Wicked Good Witches- Complete Series Bundle

by Ruby Raine

  She wasn't surprised to spin around and see that Mathew was gone. Which was fine because it meant he was back helping with the battle. But Emily wasn't sure where to go—"Where did that come from?" She cocked her head at a door she swore wasn't there a moment ago. It was just like Riley had described. Emily sucked in and pushed out an exhale. She shouldn't have any trouble getting in seeing as she was a Supernatural—that still took some getting used to, even still.

  Emily approached the door, twisted the knob, and it opened right up to total darkness. She closed her eyes, held her breath, and stepped through, opened her eyes one at a time, released her breath, and smiled. It was exactly like Riley described. But surreal in that she was now standing here.

  "And wasting time," she chided herself. She wasn't here on vacation. She gazed off to her right and easily found the pub Annie was from. She darted over and rushed through the door to have a pub full of Supernaturals of all kinds go silent and take in the new, unexpected stranger.

  "Can I help you?" The woman's voice had a thick French accent and she was just as described, some form of walking art.

  "Jean? Friend to Annie and William?"

  Her welcoming smile faltered. "What's happened?"

  "My name is Emily Morgan. I'm here from the Demon Isle."

  A rush of whispers and rapid exhales echoed through the pub.

  "Is my Annie okay? William?"

  "Yes. But I can't say that will last. There's a war about to start and they need help. Magical help. You see, there's this magical thing about to be born and evil wants it, and we're way outnumbered and—" Emily wasn't even sure how to explain it all.

  "You don't have to explain," Jean kindly stopped her. "They need help, we will come."

  Emily breathed in relief. "Thank you." She might not be able to fight alongside those she cared about, but she'd do anything to help them win. And this was—right. Good. And reminded her of all the other times she'd helped the Howards and how right that had always been. But she'd have to think about it all later because the pub was suddenly abuzz with activity.

  The front door flew open and another rather flowery woman glided into the room, quieting the place.

  "Ah. Perfect. I see I'm right on time."

  "Aunt May?" questioned Jean.

  "Sorcier is needed at The Demon Isle. But you already know this." She winked at Emily as if they had some private joke between them, which of course, they didn’t. But Emily gave the woman a befuddled smile and wave. Why did she suddenly have a feeling she was in some kind of set up? Just like Riley had been in when he'd come here.

  Magic. Fate.

  She wasn't sure she'd ever understand it all.

  Aunt May faced everyone in the pub. "Do not go into this battle lightly. The world of magic is about to change. We must protect what Riley Deane is about to help birth into this world, and what our friends are fighting to protect."

  "Then open the damn portal," ordered Jean in a snarl. Her kindly demeanor morphed into the predator so easily it gave Emily a chill. Another group showed up at the entrance of the pub—witches. And they had a stack of magical belts already filled with potions. Emily almost felt like magic was working its own sort of magic, and like she hadn't actually even needed to come here.

  But as everyone banded together, some stringing magical belts across the shoulders, and readied for war, Jean and Aunt May cast their glances at Emily in question.

  "Are you coming?" Aunt May challenged her. "You are welcome to remain in Sorcier...for as long as you like."

  Emily had to make a choice.

  She was not a witch. She didn't have any battle skills. But neither did many of the people volunteering to jump up and go to the rescue. Because that's what you did for the people and causes you cared about.

  You fought, no matter what. You didn't give up and abandon your friends. And you didn't run away from the people you loved the most. And who loved you.

  The Howards had reason to give up more than anyone, and yet, they persisted.

  Her father wouldn't want her living in fear of her gift, or leave the people or place she belonged. He hadn't moved her to The Demon Isle so she'd want to escape it. And he'd be disappointed if she chose not to return simply because of his life being taken there. She knew without a doubt he'd have done everything exactly the same, if it meant his daughter was in the place where she belonged.

  And just like a switch had flipped, Emily's greatest fear was that she'd lose those people. That she'd lose Michael. That the Isle would be lost. That she'd never have the chance to return, for real. How sickeningly funny it was, that sometimes you had to come so close to losing something before finally waking the hell up and realizing just how devastating a thing that would be.

  Emily smile, her place in this world reaffirming itself. She glanced at Aunt May.

  "Don't suppose there's an extra magical belt in that stack for me?"

  CHAPTER 7

  MELINDA, MICHAEL, AND Lucas were on the offensive, trying to block the bombardment of spells and curses sailing inward.

  Meanwhile, the three vampires were getting downright bloody as they snapped and tore and bit and broke.

  The Feyk had led the charge, but they'd brought friends. A lot of them. Things that slithered, jumped, climbed, flew...it was an all out war the Feyk did not come to lose. And quickly becoming fearfully obvious to those defending the Source, that they were severely outnumbered.

  The only thing working on their side: evil had come to fight, but they were disorganized and also fighting amongst each other. They'd banded together with the goal of taking out anyone protecting the Source, but then it was anyone's game as to who would take the prize—whatever birthed out of the Power Source and control of the Source, itself.

  But it didn't make sense that the Feyk leader would chance some other evil faction taking the prize. Something was off there, but they had zero time to analyze or question. Only fight.

