Black Curses Brewing, page 22
Chapter 24
Refreshed and hydrated, Aspen rejoined Sage in her office the next morning. Clouds blotted the sun, dimming the eastern-facing office. They ate breakfast alone, absorbed the reports from everyone on the research ladder. Nothing spectacular came to light. After two hours of mindless brainstorming, they took a break and chilled. Aspen boiled fresh lavender in the copper bowl, using little magic to stir the water, not wanting to deplete her reserves. Soon lavender infused the room and galvanized the million thoughts roiling in her head.
The door opened and slammed against the wall, hitting the dent in the drywall that’d met too many doorknobs. Rafael marched into the office, Lucky on his tail.
“I can’t leave the covenstead,” Lucky announced, his fists curled at his side, one clinging to the frayed spot on his hem.
The sight of him, haggard, but showered, and wearing clean clothes, hit Aspen’s buttons of desire. She needed the night without him, but she’d missed him, his enticing body, their connection filling her hollows.
“Rafael, let him go home,” Sage capitulated. “We know where he lives. I’ll put a tracking spell on him.”
“No. That’s not the problem.” Rafael approached and took Sage’s hand in his. Aspen ducked her head to avoid the moment of true love she’d wished to experience just once in her lifetime. “He can’t physically leave. He’s hitting the same wall Aspen hit.”
“Oh, mother of the goddess.” Sage groaned. “So much for this impending storm granting leniencies in this freak-ass garden of mysteries.”
“Tell me about it.” Lucky stood behind Aspen, not too close, but not far enough away that she couldn’t feel the heat of his body. A body she wanted tangled around hers. Damn him to the River Goddess!
The day took another spin on the wheel of life or death as Brianne and Marina barreled into the room, excitement crawling over their wide eyes.
“I found something. In the basement,” Marina said in a rush.
“Why were you in the basement?” Sage slapped her palm on her desk. “The air is toxic.”
“Fans and purifiers are at full bore.” Marina dangled a medical mask. “Post-mortem reconnaissance, sensing lingering earth magic. Trying to determine if anything’s connected to or attacking the ley lines.” Marina was the strongest earth witch in the history of the Wilde coven. The lines strengthened their natural security, and no other witch had ever been able to work the lines like Marina. As long as no one breached their wards by black curses, that is. Small green leaves drifted off her hands. “Whoops. Bet you’ve seen all the leaves you want inside the house to last a lifetime.” Marina shuffled the leaves under a side table. Her cousin was the only earth witch Aspen knew who dripped plant life whenever her emotions tripped off the rails. Too much earth magic inside her to contain.
Lucky ogled her as if the leaves sprouted from her head. A pregnant pause quieted the room until he said in a huff, “Spill it, will ya.”
“Yes, master.” Marina bowed to him, flipping him the bird at the same time.
He held up a hand. “Look, I want off this mad merry-go-round. Is that too much to ask?”
“Maybe you should leave the room,” Aspen spat out, not bothering to hide her renewed frustration.
“Knock it off. Lucky has a right to know.” Sage stepped in front of Marina, swishing away a few leaves drifting in the air. “Good news I hope.”
“Depends on your idea of good and bad,” Brianne dropped her snarky crumb into the conversation.
Marina swiped on her phone, showed the screen to Sage. Aspen crowded in to see. “A healthy, green vine. Alive and well. It’s growing by the minute.”
A vine encased in heart-shaped, three-lobed, pointy leaves snaked along the charred wall between the two rooms where they’d housed Pierre and Lucky. Aspen shifted Marina’s hand for Lucky to see the video.
“How?” Lucky raked his hand through his damp hair, the clean rain scent of his shampoo drifting to Aspen, softening her toward him again.
“Obviously, not everything died in the basement.” Marina stuck her phone in her pocket. “It’s new, tender, and bright green. Came through the baseboards. Sage, can you invoke a tracking spell? Without energy from other plants interfering with the one vine, it’ll work this time.”
“You can do that?” Lucky gripped the top of his head. “Why didn’t you do it before?”
