The Rise of the Dark Lord

by Ashley, Kristen

  “She went to the Witches Dozen first. You keep such late hours there, Mathilda. So very American of you. Working your employees to the bone so the ones of means can make more of those means off the backs of those less fortunate.”

  Oh my Goddess!

  My coffee house!

  “I can tell you, your patrons were quite shocked when an elderly woman of obvious breeding with a bloody maw of a hole in her chest strolled in.”

  I closed my eyes.

  Oh my Goddess.

  My coffee house.

  “Some of them died with that look of shock on their faces. Though I’m not sure it was the sight of her that was still causing it, or…other.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight.

  “That power, finally being used, with me the one commanding it, it…was…transcendent,” he whispered at my ear, his lips again brushing it.

  With that, it came to me.

  I knew.

  He wasn’t here, in The Dungeons.

  He was at my body.

  My body at my tree.

  Oh fuck.

  He wasn’t here, he was at my body.

  Toying with me.

  Toying with me when he was in a position to be able to kill me.

  And I wouldn’t even be able to raise a wand.

  I opened my eyes, opened my mouth and screamed, “Black dragon!”

  I heard a hawk’s call.

  I also heard Bligh bite out, “What?”

  And he was distracted.

  My astral self whipped into a spiral, bright light blinded me, and I slammed back into my body at my tree.

  I jumped to my feet, wand raised.

  But he was too close.

  He took me by my throat, lifted me by it, and tossed me twenty feet.

  I thumped into a tree.

  Yes, this is painful.

  Agony.

  And I was not a big fan of gaining the new knowledge that skinny, puny Jeremy Bligh now had the strength to pick me up and toss me twenty feet.

  I heard flapping wings, then running feet. I pushed myself up and saw Mack racing light-footed through the forest toward Bligh, spear in his fist raised.

  He let fly.

  The spear went straight through Bligh at his middle, blood gushing everywhere.

  Yuck!

  Mack disappeared into a hawk again and flew away.

  Bligh scowled after him and shouted, “Do you think this can harm me?”

  Then, like he didn’t have an oozing gut wound (and back wound, the spear went clean through), he bent to retrieve the bloodied weapon, lifted and two-handed it like he was going to break it in half.

  But it vanished in his hands.

  Well, one could say Mack’s magic was pretty damned cool all around.

  He looked to me.

  Yup, he was still a grotesque rendition of himself. Apparently, he hadn’t had time to use his dark powers to give himself a new look, which, of course, if I were him would have been top priority.

  “Well, at least this is more amus—” he began.

  I flung my wand out and blasted him with a kill spell.

  He went back on a foot, hole in his middle still leaking blood, and grinned at me.

  Shit.

  That didn’t work.

  He tipped his head to the side.

  I got clouted at the side of mine so hard my hat flew off and I fell to the dirt and leaves, landing on my shoulder with a jarring thud of pain.

  I blinked stars away and looked up, expecting to see a moonlit canopy of mostly naked trees and night sky, thinking he had telekinesis and that was how he could strike me when he wasn’t close.

  He did not.

  Or that was not how he’d hit me.

  Agatha, with, as he’d said, a bloody maw of a hole in her chest, eyes empty of life, was staring down at me.

  Seeing her that way, my own heart, still thankfully in my body, ached.

  Goddess.

  I did not like her, not even a little bit.

  But she still was a sister.

  Reduced to this.

  “I told you,” I whispered.

  She started to bend to me, arms out.

  I lifted my wand aimed her way.

  “Sun and clouds,

  Moon and stars.

  Sisters of The Craft,

  If not sisters of our hearts.

  Take her, oh Goddess,

  Return her to the glory.

  As I will, so mote it be.”

  I flung my magic.

  Agatha started to disintegrate into pixie dust.

  “No,” Bligh said.

  Watching her closely, just in case he could halt my spell, I pushed back on my ass then up to my feet.

  Agatha’s dust floated into the sky.

  But not before, with some relief, I saw life blink back in her eyes.

  And there was gratitude.

  Okay, well, I had no idea what was going to happen next.

  But at least I gave a sister that.

  “No!” Bligh shouted.

  “Oh, Dark Lord,” I called, turning my attention to him at the same time bracing for whatever was going to happen next. “Now it’s just you and me.”

  Then I zapped him with another kill spell.

  And another.

  Another.

  He went back on his foot.

  Again.

  Again.

  Then he rushed me.

  Breaking through spells I was flinging at him, powerful ones (um…not good news), he caught me, lifted me up, I screamed, “Black dragon!” and he flung me.

  My shoulder glanced off a tree, I pounded to the earth and skidded five feet.

  That hurt too.

  A lot.

  But I could not give into the pain.

  I rolled to my butt, got up, and flung another spell at him.

  This one wound rope around his ankles as he was stalking me.

  He didn’t expect it and fell to the ground.

  I bound his hands as he went after the ropes.

  That worked too.

  He grunted with frustration.

  I pulled up a capture spell, thinking, was it going to be this easy?

  How, after all the drama, was it this…?

  He rolled.

