The Were Witch Complete Series Omnibus

by Renée Jaggér

  A cold, tingling feeling like the sensation of stepping through a portal suffused her, and all at once, they were standing in the clearing near Marcus’s shack again.

  “Hah!” Roland chuckled. “I was pretty sure that would work. It helps if I know where we’re going.”

  The Venatori were at least a quarter-mile away, but before Roland and Bailey could decide whether to flee, the two witches vanished. They reappeared about twenty feet in front of them.

  Bailey clenched her jaw. “Like you said, we can’t keep this shit up.”

  As blasts of magic again strove against each other, she reflected on a sobering truth. What they faced here was only a fraction of the Venatori’s might.

  * * *

  Townsend cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said, loudly but not obnoxiously so, addressing the crowd.

  There were a good dozen townspeople gathered in a parking lot beside a drugstore partway up the northern slope, where they stood gawking at the forest fire and the sporadic eruptions of light and sound.

  It took a second, but they all turned around. Then Townsend whipped out a small tube that sprayed the group with a fine gaseous powder. They inhaled it, as people always did, and stood blinking stupidly at him.

  “Shit,” he said, forcing himself to look jovial, “who would have thought a major Hollywood production would be filming stuff like this way out in the damn Hearth Valley? Ha-ha. Great, though. Too bad they didn’t warn the town in advance. Still, it’s putting you on the map. Hell, I came all the way out here just to see it! Ha-ha. Great.”

  He left as the half-confused citizens talked amongst themselves, trying to determine if anyone had heard about the movie being shot in the surrounding mountains.

  Grumbling to himself, he shuffled into the town, seeking any other groups who might have seen too much and trying not even to think about Spall. He had work to do. There would be time for grief later.

  He’d accomplished a lot. He’d placed a call to HQ from the gas station, speaking, of course, in code, and his gut had clenched when the person at the other end fell silent for a moment at the implications of what he’d just said. But the Agency would, in theory, deal with the problem.

  They couldn’t promise when backup would arrive, though.

  In the meantime, Townsend had made sure their drone was still recording footage of the magical brawl. The jamming meant it couldn’t be beamed back to HQ, but at least it was stored on the device.

  He’d also been mentally composing a long list of notes—things that would be necessary to report later. Details about the witches in particular. If Townsend had his way, and if the Agency hadn’t decayed into uselessness, the full might of one of the USA’s most powerful and secret branches of government was about to declare war on the Venatori.

  Townsend intended to see to it that the bitches were swept out of the country and never allowed to return. He wished they’d been barred from entry to begin with, but HQ had felt that doing so would raise too many questions with the normie bureaucrats.

  He continued his vigil and memory-wiped another small crowd that had seen the battle. In other towns, the entire population might need to be reprogrammed, but he didn’t think that was necessary here. The people of Greenhearth already knew about werewolves, after all. Simply ensuring that no one had gotten too good a look at what caused the fire on the slope ought to suffice.

  The car was strategically parked on a slight incline at the south end of town, where there was a fairly good view of the north slope but he wouldn’t be too conspicuous. Townsend, the bulk of his work done for now, returned to it and sat behind the wheel, breathing in and out.

  He checked the mobile device’s screen. By now, the Venatori were retreating, and Bailey and Roland were huddling by a half-burnt tree. He directed the drone to follow the witches. After a couple minutes of running, they came to a stop on a cliff far from town.

  But in sight of where Townsend was parked.

  Murderous rage suffused his entire being. He stepped out of the car, hands shaking, and opened the trunk. From it, he took out a sniper rifle fitted with a high-quality scope, and loaded it with four armor-piercing rounds.

  Then he stood beside his car, not caring if anyone saw him, and took aim.

  Through the scope, he quickly located the two Venatori henchwomen. They looked tired and scared and angry. He could relieve them of their stresses very easily. Two quick pulls of the trigger and their heads would become part of the scenery.

  “No,” he told himself. “They haven’t moved against me yet, and the rest of them will if I blow these two away. Stop. Think. There’s still more I need to do.”

  He lowered the rifle, took a few more deep breaths, and unloaded it before locking it back in the trunk. Then he climbed back into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  “We have all kinds of new info,” he said aloud, coaching himself through the crisis. “We know what we’re dealing with now. Even the desk jockeys at HQ can understand what just happened here, and very soon, we’re going to fuck them up. They won’t get away with this. All I have to do is not blow it.”

  He nodded, gritting his teeth with determination, and pulled out into the road.

  * * *

  Lavonne watched the battle continue to rage through her high-powered binoculars. She could have just as easily displayed the scene on the air before her like an arcane TV set, but binoculars were far less suspicious. Half the town was watching the bizarre spectacle anyway.

  She handed the contraption to Savina. In Lavonne’s view, the two of them were the most important to keep alive, for now. Hence, she’d sent the other four.

  “I must say,” she began, “I was not expecting the American authorities to intervene. It is too bad about Ella and Vittoria, but they should have paid better attention. At least we now know these people are stupid enough to resist us.”

  “Yes,” Savina agreed. “Next time, we will bring a larger force. I already contacted the other unit that was approaching from the southeast.”

