“I’ve never seen that sword before,” I said.
“My stepmother made it. Its name is Rowan-Sting. Rauni works with fire, and she’s good at tempering weapons. She gave me this years ago, and I’ve always been judicious about using it. I don’t want to ever lose it. But it should bite deep against the wight. Wights. However many of them there are.” He handed the sword to me.
The metal resonated fire and magic through my fingers. I could feel Rauni’s flames and my hand trembled. “I like this,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful. Look at the etching on the blade.”
“Those are runic stanzas—song is sacred in our tradition. Rauni sang to it as she forged it, and her voice became embedded in the metal itself.” He smiled, taking it back from me to slide it into the sheath. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s beautiful.” I glanced around the room as we headed into the hall. “I guess we’re ready. I’ll just get my bag and we can go.” I stopped in my ritual room. My wand was in its case, sitting next to my magical tote bag.
My bag was always ready to go, but this time, I checked to make certain I had everything I might need: War Water, Blessed Water, a skull that I used for death magic, candles, a lighter.
Pausing by the altar, I lifted the protection charm off of the crystal ball I had draped it over. It was a pentacle on a black cord, and Llew had carved it out of rowan wood. I realized it had a similar energy to that of Kipa’s sword. I draped it around my neck and a rush of warmth flowed through me.
As I joined Kipa in the living room, I asked, “Does Rauni work with rowan wood, by any chance?”
He laughed. “Rowan is her sacred tree. Why?”
I held up the charm. “Llew made this last month for me. It’s made from rowan and I felt the same energy that I felt from your sword.”
“Yes, she’s definitely with us today,” he said.
I turned to my father, who was watching TV with Raj. “I’m not sure when we’ll be home. It all depends on how long this takes. Wish us luck.”
Curikan let out a long sigh. “I wish I could come with you. But since I can’t…”
“I’ll go.” My mother stepped out from the kitchen, startling me.
“What are you doing here?” I blinked, staring at her.
Phasmoria was decked out in black leather from head to toe and looked like a beautiful demon, her hair flowing down her back in a ponytail. She wore a sword draped around her waist, as well. “Your father called me and asked if I could go with you, since he can’t.” She strode over and eyed me up and down. “Well, you look fairly well protected, except for your thighs. But you should be all right.”
I pointed to her sword. “Is that—”
“Blessed by the Morrígan, yes. It’s got a wicked sting.” She laughed and the feral side of her rose to the top. My mother was a Bean Sidhe from hell when she wanted to be, and when she fought, she fought to win.
Grateful she was coming with us, I gave her a hug. “Thank you. We can use all the help we can get.”
“I have another advantage. My shriek can momentarily disrupt the wights and make them visible on the physical plane—not for long, but long enough to get an idea of where they are. So, are we ready?”
Kipa’s face crinkled into a smile. “Good to have you aboard, Phasmoria.”
She glanced from him to me, then back to him. “If my daughter needs me, I’ll always do my best to help her out. Let’s go. You drive, Wolf.”
I knelt to hug Raj good-bye. “Raven will be home after a while. She needs to take care of a bad man. Raj will behave while she’s gone and listen to Curikan?”
Raj nodded. “Raven be careful. Raj needs Raven.”
“Raven promises she’ll be as careful as she can. Raven will always do her best to come home to Raj.”
After kissing him on the forehead, I turned to Curikan, who held out his arms. I hugged him tight, whispering, “Watch over Raj for me while I’m gone.”
“Always, my daughter. Always.”
I tossed Kipa my keys and we headed out to the car. As we pulled out of the driveway, it occurred to me that we really were an odd little family.
The drive to the farm was quiet. My mother, who could be the loudest woman on the planet, stared out of the window, silent. I tried to focus on the order of events, but my thoughts kept returning to Elzabeth and how much I wanted to see her brought to justice. Kipa kept his eyes on the road, breathing softly.
