Which Witch is Willing? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 4)

by Kerrigan Byrne

  “So am I. Tierra, you rock my world until I can’t find stable footing.” He brushed her hair aside and knew she needed to hear what was in his heart. “Look at me.” He waited until she timidly met his gaze.

  “You’d better beware, my sweet gazelle, for this I vow. There is no existence on earth worth living, or any realm, without you by my side. If anyone can survive the destined destruction, we can, as long as we are one.”

  “How is that possible when all that we have is a constant battle of wills?” she whispered.

  “Nay, not a battle of wills. A battle of love.”

  She stiffened, sucking in a breath and holding it.

  He’d have to actually say the words that he’d never spoken to another soul. “I love you, Tierra de Moray.”

  She shook her head as though his declaration had produced feelings of panic. “No, you want me,” she said. “If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t treat me like a possession.”

  “You are my possession just as I am yours.”

  She stared at him stunned. “What do you mean?”

  “We belong to each other. As much of a hold as I have over you, yours is more powerful. You have the power to bring this immortal to his knees…if you so desire.” Admitting he loved her had been scary enough, but to reveal how much control she really had over him, felt like he’d cut open his chest and exposed his heart in the most vulnerable of ways.

  His words pleased her, by the smile that tugged her lips until her skin blushed, turning him to putty in her hands.

  “How about we take a shower and then you get on your knees for me,” she suggested wickedly.

  His heart leaped in his chest at the vision her words created.

  Much later, after their orgasmic shower antics, he cradled his exhausted woman in his arms, replaying their afternoon of debauchery.

  With a stuttering of his heart, he realized that while he’d expressed his love for her…she had not.

  9

  “That was quite the laydown you had. Get any rest?” Moira asked Tierra when she entered the Châteaux library with Killian shadowing her steps.

  Tierra ignored Moira’s knowing smirk and Julian’s all too-seeing eyes. They were still hitting the books, though it did look like they had taken a break to eat. The trays of cheese and crackers with an assortment of olives had her stomach rumbling. She was starved, but then she’d burned a lot of calories upstairs.

  She loaded a plate and inhaled the food. “Where are we?”

  “Good question,” Killian muttered.

  He’d been awfully pensive when she’d woken, regarding her with a constant frown marring his forehead. He looked more like he wanted to take up his scythe and behead someone and that someone was most likely her.

  Regardless of his feelings for her, she couldn’t express what she wasn't sure she felt. He had to understand by now that she’d never desired a man like she did him. Case in point, she’d offered him her virginity within hours of meeting him. She’d held on to that thing until the ripe old age of twenty-six. Unheard of in this day and age.

  Why couldn't he be satisfied with that for now?

  She sure needed a powwow with her sisters. They’d help her see through her foggy feelings.

  Killian grabbed a book and took a chair in the corner near the fireplace, shutting her out with more than just distance.

  Moira glanced from him to Tierra with a questioning look. Tierra slowly shook her head. Now was not the time. Moira accepted her silent message with one of her own, “We need to talk.”

  She had that right.

  Tierra opened the book she’d been trying to read before Killian carried her from the room. She wasn’t as good with old English as Moira seemed to be. She had a way with languages and perused the dusty tomes faster than Tierra.

  Moira closed her book and stood, going over to the bookcase. “Hey, where is volume thirteen of the Paladin Planetary Magic?” She fingered the line of the hand-tooled leather bindings, cracked and worn with age.

  “It vanished during Malcolm de Moray’s—” Julian leapt from his chair. “That’s it.”

  “That sneaky bastard,” Killian muttered from his corner. “You don’t think he—”

  “It’s just like him to do something like this," Julian said. "Hurry, we need to return to the manor. The book has to be there.”

  “Explain,” Tierra demanded.

  “Malcolm de Moray is your ancestor,” Julian said. “We barely avoided the Apocalypse back in 1066."

  Tierra shared a look with Moira. “Uh, he’s more than just our ancestor.”

  “Might as well tell ‘em. They’re bound to find out anyway.”

