Death opened his wings to their full breadth, sweeping bits of dust and leaves into the air. He gazed down at Lucy, every bit the formidable horseman, causing Claire the slightest tremble. “Your reign is over.”
Tierra dropped the fake baby and whipped out her wand. Claire focused on the fire inside her until it was a swirling mass of flames. She was certain Aerin called upon her power as well, and the ground began to shake with Kai’s fury.
Lucy glared at Killian. “Always remember, you brought this on yourself.”
She uttered unintelligible words, and all hell broke loose.
Claire launched a fireball. Aerin’s vicious wind thrust it at Lucy with a mighty force. Tierra’s vines sprouted from the ground, twisting around Lucy’s ankles.
Doctor Lector tore at the devil’s hair, while Jinx jumped onto her back with claws out, and Cheeto shot off his own form of fireballs.
Lucy lifted her arms, deflecting their attacks and flinging vines and familiars into the air. Kai landed roughly at Claire’s feet, fueling her rage.
Lucy directed her gaze at Tierra and a black mist shot from her fingers and straight into Tierra’s heart.
Tierra gasped and fell to the ground.
A flare of panic gripped Claire, even as she reminded herself of Tierra’s immortality. Killian flapped his wings, sending an unseen wall of power toward her, but the force of it bounced off Lucy and knocked everyone to the ground.
Lucy seemed to grow taller, and she focused her gaze on the ground. “I call all that is dark and powerful, the night and its shadows, the darkest of forests, the deepest of oceans, and the burnt embers of those who have passed, to give me all that is mine.”
She thrust her hands outward, and the Standing Stones shuddered and shook. Pieces broke off and fell to the ground. Then large slabs began to rock. Killian scooped up Tierra, and Aerin made a mad dash for the portal, with the bat, cat and little pig rushing along beside her.
Claire frantically searched for Kai and found him limp on the ground next to a large rock. She dove for him as Lucy’s fury unleashed around them.
One of the Standing Stones fell and then another.
Claire wrapped her hands around Kai’s still-warm body and stood. Through the gaping holes in the Standing Stones, she caught sight of three imposing figures galloping toward them on red, white and black magnificent horses.
Dru’s thoughts slammed into her. Run!
Before she could, something impossibly heavy and hard struck her in the head and brought her to the ground. Her vision blurred, and everything turned black.
39
Hours later, Claire left the safe confines of the de Moray mansion, carrying the lifeless body of her precious fox now wrapped in a red silk scarf. Untamed grief flowed like molten lava through her veins, boiling her blood and singeing her soul with a mark that would forever remain with her.
She’d woken not long ago, tucked in her bed, with a headache raging like an untamed forest fire. Dru had handed over her wand that he’d retrieved from the battleground, and then with a voice softer than she’d ever heard, he’d imparted that her faithful companion had not survived the crushing blow, one that she shouldn’t have, either.
She’d proved her immortality but lost one of the true loves of her life. She couldn’t imagine a tomorrow without him.
Claire headed toward the hillside where she intended to honor her precious familiar with her fire and cremate his remains.
Kai.
The thought of him brought a fresh wave of pain rolling over her.
Her familiar. Her baby. The one being who knew her very soul. The one who’d worshipped, no, loved her unconditionally. He’d been her constant companion, always keeping a watchful eye on her. There to protect her and love her as needed.
They could raise the Standing Stones, but nothing would bring her baby back.
Her heart folded in on itself, and a raw sob escaped her.
She’d taken his presence for granted. She’d naively thought he’d always be with her, and she hadn’t truly cherished him like she should have.
Now, he was gone.
Forever lost to her, with memories of the love they shared left to haunt her every thought.
Dru and her sisters had offered to come with her to honor and bury him, but this was something she needed to do alone.
Heart-wrenching pain left her legs weak, but she pressed on.
When she reached the top of the hill, she gathered logs and tree limbs and created a pyre. She held Kai to her chest one last time and struggled to breathe past the crushing pain. “I love you, little buddy. Run free now and know that you’ll forever be in my heart.”