We arrived at the farm at six-thirty, to find Herne and Ember already there. Viktor was with them. As we piled out of the car, Kipa stepped to the side and let out a loud whistle to summon his guards. I was never sure how he managed to specify how many he was summoning, but the sounds of his whistles were often different, and I realized he was communicating through them.
Phasmoria and I headed over to where Herne, Ember, and Viktor were standing. Both Herne and Viktor were geared up in leather jackets, jeans, and shit-stomping boots. Ember hugged me, and they all nodded to my mother.
“Well, let’s hope we can put this mess to rest tonight,” Herne said. “Phasmoria, I’m grateful you’re joining us.”
“If I can possibly manage it, I’ll always be here to help protect my daughter. Given what she’s told me about this case, it sounds like a certain earth witch needs her ass kicked.”
“About Elzabeth,” Herne said. “I put in a call to some friends back east and they’re checking into what they can do about her. I also contacted the magic guild she’s associated with and dumped the whole case on them. They don’t take to their members practicing sacrificial magic or harming others unless it’s in self-defense, and they told me they’ll be taking care of matters. They have ways of worming the truth out of their members.” He paused as Kipa came running with a massive number of guards. At least one hundred men stood behind the Wolf Lord.
“Where are the crystals? My men will begin seeding the land,” Kipa said.
Herne motioned to several massive buckets by his SUV. “There. They can be spread up to five yards apart and still work. They’re small but my mother charged them so they’ll be more than adequate.”
Kipa turned and spoke to his men in Finnish. A moment later, they swarmed around him, heading over to the buckets of crystals. Herne hurried over and spoke to them, pointing to various buckets and waving in different directions. After a few moments, Kipa’s guards swept them up, spreading out in pairs. They vanished in all directions, running so fast they were blurs in the approaching dusk.
I turned to Herne as he returned. “So we wait, where?”
“In the fairground area. That’s the clearest patch of land. I suggest we lay a circle of kindling. That way, Kipa’s men can drive them inside of it, and we can light a fire around them to keep them contained.”
“That makes sense. They won’t be able to make a run for it that way.” We spread out, gathering up spare twigs and branches. Kipa jogged over to one of the sheds and brought back a massive armful of kindling and we arranged the circle, making certain it was large enough to contain a number of wights.
“Should we pour lighter fluid on it?” Viktor asked.
Herne frowned, then nodded. “I suppose we might as well. Viktor, can you find some?”
“Wait—there’s no need. I can easily torch the debris,” I said. “A simple fire spell will do the trick.”
I set out my skull on a nearby table from one of the empty vendors’ booths, then added the candle and lit it. I set out the War Water, the Blessed Water, then unpacked my wand.
The wand was made of yew, adorned with carnelian, citrine, sapphire, and amber. At the top, an inch-wide amethyst sphere was wired into a bronze setting. Copper wire encircled the wand from directly below the amethyst down to the bottom, where the wire was covered by a strip of bear fur.
My mother had gotten the wand from Baba Yaga, but it was actually made by Straha, the Fire Witch of the Black Forest. A powerful wand with a dubious history, it carried the powers of fire and lightning, and could onl
y be used once before needing to be charged again. I had leveled a building with it, and I could probably decimate all the wights on the land with one good bolt.
“When they’re trapped, let me go first with my wand. It should save us a lot of trouble,” I said. “So, how do we set off the crystals?”
Herne held up a large quartz spike that was riddled with fractures and prisms. “I sent the men out in specific directions. This crystal is enchanted to be the Mother. Morgana taught me the incantation to activate it. When I incant the spell, this crystal will set off all the others and they’ll begin to send out their subsonic charge. That will drive the wights inward.”
“What if any decide to head off the land?” Ember asked.
“They won’t—the crystals on the outskirts will be reverberating the deepest, so the wights will attempt to avoid those by racing inward. The reverberations will lessen the farther toward the center that the wights travel, but the sound will still be strong enough to drive them toward us. My mother labeled the buckets as to which go on the outskirts and which are to be placed between the borders of the land and where we’re standing. So now, we just wait.” He glanced around, taking a deep breath. “This is a beautiful farm. I’m sorry it’s had such a sullied history.”
