by Bo Reid
“Tanda, you have to focus, or this will kill you,” he tells me, and I close my eyes once more before taking a deep breath and pulling my fire to the surface.
When I open my eyes, the flame sits in a controlled ball, a beautiful blue and white blaze.
“Now throw it and hit the fucking target,” he seethes.
Concentrating, I pull back and throw the ball of fire like a major league pitcher throws a fastball. It hits my mark dead center, engulfing it in flames. Within seconds the target has been decimated by the heat.
“That’s… that target is fire resistant, not even Hellfire should be able to touch it… You know what this means, Tanda?” Deimos asks, but I just shake my head, of course, I don’t know what it all means I’m still trying to figure out who the fuck I am.
“It means your natural flame is hotter than something even the devil can conjure up while on earth…” he says, sounding as if he is in awe. “He can pull and control hellfire when he’s surrounded by it in Hell, but he cannot call upon a flame that hot while he’s here. He cannot pull that kind of heat out of thin air.”
“Does that mean my flames could hurt even the devil?” I ask.
“I think that means you could kill the devil…” he mutters, still staring out at the decimated target.
When I was little, I always knew I was different, but I didn't realize just how different. No one told me I didn’t belong in the coven I was in because they were too busy trying to pretend I wasn't this evil thing that was dropped on their doorstep.
When I first came into my demonic powers, they were more significant than any dark witch should have, and that's when the white coven elder knew the rumors were true.
My coven didn't just strip themselves of their magic to make mine stronger; no, my coven somehow found a way to steal a piece of magic from an upper-level demon, the devil, a dragon, siren, werewolf, and vampire, and honestly who knows what else. There was speculation at one point that they stole something from a white witch because I can heal myself and sometimes others, but it was never proven. Sometimes dark witches can heal, they just typically don’t go down that route.
When I was sent away from the white witch coven, I was once again hidden away; I was quickly found by an elder member of a lost dark coven. His coven is the closest thing to family I have; he’s kind of like a really evil uncle. He’s also the only one that was let in on my covens dirty little secret; me.
My coven had a letter sent to him, it was timed to arrive approximately one week before I would. If I didn’t show up, he was to come and find me. I guess they trusted the white witches to keep me safe and to raise me, but not to actually let me go learn the dark arts, but they did.
Now I’m here, and he is not only teaching me about how to control my magic but about all forms of dark magic, as well as my coven. He has taught me about my parents, what my mother was like, one tough bitch from the sound of it.
And all about Hells Hallow, my first and probably my last stop before entering Hell once I’m ready.
Chapter Seven
Kalayavan
“What the fuck is that sound?” I grumble, scrubbing my hand down my face as I lie in bed, listening to the incessant sound of buzzing and pounding.
“Kalayavan!” my name is yelled, and I groan.
Throwing my covers off, I push myself up out of bed, my feet landing on the cold hardwood floor. Glancing at my clock, I note it’s far too mother-fucking early to be dealing with whatever this shit is. Have I mentioned I’m not a morning demon? Because I’m not.
It’s days like today that I really miss Hell, no one comes pounding on your door in Hell. Which reminds me I really need to go see my parents, maybe after we get all this witch shit squared away, I can request some leave and go visit. Or my parents could come back up here for a while.
“What?” I yell, as I open the door to my bedroom and walk down the hallway towards the stairs. I make my way towards the front door, throwing it open about to murder whoever is on the other side.
“We can’t go out of town,” growls one of the bear shifters whose name is of little importance to me.
“How is that my problem? You know the rules; apply for a permit for temporary leave, when it's approved, it gets sent to the witches at the Crucible, and they make you a potion or whatever that grants you access to cross the barrier. If you’re not back in town before your shit wears off, then you’re fucked,” I explain for the millionth time in my life, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Oh, a permit, you say… Like this one?” he growls, holding up a copy of his approved permit. “And a charmed item to act as a key to unlock the barrier… Like this one?” he grits through clenched teeth holding up a small talisman that glows with its enchantment.
“Uh, yeah, those would be the things I just mentioned,” I state as my aggressive tone falters slightly, and he lifts one eyebrow in question. “Look, man, it's probably just a faulty spell or something, go back to the witches and make them fix it,” I shrug.
“We did,” he grits, “we have been back three times, and we’re not the only ones. Last time, we made the witches go to the town line; they claim the barrier has been locked. They. Can’t. Open. It,” he growls poking at my chest to highlight each word.
“I’ll fix it, just give me time,” I grit, batting his hand away.
Before he can say another word, I step back and slam the door closed. There is no way the barrier could be locked, like locked locked.
Unless… No, she wouldn’t, she fucking couldn’t. That spell has been around for centuries, there is no way she could have possibly modified it. Could she? Unless it was her family blood that created the fucking barrier in the first place.
Fuck.
I run up the stairs and grab whatever clothing that is in reach and throw it on before running back out of my house to get to Javaraya before anyone else does. He really doesn't need this shit right now, but it’ll be worse if he hears it from anyone else.
