Only because she could not bear to watch Adam and Eve be happy together.
When Lilith fell from the Goddess’s favor, she knew she had to bring Eve down with her, for only then could she banish the light from the world.
It had been almost too easy, coiling as a serpent, leaking poison into Eve’s ear. She knew Adam’s weaknesses and his wants, she knew the parts of his heart he kept hidden, and the little pinpricks of darkness seeded within him.
She knew how to drag them down with her.
Now she was no longer a morning star. She was again that helical serpent. Or a spider. Gathering her resources, her power, sucking it from whatever source she could find and storing it away to expend later. Tantalizing her prey with her shiny web and all the abundance caught within it.
She’d snatched up everything that was supposed to belong to the Goddess. Starting with the Horsemen. They’d been blessed, too. A higher race of immortals tasked with power and the prescience of prophecy to fight for the divinity of the Goddess’s creation.
She’d corrupted them over millennia. Corrupted their powers of protection against the mortals they’d been birthed to defend. Turned the divine blessing that was their celestial bodies into her own depraved playground.
And sometimes, they’d begged her to do it.
As the years slid by, she’d shrouded the truth as was her way until they’d forgotten their place. They’d forgotten their Goddess, or had become certain their Goddess had forgotten them. They’d forgotten that Adam and Eve had borne children. Not two boys, as the story had been changed for the official records.
But girls. Four of them.
And those children, that divine lineage, had been their responsibility to guard.
To love.
De Moray. It meant the leaders. The Lords. Because language back then didn’t have any gender, and as a parting gift the Goddess left her priestesses with one last blessing.
A way to end it all.
For there was never any doubt that this would end, it was now only a question of how.
Lucy scanned the world through eyes that were not her own. Gwen, the poor, deluded soul, battered on the place in her mind that Lucy had banished her to.
They had so much to thank her for, these mortals. Their towers of glass and steel. Their wealth and weapons. Their millennia of progression in both science and skill, entertainment and now, the inevitable entropy.
It was over, their ridiculous, meaningless rule. She’d given them plenty of time to fuel her powers. To feed her stores and to break this world down in a way she’d always known was possible. Dismantling the gift of the Goddess until it begged for change.
For the apocalypse.
Once the final seal was broken… she’d give it what it wanted, wiping the last seed of Adam from the planet as she should have done eons ago.
She’d reclaim the horsemen as her consorts, chaining them to her throne of thunder as she burned the entire world to the ground
And rule over the ashes.
44
Aerin sensed the moments the wards went up against them. Wards against evil. Wards against harm. And wards against them, specifically.
Goddess give her strength to deal with bitchy witches.
She had tried to strategize with her sisters last night regarding what would be the best configuration of the four of them to attempt this peace offering. It was settled that it would be just as foolish to leave anyone out of it as it was to bring all of them.
So, they went together.
Situated in downtown Port Townsend, The Raven Rook Inn was a three-story red brick building which claimed a corner of Water Street lined—as so many Victorian towns were—with tightly stacked buildings. Old-timey shingles advertised shops and restaurants beneath their delightful varied edifices and meticulous scrollwork. It was charming as fuck and had been over-populated with tourists back before the end of days.
The town gleamed in the intermittent early-afternoon sun, barely revealed by this morning’s rainclouds. Moisture still dripped off the leaves and sparkled like little gems on potted flowers, assorted awnings, and the oil slicks left by cars in the road.
The Raven Rook Inn was no longer a functioning hotel, but had been conscripted by the local coven as a base of operations during wartime. A war that seemed to be raging just as much within their ranks as without.
The wards vibrated as they approached, and when Aerin lifted her fist to knock on the intricately carved front door, her skin prickled as if being stung by a handful of bees.
Uncomfortable, but not a significant impediment.
They could have forced their way into the hotel in any number of ways. Flown through the roof-top skylight on their broomsticks, for example, or blown the door wide open.