  And when he did, I saw he’d decided it was time to change his look.

  Now it was Aidan bound on the forest floor, looking up at me.

  Oh crap.

  “No,” I whispered.

  My magical ropes disintegrated.

  “Oh, right, of course,” he said, his raspy voice weird coming out of Aidan’s mouth.

  He was taking his feet.

  I kept my wand raised, staring at Bligh as Aidan.

  “You chose this,” he continued.

  And then he morphed into Ash.

  Crap!

  “No!” I shouted, flinging a freezing spell at him.

  He tossed an arm in front of him, my silver, purple and electric-blue magic slammed into it, burst and disappeared.

  He came at me again.

  I retreated, flinging spell after spell his way, anything I had, any thought in my head. Freezing. Melting. Binding. Maiming. Capture. Cage. Ropes. Chains. Even zit forming.

  He kept at me, lobbing his own spells now without even moving his hand or arm, but I felt their pulse as they hurtled toward me and had to alternate putting up shield after shield to protect myself from them with casting my own.

  But each one of his destroyed each one of my shields.

  And each one of mine had absolutely no effect on him.

  I was bleeding power.

  And this was bad.

  Not to mention, aiming spells at the vision of the man I loved was freaking me out.

  The trees around us started swaying violently as a massive wind struck up.

  One branch caught him and shoved him to the side, making one of his spells go awry.

  It gave me the chance to hit him with one that would make him turn back into himself.<
br />
  And it worked.

  Finally!

  “Ha!” I called.

  He righted his body, grinned at me, lifted a foot…

  Oh shit.

  I felt it.

  The power.

  His power.

  He’d been holding back.

  Like…

  A lot.

  Shit!

  I had to brace, as it was so huge, it seemed to be sucking everything toward it, the branches bowing, even trunks bending his way, and it took a great deal physically not to rush toward him.

  “No!” I screamed.

  I aimed my wand to the forest floor.

  But I was too late.

  He stomped his foot, a blast of fiery air blew me flat to my back, washing over me like it was burning me alive.

  I covered my face with my arms and writhed against the heat.

  When that sensation was gone, my adrenaline riding the danger zone allowing me instantly to shake off the shock that I was still breathing, I dropped my arms to my sides, held myself up at my elbows and saw I was in a forest no more.

  Bligh was standing above me, sneering down at me, the glowing embers of the once thick, majestic woodland at Poet’s Walk reduced to cinders.

  My tree was gone.

  My tree.

  Now, I had nothing.

  It was just him and me.

  “That could have been the end of you,” he said softly. “But I’m having fun so I’ve decided I’ll play with you a bit more.”

  I felt it coming and rolled, embers wafting up around me as I did.

  A burst of earth exploded behind me.

  I jumped to my feet and whirled, my wand, which I miraculously still had, held up.

  I flung spells. I erected shields.

  I retreated.

  He kept at me, advancing, his power pummeling the air around me, sending dirt and ashes and sparks flying up from the earth around my feet.

  Bright bursts detonated between us.

  Shades of pink, silver, white, purple, blue (my magic).

  And thick, smoky vapors wafted between us.

  Cloudy muted shadows of gray and red (his).

  My shields would hold his power at bay, but I had to build new ones immediately between my spells that never so much as touched him.

  I felt my power draining, my physical energy waning, my body aching, and with nature scorched all around, I had nothing to draw on to assist me.

  Vaguely, I heard a noise that shouldn’t be there.

  A helicopter (two?) floating above us.

  The stupid PM had sent the military in.

  Damn it!

  I couldn’t concentrate on that.

  I had to…

  Yup.

  It was two choppers.

  I knew this because I looked up when Bligh looked up and sent a blast of power toward the heavens and one of helicopters burst into a ball of flame.

  As the other copter rolled away, I covered my head with my arms and turned from the explosion as heavy, blazing debris came crashing to the earth with mighty, ear-rending thuds.

  In a vulnerable position, Bligh was able to hit me with another spell, and I grunted with a flash of agonizing pain, dropped to the ground, rolled in a ball sideways, took my feet, faced off with him and we were again at it.

  Flash for flash.

  Shadow for shadow.

  Shield for shield.

  Spell for spell.

  My heel struck something odd and I started teetering.

  Oh Goddess, no.

  I was at the edge of the cliff.

  He’d driven me to the cliff.

  Suspended between standing and falling, suddenly, my vision flared out in a shade that could be described only with the word bright.

  And I saw Ash waiting for me at the airport when I arrived in England.

  I heard his voice talking to me about all the pink pots I bought at the garden center.

  I watched him toss the box with my engagement ring in it across the bed at me.

  I saw Mom magicking a sundae for Rory.

  I saw Gran doing her yoga.

  Viv in her chinos.

  Su in her Birkenstocks (with socks).

  Josie standing in the curve of Aidan’s arm.

  Mavis sitting over her tarot cards in her magic room.

  Lucy whisking custard so it wouldn’t split.

  And last, Ash’s beautiful face above me, his eyes dilated with all he felt for me, love and desire, as he moved inside me.

  I felt his warm, smooth skin under my hands.