I race down the road and across the main street and run right into a small woman knocking over all her bags. “Shit, I’m sorry,” I tell her as she bends over to pick up her stuff.
“That’s okay. You seem to be in a hurry,” she says, and her melodic voice washes over me, causing a shiver to run down my spine.
Bending over further, I help her put her items into her bag, “uh, yeah, just got places to be,” I respond, attempting to get a glimpse of her face under the brim of her dark hat.
“Well, go on then, don’t let me stop you,” she sing-songs as she collects her full bags and stands.
“Do I know you?” I ask. Even though I don’t recognize her face or her voice, I feel a strange pull towards her. Something in my body is telling me that whoever she is, I need her. And I swear it isn’t my dick. Well, maybe a little bit.
“No, I don’t believe we have ever met,” she smiles up at me, her blond hair falling around her face in soft waves, making me want to reach out my hand and brush it away from her pretty face.
“I’m Kalayavan,” I tell her, extending my hand out.
“Didn’t you have somewhere to go?” she asks, placing her hand in mine; I feel a small shock run through my hand and directly to my chest.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
She lets go and steps around me, giving me one more smile over her shoulder, “nice meeting you, Kalayavan.”
I watch her walk down the street with my feet glued to the ground. I want to run after her; I want to talk to her, find out every fucking thing about her, but I can’t seem to get my legs to move. When she disappears down the street, my legs decide to work correctly again, and I sprint in the direction she just walked down. Still, when I turn off of Main Street on the corner of 666 Street and the Blood Bank, she's not in sight. There is literally nowhere she could have gone, but she isn't here.
I sigh and scrub my hand down my face; I must be losing my fucking mind already. Instead of continuing with my sprinting pace I had earlier, I take
my time walking down 666 Street to Javaraya’s house. I find myself looking around every single bush and tree just in case she’s there. See, I’m fucking losing it.
I turn up the pathway to Javaraya’s house. The thing is stupid big for him being the only person that lives here. To be fair, all the council members' homes are stupid large. We don’t need all that fucking space, and yet no one complains.
Okay, I complain a little bit, but that's beside the point.
“Javaraya, wake the fuck up; we got issues!” I yell as I storm into the house.
“Have some coffee,” I hear him call from the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.
“Are you being held hostage?” I call.
“No, why?” he asks as I watch him lean out of the kitchen doorway.
“You’re even less of a morning person than I am, and you’re already up and have coffee?” I question raising one eyebrow.
“Never made it to bed, come on, just get coffee and tell me why all Hells Hallow is breaking loose.”
I tentatively make my way over to the kitchen, still not convinced he isn’t being held hostage by… Oh, I don’t know, a pissed off dark witch.
As I step into the kitchen he is pouring a fresh cup of coffee then hands it off to me, I warily take it and sit at the bar as he leans against the counter with his arms crossed.
“You going to drink it?” he asks, nodding towards the cup.
“Did you poison it?” I ask and narrow my eyes at him.
“Don’t be such a little bitch, just tell me what’s going on,” he growls.
“That’s more like it,” I nod, and he rolls his eyes, “barrier is locked.”
“It’s always locked, that’s the point of it,” he says slowly like I’m stupid.
“No, like it’s locked locked, the witches at the Crucible can’t unlock it so those with permits can cross over,” I explain, observing him over the rim of my mug while I take a sip of what is probably poisoned coffee.
We’re silent for a few minutes while Javaraya appears to process all of the information, and I sip my coffee. Now I really hope it is poisoned, so I don’t have to deal with this.
“You don’t think…” he starts but trails off.
“That our new visitor is the one that figured out how to lock it?” I ask and shrug, “I mean, yeah, probably.”
“Fuck,” he sighs and sinks against the counter, “but how?”
“Do I look like a fucking witch to you?” I deadpan.
“Why is she being so difficult?” he grumbles.
“She’s a dark witch… they don’t normally do anything to please others just for the fuck of it.”
“We have to find her and get her to fix it,” he mumbles.
“Well, didn’t you say her coven used to live in the Forbidden Forest? And she said they still do; seems to me she took up residence in the old coven house. Do you happen to know where that might be?”
“No, it’s nowhere in the maps’ records, and I know I’ve never found a house in the forest during my runs. Plus, just because we ask, she’s not just going to fucking fix it.”
“Why would she even want to lock it? Who put up the original barrier?” I ask, hoping that might be a clue to get around her little curse.
“Morass…” Javaraya mumbles under his breath.
“What was that?” I prod, knowing the answer.
“Morass,” he says, sounding exasperated.
“So then she’s the only chance we have to fix it, and that’s probably the reason she could lock it in the first place.”
“Appears that way,” Javaraya grumbles. “She’s really fucking things up and has been here for like, what, forty-eight fucking hours.”
“Well, how about that contract, you look it over?” I ask.
“Yeah, come on,” he says and waves his hand at me as he turns to make his way out of the kitchen. He heads in the direction of his study. “You were right; it's straightforward. There are no loopholes, she’s not trying to trick us out of anything, and it’s bound by our success or failure,” Javaraya explains.
