by Judith Post
Bull leapt on the end witch. Growls cut through the sizzle of energy, and Bull stood, alone.
Three werewolves took down another warlock, but at a cost. One of the werewolves howled in pain. His friends carried him to safety. Luna zapped the second witch. The lone warlock turned to run, calling for any surviving witches to follow him. Reece looked around. Banafrit and Hecate stood over two, dead witches. A blast of energy caught the warlock and lifted him in the air. He jerked and spasmed, then drooped. Aidann lowered his staff, and the warlock fell in a heap.
Banafrit sighed. “We were supposed to let one escape.”
Aidann turned to survey the battle grounds. No survivors. “Sorry, he called for his witches to follow him. I thought a few must still be alive.”
Wedge returned to his human form. Stark naked. Muscled and gorgeous, like Andre, Bull, Whitey, and the other Weres. Would Reece ever get used to that?
Wedge shrugged. “Does it really matter? I think there were enough sparks to let Nen guess we’re ready and waiting.”
Banafrit thought about that. “You’re right. This way, he won’t know what really happened. That will annoy him even more.”
“And make him more ready to come himself,” Aidann said. “If we wanted to, we could claim our fallen witches’ powers. He’ll worry that we’re desperate enough to do that.”
“Why won’t you?” Bull asked.
“Black magic. It would taint us.” Hecate wrinkled her nose. “Did you smell it?”
“The witches hardly had any power at all,” Reece said. “The warlocks claimed every drop they could for themselves.”
“Patriarchal societies,” Banafrit said. “Real men lead. Weak men bully.”
Damian looked at Banafrit. “No one fought you. If you tried to attack, witches blocked you, but no one aimed at you. Why?”
Hecate answered. “For the same reason no one tried to kill me—Nen wants us alive. He wants to kill us or punish us himself.”
Reece shivered.
“Is he really that powerful?” Wedge asked. “He sent thirteen witches to defeat you. When no one goes back, he’ll know they’re all dead. Won’t that worry him?”
Banafrit put a hand to the gold collar that circled her neck, pressing a finger against its scarab center. Her ebony hair shone blue-black in the rays of sun that penetrated the leafy bower of trees. “He already knows. I can feel his fury. Thirteen witches are nothing compared to my son. His anger will build until our shields can’t hold him. Then he’ll come.”
“Alone.” Wedge shook his head. “Is he that sure of himself, or is he too full of himself?”
“My son smells like a disease coming toward you. He’s so strong, he can summon demons and control them. He is that powerful, and he knows it.”
Sylwan walked toward them, staggering under Whitey's weight to support him.
Bull shifted from one foot to the other. “We’ve won this battle. Now comes the war. How can we help you?”
Banafrit didn’t mince words. “Go home. You won’t survive Nen. Your friends care about you. They might try to help you and lose their own lives.”
“But…”
Banafrit put up a hand. “You’ve done everything you can. You helped us win this battle. That will bring Nen. You’ve given us your lodge and property to use. Now, you must leave.”
Wedge glanced at Damian. “What do you say?”
“Luna and I have battled Nen before,” Hecate answered. “He’s not only strong. He’s shrewd. If he can, he’ll use you against us. Banafrit’s right. Go.”
Wedge didn’t budge. He turned his gaze to Damian.
Damian's wings drooped. “They’re right. You’ve fought enough battles, you know it. If we lose, you need a name of someone to contact, someone strong enough to defeat Nen before he's too strong. You need to pull together a team of gargoyles, Weres, witches, and anything else that might stop him.”
Wedge gave a curt nod. “We'll pack up and go.” He jabbed a finger at Reece. "Win this, witch. I'm not in the mood to lose the best allies I have."
Reece swallowed, hard. Too much pressure. She barely could stay one step ahead of each battle.
Whitey hesitated.
Sylwan reached for his hand. “Thank you for saving me, but you can’t save me against Nen. If I survive, I’m staying here in Bay City. You make me think of the father I never had.”
