other witch - complete series, page 7
Sarah wailed at my judgement and collapsed sobbing into the arms of her waiting friends. Ria sent me her best death glare, which I blithely ignored. I contemplated giving Sarah a sympathetic little pat on the arm, but I’d just relegated her back to the ranks of a lowly acolyte so I doubted any comforting gestures from me would be welcome.
I turned back to the newly refurbished building and grimaced at the flames licking at the freshly painted walls.
I hauled out my phone and speed-dialled Dick Symes: Dick by name, dick by nature. Still, the water elemental was local, and one of his extended family would be able to get here faster than the emergency services. No doubt the location of the training house so close to one of the most prestigious water elemental families in the UK was not a simple coincidence but a matter of design by some clever former Coven Mother. Goddess knows, we had needed the elementals often enough lately. The thought made me narrow my eyes again at Sarah.
The phone continued to ring and I struggled to push down my impatience. I didn’t need a water elemental in ten minutes, I needed one now. Luckily Dick chose that moment to answer. ‘Amber DeLea, what do you need?’ he asked brusquely.
I appreciated that he got straight to the point. We weren’t friends and we didn’t need to discuss the weather. ‘I need someone to put out a fire at the coven’s training house.’
There was a beat of silence. ‘Again?’
I couldn’t suppress the sigh that slipped out. ‘Yes.’
He snickered: dick. ‘Martin will be with you shortly. It’ll cost more this time,’ he warned.
I expected nothing less. Nothing is free in the Other realm. ‘What do you want?’ I asked suspiciously.
‘A favour,’ he suggested lightly, like it was no big deal.
I wasn’t born yesterday. No way was I agreeing to that; it was far too open-ended. ‘One favour, to be called in within three months’ time. No injury, harm or death to befall anyone as a direct consequence of that favour,’ I counter-offered.
‘Done,’ he agreed triumphantly.
‘So mote it be,’ I muttered. He sounded entirely too happy for my liking and I hated feeling like I’d got the bad end of a deal.
Dick hung up without another word, and Martin Symes arrived moments later, panting. He’d clearly run from his house – the Symes were very local. ‘Where do you want me, Miss DeLea?’ he asked between pants.
I gestured to the fire behind me, managing to suppress the snarky comment that wanted to slip out. I deserved a medal for my self-control.
‘Right you are!’ He strode towards the house and seconds later water was pouring from his fingers into the training house. I winced at the damage the torrent was causing, but it put out the fire and that had been the more immediate problem.
‘Thank you, Martin. Now can you remove the excess water from the scene?’ That was one of the main advantages to using a water elemental instead of the fire department: Martin could soak up all the excess water like a dry sponge. It helped minimise the water damage on top of the fire damage.
He nodded enthusiastically and struck a suitably dashing pose whilst he drew the water back into himself. It would have looked more dashing if he hadn’t kept looking over his shoulder to make sure the gaggle of young witches were still watching him.
I called Jeb, the witch who was responsible for coven maintenance. ‘Coven Mother, how can I help?’ he answered warmly.
‘There’s been another fire at the training house,’ I said, trying to keep my voice even.
‘No!’ he protested. ‘The refurbishment was finished literally yesterday,’ he whined, his tone disbelieving.
‘Believe me, I know.’ Jeb may have organised the work but I’d paid for it. ‘You’ll need to get to the site to assess the damage.’
‘Who was it this time?’
‘Sarah Bellington.’
‘Again?’
‘Indeed. She’s been demoted to acolyte.’
He whistled. ‘Rightly so, but Venice is going to be so pissed off.’ Sarah’s mum was a force to be reckoned with – but so am I.
‘Goodness that was close. I almost gave a damn,’ I snarked back. ‘Sarah left her crystal ball uncovered.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ Jeb cursed loudly. I didn’t swear aloud but I wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment. He cleared his throat. ‘Whilst we’re sharing bad news, the Crone has returned.’
