Black Curses Brewing, page 23
A small, tranquil pool rippled and babbled, a soothing ambiance mingling with the distant hum of activity from the building beyond. The water’s reflection captured the play of light from the surrounding glass, casting shimmering patterns on the walls. Aspen would rather melt into the pool than tramp through a planter.
“I hated turning this space into Andre’s playground,” she said.
“Me too.” Sage took Aspen’s hand and motioned for the others to give her space. The pair moved to a slant of sparkling light near the wall separating the space from Andre’s suite.
On silent command, they slid a rattan loveseat away from a two-foot-high planter wall. Lush plants crammed the planter, watered by an automatic drip system.
Creepy crawlies skittered across her back, outlining her endless tattoo. “I’m afraid to touch it.”
“I’ll do it.”
“No. I need to know what it’ll do to me through my protective ward.” Aspen gnawed on her bottom lip, stilled to stop her heart from racing. She stepped onto the travertine planter top and into the mulch. “Do you think I’ll be okay?”
“I’ll raze the atrium to the ground before I let it hurt you.”
“With Andre too?” She almost laughed at her willingness to kill, when she wouldn’t have hurt an ant days ago.
“Yes. He’s not long for our world, anyway.”
Aspen’s legs gelled. “What do you mean?”
“It’s clear we can’t keep him here much longer.”
“Doesn’t mean you plan to kill him. You still want to dig info out of his head, right?”
“I don’t know what I mean.” She squeezed Aspen’s hand. “The vine’s wrapped around the bottom of the ficus behind the fern, and it’s rooted—”
Aspen cut off her sister. “The root’s buried in the English ivy. It’s vivid in my mind.”
Rio remained silent and static on her upper arm. Her familiar had no ability to rise to life inside the protective ward, but Aspen muttered sweet nothings to him and Rico, anyway. More to calm herself and to normalize this strange task.
The drip system sputtered on in the planters across the room, and she mis-stepped, knocking over a foot-tall fairy statute. It plopped facedown in the planter, and Aspen fought the urge to pick it up, desperate to do a normal task.
Instead, she ignored it and waded through the ferns, spied the vine curling up the ficus trunk. She shifted fern fronds aside and tracked the vine into the English ivy, where it had hidden these last few days or even longer. “Found it.” Without touching the vine, she tracked it to where another tentacle grew into the ground along the perimeter of the wall and disappeared, most likely to the basement beneath them. Aspen photographed all angles of the vine. She stood to her full height, contemplating her next action.
“What are you thinking?” Concern crackled Sage’s voice, her words snapping in the air like the dried leaves. “We have our proof. Let’s confront Andre.”
“Not enough. I need to know what the vine will do.” Before Sage could stop her, she found the root ball and pulled the vine free from the soil. The roots dangled, twisted, and threaded around each other. The vine around the ficus unwound by itself and approached her feet. It seemed to hiss at her, an almost silent sound. The roots latched on to her hand and wrist, and began extracting her witch-water, drip by drop. A slow, surprising attack since she was in the protective ward. The plant didn’t have access to all her witch-water. Which meant, she needed to remain in a protective bubble until she rid herself of the clinger. The tattoo on her back roiled in all different directions. A tentacle of the vine tattoo slipped down her arm and joined the roots clinging to her. The drops of blood the vine had stolen from her days ago created a kinship between Aspen and the vine roots. Her blood tied her to Andre’s magic.
“I’m ready now.” She fought the urge to pass out, the dizzying sensation causing an unsteadiness. “Help me out of here.”
“Why, Aspen?” Sage asked as Aspen stumbled out of the planter and fell against her sister.
“This is the mother root. Maybe it’ll kill the vine on my back.”
“Or kill you and Lucky.”
“No. It’s not meant to kill us.”
“Well, hold on to that sentiment. You’re gonna need it.” Sage stared at the real vine intertwined with the tattoo vine. “The magic is potent if it can bypass a protection spell.”