  Melinda screamed and fell on her ass in shock when Mathew appeared out of nowhere.

  "Shit. Sorry." He got her to her feet almost taking himself down, only to dive to the ground a blink later when some hideous creature jumped right at them. A wendigo. Not a creature that could do much harm to Mathew, but its claws ripping at skin would still hurt like a son of a bitch. And it could kill a witch.

  But Melinda's response to the thing as it crashed onto empty ground, rebounded, and skittered toward them, was fast and spot on. Her palm released a spell that hit the foul creature straight in the chest without any mercy. Its skin and bones form flew back, breaking against a tree and falling to the ground. Dead.

  The vampires snarled in the distance as they continued their bloody feasting. And Mathew and Melinda rejoined Lucas and Michael. They fought back to back trying to defend from all sides at once. But faster than they liked, they were getting pushed closer to the entrance of the Source. And Stricker wasn't going to fall for the bait and switch routine again, like he had with Jack Howard.

  "What the hell is that?" Michael called out a second later. A rumble in the distance, some serious pounding against the ground. What monstrosity had the Feyk brought with them that could make such a thunderous entrance.

  Even their enemies gave pause though, and lessened their attack. Or, were just getting out of the damn way to let some new terror fight in their place. The breathless witches and feisty vampires reformed a barrier using their bodies to block the source. But when they saw Mathew grinning....

  "The Calvary is coming," he said with a shrug. And just like that, bodies began pouring out of the darkness from the roadway into the gully—led by Emily Morgan!

  "What the hell?" Michael pushed forward, in shock.

  Annie and William saw Jean and Aunt May and understood what had happened. Mathew had sent Emily for help, and Sorcier had heeded that call. And while it resurfaced bad memories for William, he found that he was eternally grateful. Because they were not enough to win this battle on their own. He gave a curt nod to Jean, and A
unt May, and others he recognized. There were at least forty additional fighters.

  They were still outnumbered, but a hell of a lot less so. And the strength the extra numbers provided only rebuilt the resolve to defend the Power Source.

  Emily ran forward and stopped in front of Michael.

  "Hi." She smiled nervously.

  He just shook his head like he was seeing things. "Did I get knocked out?"

  She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.

  "No. We'll talk later." She grabbed his hand though. "Just know that I'm not going anywhere." She squeezed his hand. "I'm right where I want to be." She let go of him and snagged a potion bottle out of her belt.

  It took Michael a few seconds that registered more like hours, to comprehend that this was real, and what Emily was saying. And what she'd done. After everything she'd gone through and everything that had been taken away from her, she'd come flying back into their lives—and brought help. The emotional overload was almost too much and all he wanted to do was wrap himself around her and never let go.

  Emily must have read the emotions in his features. She leaned into his ear.

  "Later," she promised. Giving him the final thing he needed to keep up his strength for this fight—hope. A promise of a survivable future. But Michael had other ideas.

  "No. Now." It didn't matter who was watching or if a cascade of spells was headed his way. He had his lips locked on Emily's and it was his birthday, Christmas, and every holiday all wrapped up in one. The best gift ever.

  He broke away with a slow grin spreading across his face. The rest, later. For now, it was everything he needed to know. He hadn't lost her. And she was okay.

  The new fighters joined the ranks and poised for the battle to restart. The enemy had retreated, but they'd only regroup and attack again. The new arrivals had caught them off guard.

  A foul tension rode the space between them and their enemy, and the attack began again with a furious pace. Except this time, both sides were more easily matched, but neither made any real progress at pushing back the other. Merely holding their ground—which was also getting littered with bloody bits as the vampires tore things apart, and others blew them up.

  Lucas took a curse to the arm and the force of the blow landed him hard on his back. Mathew popped over to him and had him out of harm's way in a single breath.

  "I'm okay," Lucas insisted. But Mathew insisted on swabbing a healing potion onto the injury and Lucas wasn't even shocked when his cut skin began to knit itself together. His Guardian was pretty damn talented. His Guardian. That sentiment both elated and scared him. But now wasn't the time to fret over their future, or non-future as would most likely be the case. Living for today, Lucas reminded himself.

  He wondered how Riley was doing and as he clambered back to his feet, glanced toward the entrance. Mathew guessed his concern.

  "I sense that things inside are urgent, but he's not in any danger."

  "Unlike us." Lucas squeezed Mathew's hand and they rejoined the battle in full swing.

  It was quite the sight. Witches shooting off spells, putting up blocks to keep others safe. Vampires biting and tearing. People like Aunt May and Emily, who were not actually magical, but using potions to fight. Spells and curses slamming into each other. Trees. The stream. The ground. The starless sky lit up with a constant stream of magic swirling and swirling.

  Until it stopped. And the enemy inexplicably retreated.

  They didn't leave. Only hid in the shadows and darkness.

  "What are they doing?" Melinda wondered, her chest heaving. William flew to her side at once, wondering the same thing. It was question number one on all their minds. But they'd take the freely given chance to catch their breath and make themselves ready to fight, because they were sure it was not over yet.

  Michael gripped Emily's side.

  Annie joined Jean, Aunt May, and others from Sorcier.

