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

by Kerrigan Byrne

  “You think I haven’t tried? Nothing works.” She dried up the waterworks and got down to business. The pity thing didn’t seem to be working. Let’s see if they could refuse what she had to offer. “I’ll make you a deal, you reverse this pig spell, and I’ll guarantee you don’t birth the Antichrist.”

  Tierra laid a protective hand over her belly.

  “I call bullshit,” Aerin said with a sneer. “How can you offer that when you just said you have no powers? Besides, I highly doubt even at high octane that you could deliver on that promise.”

  “I still have my knowledge of magic and spells. I’ll share what knowledge I have with you.” She addressed Aerin with what she knew the lovesick, air witch wouldn’t be able to refuse. “I can also rescind the curse I bestowed on Julian. He will no longer infect others with the brush of his hand.”

  Aerin sucked in a breath.

  “Don’t do it, Aerin,” Claire said. “I’ve never heard of a deal with devil turning out to be a good thing. There’s always a loophole.”

  “But…”

  “No buts and no deals, bitch,” Claire said.

  “Is that your final answer?” Lucy asked through clenched teeth. Feckin’ heartless hags.

  “You bet your sulphuric ass,” Moira answered for them.

  “Then deal with this.” A pitchfork materialized out of thin air, and Lucy threw it at Tierra’s chest, her aim deadly accurate. The three prongs stabbed sure and deep before anyone could react.

  Take that, you earth whore, and your little spawn, too.

  Tierra pitched backward like a fallen tree.

  11

  Pain exploded in her chest. Tierra lay prone on the cold, hard ground looking up at a foreign sky devoid of stars with russet clouds smothering the blood-red moon.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Twice now she’d been stabbed in the chest, once by Conquest when he shot her with his arrow, and now that she-demon had skewed her with her devil fork. A note of hysteria bubbled up from her. She must look like someone planted a pitchfork in her sternum just as astronauts had pierced the moon with a flag so many decades before.

  Damn it, she couldn’t die. Not now. She had her child to bring into the world, and she needed to live long enough to make sure that happened. Darkness clouded her vision and she knew at any moment she’d experience that eerily comforting, weightless, pain-free state as she had when she’d died before.

  Voices screamed above her. Her sisters. And then Killian’s ferocious roar.

  She blinked in an attempt to clear her vision. Focus. Maybe they could save her again? But in order to do that, they’d have to open a Seal. There was only one left, and her life wasn’t worth destroying the world.

  “Tierra!” Killian dropped to his knees beside her, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him. He felt for the pulse in her neck, and froze, then a satisfied smile graced his face. “Do as I say, and just stay calm.”

  Calm? She was dying. She’d never hold her child in her arms, would in fact take her baby’s soul with her when she died. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and trailed into her hair. Would she be able to raise her child in the hereafter? Goddess, she prayed it would be so.

  Moira knelt beside her, her trembling hands hovering over Tierra. A soft drizzle started to fall and lightning flashed from Aerin, their anguish effecting the weather.

  “Control your emotions,” Killian barked to them. “Get her sisters out of the way,” he addressed the Horsemen. Nick dragged a screaming Moira from her perch beside Tierra.

  Good Goddess, she needed more time. Needed to know if she felt about Killian the way he felt about her. He had to know that she cared for him before he had to take her soul, and that of their child. She hoped he delivered them to Heaven. She’d even take the Garden of Eden. Any place but Hell. With all the indiscretions she’d recently done—what with opening the Seals, bringing about the end of the world, and killing zombies—she might actually be sent to Hell. One visit there was enough to leave lasting scars, but an eternity? She couldn’t bare thinking of it.

  “I’m sorry,” she choked out.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Killian said, smoothing the hair back from her forehead and wiping away her tears. “Don’t cry. This won’t take long, unless you fight it.”

  What was there to fight? No way she’d survive this.

  Actually, how was she still alive? She knew one prong of the pitchfork had pierced her heart as it wasn’t beating, and her lungs had to be impaled, since each breathe she struggled to drag in had a bubbling sound.