Aspen gave a gentle tug on the section of vine that’d breached the basement, an offshoot of the mother vine on her hand. It detached from the soil and the walls with ease. She brushed off the residual dirt and walked toward the door, the vine trailing behind Aspen like a slim, squiggly shadow. “’Cause it’s a black curse. Not all white magic works on a black curse.” The roots holding on to her prickled. They didn’t hurt, and she prayed it remained so.
No one else said a word. No one came near Aspen, and she walked alone carrying her dark, twisted magic to the atrium door.
Thunder vibrated the house. Lightning splintered and scattered across the sky over the covenstead, lighting the darkening daylight. The air buzzed with an invisible current, and the ground pulled lightning toward earth, shimmering electricity above the ground. Power winked out, and the room dimmed.
“What the hell?” Rafael scanned the grounds beyond the atrium walls. The world outside dimmed under the veil of charcoal clouds.
Electricity sparkled and lit up Aspen and Lucky. Everyone backed away from them.
A handful of leaves blew off Marina’s fingers. “The lightning’s affecting the ley lines.” A text dinged Marina’s phone. “Our perimeter security’s dead.”
Sage wrapped her arms around herself. “Lightning doesn’t interfere with our magic.”
“Lightning can interfere with ley lines. Rare, but it happens. It’s more, though,” Marina said. “Magic drew the lightning upon us.”
The electricity around Aspen and Lucky dissipated, but not the suspicions.
Again? Next-level crazy. “I didn’t draw lightning from the sky. I wield water magic, nothing more, people. Carry on.” Her visit to the creek seemed like days ago. She scratched her arms until flakes of skin sifted off her.
“Not me either.” Lucky waggled his arms to rid them of the electricity dripping off him.
Silence hung in the air until Rafael’s phone chimed, followed swiftly by Sage’s phone ringing.
“All protective wards are dead on the entire grounds.” Rafael read from his phone. He looked to Sage as she finished her call, her skin ghostly white, and she nodded.
A commotion rose in the anteroom outside the atrium doors. Shouts and scuffles ensued. Magic sizzled in the air, as if the lightning had carved holes through the house walls.
Chapter 26
Two witches lay knocked out cold on the floor in the waiting room. The door to Andre’s room swung wide open. No one needed to tell Aspen he’d escaped. Every instinct in her warned her to give chase, but every cell in her healer’s body begged her to help the witches. Rafael ran into Andre’s room to search, and Aspen rushed to the two witches.
“He’s bound their magic,” Aspen said to Sage. “I think they’re okay, though.”
Willow and Brianne raced into the room. “Andre’s taken Eden hostage,” Willow said in a rush. “Evan and Ethan are chasing after him. Oh… he has full use of his magic.”
Questions bombarded the room, and Rafael blocked the doorway, pushing them back into the anteroom to form a plan.
“Hold tight. I’m getting answers from security.” Rafael scanned his texts and the electronic security system. “The lightning or magic knocked out electricity, batteries, satellites, even our wards.”
Aspen sucked in her stomach. “We still have his familiars, right?”
“Yes. They’re bound in their warded container,” Sage replied. “Unless…”
Brianne shot from the room to check on the triple-warded containers holding his panther familiars.
“He’s not at full power if he doesn’t possess his familiars.” A smidgen of relief trailed the frost zigzagging Aspen’s backside.
“The magic came from him,” Lucky mused aloud, sidling closer to Aspen. She wanted him close. Needed him close. Needed to know he was as much a victim as the rest of them and not the instigator of their epic disaster.
Sage headed toward the door, her long-legged strides devouring the distance. Aspen followed, and the room cleared. Witches and warlocks crowded in the great room. Jessica and Ben lit candles and old-fashioned oil lanterns to chase the shadows from the dim corners.
Panting, Brianne jogged into the room. “His familiars are secure. Marina’s guarding the gate, and security spied Andre on the creek path.”
A long roll of thunder deafened, shaking the house. Lightning lit up the room from every window, a widespread arc of electricity encompassing the entire covenstead.
The jolt hit Aspen, and she shuddered, knocking against Lucky, another conduit of electricity. Her hair floated off her shoulders, and she jumped away from him before the electricity fried her magic, if that was next on evil’s agenda. The vines on her wrist and the roots wrapped around her hand lashed her skin, stinging and poking her, trying to root themselves in her muscles and bones.