Claire squeezed her eyes shut, forcing tears down her cheeks, and she remained that way until she could catch her breath. Then she gently set his body on top of the pyre and took several steps back.
She lifted her hands, and the strength of her fire jumped to life. “Rest in peace, Kai,” she whispered.
Unbridled anger and brutal grief exploded inside her, and a massive ball of fire jumped from her hands and landed on the pyre. Brilliant flames leapt into the night sky, sending red hot sparks swirling into the air.
She stared at the wildfire that grew bigger and bigger until it was a massive wall of flames that roared in the night, screaming out her fury.
When she was beyond exhausted, she fell backward onto the grass and sobbed while the heat of the fire cradled her in its arms.
An hour later, the flames had died back. Little remained in its wake.
Claire rose and realized she hadn’t brought anything to dig up soil to cover the ashes. She looked around for something that might help and then sensed a presence behind her.
She whirled, not sure if she would find friend or foe.
Tierra approached, walking softly on the grass, the bells on the bottom of her skirt tinkling softly. “Hey,” she said.
Claire started to cry, and Tierra strode forward and wrapped her in an embrace. “I forgot a shovel,” Claire said, her breath hitching.
Tierra stepped back. “Here, let me help you with that.”
With a wave of Tierra’s hand, dirt piled onto the burned mound, suffocating the remaining smoke and burying her beloved Kia’s remains with dark, rich soil. “The circle of life,” she whispered.
Claire nodded but couldn’t speak.
They both stood silent for another few moments, and Claire allowed the softly blowing breeze to cool her cheeks.
Tierra squeezed her hand. “Aerin and Moira would have come, too, but it’s not safe for them to be out of the house right now.”
“I know,” she said softly.
She blinked wet lashes and looked to her sister as another wave of grief rolled through her. “The Standing Stones.”
They’d been destroyed, too.
Tierra gave a small smile. “They were built once a long time ago and can be built again.”
Claire attempted a smile but failed. “Let’s go home. I need to be with my family.”
Tierra nodded and linked her arm through Claire’s. “Everyone else is in the parlor. They’re discussing what we’ll do next. This vicious rampage of Lucy’s will not go unanswered.”
Claire shook her head, trying to hold back tears. “No, it won’t.”
Vengeance burned strong in Claire’s veins. Lucy would pay with her life for what she’d done. Claire had immortality now, and nothing would stop her from extinguishing Lucy’s presence from the earth.
When they arrived home, Tierra headed into the parlor, and Claire excused herself to freshen up. She needed a few minutes to gain what composure she could. She wasn’t sure she could ever find the person that she’d been before Kai’s death, but she’d cling to revenge until she found another source of strength to carry her forward.
In the bathroom, she splashed water on her face until her cheeks cooled. She opened the window, breathed several measured breaths of cool night air, and allowed sounds of the ocean to comfort her.
<
br /> Then she steeled her heart.
Halfway down the stairs, she realized that the front door stood open, and everyone had congregated there. She frowned, not seeing anyone on the porch or any reason why the group talked excitedly.
Dru glanced over his shoulder as she approached. “Claire!”
He turned to face her, and she realized he held a beautiful red fox with a bottlebrush tail against his chest.
Her legs buckled beneath her, and she dropped to the stairs in disbelief. The moment the fox’s eyes connected with Claire, he pushed from Dru’s arms and dashed toward her.
She grabbed him, and her soul instantly connected with his. “Kai?” she said half-laughing and half-crying as she brushed dirt from his fur. “What? How?”
Moira wiped tears from her own cheeks. “I guess he’s your little phoenix fox risen from the ashes.”
“That’s a perfect description, Moira,” Aerin said.
Claire cried happy tears this time as she petted him and kissed his head. “My little phoenix fox.”
Moira suddenly bent forward and gasped, drawing everyone’s attention.
Nick grabbed her to keep her from falling. “What’s wrong, Moira?”
He glanced to the others with a panicked look on his face.