  “Tell us what?” Killian asked, his nostrils flaring with irritation at her keeping secrets from him.

  “Malcolm de Moray is actually our grandfather.” Her words dropped like a flashbang grenade. The Horsemen froze, taking in her reveal.

  “That would mean Stian the Wanderer is your father, and that your grandmother the demon Vail,” Julian said slowly through tight lips. “I knew he’d stolen the book from me, but I could never prove it or locate it.”

  “Stian must have taken the book through the Standing Stones to give to your mother,” Killian finished. “Why would he do that?”

  “We need to find that book. The only reason I can see for him bringing volume thirteen of the Paladin Planetary Magic to this time and place is that he knew his offspring would fulfill the prophecy.”

  “About time you two got back here,” Aerin greeted them as they entered the sanctuary. “We have a huge problem. A Biblical Horsemen sized problem.” She gestured with her hands spaced far apart above her head.

  “You’ve destroyed two of our homes. The only way to prevent that from happening again is to move into yours.” Nick had a smug look on his face as he turned to Moira. “So has research time with Julian stultified you into a coma yet, or should I wait five minutes?" He took a step in her direction and tugged the hem of her t-shirt. "I happen to know a fail-safe cure for boredom."

  “And I know a fail-safe cure for stupid,” Moira said. “It pretty much involves thinking of whatever it is you'd do, and doing the opposite.”

  “I take it you found something?” Claire asked, taking up the roll of peacemaker. Love seemed to have banked her fire.

  Moira caught them up to date.

  “I always knew Stian the Wander was up to no good,” Dru said, rubbing Claire’s shoulders. Seemed he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  “If he did, indeed, bring the volume forward through time, it must be in the manor. I would bet money that your mother kept her most sacred books here in this room,” Julian said, already scanning the many shelves of books.

  “Take your time, Julian,” Aerin snidely remarked. He hadn’t spared her a comment or a look since he’d entered the sanctuary, his attention caught on finding the missing book. “I need a few minutes to confer with my sisters.”

  “Won’t do any good, Aerin,” Nick said. “We’re moving in.”

  “Over my dead zombie horde, are you fucking moving in,” Aerin muttered under her breath, motioning for her sisters to follow.

  They didn’t speak until they’d reached the kitchen by mutual agreement.

  Tierra went directly to the refrigerator and pulled out leftover quiche. “Anyone else hungry?”

  “I need liquid calories after having been stuck here three days with that douchenozzle Nick and these two sickly-sweet lovebirds," Aerin complained. "Can’t walk into any room in this huge house without announcing yourself first. Damn inconvenient, yet surprisingly educational.”

  Claire’s face lit with a fiery blush. “Sorry about that.”

  Aerin flew up her hand in a signal to stop. “We made a pact never to mention it.”

  Aerin’s reaction was similar to Tierra’s when she’d walked in on Aunt Justine and Lila. Which reminded her. “Where’s Aunt Justine?”

  “We have some good news to report,” Claire said. “Aunt Just
ine is in love with Lila and has moved out of the manor and is shacking up with your midwife.”

  “Well, damn if that don’t explain a lot.” Moira set the bottle of whiskey on the table and added three glasses. “Looks like we have another pressin’ problem. We’re running low on liquid courage.”

  “Exactly why we can’t allow the Horsemen to move in here. Nick Kingswood drinks like a fucking fish.” Aerin drained her glass. He wasn't the only one, Tierra thought.

  “Yeah, he does.” Moira gave them a dreamy smile. “You should see what else that man can do with his mouth.”

  Aerin covered her ears. “Enough. Yuck, overshare, Moira.”

  Moira shrugged her shoulders. “I bet it wasn’t as disturbing as Claire’s share.” A glint of humor shined in her deep blue eyes.

  “This is what I’m talking about,” Aerin pointed out. “We let the Horsemen move in here and no room will be safe. While Claire and Tierra seem to be fine fucking destiny, I'm pissed at Julian and I'd just as soon put his balls in a blender than look at him.”