“Back off,” she hissed at Lucky. Everything in her core warned her about him, warned her that hooking up with him for the long term may be more problematic than his status as a black warlock. Why? Where did he fit in this mess? How had her intuition led her astray from her moments of desire and connection to him? A connection they still shared, tethered to her core of magic. “Gah,” she railed, as her mind swung from one extreme to another.
Eyes softening, he held up his hands in capitulation and stepped away, the crowd opening a path for him. Electricity glowed off him, and he illuminated the room more than the candles and lanterns did.
Sage clapped her hands to gain attention. “Is there anyone who doesn’t have full access to their magic?”
No one suffered from loss of magic, except Aspen’s draining witch-water.
As if the storm syphoned her dry, she listed to the right and her knees buckled, depositing her on the floor. Lucky lunged for her, but a trio of warlocks barred him. Rafael picked her up and plopped her on the couch. She attempted to swirl water in a glass sitting on the end table, the simplest magic task for a water witch. Drier than a desert in a drought.
“No magic. The electricity has dried me out.” She took a few sips of the water Willow handed her as she slumped against the couch.
“It’s his attempt to draw her to the creek,” Lucky chimed in.
Mystical hackles rose on Aspen’s neck. “I need to hydrate.”
“Is that true?” Sage stroked Aspen’s hair. “Do you feel a pull to the creek?”
“I only feel aridness.”
Lucky moved closer, and no one stopped him. The electricity he emitted tempered and didn’t react again to Aspen. He held no allegiance to Andre, and Aspen knew it in her gut. Knew he had no intent to harm her. “I feel a pull. The magic plaguing us stems from the creek,” he said.
“From Andre? That’s insane.” Aspen smoothed her hand over the roots around her wrist, and they softened at her touch.
“A foreign magic has linked to Lucky’s aura. It’s causing the electricity between you two.” Sage closed her eyes to feel her innate magic.
“Andre?” Lucky’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
“His magic’s been useless, warded.” Sage’s wide-eyed gaze pleaded with Rafael. “No glitches, no magic detection on him all this time, right? It’s impossible.”
“We’ve detected no magic from Andre since we recaptured him during the Helwig siege,” Rafael confirmed.
Lucky strayed to the door. Everyone widened their berth around him. Again. “I need to meet the man who destroyed my mother.”
Aspen now knew for certainty that Lucky had an ulterior motive for gaining access to the covenstead. She’d guessed it before when he’d exposed his mother’s connection to Andre but she’d buried the probability, unable to confront it head-on. Was everything between them a lie? Was she a means to an end? Had he manipulated her like he accused her of using the River Goddess to manipulate him?
Rafael grabbed at Lucky, but Aspen’s words stopped him from making contact. “We need to rescue Eden. Lucky may be our bargaining chip. Andre wanted him here, clear as day.” Her words punched her heart one by one.
It’s what Lucky wanted, but it might be his death sentence. It might be a bigger death sentence to more witches and warlocks if they didn’t contain Andre. How did they ever think they’d manage this vile being for long? Sage was right. They’d tried to bind his magic, but their spells didn’t last long and it was a continuous cycle. Now this!
“We need a plan. We can’t charge in and expect to all live,” Sage said. “Lucky. Stop right there.” Even though she didn’t rule Lucky, her magic-infused tone froze him in his tracks.
Thunder growled, and a slice of lightning outlined Lucky and Aspen. The strike didn’t hurt but twisted her arid core. Rain slashed the windows, buffeted by the increasing wind. A full-blown spring storm. What more could they ask for?
“We’ll have a small team of warded witches and warlocks confront him. Then a team follows at a discreet and safe distance to charge in if needed.”
Everyone accepted Rafael’s suggestion, even though it was more an order. They gathered under the canopy on the back patio, Aspen sandwiched between Willow and Brianne. She refused to remain on the sidelines despite Sage’s demands. Plus, the same magic luring Lucky also had a hook in her magic. The roots clung to her hand, refusing to let go. Knowing she’d given them what they wanted, they didn’t hurt her, and she let them be. The witches wrapped everyone in protective bubbles. Sage invoked an additional cloaking spell on the entire group.