But that was not how truces were made, and they decided that they’d do this as mortals. As women. Nary a wand, broom, nor protective horseman in sight.
Of course, all were stashed nearby in case the need arose.
They were being nice, not naïve.
Through the textured glass, the distorted forms of two matrons trundled forward and Aerin recognized them from Tierra’s ill-fated baby shower as Martha and Hattie Mae.
Once they opened the door, the steel-haired women who stood sentinel might have stepped out of a noir mystery. Martha, a severe-looking black woman in a long, elegant gray dress and perpetually narrowed eyes, and Hattie Mae, a faded blonde bombshell who’s lipliner painted an almost comical fiction of her features.
Aerin didn’t exactly expect to be invited in, but the open rebuke on the women’s faces threatened to damage her calm.
Martha spoke for them both. “You have some nerve coming here,” she tutted, sucking at her teeth.
Tierra stepped forward, as it had been agreed that she’d break the ice, seeing as she had a long-standing relationship with these women and, until recently, an exceptional reputation and place among the coven. “Martha, Hattie Mae, we’ve come to talk.” She pulled her bronze sweater tightly around the ultra-feminine palazzo pantsuit she wore, making a show of being chilly left out in the autumn breeze.
“Okay.” Martha planted a fist on her hip, clearly unmoved. “So, talk.”
Tierra paused for a moment, notably affected by the hostility on the faces of the women who’d helped Aunt Justine raise her.
“I was hoping to be invited in,” she said carefully, maintaining her composure. “We’d like to address all of you.”
Hattie Mae, her eyes peeled wide by the magic wielded only by a plastic surgeon’s knife wagged a long-nailed finger at them. “We’re not stupid enough to fall for that. Did you bring your soul-stealing spawn with you?”
“Justine is watching her. And that’s uncalled for,” Tierra said in defense of her child. “She only borrowed—”
Claire put a hand on Tierra’s elbow. “We’re looking to broker peace and foster understanding. We know there is a past and prophecy and fear, but we’re hoping to try to move past that. To work together.”
Martha shook her head. “We’re past that now. Goodbye Tierra, and good luck.” She stepped back to slam the door in their faces, and that’s when Aerin stepped forward, catching the door against her palm. “We’re here to help you idiot biddies, now find your manners and let us in.”
“Not a chance.” Martha threw her weight against the door, and Aerin was surprised that the old woman’s muscle was every bit as strong as her perfume. “We’ll do just fine on our own, thank you very much.”
“Wrong.” Aerin shoved her way past the threshold, gritting her teeth against the pain of the wards until she made her way through, much to their shock and dismay. “Your wards are weak, and your power is waning. You need us. And we want to help!”
Moira, who’d hung back in hopes to make the fact that she carried—in their estimation—demon spawn 2.0, now reached for Aerin’s elbow, tugging her back. “Intimidation’s no way to broker peace,” she hissed.
Hattie Mae blew a puff of her ban
gs out of her eyes. “No. This air witch speaks the truth; we are weakening and it’s all thanks to you lot.”
Aerin’s brows sank in consternation. “Excuse Moi?” Were they just getting blamed for all the rando bad shit now?
“That’s right.” Martha nodded, scalding her with a withering glare. “Ever since you all came to Port Townsend and began opening the seals with your reckless use of magic, the powers of the Goddess retreats farther away from our reach, as you become more powerful.”
Behind them in the entry way, Aerin could see several of the witches gathering. Drifting from other rooms and down the plush arabesque carpeted staircase. Some of their faces curious, others anxious, a few outright antagonistic.
“It’s as if you are stealing it from us,” Hattie Mae accused. “For what nefarious purposes, we can only imagine.”
Tierra took a step back as if she’d been physically struck. “We’d never.”
“How do we know that?” Martha challenged.