A low growl rumbled in Whitey's throat. He fought to compose himself. "Survive this, you hear? I've lost too many people I care about." He turned to follow Wedge through the trees back to their camp. Still weak, he stumbled and put out a hand to steady himself. Bull went to help him.
“We’ll bury the bodies before we leave,” Wedge called over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about them. We know where no one will find them.”
Banafrit glanced at the dead bodies, then turned her gaze to Damian and Andre. “I’d advise you two to leave here, but I doubt that you’d listen to me.”
Damian reached for Reece’s hand and Andre went to stand behind Hecate. It was a clear signal. Neither of them were leaving.
Banafrit sighed. “Then we might as well return to the lodge. There’s nothing to be done here.”
The others started back the way they’d come, but Reece hesitated. Her moonstone glowed, and she put a hand to it.
“What is it?” Hecate stopped to watch her closely.
Confused, Reece shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Explain it to me. What did you see?”
“We cut a branch from a birch tree.” Reece shrugged. She didn't understand the significance. “We slice and carve the wood into thumb rings—one for each of us.”
Aidann rolled his eyes. “Warlocks don’t do friends forever.”
Reece felt heat burn her cheeks. She sounded foolish to her own ears.
“Go on,” Damian told her. “What else do we do?”
“We etch ivy around the entire circle, then carve a symbol of a butterfly in the center.”
Aidann stared. “Your moonstone told you to do that?”
“My necklace and my ankle bracelet work together.”
Luna kept her voice level. “For Celts, the birch tree stands for the Sun, the beginning of all things--birth. Ivy represents rebirth after death. The butterfly is a symbol of Faery Faith, a sign of respect for the great lunar goddess.”
Aidann nodded, all mockery gone. “Your ring would symbolize respect for our mortal selves, spiritual growth, and immortality…and the moon—our magic.”
Banafrit pressed her fingertips to her lips, contemplating the idea. “Our staffs magnify our individual strengths. By each of us wearing the same ring, we’re combining those strengths into one.”
“We’d be a united force,” Aidann said.
Reece gingerly touched her moonstone and tucked it under her T-shirt. It nestled over her blood-red tattoo. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s brilliant.” Hecate looked around the area. “Where’s a birch tree?”
Sylwan pointed. “Whitey and I found one when we followed the stream.”
They walked toward it, gripping their staffs and using them as walking sticks.
“We haven’t hung any amulets from these yet,” Luna said. “We should do that, too.”
“How?” Reece had seen the image of the staffs, but she didn’t understand it.
“Leather strips wrapped and tied around the wood with personal symbols of strengths attached at the ends,” Aidann told her.
Luna gave a brisk nod. “We have plenty of work to keep us occupied for the rest of the day. We need to make our rings and decorate our staffs. When we’re finished, we’ll be two steps stronger. We’ll have a better chance of defeating Nen.”
Andre frowned. “But what about Damian and me? We don’t have a moon goddess. Should we wear a ring?”
“You don’t have a moon goddess?” Hecate slapped his half-bare ass. He'd pulled on what was left of his clothes after he'd changed to and from being a
Were. “Who has to shift at each full moon?”
“I didn’t think of it that way." Andre shrugged. "Maybe I’ll send prayers when I howl at the moon and see if it does any good.”
Hecate slapped his other cheek. “The moon sent me to you. You’re already blessed."
“The goddess must love me, but then, why wouldn’t she? She’s a woman.”
Aidann shook his head, dismissing them. “I see the birch up ahead. Let's find a good branch.”
Reece realized their small talk had soothed her. The vision of the thumb rings and its hidden symbols had made her uneasy. Her necklace knew more than she did. A good thing, but unnerving at times.
Damian found a branch that was the right width to fit their thumbs, even large enough at the base for his large hands. He wrestled it off the tree, and Hecate thanked it for its gift to them. Then they returned to the lodge. Aidann went to the garage and found a saw. He cut slices and peeled the bark from them. That done, they joined hands and said chants, watching the symbols of ivy and butterflies etch themselves into the smooth wood.