“We tried. Got too crowded too fast. We lost track of the source vine.” Aspen forced a calm to her voice to answer his questions. He created far too much whipsawing in her head.
“But there were streams of mud where they stemmed from.”
“Sure, Lucky. You’re the master spell-caster. You tell us how to put a tracking spell on a shit-ton of vines that sprang from nowhere.” Aspen understood his need for answers, but he was acting like a petulant child, at least in her book. She thought he was catching on to the world of witches, but his enlightenment needed enlightenment, and fast. At the moment, dealing with his lack of trust took too many brain cells she needed for other matters. Again with the whipsaw. What is wrong with me?
“What’s gotten into you two lovebirds?” Brianne asked.
“Shut it,” Aspen and Lucky said in sync. She almost high-fived him but stuffed her hands in her pants pockets.
“Enough!” Sage bellowed. “I’m going to the basement. Witches only.”
“Like hell,” Rafael said. “Your magic’s not at peak power after yesterday.”
“You heard me. I have plenty of magic to wield. Besides, I’m calling for a full thirteen.” Sage strode to the door, her thumb sliding rapid fire on her phone. “Talk to Lucky. He needs mentoring, training.”
“He needs a warlock brain,” Aspen muttered under her breath.
“Sage. That’s every witch on the compound,” Rafael called before she exited. “You know this means the earth magic didn’t stem from Pierre. The goon’s dead.”
“Correct.” Her gaze landed on Lucky, slid up and down his length, then met Rafael’s incredulous gaze. “Didn’t stem from Lucky either.”
“Bullshit.” Rafael tramped over to her.
“Trust me. Lucky’s a conduit, nothing more. Like Aspen. Like Pierre.” She hit the hallway. Aspen and her cousins trailed behind her.
Rafael’s and Lucky’s solid footsteps followed, soon joined by other nearby witches and warlocks.
A box of leftover medical masks sat on the credenza near the door to the stairway. The heat of the fire had decimated the lock on the door. No security necessary. Aspen handed out the masks.
Brianne took one. “COVID, anyone?”
Sage opened the door, the whirl of fans blowing below them. “Rafael, guard the doors, okay?”
Eden scurried down the hallway. “You rang?”
“Doing a tracking spell to expose this black curse once and for all,” Aspen said.
“Wait a minute.” Rafael exploded again. “If you’re here, who’s on Andre’s guard detail?”
“Ethan and Evan. Willow’s joining us. She’s rounding up the outside witches.”
“Did you get anything out of his head?” Aspen asked.
“Not much. His mind’s a jumble most times. It’s like he knows I’m reading him but can’t figure me out. I get a glean or two, then bam, he shuts the gate. Maybe Ethan will have better luck.” The only other psychic witch or warlock they knew. Sage was hoping Ethan and Eden would fall in love and ride off into the sunset toward the Ravenwood estate up the road. Eden had been alone too long after getting the shaft from her ex-husband, and she needed a warlock.
Willow and the other witches joined them in the hallway. It was rare they invoked the full thirteen for a spell. It represented a boatload of magic, and they didn’t want everyone to deplete their magic and leave them vulnerable. Marjorie stayed behind with Leah in the infirmary. They needed an intact healer, if things tipped sideways.
Intact steel walls appeared behind the scorched drywall in spots, and soot blemished the ceiling. They’d swept up most of the plant debris, allowing access to the slightly blackened pentagram in a circle. Aspen set the pillar candles, signifying north, east, south, and west, corresponding to air, water, earth, and fire on the designated compass points. Brianne and Marina sprinkled salt to disburse negativity in the room and to consecrate the circle.
The twelve witches joined hands around the pentacle, each holding a pouch of pre-prepared herbs. The basement already smelled of scorched everything green under the sun, but the prepared herbal mixture would cleanse and soothe the senses and drive out the negativity and evil in the room. And grant the ability to see beyond the seen.
“Ready?” Sage stood in the center, holding another candle representing aether, her natural element fusing all the other elements. The twelve other witches nodded, and she began her spell-casting.
With magic’s unseen thread,
Reveal the source where mysteries spread.