  “I’m going to pull out the pitchfork,” Killian said, his hand wrapping around the staff. “This is going to hurt, but everything will be better afterward.”

  Better? How? “Wait!” She needed to ease his heartache, and time to say goodbye to her sisters. She glanced at her sisters’ stricken faces standing over her. Each of their Horsemen restraining them from rushing to her side.

  “There will be plenty of time to talk, but it’s imperative that this is removed, and quickly.” With no more warning, Killian yanked the pitchfork from her chest. Her body arched with the action. Pain screamed through her like a branding iron set to flesh.

  Was that her shrieking like a Banshee?

  “Holy shit! You’re killing her!” Aerin yelled.

  Julian wrapped his arms around her middle as she tried to escaped his hold. Killian tossed the pitchfork, embedding it in a tree with a twang.

  “No, he is not,” Julian said. “He’s saving her. The protuberance won’t dislodge itself, thereby inhibiting her ability to heal.”

  "Healin’ herself? How in the ever-loving hell is she doin’ that?" Moira asked. " And why didn’t that tricky tadpole throw up a force field like it did the last time Beelzebub touched Tierra?”

  "You haven’t told them?" Julian asked Bane, while sharing a look with Dru.

  "Told us what?" Claire demanded.

  “Now’s not the time,” Dru said. “We should get her inside.” On guard, he scanned the area as though Lucy might return at any moment.

  Killian carefully lifted Tierra into his arms. “I’ve got you. Just relax.”

  What the hell was he talking about, and how was she still here? With each second that ticked by, it became easier to breathe. A stinging tingle generated inside her. It wasn’t unpleasant, really, but wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced before. Definitely otherworldly. What was happening to her?

  Killian carried her into the manor, up the stairs to her bedroom, and gently laid her on the bed. Everyone else traipsed into her room behind them.

  “I’ll get some water,” Moira said. “We need to clean the wounds. Claire, be ready to cauterize them shut if need be.”

  “There will be no need for such barbaric measures.” Killian reached for the buttons on Tierra’s blouse.

  Tierra attempted to slap his hands away, but she felt too weak, and in need of nourishment. She was suddenly shaky and starving like she hadn’t eaten in days.

  “If you want to help, bring up a tray of food that is easy to digest and has a high levels refined carbohydrates,” Killian instructed.

  “You know she’s a health nut and doesn’t believe in putting that kind of poison into her body,” Claire said.

  “Well, she has made an exception for pork rinds and bacon as the tadpole likes them,” Moira said.

  “I want to know what the fuck is going on right now,” Aerin demanded. “Why isn’t she dead? Not that I want her to be.” She turned to the three Horsemen. “Why are we just standing here? Shouldn’t you be doing something like chasing after that hideous harpy? No way is she allowed her to live after she pitchforked my sister.”

  Killian succeeded in getting Tierra’s blouse unbuttoned. She clutched the fabric to her with a whimper she couldn’t hold in. Her body was on fire, the tingling morphing into a furnace of sensations.

  “You peeping Toms, get out,” Moira said. “Tierra doesn’t wa
nt you seeing her undressed.”

  “She doesn’t have anything that we all haven’t seen before.” Nick scoffed. “You’re identical, remember?”

  “Shut your mouth, and get your ass out.” Moira gave him a shove to get him moving.

  “Please, my love,” Claire implored Dru. “She needs privacy.”

  “Should you require assistance, you’ll find us in the attic,” Julian said to Killian. He gave the room a slight bow and took his exit.

  “Tierra is the one hurt. Why would you need Julian?” Aerin asked.

  Killian ignored her and addressed Tierra. “Come on, let me see,” Killian said softly. “Everything’s going to be all right. Trust me, my gazelle.”

  She released her hold on the fabric, and he bared her to his gaze.

  Killian held his hand out. “A wet rag.”

  Moira ran for the adjoining bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth.

  “Someone get her some food.” Killian’s tone brooked no argument.

  “I’ll see what I can find.” Claire left in search of carbs.