Moira breathed deeply and turned to them all. “The baby wants out, and he’s gettin’ pretty insistent, but my body won’t release him. I’m not sure I can manage this for much longer.”
Nick scooped her into his arms. “I’m going to take her to the bedroom and stay with her until she’s settled, and then I intend to fucking conquer this town until I find Lucy and end her.”
Claire looked up to find Dru watching, and she nodded. She would never have a happy life with this man and her fox until their enemy was destroyed. It would take all of them to achieve it, but the time had come to end Lucy or risk losing her sisters, her home, and possibly the world.
IV
Aerin
By Kerrigan Byrne
40
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Tierra said as she tracked Aerin’s marching progress across the ever-verdant lawns of the de Moray Mansion. “You look irate.”
Aerin’s ears pricked to the chime of Tierra’s bangled wrists as she patted and bounced the fussy baby.
Claire finished wrapping the last lock of Moira’s black cherry hair around a curling iron before she paused to look up. “You look mad. Real mad. Like, hold on to your knickers, there’s about to be a hurricane, mad.”
“You’d better stow that stirring wind until after the weddin’” Moira warned in a voice meant to carry over the diminishing distance between her and Aerin’s advance.
Moira sat at a makeshift vanity constructed from a gilded mirror and rustic desk, dragged out of doors and propped in the gazebo that had become the de facto bride bower. A cobalt silk robe shimmered in the autumn sun, seeming to waterfall around her. The effect was only slightly hindered by the enormous belly she had to rest on her own lap, on top of which a plate of half-consumed pork cracklins surrounded a small lake of Louisiana hot sauce balanced.
The first absurd thought that burped through Aerin’s mind was that she could only imagine what poor Nick’s first “you may kiss the bride” kiss would taste/smell like.
The second was evoked by the actual eruption from the infant’s esophagus that competed with the concerning volcanic rumbles that were, even now, stirring noisily beneath Mount Baker, Mount Rainier, and Mount St. Helen’s, respectively.
Forget the methane farting cows, vegans should start protesting the gasses emitted from a one, Violet de Moray.
With Tierra’s layered sage gown flowing in the—admittedly—increasing breeze, and Claire’s silky scarlet number draping from her hot curves, they looked like the elemental goddesses they were.
Aerin would have taken the time to appreciate the tableau…
If she were not so fucking pissed off.
With some deft sewing skills and no little bit of magic, Tierra had turned a circus-tent sized cream bolt of lace they’d found in the attic into a wedding dress. The gown hung from a railing beam above them, waiting to be donned once Moira’s coiffeur was in place.
Aerin slapped the gown aside as she, quite literally, stormed up the steps, letting it swing like a pendulum back into place behind her.
“Irate?” She gritted from between teeth fury had fused together. “Mad?” The hairs at her neck prickled and crackled with dark, electric magic, and awareness of the entourage of four distinct men she trailed in her wake.
Dead men all, if she had anything to say about it.
“I get irate when Tierra laces my coffee with some peat moss tasting herbs for my health,” she seethed. “I get mad when a shit-eating she-Satan wears my body like a meat suit and tosses me into the darkest corners of my own psyche. But this!”
She thrust the abomination forward for all of them to behold.
“There are no words for the rage. There have not been languages evolved upon this goddess-forsaken earth to encompass the wrath I am about to unleash…if…”
She could not finish the sentence. Words escaped her brain like scattered marbles. Her throat closed off.
Oh Goddess. It wasn’t a cliché. You could actually be choked by rage.
Claire released the final perfect ringlet from the curling iron so Moira could turn to observe the carnage cradled in Aerin’s hands.
Heavy boots announced the arrival of the cadre of men into the women-only gazebo without a by-your-leave. Of course, they went ahead and fucking barged in and made themselves at home. Because that was just the kind of primeval, barbaric, insolent ass clowns they were.
“Just what the hell have you four gone and done?” Moira demanded in a deceptively even voice.