By strong currents of earth and space,
Guide me true to the magic’s birthplace.
Track the path where it originated,
Follow the clues, subtle and designated.
Let the currents of magic’s birth,
Guide me now, across the earth.
So shall it be, this spell’s decree,
As I will, so mote it be.
As soon as Sage lit her candle, the witches sprinkled the herbs to grant enlightenment into bowls of boiling water in the pentacle. Infused steam billowed up to Sage’s face and she breathed in and out several times.
“Say it with me now,” she said.
“Guide me now, across the earth, so shall it be, this spell’s decree. As I will, so mote it be.” The witches all said the lines in unison. Eden lit the candles from north to west, the flames flickering high.
Sage blew out her candle and shut her eyes. She tipped her head back to open her senses and her mind to the goddess’s guidance. Her eyeballs moved beneath her eyelids. The candle fell from her hand and rolled against a bowl of bubbling herbs.
Sparks erupted off Sage. Aspen and Brianne sprinkled water before they ignited another inferno. Wind howled, blowing their hair every which way. Gwyneira, Sage’s owl familiar, materialized from beneath the neckline of her sweater and vaulted into the air, opaque threads in its beak. It plunked one thread onto the vine quivering against the baseboard, growing from under the woodwork.
Other than the howling wind, the room remained silent, the witches waiting for the images to filter into Sage’s mind. Squeezing her eyes shut, Aspen concentrated. She’d never excelled at tracking spells. Sage was the best, so they left most tracking spells to her. Aspen recited the spell Sage used, memorized long ago for the right moment.
“So mote it be,” she murmured, filling her senses with the infused steam. A jolt jerked through her, knocking her against Brianne. Her cousin tightened her fingers and squeezed hard. Rio squawked and landed on her shoulder, then joined Gwyneira in trailing braided threads of magic above their heads. Aspen let her mind’s eye prevail.
The vine along the baseboard crept behind the woodwork. It slipped into the walls and danced between the floors like it owned the place. Morning glory flowers sprouted in the darkest reaches where the sun never shone. The flowers invited Aspen to touch each one, to give them attention. They exalted her, beguiling her along their path.
Rio’s magic stirred the air, cleansed the negativity from encroaching on Aspen’s mind. The braided threads unraveled one at a time. When they’d separated and drifted apart, the far end of the vine, its origins, revealed itself in Aspen’s mind.
Aspen yelped and snapped open her eyes to meet Sage’s wide eyes, teeming with the same terror. Dropping the hands holding hers, Aspen sank to her knees, soft keening sobs drowning the voices rising in the room. Sage and Willow rushed to her, embracing and massaging her back. The tattoo tingled on her skin, and she shrugged the hands off her, wanting to crawl out of her own skin, like a snake making way for its rebirth.
“What did you see?” Willow asked.
“Aspen?” Sage said. “What did you see?”
“It’s been him all along.” Nausea bloomed hard and fast, and she did everything she could to temper it.
“Who? Who?” Brianne demanded. “I’ll kill the motherfucker.”
“You saw the vine in the atrium?” Sage asked. Eyes glazing over, Aspen nodded.
“Andre. It’s Andre Charlemagne,” Jessica uttered in disbelief.
Cries and gasps permeated the witch circle. The warlocks waiting upstairs streamed down into the basement.
“How can that be?” Willow towered over Aspen, smoothing her flyaway hair. “His room and the atrium are magic dead zones. He’s triple-warded.”
“And two to three witches guard him twenty-four seven. There’s been no change in the wards, not even a blip.” Rafael joined Sage, touched her wrist before dipping his hand to Aspen to help her stand. He hugged her, his fatherly hug. Aspen wished her own father was present to chase away the boogeyman and hold her in his protective arms.
Lucky stood helpless at the bottom of the stairs. As usual, his fists furled and unfurled. She should want him gone, but darn if she’d rather his arms held her than Rafael’s or even her father’s. Rafael soothed the itch of the tattoo on her back. A tattoo born from the vilest black warlock on the planet. Maybe even the evilest man on earth. A permanent stain bonding her to him forever.