  He wiped the cloth across her chest, and Tierra braced herself for the pain. But none came.

  Kilian smiled down at her with pride. “You are doing great. Just a little more time and you will be good as new.”

  “How?” Tierra choked out, confused.

  “That’s what I want to know,” Moira said. “What the hell kind of discount voodoo is this? She doesn’t even have puncture wounds anymore.”

  “Is the zygote doing this?” Aerin asked. “That thing is getting bloody powerful if it can bring her back from the brink.”

  “No,” Killian said. “This is all Tierra’s doing.” His eyes radiated pride and delight. “Her transformation is complete. She’s immortal.”

  12

  Transformation?

  Immortal?

  What the hell was he talking about?

  Tierra sat upright in bed, surprised and horrified when she only felt a twinge of soreness. She patted her chest and found…nothing but some dried blood. Next, she smoothed a hand over her belly, relieved at the answering kick that followed. Her child was safe and she was somehow alive.

  “Lie back. Your body needs to rest.” Killian pushed her down to the mattress.

  “What she needs is a fucking explanation,” Aerin demanded. She and Moira flanked the other side of the bed. “We all do.”

  Aerin hit that square on the nose.

  Tierra’s mind raced, her heart beating hard enough to escape her newly healed chest.

  “She needs to eat first,” Killian said. “The healing process depleted her energy stores.”

  Claire entered the room with a tray of assorted cookies, a bag of pork rinds, and a soft drink to help wash it all down.

  Tierra’s appetite bared its teeth and she fell on the tray like a rabid dog locked in a cage and starved for weeks. She plowed through the bag of pork rinds first, not caring about the mess of crumbs falling on her bed and getting stuck in her hair. Guzzling the soft drink, to help swallow the barely chewed fried pork skin, she filled her cheeks with cookies like a chipmunk preparing for the coming ice age.

  “Holy shit,” Claire said. “Keep your arms and hands back from her, or we’re going to lose some limbs.”

  Once every morsel had been consumed, Tierra dragged in a deep breath and felt her heart rate return back to normal and the shaking in her cells settle. A feeling of calm blanketed her. She leaned back and looked at her horrified sisters. “What?”

  “Well, you know those salivating zombies after brains?” Aerin asked, continuing when Tierra nodded. “That display of feeding beat the hell out theirs.”

  She wiped a hand over her mouth, collected some leftover food particles and licked them off her fingers. “I was starved. I’ve never felt hunger like that before.” She regarded Killian with suspicion. Had he somehow turned her into an animal? “What have you done to me?”

  “Yeah, past time to explain yourself, buddy,” Moira said. “What’s this immortal shit you’ve been spoutin’?”

  “First of all, I hadn’t counted on this, but secretly hoped it would happen.” Killian smoothed back Tierra’s wild hair from her face, gazing down at her with his heart in his eyes. It made her uncomfortable to see his adoration that he didn’t bother to hide from her sisters.

  “Well, shit,” Aerin said. “He really is in love with you.”

  Moira nudged her to keep quiet, while Tierra’s eyes widened with panic, feeling like a net had closed in around her.

  “Leave us,” Killian ordered.

  “No!” Tierra and her sisters hollered together.

  Tierra continued, “You explain yourself right now in front of my sisters. This concerns them, too.” She thought she heard Killian mutter, in-laws, under his breath.

  “It has been said that when an immortal bonds with a human, and the immortal’s love for the human is pure, the human will be transformed into an immortal, too.” He gave her a satisfied smile. “Welcome to the rest of your life, my gazelle.”

  Tierra sat there stunned, staring up at Killian. Immortal? She was immortal. “You’re saying that I can’t die? That I won’t age?”

  “Correct.” He smiled as though he’d bestowed the most treasured of gifts upon her.

  “Will she have to drink blood and sleep in the ground during the day?” Moira regarded Tierra with wariness.

  “Nothing like that,” Killian reassured them. “Other than the ability to regenerate, she remains unchanged.