“I am too,” I murmured. “Rain and Marigold deserve better. Hopefully, after this the only challenges they’ll face will be the weather.”
Ember glanced around. “I always dreamed of having a little farm. Maybe not this big, but a couple of acres. But I don’t think I’d make a good farmer’s wife.”
Herne laughed. “Love, I’m a hunter, not a farmer. You’ll never wear gingham in my kitchen—unless you want to, of course. After this, I do think that Rain and Marigold should set up an altar to Demeter, or maybe Cerridwen. The mother goddesses are very maternal about their followers and watch over them closely.”
“Cerridwen certainly does,” I said. “I’m pledged to her because of her Cauldron of Rebirth, but she’s definitely an agricultural goddess. I’ll mention the thought to Rain, once this is over. But another question—how will we know if we’ve captured the right wight?”
“Doofus,” Kipa said, grinning at me. “Marigold will snap out of her fugue.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said, laughing. I marched behind one of the booths and brought out a chair to sit on. Ember followed suit, sitting beside me.
“I hear your father’s visiting,” she said. “How’s that going?”
“I have a lot to tell you and Angel, but we should wait till later. Oh, but get this,” I said. “I have a half-brother I never knew about.”
“That’s huge. How did you find out?”
“My father told me. But I can’t meet him, not right now. He’s ten years old.”
Ember blinked. “That’s a little younger than DJ—Angel’s little brother. Is he…what’s his name?”
“Conner,” I said. “He’s Ante-Fae, of course, but he has a mutated gene that puts him at risk of my father’s nature. So they can’t ever meet. It’s complicated. I—” I paused as Kipa’s men came pouring back into the clearing. “I guess we’re about to rumble.”
“Stay back and stay safe.” Ember glanced at me. “Well, after you use the wand. That thing’s as good as a bomb.”
“I know,” I said softly, clutching the wand. I turned to Herne, who—with Kipa—was speaking to the SuVahta.
“All right, we’re ready to rock,” Kipa said. “Spread out, and then Herne will give the signal.”
“Everybody, stay back—stand against the booths, out of the paths to the center. We want to give the wights room to come running in. Phasmoria, can you see them?” Herne asked.
Phasmoria nodded. “I’m a Bean Sidhe, so I can see creatures from the Between. I’ll let you know when it’s time to torch the kindling, Raven, so get a spell prepped.”
I sat down the wand. I didn’t want to use it prematurely. As I gathered my energy, focusing on raising the fire, Herne held up the mother crystal and began to speak in a loud, even cadence.
Shard to shard, thread to thread,
Crystals join and build a web.
Sing aloud into the night,
As you sing, so drive the wights.
There was a moment of silence and then, very slowly, the crystal in Herne’s hand began to vibrate as a low resonance filled the air. It was so low I couldn’t really hear it, but the rhythm jarred my teeth and bones, vibrating through my body with a deep, throbbing pulse. Disconcerted, I scrambled to regain my focus on my spell.
Then, from the very edges of the land, the earth beneath our feet began to pulse and vibrate, as though some mammoth creature belowground began to breathe, churning out of a deep slumber to thrash itself awake. I steadied myself and noticed the others doing the same.
The pulsating beat ringed us round from all directions, like concentric rings on a pond, only instead of rippling out, they were rippling in, bringing the tide to us.
At first, nothing seemed to be moving, but a few moments later, Phasmoria pointed toward the edge of the clearing. “They’re coming,” she said. “I see three of them.”
And true enough, I began to see the air rippling around us. I could feel the wights moving in. As they moved, I could almost hear them grunting and groaning, racing to get away from the sound of the crystals. Another few moments and my mother turned to me and nodded.
“Torch it.”
I closed my eyes and held out my hands, focusing on the ring of kindling.