A long roll of thunder rumbled to the west, and an ominous crack of lightning followed. A twisted portent of doom.
Chapter 25
The coven council and their bonded warlocks met in the forest meeting room. Situated at the back of the first floor, the warded room was used for meeting outside witches. Connected to a strong ley line, the wards were so discreet, most witches couldn’t discern them until they tried to raise magic. Downside, it also prevented the Wildes from using magic.
The council included Aspen, her sisters, aunt, cousins, and Rafael as First Warlock. Rafael made Lucky wait in the great room where lunch awaited him. Matthew and two witches ate with him, on guard duty, while Ricky guarded Marjorie and Leah in the infirmary. Leah still hadn’t awakened, and he was spitting mad. Although Ethan wanted to join the meeting, Sage believed it best he remained with the witches guarding Andre. Everyone teetered on the edge and waited for instructions.
Another rolling rumble of thunder shook the house. Lightning reflected off the windows, slashes of light resembling light sabers, laying glowing stripes across the floor.
“Lucky wants to meet Andre,” Aspen said. “Do you think he’d sneak off to the east wing?”
“Ethan has orders to incapacitate him if he so much as raises a finger,” Rafael replied.
Sage held up a hand, then gnawed on a chipped fingernail. A sign of her agitation. “We need to decide what to do about Andre if he is the source of the black curse.”
“If?” Aspen knocked her knuckles on the glass table. “It all makes sense. I’ve felt it from the jump but couldn’t wrap my head around it. He cloaked his magic, and the cloak changes to divert us. The black curse I read in Mom’s notes proved all he needed to create the curse was a blood bond, forged by proximity to a blood relative, aka Pierre.”
“But he’s warded? How did he manage it?”
“I’m gonna find out. Time for talking, researching, and speculation are over.” Rio cooed at her in agreement. She ruffled his feathers, and his wings rose and dipped on her arm until the gull disappeared under her sleeve.
Aspen tuned out the witches and warlocks tailgating her down the hall to the east wing, which housed Andre and no one else. No one attempted to stop her.
“Wait by the outer door to his suite. We need to put you in a protective shield.” Sage came abreast of Aspen. “How’s your hydration?”
“I’m fine. Magic will stink, but I’m standing and moving.” The ward on the steel door pressed against her aura, and the physical locks deterred her. “I want to see the vine in the atrium first, then we’ll confront him.”
“Agreed. I want to see it too, ensure what we visualized is real,” Sage said.
Their three cousins entwined their magic to shield Aspen in a protective cocoon which also prevented her from using magic, as well as any other witch or warlock against her.
Rafael engaged the locks on the door, each snick and thunk forming icicles on Aspen’s spine. What answers promised to start another never-ending horror show? Would they reconcile her jagged emotions regarding Lucky and her feelings for him? Andre had a lot of explaining to do.
The group approached the two witch guards and Ethan sitting in the anteroom to Andre’s suite. The chairs faced the atrium, a beautiful tranquil oasis they’d sacrificed for Andre’s personal “outdoor” space. After all, they weren’t ogres, even if they were jailors. Eden sat next to Ethan, across from Andre’s door with a view through the bulletproof sidelight window into his domain. Andre wasn’t the sole fascination for Eden’s attention by her sly glimpses at Ethan.
Sage recited a spell to kill the wards on the atrium. While most atriums were a centralized focus place, joining parts of a building together, their father had built their atrium as an escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life in the Wilde coven.
The atrium spanned two levels, inviting the surrounding natural light to dance upon its surfaces. The storm diminished the natural light, and someone flipped on the hidden lights that mimicked daylight. Aspen entered the indoor garden, gazing upon the beauty she’d missed these last few months. Lack of access to the space would hurt their coven if Andre remained on the covenstead during the colder months of the year. The tempered, bulletproof glass walls seamlessly brought the outdoors inside, which helped earth witches in the winter. Lush greenery in various hues of greens and burgundy arranged in planters, graced the corners, softened the edges and accented the sleek marble floors. Aspen had moved her herb garden out to keep Andre’s paws off her most precious recipe ingredients.