“Because you know me!” Tierra cried, holding her arms out to present herself as if that should be answer enough. “I’ve been a part of your coven for my entire life. That’s garnered me some trust, hasn’t it? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Another woman stepped forward. Younger, pretty, with a wealth of hair streaked a vibrant purple and braided like a Valkyrie. “We thought it did, Tierra, but you sided with them.”
Aerin recognized the woman as Melody, Gwen’s minion from the other day.
The devil’s minion, now.
Tierra shoved inside wards behind Aerin, standing against the two mavens with Q-tip haircuts and all the witches who had appointed them their mouth pieces. “You know, I didn’t just side with them because they were my family, I did it because you allowed yourself to be infiltrated by the actual devil. You tried to kill my sisters! More than once! That’s just—well it’s mean, and I’ll not stand for it.”
Aerin advanced further, partly to crowd the older women farther back into the building, and partly to make room for Claire and Moira to enter behind her. She heard their gasps as they, too, pushed through the stinging wards. But they could all do it.
Which meant Moira’s baby wasn’t evil. Of course, Aerin had believed that already, but it was nice to have it verified by anti-evil wards.
“Look you guys.” Claire stepped forward, attempting to level with them. “The problem here is Gwen—or the woman who is currently wearing Gwen’s skin—she attacked us. She tried to hurt Violet, who is innocent in all of this. She doesn’t care about anything but power and getting what she wants. Can’t you see that?”
Aerin chimed in. “Don’t you guys want Gwen back? I mean, I’d get it if you didn’t. She’s kind of a rank bitch, but aren’t you worried that Lucifer, the actual devil, was able to worm her way into your ranks in the first place?”
“We all know that the devil isn’t what the patriarchal scripture says it is,” Melody preached patiently, with the skill of a woman born to lead. “The devil is a construct of—”
“Whatever,” Aerin cut her off, not in the mood for a lesson in theology or magic, she got enough of that from Julian back home. “We can agree that the entity in Gwen is fucking dark and destructive, and we can prove she is the reason the seals are broken. She’s the architect of every magical mistake we’ve made. And we need to vanquish her so that balance can be regained. Don’t you feel the truth of that?”
Hattie Mae eyed them with—well it was hard to name the emotion blunted as it was with Botox. “How do we know you aren’t just trying to steal her dark powers?”
“Y’all don’t. Because we are.” Moira stepped forward, holding in her hand their one greatest hope. The one offering they could give that might bring them all together. “This here is the de Moray Grimoire. We call him Grim.”
Martha put her hand to her bosoms. “Lands, is that made out of human skin?”
“Irrelevant,” Aerin clipped. “Also, probably. But it contains every magic secret we know. Every origin of power and every answer to your questions. It’s all in there, and we’re here to offer it for coven use.”
“Why would you bring this here?” Melody asked, her eyes gleaming as she stepped forward and ran her finger over the book’s surface with reverence and no small amount of lust.
“Because we believe that magic belongs to everyone,” Tierra said clearly. “To all of us and all of you. We seek no dominion nor absolute power nor to hold all the secrets or answers. We plan to share it with every witch. With every woman.”
“Exactly,” Claire stepped in. “We shouldn’t be fighting. We should be on the same side. The side of peace and power. We should stand together because we are all in this battle. We all, in our hearts, want the same things. Sisterhood, friendship, belonging, peace, prosperity, happiness, and love.”
Murmurings rumbled through the assembly maybe fifty or so strong… it was hard for Aerin, in such a tight space, to get an exact read on the crowd. But she felt a disturbance here. A ripple of something…
“Please,” She addressed them, identifying what she felt. “Fear and mistrust and anger, they aren’t part of the Goddess. They are the tools being used to steal your powers. And not by us. We’re here to help you reclaim what you have lost.”
“And so you have.”
An oily slick of disgust and darkness slithered down Aerin’s spine before Gwen glided beneath an archway that led to another room, trailing dark robes behind her like a slithering mist. She held out her hand in silent demand for Grim, and Melody relinquished it immediately.