Fire to flame, flame to fire,
build and burn, higher and higher.
Flare to life, take form and strike,
attack now, fiery spike.
The kindling caught hold of the spike of fire that shot out of my fingers and began to blaze, quickly enclosing the seemingly empty circle inside. There was a churning inside, and while the wights were invisible to the eye, the air waved and rippled with the movement of the wights.
Phasmoria waited until the ring was blazing, then yelled, “Cover your ears!”
We obeyed.
My mother dropped her head back and let out a shriek so loud that it made my teeth hurt. Ember and Viktor, and Kipa’s men all dropped to the ground, covering their ears. Only Herne, Kipa, and I managed to stand against her shriek.
As the sound died away, I gasped. I could see the wights inside the circle. They were hunched over, disfigured and twisted into terrifying shapes. Whether they had all been human, it was impossible to tell, but one in particular turned my way and, through the crackling flames, he caught my eye. I could tell he was male, and he stopped snorting and chuffing, standing as tall as he could with his distorted frame.
“Jericho,” I whispered. Somehow, I knew that he was Aida’s father. He dropped his arms to his side, giving me a pleading look, as though some part of him recognized that we were here to offer him release. It lasted for only a few seconds before he let out a shout and reverted to his feral form, looking for a break in the fire line.
“Hurry,” Phasmoria said, “before the fire burns out!”
I grabbed hold of my wand and motioned for everybody to move back. I pointed it toward the wights. I still wasn’t used to destroying others, but I caught my breath and closed my eyes, aiming the wand straight toward Jericho.
Fire, fire, burning higher,
Hear my will, obey me still.
There was a deep rumble as a bolt shot forth from the wand, a fireball so bright that it was almost blinding. I shielded my eyes as the bolt of neon fire hit the ground, engulfing Jericho and expanding to fill the circle of flame that was keeping the wights intact. There was a series of screeches, loud and pitiful, and then—suddenly, only the sound of flames burning.
I lowered the wand, unsure whether I actually liked being in possession of so much power. In theory, power was great. When you actually had it in hand, it was daunting.
The flames began to die down, burning out quickly, and Phasmoria hurried forward.
“Cover your e
ars!”
We all did and she shrieked again. By now, I had a raging headache from the energy of the wand and the frequency of my mother’s shrieks and the crystals’ continual thumping in the background. I winced, moving to sit down again before I fell.
A glance toward the circle showed several wights left. We could see them again, thanks to my mother. Herne, Kipa, and Ember raced in. They faced off, dancing away from the wights’ attacks as they parried with their swords. But the wights were injured, and it didn’t take more than a few swings of their blades to finish them off.
I stared at my wand. “I don’t know about this,” I said softly, glancing over at my mother.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“This wand is incredible, but if it ever got stolen…I don’t know, it’s just dangerous.”
“That’s the point,” Phasmoria said. “You now have a weapon that will serve you against almost any enemy. Even Pandora,” she added. “It won’t kill her, but it could do a hell of a lot of damage to her.”
“But only if it’s charged and I happen to have it with me. I’m sure as hell not taking this everywhere I go.” I glanced over to see the others examining the remains of the wights, which had become visible upon their death. “Do you really think it’s wise for me to keep it?”
Phasmoria shrugged. “I can’t answer that. I think you should keep it, but if it makes you that uncomfortable, I’ll take it back.” She knelt by my chair. “Raven, you have to accept responsibility at some point. You’re one of the Ante-Fae and you live in dangerous times. You may have a god for a boyfriend, but he can’t be there all the time. And your dagger—Venom’s a sweet little blade, but face it, she’s not going to save your life most of the time.”
I thought for a moment. Phasmoria was right. As much as the power of the wand made me nervous, I didn’t have any other weapon that could come close to it. My handpan and I made strong magic together, but I couldn’t very well carry it into battle. I wasn’t capable of fighting with a sword—not that well, at least. And daggers only went so far.
Witching Time Page 20