  Mathew and Lucas grabbed each other's hand and waited, in tense apprehension.

  And then they heard it. That reviling laugh.

  Courtney crouched and hissed.

  "Stricker."

  But he wasn't showing his face. Only cowering in the shadows. And there was something about his hideous laugh that wasn't just spine shuddering, but telling. He wasn't afraid. He believed he was going to win.

  Melinda, Michael, and William passed a knowing look and a shared bad feeling.

  William snarled. He should have torn the bastard apart the last time he'd had him in his grasp. But he hadn't finished the job because he'd been too panicked to save Melinda who'd been near death. Too near. It was a memory that only fueled his anger toward the bastard Feyk even more.

  Stricker's confident warning was most unsettling and quickly spreading throughout their allies. Stricker had some hidden weapon, or even larger army, or—the air went almost frosty around them. A heavy weight thickened the sudden coolness. A feeling of dread threatened to vanquish all hope they'd been holding onto.

  The exact opposite of what it felt like when a Guardian was near or approaching.

  Mathew stiffened, sucked in, and exhaled so sharply it would've struck out bowling pins.

  "Demons...."

  Heads twisted, bodies spun to see Mathew. Had they heard him right? Just one look at the shock on his face assured them he was.

  Demons rarely ever showed themselves in the real world. It was even rarer than seeing Guardians. They worked their dark magic and deception from the depths of even darker places.

  If Demons were here, on the Isle....

  If the Feyk and Stricker were working with Demons....

  All eyes slid to the Power Source, resolve reaffirming their protection efforts.

  If Demons were here, they believed this was their moment to take over. To tip the scales in their favor. And Demons didn't adhere to many rules when it came to the non-magical world. They had agreed to only the one rule—never to interfere with a potential—a human born from the Garudian Bloodline. They could tempt and nudge and suggest, but never interfere with free will so that upon death, the human could be judged and deemed a Guardian or a Demon based on their chosen actions during life.

  But unlike Guardians, Demons had no issue with hiring non-potentials like the Feyk, to do their dirty work. But it was a shock that Demons had come themselves. Why? What did they know that the Guardians or the Howards did not? Or was it simply that the magic expressed from the Source was calling to all evil, giving them reason to think now was the time to steal it and take control of it?

  No matter the reason for such evil being here, there was no way in hell the Howards or their allies were going to permit something meant for the greater good, to fall into the hands of those who'd destroy it, or use it for vile intents.

  But if they thought they were outnumbered before...

  It didn't matter.

  They took somber looks at those they loved, centered themselves, and poised for battle.

  CHAPTER 8

  RILEY HAD CLIMBED ON top of the cocoon and was on his hands and knees peering into the thing. The shell wasn't hard, but also not soft. It was like kneeling on a firm mattress—the surface gave into the pressure of his limbs, but only just. He didn't sink down into the thing.

  It needed magic—from an outside source. Only magic could free whatever was inside. He let it slide out of his palms and the magic crackled and spread as it slipped across the surface of the cocoon, the shell of it beginning to harden into something more like a shell about to crack open.

  The first crack ripped into his ears and he lifted his gaze to see fine lines forming at the very top of the cocoon, then spread outward and downward straight underneath his body. He let more magic release and each time, the cracks got longer and deeper and wider, until a warm pinkish ooze that oddly, smelled like lilacs, began to bubble up through the crack.

  And as more of it oozed upward, and the crack continued to break open the shell, Riley's magical gift was jacked with even more information. />
  She'd been protected by magic while inside of this thing—yes, it was a she. This person—this woman—had been waiting a long time to be born. She was a gift to the magical world. But there was so much more to it than that. She needed magic to free her, and bind her to the outside world. But there was more that Riley wasn't seeing, or feeling. And he supposed it didn't matter, only freeing her did. The rest would be revealed in time he imagined. Once she was freed.

  He dug his fingers into the cracks and slowly started to dig in and break it open. He didn't hear the sounds of the battle in the distance any longer. Only the buzz of energy surrounding him and the thoughts pounding in his brain to get her out.

  Crack.

  Crack.

  Crack.

  It was breaking up. All over.

  CHAPTER 9

  SEA SPIDERS.

  Freaking god damned sea spiders.

  Pieces of shit sea hags needed to die already.

  But this magic they were using to sneak up through the Howards own water fountain was far above the hag's abilities, which meant they'd had help. Probably the Feyk. Because turning a backyard water fountain into a portal from the ocean...that took a lot of magic to work out. A lot more than sea hags had access to.

  The spiders invaded the yard behind the Howard Mansion as the moon's pull drowned Lizzy in the need to shift. Charlie had his arms around her trembling body, racing for the door to get inside and to the safety of the basement cell. But the hoard was faster, blocking their path. Blocking the door. Blocking their safe room.

  They weren't going to make it.

  Charlie wondered just how much of an attack by the spiders his body could handle—even with the ring on his finger, that was a lot of bites and cuts to need protection from. And if he made one wrong move and lost Lizzy to the hoard—okay, yeah. Staying put. Couldn't chance losing her to the hoard.

  She groaned next to him.