“What the actual hell, you guys?” Tierra cried.
No one said a word until Gwen spoke.
“Thank you for bringing this to me.” She pushed newly colored black hair out of her eyes before she reached down to brush her fingers over the skin of the book. “I shall enjoy studying your secrets… but only after you are dead.”
With that, the wards that had let them through the door snapped tight.
They hadn’t even been meant to keep them out, Aerin realized with dawning horror. But to cut them off from the horsemen, and to lock them inside.
45
Claire was the first to speak out, kicking her hip to the side and crossing her arms. “You can’t kill us, you idiot, we’re immortal.”
Lucifer’s eyes glittered with malevolence as an unhurried smile spread like bitter honey across her lips. “Gwen hates you most of all, Claire” she sneered, apropos of nothing. “She wants to fuck Drustan. She can experience my memories of doing so.”
Claire ripped her jacket off her shoulders, ready to throw down. “Bitch, I will slap you into the next apocalypse—”
Tierra held her back as the devil continued, drifting across the black and white checkered marble floors with an ethereal grace. Her skirts drew a line of darkness behind her, something inky like pitch or tar, cutting them off from the other witches as she spoke.
“Immortal?” She cackled. “You infants cannot even begin to fathom the word. I am a being of true immortality. My genesis was so long-ago even time cannot remember it.”
“’Cept here we are,” Moira chimed in. “Consistently whoopin’ your ass.”
“Shit.” Aerin raked the devil with a scathing glare. “How long do you think it will take your decrepit soul to rot this body, too?”
It was happening already, Aerin could smell the decay in the air. The more powerful Lucifer became, the weaker the mortal shell would be.
Lucifer leered at her, sliding an almost sensual leer down her long black slacks and shock white blouse. “I’m trying on a few, to see what fits until I can decide. You’re not off the table, you know. And maybe after you’re dead, I’ll do things to Julian that will make him loathe the very sight of you before moving on.”
Though she’d die before admitting it, a part of Aerin trembled in the presence of such a threat. She remembered the absolute helplessness of being banished into the murkiest corners of her own mind while Lucifer possessed her
body.
It was a violation she’d never thought to fear before then, and would never forget so long as she lived.
Also, she was keenly aware in this tenuous moment that she was the only one of her sisters not immortal at the moment, and fuck if she didn’t feel that mortality in every single one of her breakable bones.
Tierra turned to the coven, hurt and disbelief glimmering in her emerald eyes. “This is what it’s come to? Why are you constantly taken in by her? Why can you not see that she’s destroying you from the inside and driving you to do heinous things?”
Melody stepped forward to answer, flipping her violet hair from her shoulders. “She’s powerful. And she says she can not only stop the apocalypse, but save those we love. Every time she speaks prophecy, it comes true.”
Aerin gestured to Grim. “Because she’s prophesying from our own book! It’s all in there, if she’ll let you read it. And you’ll see how she bastardizes it. How she twists it to control you.”
Several doubtful gazes swung over to the devil; whose knuckles tightened on the book. “Of course, I’ll allow it,” she crooned. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping anything from any of you.”
“Except the truth,” Aerin spat. “And Gwen.”
“I told you at the battle in the stones!” Lucy exploded. “She allows me this coil. She gifted me use of it.”
Tierra pounced on that. “So, you admit you were in the stones. That you attacked us."
The coven, rapt now, swung their eyes to Lucy in search of an answer.
The shadow gathered around the devil intensified. She boiled with evil, with malice and contempt. “I will do whatever it takes to vanquish you from this earth.” A disturbance in the air riffled the tresses at her temples. “Though you consider yourself immortal, there are ways of unmaking you. Of dismantling your physical bodies so absolutely that your soul can no longer be considered cohesive. You will exist, and you will rue that existence. You will wish for the oblivion of death. So, help me, I’ll—”
Which Witch is Willing? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 4) Page 23
