Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books)

by Brenda M. Collins

  Marcus took a moment to gather his thoughts. He felt the heat of all eyes on him.

  “The storm in Bandit Creek was raised, accidentally, by the daughter of Devlin Gwynn and Eavan Kemena,” he said.

  There was momentary stunned silence, then the bland masks slipped away and they all spoke over each other, some voices raised. Pelles let it go on for a few minutes before silencing them. “Guardian, present your report.”

  He complied, concluding with, “I ask Council for permission to begin immediate training. It’s the only way to ensure the witchling’s magic is used safely and in accordance with our laws in the future.”

  His father piped up first, asking the question that had been simmering at the back of Marcus’s mind from his first meeting with Avy. “The hybrid is well past the ripening age for magic. Why did the magic emerge now instead of in adolescence like most of our kind?”

  “—and with such force. It’s a sign of her excessive power,” shouted Tobias, waving his fist in the air like an avenging warrior. “She couldn’t do it herself. Her parents must have stopped it somehow.”

  “There aren’t many ways to suppress magic. Was it a binding spell?” Joseba Gwynn, spoke with a rich alto voice. It was Avy’s voice, Marcus realized with a jolt. It must be a strong familial trait, inherited from her paternal grandmother. The old woman’s face, though framed with soft white hair, was impassive and not at all grandmotherly.

  “Binding another witch’s magic is illegal,” his father reminded them. His voice was even, attentive, without the fervor of his colleague. “I can’t think of a single instance of it being done.”

  “But they weren’t in The Otherland anymore.” This from Xanthus Kemena.

  It struck Marcus that neither Kemena, nor Joseba Gwynn, had asked anything about their granddaughter. Shouldn’t they have been curious about her?

  The OverMaster spoke again. “Could such a spell be maintained for years?”

  Xanthus replied with no pride in his voice. “My daughter was already extremely powerful when she left.”

  Marcus noticed the Master Witch made it sound as if she’d moved to a prestigious European coven rather than run off in disgrace. At least he still acknowledged the family connection.

  “We’re talking several decades given the hybrid’s age.” Tobias had regained his composure but he continued to blink frantically in his excitement.

  Marcus clenched his hands with each reference to hybrid—Avy was not some mutation. He spoke without forethought. “Her name is Avy.”

  His elders looked stunned for a moment—the formalities of appearing before Council were written in stone. Marcus knew to speak only when spoken to. He didn’t give a damn.

  After a moment, they continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Maybe the rules didn’t apply. None of them were in The Chamber, after all.

  “Remember Eavan wasn’t alone.” The group swung their attention to the speaker, Joseba. “Devlin was also unusually gifted with magic,” she said. Her mouth pursed as if saying her son’s name left a bitter taste in her mouth, yet her pride couldn’t resist mentioning the strength of his magic.

  Marcus ground his teeth. What was wrong with these witches? Was it all about power to them? Family was integral to magical life. Like the guardianship and Council membership, magical powers were handed down from one generation to the next. Many rituals and spells required family members to combine energy to succeed. Witches revered the family tree, which they also called the Tree of Life, because each branch could only thrive as long as it was connected to the tree. If a limb broke off, the tree withered and died.

  Marcus couldn’t help imagining himself in the young couple’s situation. They stood together in front of this same Council and declared their relationship. They had probably thought Council would allow them to commit to each other. At worst, they expected Council to replace them as Guardians. When Council refused—

  The thought churned his stomach. How desperate must they have felt to run rather than live apart? Had Avy’s parents regretted the decision they’d made so long ago? He was starting to doubt it. He couldn’t condone a direct violation of a Council directive. But Avy’s parents risked everything to be together. Marcus couldn’t imagine that level of emotion. Guardians learned very early to supress their personal feelings; only duty and loyalty mattered to Council.

  He refocused his attention on the Council discussion.