At a nod from Banafrit, each person slid his ring onto his right thumb. Energy hummed the minute the wood touched their skin. A different kind of energy, as though Reece could feel each of her friends bound in the slim circle of birch.
“Now for our staffs,” Luna said. She handed each person a sharp knife from the kitchen. “We need to attach amulets to them.”
Damian flew to steal Wedge's deerskin from the ceiling peek. Reece struggled to cut strips from the supple leather. Then she agonized over what to attach to them.
"I don't know what to add. Carvings already cover the wood."
“Touch your necklace,” Damian advised her.
She frowned at him. “What are you putting on yours?”
“I’m going to touch you when you touch your necklace. Maybe it will inspire both of us.”
Reece smiled and pushed her V-necked top aside to close her fingers over her moonstone.
“Hold on a minute!” Aidann was gawking at her. Reece flushed, embarrassed.
Damian frowned. He raised an eyebrow at the warlock, not happy with his tone.
Aidann ignored him. “Did I see a tattoo?”
Reece tugged her neckline lower. “A hexagram, the sign of the witch. We all have them.”
“I don’t. Neither does Luna.” He looked at Hecate and Sylwan.
Both women shook their heads.
“May we see it?” Hecate asked.
Reece pulled her T-shirt over her head. The tattoo nestled near her heart, above the lacy fringe of her bra. If they wanted to look at it, let them.
Aidann gave a low gasp. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Damian scowled. When he'd first followed Reece after the rogue attacked her, the tattoo had appeared on her skin, and all of her wounds healed. He’d taken it as a sign that her magic had awakened. He was right. Her powers grew more powerful every day.
“How did you get that?” Luna asked.
Reece explained about fighting the rogue, worrying that he’d turned her, and then discovering the tattoo.
“It’s Marissa's magic.” Luna's voice was strained, her face drawn. “When Marissa’s husband plunged the knife into her chest, she didn’t even try to protect herself. I think her heart was already broken, he’d surprised and disappointed her so much. We were countries apart, but I woke with a start.”
Aidann placed a hand on Luna’s thigh to comfort her.
She took a deep, ragged breath. “I saw Marissa press her hand into her blood, cup it, and form a small ball of her life force. She opened her hand, and it floated skyward, then disappeared.”
Hecate blinked. “It waited for the next Rutherford to discover her powers.”
Luna stared at the hexagram. “Marissa’s powers are part of Reece now. My daughter's strength was air magic.”
Reece felt vulnerable. She pulled her T-shirt back over her head. “Mine’s earth.”
“Then you have both." Luna leaned forward, her tone intense. She pointed to the door. "Leave here. Now. I won’t let Marissa’s gifts become part of Nen.”
Aidann tightened his grip on her thigh. “We need her, Luna. Marissa’s working through her to help us.”
Tears blurred Luna’s vision. “But what if…?”
“If she dies, we all die.”
That calmed her. Luna leaned back in her chair and forced herself to relax.
Hecate, clearly shaken, reached for the deer skin to cut another strip of leather. “Let’s finish our staffs.”
They all returned to their work. Reece’s hands shook as she touched her moonstone—not for answers this time, but for comfort.
Damian bent his head and whispered in her ear. “Each time you look at that tattoo, know that it means you’re worthy to wear it. It represents you as much as it does your magic.”
Reece felt the warmth of the moonstone pulse through her. It was joined by the tingle of her ankle bracelet. But none of them could match the warmth Damian’s words gave her. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “I might be a gargoyle, but above all, I’m me. You might be a witch, but you’re my witch.”
She gripped her necklace. “Let’s do this. Let’s find our symbols.”
A vision of her tattoo appeared, and the letter R for her Rutherford bloodline, and a black belt—for her martial arts. Then a pair of wings—for Damian. She grinned and released her hold.
“You look happy. You must like what you saw.”
