by Jayne Hawke
I hadn’t even begun to finish with the magic I could have taken when she made her move. Smart girl. Smart enough to take her shot before the odds got even worse. Not smart enough to know when to walk away. She raced towards me with a market-stall pocketknife in her hands, a hawk knife suited for killing the helpless and not much more. I tugged at her magic, and she tripped forward.
I let her go quickly, knowing I was at the limit of my control, not wanting to devour everything in a hundred miles. Just enough power slipped out of her to take down her pride and no more. She didn’t move, and I felt her power drain down, down, and was almost panicking. I kicked her body, needing her to fight back, to be alive, but she wasn’t. She’d fallen on that stupid little knife, and the one in a million strike had sent her to... wherever naughty blood witches go when they die.
I dropped to my knees next to her and shook her, tried to pour magic into her. Even as I did, I realized how much magic I was still draining from the witches around me and threw down all the threads with a mental flick of the wrist. I pressed power into her, filled the gap in her with it, but blood could only replace blood and the pool grew even broader, deeper, the magic and the gore sinking into the starving ground. I had a moment of consideration to think about the beautiful garden that might bloom there soon, but the vision in my head was replaced with ugly red flowers the size of car tyres, slick red elephant-ear petals dragging the ground. Beauty didn’t come from power like mine.
I cried, not for her but for myself. I cried for my mother who had taught me nothing, cried for my father who had tried to protect me from what I was. I cried for my own ignorance, and for Ethan’s perfectly neutral meanness, for our pack that lived at his knife’s tang and the beautiful, gentle soul of Matt whom I’d brought into it.
I cried tears I didn’t know I had, tears of bright starving blood and dense saline water, and I let my magic go in an immense release of power, grounded out into the earth like a dying fission reactor. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t power, I wasn’t a black hole or even mosquito. I was a brawler who just wanted an okay life for her brother. I was a normal girl with far, far too much power.
My eyes were clenched tight, tears still falling, when I felt hands all over me. In my hair, on the back of my neck, down my spine and out onto my shoulder blades. Hands gripped my arms, my hands, my thighs and feet. They gripped my breasts and pressed into my stomach. An entire neighbourhood worth of hands and arms and need staked their claim on me, and almost as one they began to draw out. They didn’t know what I was or what I was experiencing, but they knew that the lake of blood that had so recently been the mystical heart of their world was weak and that meant they could all get their share.
I could feel their spirit as they did. I didn’t fight, I just felt. Not because I wanted to die, or because I wanted them to take my power, but merely because as long as they were tugging at me I could feel them, feel them in a way no one in their entire lives ever could. Their mothers hadn’t known them the way I did, their husbands and children, their covens and the caretakers that would watch their dying breath, nothing in the universe would ever know those women as I did. They were desperate, angry, guilty, they were taking from me out of revenge and superiority and even lust. For me and for power and for hope.
“This is not how my story goes,” I said just loudly enough for them all to hear, and I drew the power they had stolen back into myself.
I took no more than they had taken from me, but they were drunk with it, had given themselves to it, and when it was taken back so suddenly their minds were sustained by little else. None of them died, none that I could feel, but they collapsed to the ground and their hands fell away until I could stand and go. I felt them still, felt their residue in me, but it would fade quickly. They weren’t my story either.
TWENTY-THREE
The walk back was surreal. I’d rushed there expecting a fight and had gotten the weirdest free therapy session in history. I felt just like I’d gone out, the magic I’d taken paid forward to the dying witch and the magic I’d lost retaken from her neighbours. Somehow I still felt better, though, healthier and more at peace. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been carrying around.
Matt was arriving as I was.
“Where you coming from?” he asked.
“Had to go fight one of Ethan’s battles. Was a breeze.”
No way was I going to go into it all, with him or anyone.
“A fight with who or what!?”
“A blood witch like me.”
“Shit. Have you updated Ethan?”
I glared at Matt. Maybe it was too much, but I hated people thinking I was weak.
“Not yet. He’s busy.”
“Are you absolutely sure you’re ok? You’ve eaten enough?”
“Yea, promise,” I said. “Are you free this evening?”
“Yea, why?”
“I’m ready to go to the address that Mom wrote down.”
Matt nodded.
“Ok, I’ll grab something to eat then we can go.”
“I’ll get a shower and we’ll head out in thirty.”
“We all know you’re a badass, you know,” Matt said as I walked out of the kitchen.
“Don’t you forget it,” I said with a grin.
We slowed our pace as we approached the building at the address. It looked like an old warehouse set just back from the river. The four-storey red-brick building towered above the shorter more modern-looking buildings on either side of it. The path near the building was poorly maintained with thick tendrils of green pushing up through the cracked pavement.
We turned away from the river and walked between the tall slender trees that acted as a sort of gateway to the front of the building. The tall windows were covered in a thick layer of green and brown grime that had clearly had a long time to build up. Unlike the buildings on either side, there were no tags or signs of graffiti. Blown bricks were scattered up the front wall, giving it a rougher appearance, but otherwise it seemed to be in good enough condition.