  Pelles’s arm cut through the air in a sweeping motion. “To hide from us, Devlin and Eavan had to avoid using their magic. Or they kept their use low enough to stay beyond our detection.”

  Marcus shuddered. The energy build-up must have been painful. Holding it down was like trying to cork Mount Vesuvius when it was ready to blow. They must have adored Avy to suffer it. Yet Avy’s anguish over their loss was proof of how strong their family bond had been.

  He’d never given any thought to having a family. Now he did. What would he do to protect his own child? His child? His gut cramped and he knew the answer. He’d do whatever it took.

  They needed a spell that could bind their daughter’s magic. For years. Marcus’s thoughts worked their way to his voice.

  “They could only bind Avy for that long by combining their magical centers,” he said.

  Five sets of eyes drilled him for his impudence in speaking without permission. He didn’t care. “Which were overloading with magical energy anyway. They were like two nuclear reactors bursting with excess power.”

  “We would have sensed their use of magic. We were watching for it,” said Tobias, his curiosity overriding his pompous disposition.

  “They may have been able to use their witchling to shield it. Yes, they were quite brilliant.” His father nodded in an unusual show of admiration for his son. “Holding the binding spell was a double solution. It kept the child hidden and gave them a pressure valve to steadily release their own energy in small enough amounts to go unnoticed.”

  Damn brilliant, Marcus thought but said nothing.

  “So what happened?” Tobias asked, the blink rate of his eyes picking up speed.

  “Devlin and Eavan died suddenly so the spell broke.” Pelles spoke quietly. Out of respect for their relatives around him or his own sense of loss for one of their community, Marcus wasn’t sure.

  “They were murdered.” Marcus heard the harshness in his voice but murder of a witch was the ultimate violation of their law. It was punishable by death. Council might have been chatting about the spring thaw, from the way they were behaving, rather than the murder of two of their kind and the potential danger to the victims’ daughter. Marcus still carried the memory of Avy as he’d left her—exhausted from grounding her storm, confused about what she was, but above all, wanting to be sure she wouldn’t hurt anyone with her magic.

  “The magic should have begun to emerge naturally once the spell broke.” Pelles said. “Why did it burst out in a storm today?”

  Normally, as soon as a witch left this plane, a ritual was performed to store the departed’s magic in a talisman. The power remained there until the Witches Council approved another family member to inherit. Marcus thought he had the answer to that question so he caught his mentor’s eye. After getting a nod, he tried to sound deferential this time when he spoke.

  “The Gwynns were exiles in a mortal world,” he said. “When they died, together, no one was there to perform the Transition Ritual. Their residual magic wouldn’t have been contained properly.” He looked to Pelles out of habit when he asked, “Could their magic have sought out the nearest family talisman on its own? When Avy got upset and triggered the storm, she was holding the family grimoire.”

  This time all the Master Witches considered his words. Some nodded agreement. No one told him to shut up but he gave himself the order. He stood quietly while they whispered among themselves. The occasional word or phrase drifted over the water to him... “Threat to all the covens”...“Unknown, uncontrolled magic.” When he heard, “contamination of the family l
ines” and “unnatural mutation” he had to fist his hands to keep from using them on someone.

  By the time they turned their attention back to him, Pelles looked strained and tired. Marcus braced himself and waited for them to speak. It took all the fortitude and control inherited from his ancestors.

  “Guardian Egan,” Pelles spoke in his officious voice, the one he only used in The Council Chamber. “You will continue with the assignment as directed. We must recover the missing amulets.”

  Marcus nodded. Finding the missing amulets had been every Guardian’s assignment for a hundred years.

  “Do you need the assistance of the hybrid child to achieve that objective?”

  He clenched his teeth and looked at his mentor as if he’d grown demon tusks, only to drop his gaze afraid his irritation would make things worse. At least they were going to let him train Avy. They had no choice. They had to contain the risk posed by her uncontrolled magic. It was the only option. “Yes, Council.”

  “Then you may use the hybrid to find the amulets. Once that is achieved, you will destroy it.”