  “Except I can’t grow old and die.” She’d be forced to live forever…with Killian. A marriage lasting fifty years was a remarkable achievement, but eternity? How did one love someone for an eternity? Wouldn’t he get tired of her? She of him? What about her child? Would she have to watch him or her grow old and perish? Her hand covered her belly and a sob gathered in her throat. Not to mention, she’d have to suffer her sisters passing too, as well as everyone else that she loved.

  Killian placed his hand over hers. “There is a high probability that our child will also be immortal. So, don’t fret.”

  “Don’t fret?” she shrieked. “I don’t want to live forever. I want to grow old. I want to experience every season of my life. Be a grandmother, one of those old biddies who everyone is always afraid of what they are going to do or say.”

  “You can still do all that, you’ll just look the age you are now,” Killian said as though her objections were pesky flies to be swatted away.

  “Take it back,” she demanded. “I don’t want to be immortal.”

  “Well, I sure as fuck do,” Aerin said. “How do I sign up for this.”

  “You’ll have to consult Julian,” Killian said.

  “You can bet your ass, we’ll be having a conversation,” Aerin murmured.

  “Wait,” Claire said, a frown creasing her brow. “Does that mean I might be immortal as Dru and I pledged our souls to each other? How do we make sure?”

  “Other than takin’ a pitchfork to the chest?” Moira asked, sarcastically. “Sure would have been easier on my ticker if you’d given us a heads up. Seein’ Tierra skewered like a shish-kabob took years off my life.”

  The thought of living forever further exhausted her. “I don’t want this. I want to die like a normal human being.”

  “Even if that meant you would have died tonight?” A stiff note entered Killian’s voice. “It wouldn’t have been only you who would have died, but our child, too.” His eyes hardened to chips of coal.

  She was grateful she’d survived and that her baby still thrived inside her, but she couldn’t comprehend the idea of living forever. Hell, she freaking recycled, and now she was basically a nondegradable plastic bottle, everything she abhorred.

  “I need a shower.” Killian’s eyes flared with desire at her words. “Alone,” she added in a tone that didn’t leave room for debate.

  “Shit on a shingle, I need a drink,” Moira said.

  “It’ll take more than one to
erase the image of her pitchforked. Several, actually, to help swallow the knowledge that I might be immortal, too,” Claire said.

  “We also need a battle plan. Lucy is top on my hit list. That bitch needs to be eradicated.” Aerin followed Moira and Claire the door, leaving Tierra alone with Killian.

  “Let me help you.” Killian scooped her into his arms again and carried her into the bathroom. Carefully, he set her on her feet. “Hold onto the counter. You might be wobbly after your ordeal.”

  Ordeal was right, but which was worse, being stabbed by Satan or finding out she was now immortal?

  Killian turned on the shower and adjusted the heat and then faced her. He started stripping off what remained of her torn and bloodied clothes.

  “I’m taking a shower alone,” she stressed.

  “As you said,” he murmured, his eyes raking in her nakedness as he unveiled her.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I can hear that.”

  “That means you need to leave,” she stated, making her position clear.

  “That is where you are wrong.” His eyes hardened. “I will not leave you in your weakened state.” He covered her mouth with his finger when she went to object again. “Save your breath.”

  Blasted, stubborn man.

  When she didn’t try to speak, he traced her lips with his fingertip, his pupils dilating until his eyes were pure black. She knew he wanted to lean down and kiss her, silence her objections with the desire he could so easily coax from her with the barest of touches. Instead, he surprised her and returned to undressing her.

  Her thoughts continued to swirl like fallen leaves before a winter gale with questions she should have demanded the answers to when he’d first spoken of them being bonded. “What else does this bonding thing do?

  He stiffened and looked away

  “Oh, no you don’t. If you want any kind of relationship with me, or me to love you, then that means you need to start telling the truth.”

  “As you wish.” Though he looked as though he’d rather have his feathers plucked than have this conversation. “There is nowhere you can run that I can’t find you,” he admitted. “It’s the same for you, which is how you were able to locate me in Hell when no one else could.”