How many times had my Mom gone there over the years? I paused and looked it up and down, surveying the red tile roof and feeling for magic. There was no sign that this was anything but another abandoned warehouse. They weren’t uncommon down by the river where the hags and such had claimed the territories. Rumours were one of the houses contained a family of selkies, but I wasn’t convinced. Selkies were seal shifters who much preferred to be by the sea. It was probably just some fae mongrels and witches cooking up drugs.
I looked to Matt and gave him a small smile. This was it. Time to see what Mom had been hiding.
TWENTY-FOUR
I’d expected there to be a heavy lock on the front door, but there was nothing. Reaching out, I felt sharp tendrils of magic wrapped around the large metal handle. Slowing my breathing, I prepared myself to break a spell. I wrapped my hand around the cold metal and found that my magic synced with the magic on the handle. Pulling hard, the heavy metal door swung open as easily as any door at home.
To my surprise, lights flickered on, revealing an open-plan area inside with double-height ceilings. We stepped inside and closed the door behind us, not wanting to encourage anyone to come and join us in our explorations. Metal girders stretched across the ceiling. A spiral staircase gave a route up to the next floor. I didn’t know what I had expected, but what I saw took my breath away.
The space was filled with heavy lab tables holding glassware in every conceivable shape, size, and colour. At the far end was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf packed with books and a small leather couch which had seen better days. Slowly, we walked down past the tables where I could feel the old residue of magic. It was familiar cool crystalline magic, blood magic.
Breathing in deep, I didn’t catch any scents of death or decay. It smelled fresh and clean.
“This is incredible. I’ve never seen such an exquisite lab before. Your mom must have been working on some cutting-edge stuff,” Matt said as he picked up a slender beaker.
“Yea, I guess.”
Matt wandered off and explored the glassware and equipment that meant absolutely nothing to me. I was more interested in finding her grimoire, or at least some notes on what she’d been doing there. The books on the shelves looked to cover every shape and form of magic we’d ever known. They were carefully catalogued by title and topic. On the very far left were books on god magic, the god touched, and god chosen witches. The centre focused on traditional witches. Then there was a section on unusual witches. I reached out and touched the spine of a book on blood witches.
“Holy shit...” Matt said as he joined me.
“How could she hide all of this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. That library’s better than Ethan’s.”
I had to smile. It was easier for Matt. He was just fascinated by the sheer amount of knowledge there. For me, this was a complicated emotional rollercoaster. I had no idea how I was supposed to handle all of this.
“Any idea what she was doing here?”
“Not really, not without her notes,” Matt said.
“You check through the books for clues and stuff, I’m heading upstairs.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
I smiled at him.
“I’ll be ok. I’ll shout if there’s something awful.”
He squeezed my shoulder.
“I know this is weird. I’m here if you need me.”
I appreciated his words and sentiment. He didn’t know Mom, but he was still my baby brother and we loved each other.
Steeling myself for the worst, I ascended the spiral stairs. The upper storey was far brighter than the lower one. There was less grime on the tall windows, which allowed a lot of pale natural light to flood the wide-open space. Orbs of brilliant white and gold light hung some seven feet above my head. Looking up, I saw the exposed roof far above. More girders stretched across far overhead; the roof was a patchwork of metal sheets.
There were no lab tables up there. Thankfully there weren’t any bodies, skeletons, or anything either. I began to wander when I noted there was a pattern on the bare wooden floor. Crouching down, I tried to make out the details. I caught the edges of a red circle and some sharp-edged symbols. Then I saw it all. That was a ritual circle. I had no idea what it was for, but I’d seen a couple in previous cases as a bounty hunter. Witches used them when they needed to pull on a lot of big magic. Sometimes, they used them to try and work with the gods.
I stood up and continued looking. There were six ritual circles in total. Each in what appeared to be old blood. The magic was long gone and gave me no clues, but it showed that Mom was working with big complicated magic. What had she been doing? And why had she kept it a secret?
“Ow!” Matt cried out from below.
“Matt!? Matt!” I shouted as I sprinted for the stairs.
My daggers were in my hands as I vaulted over the banister and looked around for what had hurt Matt. Looking around frantically, I saw him with his arms crossed glaring at the bookshelf before him.
“What happened? Are you ok?” I asked as I jogged over to him.
“The damn book bit me!”
I stopped next to him and looked at the book in question. It was the first in a set of three matching books with broad spines in what looked like beautiful blood-red leather.
“I’m sorry. It bit you...?”
He frowned and held out his hand. Small puncture marks could be seen on his fingers.
“Yes. It bit me.”
I leaned in and looked at the book. There was no sign of fangs or anything along the smooth leather. I reached out with my witch magic and felt the familiar magic that hid deep within me. The whispering song of blood magic. I swear there even a tittering laugh in the whispers.
Reaching out cautiously, I maintained a grasp on my magic and tried to feel for anything weird as I inched closer to the book. Wrapping my hand around the spine, there was a little warmth but no pain. Warm familiarity spread through me like a hug from Mom when I was a little girl.