  Lavonne nodded. “Good. We may well need them, even if Alice and Mari survive.”

  For a few more moments, they watched the fight. It was unnecessary to state the obvious—Bailey was far more dangerous than they’d anticipated. Lavonne had learned much by fighting the girl and her erstwhile bestial allies.

  Now, watching her fight from a safe distance, she took still more notes, jotting things down in a pocketbook as needed, trading the binoculars back and forth with her aide. Savina asked moderately intelligent questions, and Lavonne gave curt answers.

  “Let us leave now,” the leader proclaimed. The battle would be over soon. Most likely, the werewolf girl and her boyfriend would triumph, though without killing Alice and Mari. They seemed hesitant to take life.

  And they’d been about to step into the Other. Seeing as much, Lavonne had closed the portal behind the were-shaman to ensure her minions could spring their trap in time. Bailey and Roland would undoubtedly seek to finish what they’d started by going back into the alternate realm when they were done.

  There, they’d be tested, and their strength would be drained. And when they returned to Earth this time, Lavonne and the full force of the Venatori in America would be waiting for them, ready to claim them while they were at their weakest.

  The two women got into their SUV and took a drive through the mountains to the south. In a bit less than an hour, they arrived on a dark, wooded slope near the obscure and tiny settlement of Juniper.

  Savina spoke up before they stepped out. “Madame,” she asked, “have you decided if we will kill Bailey, or is the goal now to capture her for study? Previously you’d said you were not certain.”

  Lavonne checked her hair to ensure it was tightly bound atop her head. “We will try to capture her. If that cannot be done, she must die, but given her power, having her alive would be better. Both she and Roland might be of use. To make her less likely to resist, we will need to cut her off from her support
network. Perhaps take a hostage.”

  The younger witch nodded.

  They climbed out, magically hid their vehicle from sight, and crept through the woods, following the smell of magic. It didn’t take long. After only a few minutes, they approached an old wooden cottage from the rear, a structure built on the very edge of the little hamlet.

  Savina quickly scouted ahead for any other Weres, while Lavonne concentrated on hiding all trace of them or their magic. Back in the Other, they’d struck so boldly that the elderly shaman would not expect a sneak attack now.

  No one was around to see. The assistant witch stood guard while the leader slipped into the cottage.

  Estus was there, deep in meditation as he stared at a curious object like a cross between a dreamcatcher and a mandala. The old fool was entirely oblivious to her presence, cloaked as she was in multiple layers of powerful yet subtle sorcery.

  Lavonne smiled. Just to drive home the insult, she did not bother preparing a spell, but just slipped a dagger out from the hem of her pants.

  With one fast, smooth motion, she drove the blade into the shaman’s neck. He stiffened and gurgled but could not scream since she’d severed his windpipe. She wrapped an arm around his head to restrain him as the life drained out of his body.

  “You useless fuck,” she said gently. “You are a hedge wizard even by the standards of a hedge species. You’ll not interfere with our affairs again. Your beast-boys will be adrift and leaderless.”

  The shaman’s muscles froze, and his body began to grow cold in her grasp. She let the corpse slump to the floor, careful not to get any blood on her clothing.

  When she left the cottage, Savina was still there, maintaining an invisibility spell since a lanky young lycanthrope strolled by only a hundred feet ahead. Lavonne trusted her abilities. The two witches casually walked back to their SUV.

  Lavonne outlined the rest of the plan as they drove back to Greenhearth. “That man Marcus,” she observed, “is cut off. He ought to be trapped in the Other for some time yet. That will give us time to seek our hostage.”

  “Who?” Savina asked.

  The leader was disappointed that her aide hadn’t figured it out from the conversations they’d had around town earlier. “Someone just like family,” she stated.

  Chapter Fifteen

  There came a moment when both Bailey and Roland, having just spent energy on powerful but futile magical attacks, slumped almost in unison, neither of them able to attack or defend for a moment.

  Rather than press their advantage, though, the Venatori witches turned and fled.

  “Damn,” Bailey panted. “Guess we were doing something right after all.”

  Roland stepped forward and threw what looked like a greenish flare after them. It hovered and wove around as it moved, almost like a giant fiery flying insect, and then burst in midair behind the rear witch. The seat of her pants caught on fire and she fell to the ground, rolling to extinguish it.

  “Hah! That ought to convince her not to come back unless she’s even dumber and crazier than the rest of them.”

  Bailey was too tired to think of a clever comeback. She and the wizard simply leaned against a tree, arms intertwined, the air cooling the sweat that coated their bodies.

  Five or ten minutes passed. “So,” Bailey asked, finally, “what do we do now? Go home and tell every single person in the town what just happened? I think half of them saw it, and they probably already told the other half.”

  Roland spread his hands. “I don’t know. It’s true, we shouldn’t have put on a fireworks display like that, but better that then let them kill us. Shit. I can only hope the other Man in Black was somewhere nearby and will cover things up on our behalf.”