“’T’wern’t nothing, Moira Jo,” hee-hawed a hillbilly from behind her. “All’s I did was cut the heels of them alligator shoes so she wouldn’t fall off ‘em they’s so high. She might sprain one of her delicate ankles.” The cretin in question pulled up alongside Aerin, looking down at her ankle as if he might start gnawing on it at any moment.
If looks could wither a man, Aerin tried her best. “These shoes are Alexander McQueen alligator sling backs. They cost me eight hundred dollars on sale.”
Even though the man had showered that very morning at the mansion, he still somehow managed to have a pall of engine grease on him. He went beet red. Then purple as he gawked up at her in open-mouthed astonishment.
Aerin counted two missing teeth before he regained his wits enough to talk.
“See now, this is why you need me,” he said wagging a stumpy a finger at her. “I got all sortsa colors of gator skins back home. I think I even have some cobbler’s nails somewhere.” He tugged on his ear as if that could help him remember. “I coulda made you them shoes fer a fiver.” He eyed her thoroughly. “Question unrelated to said nails: Is yer tetanus shot up to date? Nah, you don't have to answer. Classy gal like you, course you come vaccinated.” He reached out to pat her arm approvingly, but Aerin shrunk away. “We'll talk about that later, on account of the government nano bot tracers y’all have swimming in yer blood now, though I suppose what with the apocalypse and everything that’s sort of a non-issue—”
“Moira,” Aerin clipped, feeling on the verge of a meltdown that would make Katrina seem like a spring breeze. “Your uncles Stinky, Salty, and Surly need to go back to their boat—”
“That’s Sal, Mookey, Red, and Little Earl.” Moira pointed to them in the line, identifying the shoe murderer as Mookey.
“I don’t fucking care what their names are, Moira,” Aerin exploded. “You tell them to keep their fucking hands off my shit before I—.”
“Aww, don’t be too sore at ‘em,” Moira said, hiding a smile behind her hand. “He was just trying to help. Besides, I think they got them a crush.”
Didn’t she fucking know it? They’d been her constant weird shadows since they’d decided to take up residence at the M
anse yesterday in preparation for the wedding.
Tierra paused in her pacing to glance at Moira. “Don’t you think it’s a bit creepy, them being sweet on Aerin, seeing as how she looks exactly like you?”
From somewhere behind her, Red snorted, horked, and spat his disagreement. “Y’all don’t look a thing alike. She has class where Moira’s got sass. And she’s taller, for one.”
No she isn’t,” Tierra argued. “She’s just usually in three-inch heels.”
“Well, not the fuck anymore,” Aerin bitched, waving the remnants of her beautiful, beautiful pumps.
“She has purty silver eyes and skin ain’t seen the sun like you, Moira,” Red chimed in. “And her mouth has these…regal lines at the corners where they turn down on account of her scowlin’ all the time.”
“You take that back!” Aerin bent down to check the mirror for frown lines.
“And,” Mooky decided to add. “She smells like that one time Pervus Mcfee tried to ferment all that vanilla moonshine in the cedar chest. Juss look at ‘er,” he held his hands one high and one low to frame her silver-blue Zuahir Murad slip gown and gauzy wrap. “She dresses real el-gant.”
“Elegant?” Claire supplied helpfully.
“Glad y’all agree.”
“Also,” Red cut in, “Her tits are way up here.” He hefted imaginary breasts past the “I got crabs at Boudreau’s Fat Boy” slogan on what must have been his Sunday-best tank top.
“That’s due to the gravity defying efforts of a very secretive Victoria,” Claire snarked, biting the inside of her cheek to contain her giggles. “And Moira’s lack of one.”
Aerin whirled on him. “Listen here you slack-jawed yokel, if I catch you looking at my tits—”
“You can catch me at anything, my lady,” He swiped his trucker hat from his balding pate and held it over his heart. “I’d wrangle a gater for one of your smiles.” Red had taken to addressing them all directly as “my lady” as he figured a coven of powerful, goddess-blessed witches as noble as any title holding royal on the entire flat earth.
Which Witch is Willing? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 4) Page 20