  Marcus’s head shot up. Confused. “Destroy the amulets, you mean?” He scanned the faces. Even Xanthus Kemena,—Avy’s own grandfather,—stared at him in stony silence. Her grandmother kept her hands folded in front of her. They were steady. His weren’t.

  “Bring the amulets back to us,” Pelles replied. Was there a flicker of something behind the pale gray eyes? Regret, maybe? “The decision of this Witches Council is to destroy the hybrid offspring.”

  Marcus felt his mouth gape like a blowfish. He struggled to hold himself in check. To hide his shock. His rage. The mountain air felt so thick, it threatened to choke him. Kill Avy? Were they insane? He shook his head thinking it might clear. Surely, he’d misheard them. “Excuse me?”

  “Kill it,” Tobias repeated, his mouth twisted into a sneer.

  Chapter Twelve

  Early the next morning, Marcus stood watching Avy from a cluster of trees at the edge of the Gwynn property. He felt the rough bark against his scalp where the back of his head leaned against the trunk. Fatigue sapped his strength to the point of nausea.

  Avy was sitting on the top step of the porch with a steaming mug cupped in both hands, the early morning sun throwing a warm glow over her face. She wore a denim shirt under a heavy flannel jacket that overwhelmed her slight frame. Bulky wool socks hid her feet while one pale knee poked out of a hole in her jeans. He wished he could sit beside her looking out over the town and the land that stretched like a canvas beyond. He didn’t move.

  Busby lay across the step with his head in her lap, obviously enjoying the easy rhythm as she gently stroked his ear. He looked relaxed to the unobservant but one brown eye scanned the yard. The familiar knew the moment Marcus arrived but was not alarmed. He should be.

  Marcus clenched his hands. He was looking at a postcard for rural life in cowboy country. Why did Council want him to destroy this? Where was the threat? The evil?

  He pushed off the tree he’d been leaning on, and saw Busby twitch in response. He leaned back again so the familiar wouldn’t give away his presence in the shadows. Turmoil roiled in his stomach and pushed into his throat. He rubbed his temple where it ached but it didn’t ease the pain. He wanted to go to her. To help her somehow. But that sure wasn’t his job now. Something deep and sorrowful seemed to be smothering him. He was supposed to be a Guardian of witches but this time he was going to fail. He wanted to hammer something with his fists. Every muscle in his body was rigid with tension. He couldn’t accept Council’s decision. At least not the last part. There had to be a way out of this.

  He straightened again and breathed in the crisp mountain air with its scent of forest and earth. This time, Busby raised his head and looked in his direction.

  Avy stopped stroking the dog but didn’t seem concerned. She continued to stare out over the town, lost in her own thoughts.

  Maybe time was the answer. Council had said he could use Avy to find the amulets. He didn’t have to do anything until after he’d found them. A fresh jab of fear struck at his heart. If he didn’t find the amulets soon, they’d still want her dead. How long would they give him? He didn’t get it. It was as if Avy had become the bigger danger to them. How could that be? Five Master Witches against one untrained, practically human, witch. How could she possibly hurt them? Smack them with her cowboy hat?

  He stepped into the clearing and waited for her to sense his presence. She didn’t startle. Her eyes simply drifted towards him like clouds across a clear sky.

  “How’re ya doing?” he asked.

  She gave him a weak smile. “Hangin’ in.”

  He stepped up to where she sat, shifted Busby out of the way like a sack of potatoes and settled down beside her. Together they looked out over the trees to the town below.

  After a moment, she said, “I read the grimoire.”

  He swung around to look directly at her. She seemed unharmed.

  “I was careful,” she said, guessing his thoughts. “I only skimmed the spells and things.”

  “Did you find out anything else?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. He waited. “It confirmed some of what you told me.” Her gaze drifted off to the clouds in the distance. “I think one of the spells was used to keep my magic—” She seemed lost for the word.