She told him her amulets. “Now it's your turn.” She wrapped his hand around her moonstone, her hand over his. When he gasped, she asked, “You?”
“Wings—for being a gargoyle, a full moon for meeting a witch, and an R for falling in love with one—not just a Rutherford, but my Reece.”
She leaned into him. “I’m going to cherish these.”
“Me too.” They spent the next hour enchanting and carving their symbols onto different objects—leather for the wings, wood for the R and Reece’s tattoo, and cloth for Reece’s black belt. When the amulets were ready, they attached them to their staffs.
That done, they all gathered in the kitchen, as usual. Magic was great, but food was essential. Damian and Andre cut thin slices of beef and seared them to stuff into pitas. Reece and Hecate made a cucumber dressing, and Luna and Aidann tossed a quick salad. Sylwan set the table and poured wine and beer.
Over their food, they laughed and celebrated. They’d survived today’s battle. They’d made themselves stronger. But everyone was nervous, Reece could tell. Their jollity hid their biggest worry—could they defeat Nen? No one spoke of it. After supper, they cleaned the kitchen together, then headed off to their separate rooms.
Reece and Damian clung to each other and made tender, silent love. It was more of an affirmation than an act of passion. Then she slept.
Reece woke to the sound of someone crying and heard the front door open. She sat up, alarmed, then remembered that no enemy could enter the lodge, not even Nen.
Damian touched her arm. “Shhh, Whitey came for Sylwan. She didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“A gargoyle’s hearing.”
“Mine’s just as good.”
“You were asleep. I was talking to Benito.” Damian never slept. With his telepathy, he could visit with his friends every night while they sat on the rooftop guarding Nen’s house.
Reece nuzzled closer to her gargoyle. “I’m glad Whitey came. She needs someone.”
“So does he.”
She hadn't thought of that, but Damian was right.
He pulled her down to him. “Get some sleep. Benito sent me a message. The shields around Nen’s house are cracking. Tomorrow, they’ll split. He’ll come for us.”
She scooted closer to him, and he wrapped a wing over her.
“There won’t be any more waiting," he told her. "Tomorrow will see the end of this.”
That should have made her lie
awake, worrying, but it didn’t. She fell asleep, safe in Damian's arms, and dreamt of defeating Nen.
Chapter 29
Breakfast was a brittle affair. Damian told everyone Benito’s message, and each of them gathered strength for the day’s battle.
Whitey sat at the long, rectangular table with them, looking uncomfortable, but Banafrit had commanded him to stay. “It’s too dangerous for you to leave now. When Nen comes, you’ll stay in the lodge. It's protected.”
Damian slid out the front door and disappeared to stand watch. He’d be able to smell Nen before he saw him. Then he'd return to warn them.
The witches lined up their staffs by the French doors, easy to grab on their way out of the lodge. Reece, no longer worried about Sylwan, carted her spell book downstairs and started to thumb through it. Studying its pages made her feel more confident. Sylwan came to see them, too, and so did Luna and Aidann.
Hecate played gin rummy at the table with Andre and Whitey. “Want to join us, Banafrit?”
Nen’s mother busied herself in the kitchen. She sliced mangos with a butcher knife and absently ate them as she looked out the window. “I can’t concentrate. Sorry.”
Hecate gave Andre a wary look. “You have to stay inside with Whitey when Nen comes.”
“No.” Andre laid down his cards. “Gin, I win.”
Hecate grimaced. She collected the cards and passed them to Whitey. "Luck won't be enough today. Stay inside."
Andre shrugged. “You told me, remember? The moon goddess loves me.”
“Not enough to save your sorry ass if you get caught in our crossfire. You’re staying inside, or so help me, I’ll put you under a binding spell, and I won’t release you until I’m damned good and ready.”
Andre raised his dark brows in mock horror. “Will you have your way with me?”
“Shut up and get serious. You’d distract me. I’ll be safer if you’re out of harm’s way.”