  “Don’t lump me in with Claire,” Tierra said. “I agree with you. I don’t want the Horsemen living in our house.” The last three days in Killian’s company had found her in his arms again. Since she couldn’t resist him, the best thing to do was avoid him until she could figure out these conflicting feelings he stirred inside her.

  “We did kinda destroy their home, er homes,” Moira said. “There’re plenty of rooms in this manor to house them.”

  “Agreed,” Claire said. “We just need to come up with some rules.”

  “Are you two out of your fucking minds?” Aerin asked.

  “I need a breather from Killian,” Tierra admitted.

  “What happened?” Moira asked. “Neither one of you looked too happy when you returned from your ‘nap.’ Though Julian and I knew you didn’t sleep much. Turns out Tierra here’s a screamer.”

  Tierra felt heat envelop her face.

  “See, another reason for the Horsemen not to move in,” Aerin said. “There are just some things you don’t want to know about your sisters.”

  Claire waved off Aerin’s objection. “Tierra, what happened between you and Killian?”

  Tierra squirmed in her chair and set down her fork, her appetite disappearing. She glanced around the room to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Actually, I really need to talk to you about this, but not here. Let’s go outside into the gardens where we have a smaller chance of being overheard.”

  Without another word, they rose in unison from the table and grabbed coats, sneaking out the backdoor. They reached Tierra’s winter garden by the edge of the cliff, which overlooked an inky-black ocean with a bleeding moon hanging low in the torrid sky. Night had fallen or come early with all the changes the earth was going through since they’d opened the sixth Seal. Would they eventually lose the sun altogether?

  In complete contrast to what was happening with the planet, her winter flowers of colorful, happy-faced pansies, rich-purple violas, kaleidoscope-flowering kale, and bleeding-yellow witch hazel, to name a few, thrived, giving her hope.

  “Okay, out with it,” Moira prompted when Tierra brushed her hand over her flowers and they responded with a riot of bursting blooms. “Though that there is one nifty trick. Do ya think it would work on chicken wings?”

  "Highly doubtful." Tierra straightened and met her sisters’ worried stare. “Killian told me that he loved me.”

  “I knew it,” Claire exclaimed and wrapped her arms around Tierra. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Wait a skunk-lickin' minute,” Moira said. “The vibes I was pickin' up from the two of y'all when you got back to the library were distinctly of the fuck you variety. And I ain't talkin' about your afternoon boinkfest.”

  “That’s because I didn’t return his declaration.”

  “Ouch,” Claire said, placing a hand over her heart.

  “Now give her a break. It ain’t like she doesn’t have a lot on her plate, what with her oven baking a baby and all.”

  “But poor Killian,” Aerin said. “And I really can’t believe I fucking said that.”

  “Are you sayin’ that Julian has declared his love for you and you him?”

  It was Aerin’s turn to blush. “He did, we did, but that was BP. Before Possession,” she clarified when they all stared at her with confusion. “Since we kicked that soul-squatting bitch out of me, he hasn’t said it again.”

  “Well, Nick—what did you call him?” Moira asked Aerin.

  “Douchenozzle.”

  “Yeah, well if that douchenozzle tries that love crap with me, he'll be suckin' seawater quicker than he can shake his dick.”

  “Another reason not to allow them to move into our manor,” Aerin said.

  “How do you feel about Killian?” Claire maneuvered the conversation back on point.

  “I don’t know. I’m so confused. I desire him, obviously.” She stroked her extended belly. “But he infuriates me with all his demands and high-handed medieval ways.”

  “He ain't alone in that particular flaw,” Moira muttered.

  “Speak for yourself,” Claire said. “Dru is a modern thinking man.”

  “I'll admit even Julian treats me like an equal, though a girl doesn't mind being rescued from a fucking, burning building. Just saying.” Aerin gave Tierra a sympathetic glance.

  Moira’s eyes suddenly widened. “Holy shit on a stick, is that…”

  “Lucifer,” Claire finished for her on a horrified gasp.