  And I knew I was going to lose.

  Bligh was going to win.

  He was too strong.

  And I was running out of magic.

  No, in that moment I knew I had another choice.

  Just one.

  He wasn’t going to win.

  Because we were both going to lose.

  And we would do this so the ones I loved could survive.

  I righted myself on the cliff.

  “Since I have things to do, and this has lost its allure, I’ll take Sir Sebastian finding your broken body on the rocks. That’ll work a treat for me,” Bligh said.

  And then he bent forward…

  Pursed his lips…

  And blew.

  I flew back, unable to fight the strong gust of wing.

  My broomstick had incinerated with the forest.

  I couldn’t call it to me.

  So I did the only thing I could.

  As I fell back over the cliff, I put everything I had left into a binding spell.

  And everything I had left worked.

  Thank you, Goddess, moon, sun, stars, night, day, flowers and trees and forever.

  Bligh flew forward toward me.

  I caught him in my arms and my magic fixed us together.

  “Fuck you,” I whispered, my hair flowing upward with the fall, caging his hideous head with mine.

  He roared in my face.

  I felt calm.

  And I felt overwhelmingly sad.

  I did not want Ash to find my broken body on the rocks.

  But I did want Ash to be alive to find it.

  Bligh’s wings cracked out behind him but didn’t quite catch air.

  I held tighter.

  “Black dragon,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

  Not a call.

  A goodbye.

  My body jerked, suddenly no longer heading down, now suspended in mid-air.

  Bligh tore out of my arms.

  “NO!” I shrieked.

  “Quiet, Mathilda,” Ash said as his arms came around me, and I started floating up.

  I opened my eyes.

  And saw a span of wings behind him. They were a glittering opalescent black, wide and proud, with feathery ends dripping gold.

  I looked from his amazing wings to his amazing face.

  Goddess, he was beautiful.

  “You’re Fae,” I said.

  “Apparently,” he said.

  My eyes narrowed. “You went off to become Fae without me?”

  He looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  I had a strong desire to weep because that look was how Ash looked at me a lot of the time, and there it was, right in front of me.

  I had it back.

  He was back.

  I did not die.

  I did not lose.

  And there I was, right where I was meant to be, in Sebastian Wilding’s arms as he flew me back to the cliff’s edge.

  We touched down but his wings didn’t go away.

  Seriously…hawt.

  “I think Bligh got away,” I told him.

  “No, he didn’t,” he told me, shifted, and that was when I saw it.

  All of it.

  And there was a lot of it.

  A swarm of bats was circling and swooping in the air around the still-burning embers of the decimated Poet’s Walk.

  A stream of witches on broomsticks was soaring in from up the channel, si
lhouetted by the moon.

  And what only could be described as an army of massive-bodied, dark-haired elves with a bevy of the most spectacular wings (not as awesome as Ash’s, just sayin’, though all of them were insanely good-looking, also just sayin’) were landing everywhere.

  But it was Cystien who had Bligh in his clutches.

  Though, such was Bligh’s power, he got away.

  Only for one of the dark-headed elves to rise up, capture him, and fling him back to Cystien like he was a ragdoll.

  This happened four times before Cystien finally got him to the ground.

  Dad, Gabe, Fane and Fane’s Dominion bros formed all around Ash and me.

  Su (with Daphne on the back of her broom), Anita, Prunella and my coven floated on their broomsticks at the cliff’s edge at our backs.

  And a hawk dove low, keening a call, before Mack appeared from its flight, walked up to us, stopped, and leaned into his still-bloodied spear at his side.

  Last, the bats dive-bombed, and vampires materialized all around the ridge among the Fae.

  The helicopter was back and hovering and now showing a spotlight down on Cystien and Bligh.

  Before I could process the firepower around me, Bligh shouted, “Enough!” and I could tell he was screwing up to do something awful, like obliterate us all.

  But in turn, Prunella called, “Sisters unite!”

  And they didn’t mess about.

  A combined stream of magic in a dizzying array of glittering colors came from the wands of all the witches on broomsticks.

  The thick strand zoomed with clear direction and struck Bligh in the hole Mack made in his gut. He seemed to illuminate him from the inside out, before a mist of dirty gray fog puffed from his body which made him appear to deflate.

  Just a little.

  It didn’t have the drama of Peter, Ray, Igon and Winston crossing streams in Ghostbusters.

  But I sensed it did a number on Bligh.

  After that, Cystien’s deep voice was heard.

  “I’ll take these,” he said.

  And he didn’t mess about either (though I wish he had so I could have had time to avert my eyes).

  With his bare hands, he tore Bligh’s wings from him, great billows of blood blooming from Bligh’s back when he did.

  Ackity, ack, ACK!

  Bligh screamed in pain and fury.

  I muttered, “Gross.”

  Cystien tossed the skeletal remains to the ground.

  Okay, seriously.

  Even if I really, really did not like this fucking guy, if I never saw another being dewinged, I’d be super, double, extra happy.

  “Now,” Ash said to Bligh, “I think we’re evenly matched.”

  Wait.

  What?