone being leeched away from his body.

  She felt nothing.

  She applied her magic, trying to draw the rock away. Nothing. “It’s not working.”

  “Just do what you did before,” Harris said.

  “I’m trying, but it’s not working. Goddess help me.” Nim wiped her wet face on her shoulder, hands still planted in the soil.

  “What in the sweet fairytale fuck is this place?” Robert asked. He’d stayed with them, silent and slightly behind.

  “Fairytale.” Harris’s face split into a grin. “Fairytale.”

  “What?” Nim asked.

  “True love’s kiss.”

  “Okay, good, you’re all totally fucking nuts,” Robert said.

  “True love’s kiss,” Harris said again, and then he put action to words, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Trajan’s.

  Nim bit her lip, hope rising inside her. And if the situation hadn’t been so dire, there would have been some lust too.

  Nothing happened.

  “I thought that would work,” Harris whispered.

  Nim pressed her cheek to his shoulder, tears pouring from her face.

  “Wait,” Harris said. “Wait. We both have to kiss him.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “When we were at the river, we told the woman that we could only show her partial true love, because true love meant all three of us.”

  “I really have no idea what’s going on here,” Robert said.

  Nim’s gaze searched Harris’s face. “You think what we have is love?”

  “I think it’s the start of love. I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know for sure.”

  “Me either,” she whispered.

  Harris leaned in and kissed her gently, then together they turned to Trajan. Harris started to lie down on his stomach on the ground, but Nim moved the soil under Trajan, raising him until he was buried up to his hips, only his legs still in the ground. She and Harris knelt side by side, wedged between his stony, outstretched arms.