Aspen possessed enough energy to walk on her own two feet. This showdown was as much about her as Lucky, and she had no plans to sit it out. Lucky strode close to Aspen, cautious and concerned. The magic ensnaring him also tweaked at a little something in her core. If Lucky had his way, he’d already be at the creek. How would this day end? Who would live or die?
Despite the storm, the air remained balmy, the cloud coverage keeping the daytime temperatures low to the ground. The rain had ceased, but the wind continued to blow and howl, whipping the tree branches in an eerie staccato dance. Aspen snatched a lantern to guide their way. Solar landscape lights kept a charge, defining their path until they hit the woods where all the solar lights had winked out. Andre’s passing caused their demise.
Although the rain had taken a breather, the thunder-and-lightning show continued for another moment until the world stilled. The wind quit blowing, and a gentle breeze swayed the tree boughs. The eye of the storm about to erupt. Distracting her free hand from touching the roots, Aspen patted down her flyaway hair. She rolled her lip balm across her lips to keep the dryness at bay.
Andre stood on the bank of the river by the smaller gazebo, waiting and taunting his audience. He knew the rest of them would come. He’d bound Eden in a ring of fire, her magic useless against Andre.
Ethan left Evan guarding Andre and joined them from behind a grove of trees. “Let me approach him first. We can hold our own against him.”
“No. My aether is powerful enough,” Sage insisted. “He can’t kill me. He won’t kill Eden until he gets what he wants. I won’t let it get that far.”
“Are we sure it isn’t Eden?” Brianne asked. “This is the second time he’s abducted her.”
“He’s fixated on her, that’s for sure,” Rafael said.
“Because of her psychic mind. It’s easy to subdue her. Plus, wrong time and wrong place both times.” Ethan fisted his hands on his thighs. “I’ll kill him if he hurts her.”
“We all will.” Brianne lobbed the words at him.
“Do you still trust me?” Lucky asked Aspen.
“I don’t know. Do you trust you aren’t being manipulated?” As Aspen heard her words, she realized how stupid she sounded. Andre was the puppet master, and she needed to concentrate on him. She waved a hand in front of her face. “Sorry. Never mind. Do what you need to do. You have your own demons to vanquish.” He didn’t need her permission or her trust.
Lucky bolted from the group, breaking the protective ward Sage erected over him by his increasing distance. Ethan jetted after Lucky. The group remained silent and slow going to avoid tipping off Andre to their exact location. By the time they reached the last bend before the creek, voices drifted to them. They hid and listened.
Aspen was never so grateful to see Ethan and Evan. The Ravenwood brothers and Rafael, beautiful, powerful, loyal, and loving. Was it so bad to bond a black warlock? Her mind bounced from one extreme to another, and she buried her thoughts in a shallow grave to excavate when life returned to normal and her head stopped swinging from one extreme to another.
“Ethan, my good man,” Andre purred. “You’ve brought my prize, Lucky Lorenzo, or should I say Luciano Ravenwood, to me. You are a stalwart lieutenant after all.”
“Cut the crap, Andre,” Ethan gritted out. He and Lucky stood twenty yards from Andre. “What’s your ask this time?”
Andre turned at the waist toward Eden, his feet not moving. The fire ring illuminated gold, copper, and red highlights in her brunette hair, until the fire dazzled in a dozen shades of blue. The blue flames didn’t touch her, and burned outward from the surrounding oval, but she’d feel the heat.
“Poor Eden Wilde, always in the crosshairs.” Beneath his painted veil of sorrow, Andre’s eyes held a glacial indifference as he shifted his attention back to Lucky.
Eden remained silent, lines creasing her forehead, straining as she concentrated on reading Andre’s mind. Having escaped his prison, Andre was in a state of high excitement, giving her a perfect opportunity to slip through the crevices in his mind. Magic—or lack thereof—never interfered with her telepathy. The scent of brimstone, a skunky, sulfur smell, wafted on the air as Andre beefed up his fire around Eden.
“Lucky, my boy.” When Andre looked at Lucky, his eyes were fixated, as if savoring every inch of his presence.