  10

  Lucy had been squatting in these godforsaken woods forever, waiting for her opportunity to get the witches alone. Interesting what she’d overheard. Hiding in the shadows, eavesdropping on her prey was still one of the most effective ways to obtain information, and she excelled at it.

  So, Bane was in love with the fertile earth witch and by all accounts the bitch didn’t love him back.

  She smirked. Now, that was a torture technique beyond what she could have come up with. No wonder Bane wouldn’t make a deal with her to give up his first born when she had him copper-staked in Hell doing all manner of unspeakable things. The poor reaper was besotted with this tree-hugging, crystal-loving, hippie. She was the last woman on earth Lucy thought Bane would hook up with, let alone give his black heart to.

  Lucy would make her suffer for that.

  Bane was a favorite pet of hers, and if the earth witch no longer existed, he’d come crawling back to her all heartbroken and devastated. Just how she loved her men. It gave her the opportunity to build them up so she could shatter them again and again until they were no more than drones to do her bidding. The thought of Killian Bane as her personal slave sent shivers of delight through her.

  This had to happen.

  But first, she needed these damn witches and their destructive magic to repair her hideous face and body. Some might call her vain, but over the years she’d found that her beauty had the power to topple kings and destroy governments, while her nightmarish image caused her headaches, what with all the incessant screaming and all.

  Lucy tottered from the trees wearing a black veil that reached her shoulders in an attempt to hide her grotesquely disfigured face. She reached her hands out in a pleading gesture and did her best to hide the contempt she felt for the de Moray witches. “Please, I need you to fix me. I have nowhere else to turn.” And didn’t that grate. She wasn’t above groveling to get what she wanted, and at least two of the witches had bleeding hearts and might fall for her sob story.

  “I'll fix you...with a nuke,” Aerin sneered.

  Though it certainly wouldn’t be Aerin.

  A part of her missed possessing Aerin. It was…nice being part of a family, having sisters, not being alone all the time, but she sure didn’t miss Aerin’s insolence. How Julian put up with an attitude that was as pleasant as knuckles on a cheese grater, she’d never know? The world was certainly in the last of days, with the Horsemen falling all over themselves for such unsuita
ble mates.

  Lucy didn’t spare Aerin a glance, focusing her attempts on Moira, the healer of the bunch, and Tierra, the earth mother. Anyone willing to birth Death’s baby had to have a heart the size of Alaska.

  “I can’t go on living this way. I’ll do anything, if you will just reverse the spell.” Lucy tore off the veil with a dramatic, revealing her destroyed splendor. She knew how to best use shock and horror to her advantage.

  “Jesus H. Christ on a crutch,” Moira said. “Ain’t no amount of concealer goin’ to cover that hole in your face.” She cocked her head to the slide. “Can you actually eat or does everything fall out of the new pie hole when you chew?”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes, and then realized that wasn’t meek and miserable behavior. Quickly, she lowered her gaze to the ground and faked stifling a sob.

  “How’d you get passed our wards?” Tierra asked, her tone suspicious and full of unease.

  As well as she should.

  “Not only did the spell disfigure me, it stripped me of most of my powers, including my regeneration abilities. I can’t even return home to Hades.” Not exactly truthful, but it did bite that she wasn’t powerful enough to be expelled by their significant wards. She gave another pathetic sniffle, this one not so fake. “Please, you can’t leave me like this. Either finish me off or allow me to live what days I have left as the beautiful woman I used to be.”

  “So, if the spell did this to you, why isn’t Claire disfigured?” Tierra asked. “She swallowed enough of that cyanide brew to blow up a castle.”

  “Uh…it might be that tablespoon of Cheeto’s spittle that I added to the mix,” Moira added with a shrug. “It seems to alter the nasty in one’s attitude.”

  “You poisoned me with swine spit?” Lucy’s voice rose and she swiftly tried to disguise it with a pitiful wail.

  “That’s a new twist on casting pearls before swine,” Claire muttered.

  “Why come to us for help?” Tierra said. “There has to be others out there willing to come to your aid. The Sisters of the Serpent, or at the very least, your horde of Satan worshippers.”