I pulled the book from the shelf and flipped it open. Mom’s beautiful handwriting filled the first page.
We’d done it. We’d found her grimoire.
TWENTY-FIVE
Three blood-red leatherbound books combined made up Mom’s grimoire. From what little I’d been able to skim, they were the culmination of ten or more generations of witches. Every time Matt tried to touch one, the magic within the covers leapt out and drank his blood, using it to reinforce the book’s own defences. It was a pretty neat trick. Matt didn’t agree.
My phone rang, drawing me out of my reverie.
“Sorry, we’re running late. I’ll send a taxi to pick you up,” Ethan said.
I’d completely forgotten we were going to the pack house for dinner.
“We’re out at the moment, we’ll be home in about twenty minutes,” I said.
“See you soon. Take care.”
“Ethan’s tied up somewhere, he’s sending a taxi,” I said to Matt.
“Kerry’s ok, right?”
I smiled.
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
I piled the three thick books in my arms, and we headed back to the main door. There was so much information hiding there in that workshop. Matt kept pausing to get a closer look at the glassware as we walked between the tables.
“This would be an amazing alchemy lab, you know...”
“We should check the deed and see who owns it,” I said.
I’d assumed that it would belong to me now that Mom and Dad were gone, but given the secrets I’d unearthed recently it seemed sensible to be sure. If it was mine, then I didn’t see why Matt couldn’t have that lower level as an alchemy lab. I was only really interested in the books, and possibly the ritual space upstairs.
We stepped out into the crisp day, and I closed the door hoping that it would continue to remain untouched. There were sure to be many beings who would love to get their hands on that much information.
The taxi pulled up near the pack house. The gruff older man kept his hands on the wheel and looked straight forward as we got out.
I pulled out my purse, hoping I had enough cash on me, but the driver shook his head and drove off. I assumed that meant Ethan had paid for the fare when he booked it. Matt strode off ahead of me towards the house. He’d been unable to stay still since the phone call. I’d tried reassuring him that Kerry was tough, but he needed to see for himself.
The front door was unlocked, so we let ourselves in. To my surprise, there wasn’t the usual smell of cooking coming from the kitchen. We walked in and found no one was there. Matt ran to Kerry’s room, and I pulled out my phone. My heart skittered in my chest as I really hoped nothing had gone wrong. They were cu sith. They were nearly impossible to kill.
I’d just begun to ring Ethan when the front door swung open. Dean stomped in first. His hair was a tangled mess and his face had twisted into one of angry exhaustion. He huffed and yanked on his boots before he went straight upstairs without a word. Ethan was just behind him, covered in blood. Brilliant red splattered his face and coated his hands.
“What happened!?” I asked as I approached them.
Ethan’s liquid-gold eyes were a deep amber. I could feel his hound snarling just beneath the surface. He looked at me, and his face visibly softened. His shoulders relaxed, and his mouth pulled into a small smile.
“A small god touched thought it would be a great idea to try and break into the fae plane. He was some bloodthirsty Aztec-fuelled man. I don’t know how he did it, but he found something that allowed him to grab a hold of the veil between the planes. He was trying to hack through that. Who knows what he was planning on doing once he was there?” Ethan said wearily as he walked to me.
“He was coated in blood when we got there. We think he was sacrificing things to try and increase his god magic. Whatever he’d been doing made him strong and difficult to kill. I about bashed his brains in, and he kept coming. We had to
pool our death magic before Ethan could rip his heart out,” Cade said.
Matt had pushed past Cade and was checking on Kerry. The cait sidhe was leaning against the doorway looking particularly pale. Matt put his arm around her waist and helped her up the stairs.
Ethan wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head against mine. His muscles relaxed beneath my touch as I held him. The hound slowly receded, and his breathing slowed.
“I swear those smaller god touched are the bigger pains in the ass. The more powerful ones are occupied with businesses and the lords and ladies. Those smaller ones have more time to run rampant and make life difficult,” Cade grumbled.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the point of them,” Ethan said.
“Don’t worry, we’ve ordered food. I’m sure you’re starving,” Cade said to me.
I was a touch hungry, but there was no way I’d be able to eat whatever feast they’d ordered.
“How was your day?” Ethan asked.
“I found Mom’s grimoires,” I said.
Ethan grinned at me.
“That’s fantastic news! How do you feel about it?”
I hadn’t really thought about it. They were beautiful and packed with information.
“Weird. I feel weird. This is a huge secret that she kept, I guess I’m a bit worried I’ll find out she was sacrificing innocents for some nefarious end.”
“Whatever you find, we’ll handle it together,” Ethan said softly.
And that was the beauty of being part of the pack. I never needed to face anything alone again.
TWENTY-SIX
Even Ethan had to admit that they might have ordered a little too much food. Ten large pizzas had been piled up next to five cartons of sweet and sour chicken, four kung po chicken, three racks of ribs, and five fish ’n’ chips. The main kitchen table we usually sat around had been claimed by the fae food. I wasn’t even sure what most of it was. There was a sapphire-blue soup that Kerry had claimed. The white glittery food looked like it might have been some form of fish.