  “Bound,” he finished for her. “A binding spell.”

  Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Why would they do that to me?”

  He wanted to ease the hurt so clearly showing on her face. “I think it was to protect you, Avy.”

  Thinking of his meeting with Council, he had to work to keep his voice neutral. “If you had used your magic, Council would have sensed it and tracked you down. Magic is hard to control when it first emerges in your teens. Your parents couldn’t risk it. Risk you.”

  “So your Council knows about me now.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah.”

  She looked at the scorch marks on the house and lawn. “Did they kill my parents?”

  He reached for her hand. At least for now he could comfort her on that. “No,” he said. It was time to tell her the rest. Maybe together they could find the amulets, and her parents’ killer. She sat still as a statue, as he explained what he knew about the power of a Goddess Amulet.

  Then she turned to face him, leaning her back against the post, “I found the records for the security box. It doesn’t say it’s an amulet but it does say one piece of heirloom jewelry.”

  “Not two?”

  She frowned up at him. “No, just one at the Ellis Bank in town. The one that was robbed.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course, your parents would’ve realized the danger. Too late but they wouldn’t risk it happening again. They had to hide the amulets separately.”

  Her face reflected her confusion. “Amulets? There’s more than one?” Then she sat up and caught her breath. “What danger? And what do you mean ‘too late’?”

  * * *

  Marcus looked off into the distance. It was a habit he used when he didn’t want anyone to read anything in his eyes until he’d taken the time to choose his words carefully.

  She waited through the silence letting her own gaze travel back to the steeple of the church on Willow Street. She wondered when she’d be able to settle the date for her parents’ funeral. The sheriff said it depended on when the Coroner agreed to release their bodies. She swallowed the now familiar lump that formed in her throat.

  After a moment of silence, Marcus spoke. “Remember the Council positions are passed within the family from one generation to the next?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh. A Guardian is like an apprentice for the Council seat.”

  “Right, each Council family has its own unique amulet. It’s what gives the Guardians the powers they need to do their job protecting Council.”

  She reached towards him and used her finger to hook the string and pull his amulet out from his s
hirt. “So you’re a Guardian too.”

  “Yes,” he said and didn’t try to take his amulet away from her.

  She looked at it more closely. It was like a piece of pottery, made from reddish clay. On the front was a detailed design of a tree with exaggerated roots growing down from the trunk.

  “My element is the Earth,” he said, his hand closing over hers and the pendant.

  That explained the tree, she thought feeling the warmth of his hand slide up her arm.

  “So the families of Mom and Dad—” It was strange thinking of her parents having extended family and even harder to consider them being connected to her in any way. “My relatives hold two Council seats.”

  He stiffened at her words and she wasn’t sure why. She stared into his eyes willing him to tell her the truth. They were almost uniformly dark, but like a night sky, it was hard to say they were a single color.

  “Your parents came to Bandit Creek wearing their family’s amulets. The Kemena amulet and the Gwynn one,” he said. “Two amulets.”

  He slid off the step and stood. She felt suddenly cold without his body heat warming the air around them but she gave him the distance he needed. “I still don’t understand why that’s such a big deal. So they took their amulets.”

  He took a deep breath but she didn’t sense it was from frustration. Again, he was taking his time. Choosing what he would tell her. It pissed her off. Enough of this—

  “It left both of their families without one.” Marcus said, before Avy had a chance to speak.

  It was more than what he was telling her. His face was a mask but she could sense the turmoil beneath. Whether it was worry or fear, his agitation vibrated in the air. “And that’s a problem because—” she said, more gently. He turned away from her. Whether to hide a lie or distance himself from her, she wasn’t sure.

  His words were clipped when he answered. “Like I told you before. Our law requires Council families to stay independent of each other. The law was there to keep our world stable and safe but your parents ignored it.” He spit his words out. “They brought their two amulets through the portal together.” He turned and looked at her as soon as the words left his lips. His face went pale, then blank.