“Success or failure?” I ask.
“Basically, if we fail, we probably die which voids the contract because we’re dead, and if we succeed, it voids the bonds because of success. As far as I can tell from this, and what we saw last night, she possesses at least some of our powers — I have no idea how but she does — and if I were a betting man—”
“Which you are,” I point out, and he smirks.
“I would bet she has less visible powers and abilities from the others. I also spent some time going over the recorded coven history, which was surprisingly slim,” he says. He moves around his desk to pull out some scrolls and lay them out.
“She’s not on the family tree, but since she was a baby when they gave her up, and then they all died, there was no one left to put her on it,” he explains, pointing to the coven family tree drawn onto the paper. “And no one else knew if she survived, so no one bothered to add her in. These were her parents if I remember correctly,” he says, pointing to the page. I lean down and go over some of the names. Most mean nothing to me until I read her father's name.
“Holy fucking shit, is that really him?” I question and point to the name on the page.
“The one and fucking only,” Javaraya confirms. “Azrail, The Angel of Death.”
“Did he die with the coven?” I ask, snapping my gaze up to meet Javaraya’s.
He nods his head grimly. “It’s been kept a secret, he was never supposed to die. It’s completely unheard of, he was the original Angel of Death. He has been around basically since the dawn of fucking time. His death was kept secret because no one could explain it, which is why there is no death date here. Clearly, his union with Khalida was also kept secret or was unknown prior to them bonding. I can’t imagine anyone willingly allowing those two to become a union.”
“Khalida… Other than probably being a fucking badass, what was so special about her?” I ask.
Javaraya points to her name on the Coven family tree, then to the birth date next to it.
“What the fuck…” I whisper. “I know dark witches can do a lot of things to prolong their lives, but not that fucking long.”
“Khalida… it means ‘deathless’ she got her name for a reason. No one ever figured out how she was able to stave off death for so long. I know there were some rumors in Hell that she prolonged death because she married Azrail, and he refused to collect his wife's soul. That was never proven, though. If you ask me, she did something all on her own.”
“No wonder no one would want those two to unite. Two powerful dark beings, both basically immortal, joining forces… having a fucking child?” Javaraya nods his head while I word-vomit every single thought that comes to me. “That means without any extra shit her coven did before they died, she would still be close to the most powerful bloodline Hells Hallow has ever seen. Her blood would be pure darkness. She would rival all of us without all the extra perks,” I mumble because I cannot fucking believe it.
“Which means with the extras, with what her coven did that killed them and saved her — which we still don’t know what they did — plus, however they managed to give her some of our powers, on top of her solid black bloodline… She could very well be completely unstoppable. And we don’t even know who or what her grandparents could have been because her parents were so fucking old, the records don’t go back that far.”
“Without all the extras, you don’t think she’d also be immortal… do you?” I ask.
“I honestly don’t have a fucking clue, but you do realize that because they’re dead, that means they did some fucked up dark magic in order to save her. To do whatever it was they did, it cost two immortal beings their fucking lives.”
“What could they possibly have done to her?”
“I don’t know, but we need to find out and fast.” We both sink down into the chairs on opposite sides of his desk, soaking in all that we just learned. I truly canno
t fathom the kind of power Tanda has, and if I have things even halfway right in my head, that means the little stunts she pulled last night are fucking nothing. No wonder she could so easily lock the barrier; it was probably a matter of a few drops of blood and some bullshit Latin.
“The Morass line was one of the original Hells Hallow founders, they’re the reason the town could be cloaked in the first place. I’ll give you one guess as to who was on that list of original founders,” Javaraya says.
“Khalida Morass.”
“Bingo. Meaning, the records I have only go back to the town’s conception, not farther. If we want the full records on that coven, I’m going to have to go down to Hell to get them.”
“Maybe you can pay your father a visit while you’re there and see if he knows anything,” I offer, knowing he would never do that. I have always felt bad for him, his parents are not like mine. I might be a demon, but I still love my mama — Javaraya has never shared my parental sentiments.
“Like Hell,” he huffs. “Even if he did know, he probably wouldn’t fucking tell me,” he grumbles.
“He still pissed off about the way we run things now?” I ask.
“What do you think?”
I stand from my seat. “I think that means we’ve been making the right choices. Let’s just make sure we keep making them.”
Chapter Eight
Javaraya
I’ve spent most of the morning going over every shred of paperwork that I could find to give me a clue as to what the Morass Coven did. I’ve been obsessively checking that fucking journal Tanda’s mother gave me as a child, just waiting to see if more pages unlocked. I’m even more confused about the journal now than I was before I realized Tanda was back.
Is she the she, Khalida wrote about? If Tanda is who her mother wrote about, it makes sense; she came into town around the time the journal’s page unlocked. Her mother probably knew her daughter well enough to know she would be pissed the fuck off when she got here. Or at least wise enough to recognize that if the roles were reversed, most people would be pissed off.