  Hearing him say that, Bailey flashed back to the death of the agent who’d rushed to their aid. It was one of the two who’d come to her house, but they looked so similar to one another that she wasn’t sure which one it was. And now he was gone. The death toll of people who’d tried to help her had risen.

  And he’d killed two of the Venatori. Somehow, she didn’t think that the witch cult would call things even and let that slide.

  She turned her face to Roland. “Things are gonna get ugly now.”

  “Probably,” he muttered.

  The air opened in front of them, disclosing a door-shaped patch of gleaming and watery purple light. Marcus stepped through it.

  “Are you okay?” the shaman asked.

  “Mostly,” said Bailey. “We just drove them off a few minutes ago. What the hell happened on your end?”

  The shaman frowned. “Someone closed the portal behind me using extremely powerful magic, and—this is difficult to explain—scrambled the coordinates, so to speak, making it hard for me to locate the point at which I could reopen another to get back. It took me all this time. Now, tell me what happened here. Clearly, the Venatori chose the worst possible moment to return.”

  Bailey stood up. “You got that right.”

  She and Roland related what had happened. She made sure to emphasize that there had probably been a lot of witnesses. Roland mentioned that the agent might be on hand to mindwipe people as needed, and Bailey reminded the shaman that the people of Greenhearth already had some knowledge of the supernatural.

  Marcus rubbed his chin. His face was impossible to read. “We cannot do anything about what the townspeople might have seen or heard,” he stated. “But we can complete your training, and it must be done now. Our enemies have already struck again. Come, then.”

  He hadn’t closed the portal behind him. Before the werewitch or the wizard could object or question him, the shaman stepped through into the Other.

  Bailey inhaled and plunged after him, fearful of a repeat of what had happened earlier. This time, though, the doorway stayed open, and Roland followed her.

  They passed through the disorienting coldness of the warp and found themselves again on the hillock above the black pool. Marcus was standing a few feet away, waiting for them.

  The girl furrowed her brow. “I thought you said you were going to take us somewhere different and, you know, worse. Though I guess that damn lake is bad enough.”

  Marcus waved a hand. “After the battle you just completed, I don’t think it’s necessary. What you need now is further reflection and insight.”

  She must have flinched because he held up a hand in a gesture of reassurance and immediately said, “No, not another vision from the pool. Something else. In fact, something gentler.”

  She didn’t bother trying to hide her relief. She exhaled and closed her eyes for a second.

  “Sounds good,” quipped Roland. “By the way, I was getting very hungry when we came through the portal. In here, of course, hunger has no meaning, but it’s your turn to make dinner when we get back. Which I suppose means I’m inviting you to said meal.”

  Marcus stared at him. “I’m not much of a cook,” he admitted.

  The wizard frowned. “Damn.”

  Bailey sighed. “Shut up about food. We got more important things to worry about right now. There’s a group of high-level fanatics who want our goddamn heads and were willing to kill a government agent to get a shot at us.”

  “Correct,” said Marcus. “But I’ve shielded and cloaked this area from their sight. They might be able to unravel the spell, but it will take time. Now, let me show you a different side to magic—a kinder, more constructive side. Sit down, please. You too, Roland.”

  The young pair obeyed. They’d expected Marcus to begin some grand incantation while he towered over them, but instead, he sat cross-legged across from them and murmured something in the tone a parent would use to sing a lullaby to their child.

  “That’s beautiful,” Bailey commented.

  The shaman didn’t seem to have heard her; he was focused on whatever spell he was casting.

  The effects were not obvious, but as the moments elapsed, they became clearer and clearer. Tiredness lifted away, and fears and worries melted. The
damage their bodies had taken healed itself fast enough for them to see the effects. And somehow, the dismal and foreboding landscape of the Other grew more pleasant and fruitful, as though spring had arrived.

  “Marcus,” Bailey asked, “what is this? It’s beautiful, whatever it is.”

  “The creative force,” he explained. “The restorative force. It is the preternatural, the unconscious equivalent to what humans call love. You will need to master this as well, even if the destructive potential of sorcery is more useful to you right now.”

  Roland sighed pleasantly. “I’d say this is useful. And being able to heal yourself is a good skill to have if you plan to get in fights, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” the shaman affirmed. “Now, as we recover, I’m going to tell you where you stand in the course of your development.”

  He went on to elaborate on how she’d progressed, but erratically. In fact, she had advanced so much and so quickly that her power was overflowing. It had grown faster than her ability to contain it.

  “You have attained more control than you used to have,” he pointed out, “but it’s still incomplete. You have not yet achieved mastery, and that is what you need.”

  Soon they felt as good as though they’d just risen from a long night’s sleep in the middle of a vacation free of even the possibility of danger or stress. Marcus stood, and the faint aura of peace and loveliness began to fade. Bailey was sad to see it go.

  “Now, we’ve come to the crucible point. This test does not involve any magical trickery. No combat with strange creatures, no visions spawned by the black pool. There is only you alone with yourself, but in a way, I can help guide you.”

  Bailey and Roland stood up, too. The wizard, sensing that he wasn’t necessary to the process, backed up a bit, but kept his eye on the girl. She could feel him sending good vibes her way, morally supporting her in what was to come.