I frowned. ‘What do you mean, she’s returned?’ The Triune – the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone – had only left that morning after visiting us for three long weeks. Three weeks of seeing to their every need. I’m not used to bowing and scraping – it’s not in my skillset – but the Holy Triune demand my respect and, to a degree, my subservience.
It was galling. Of course, I love the Crone herself – Aunt Abigay is one of my mum’s best friends and she had helped raise me after my father abandoned us – but our relationship has changed over the years. As the Crone, she holds a sacred, lifelong position in witch society. The Crone is considered to have one of the highest positions in the coven; a position that doesn’t allow much room for favouritism or nepotism, more’s the pity.
The Triune had left our tower this morning and were supposed to be returning to the coven council in Edinburgh. ‘She’s back,’ Jeb reiterated. ‘She requests an audience with you at your earliest convenience.’
‘Tell her I’m on my way. You’ll have to deal with the situation here.’
‘I’m on it, Coven Mother,’ Jeb promised.
We hung up and I strode to my waiting car. As I slid into the back seat, I met Oscar’s blue eyes in the rear-view mirror. ‘Back to the coven, please,’ I instructed. I didn’t look back at the desolate scene behind me, weeks of work all gone up in smoke because of one idiot’s thoughtlessness. Covering your crystal ball is Basic Witchery 101. Sarah was making me look bad and I couldn’t afford that – not now.
I wanted to be the witch member for the Symposium. The Symposium runs the Connection, the governing body for all supernatural beings that exist in the Other Realm. There had been a power vacuum ever since Sky, the last witch Symposium member, had been killed.
The coven council was moving excruciatingly slowly in appointing the new member. In the meantime, its members took turns attending the Symposium meetings. I suspected that they all liked the extra taste of power and weren’t in a hurry to relinquish it.
I wanted to be on the Symposium – heck, I wanted to rule it – but one thing at a time. I wanted to craft the change that the Connection so desperately needed, and I wanted to do it from within. Sarah’s little stunt made me look bad; if I couldn’t handle my own coven, how could I be responsible for all the covens in the country? But the fire had only just happened, so that couldn’t possibly be what the Crone wanted with me, could it?
My driver sensed my foul mood so he didn’t try for chitchat. Oscar is more than a driver and bodyguard to me – he’s been my mother’s partner for many years. They’d never formalised their union and now, with Mum’s dementia, the opportunity had passed. But Oscar is the father I’d never had after mine skipped out on Mum and me when I was six years old. I was glad she had found happiness in Oscar’s arms and only a smidgen jealous that such love had been denied to me.
We pulled up to the coven tower. In the old days, covens lived together in villages but we have modernised our living practices to adapt to modern life and now the covens own their apartment blocks. At the top of mine is a rarely used guest suite that The Crone had been occupying for the last few weeks. No doubt she’d be waiting for me there.
I took the stairs. At forty-two years of age, I need to make the effort to incorporate exercise into my day or the pounds will pile on – especially as I have a weakness for blueberry muffins. When I reached the guest suite, I knocked once on the door.
‘Come in,’ the Crone called.
She was sitting in a high wingback chair, white afro resting languidly against the purple fabric. She sat up as I walked in and met my eyes. Her dark skin bore a few lines of age but not as many as she was due.
I knew I was in trouble because her pink lipstick-painted lips didn’t curve into a smile and her eyes were cold. ‘Aunt Abigay—’ I started.
She looked at me with a hint of censure. I wasn’t her family to be gifted her name now that she was the Crone. ‘Coven Mother,’ she responded sharply. ‘You’ve been keeping secrets.’
Chapter 2
I said nothing. When in doubt, silence is golden.
She arched an elegant eyebrow. ‘Do you have so many secrets, child, that you do not know to which one I am referring?’
Yup. ‘Enlighten me,’ I suggested.
‘You’ve been working on a potion to extend our time in the Other realm.’ Ah. That secret.
There are two main realms: the magical one that is called the Other realm, and the non-magical one known as the Common realm. They exist together, running concurrently.
I explain the realms to new witches by asking them to imagine that they are short-sighted. When you are in the Common you have no glasses and you are blind to the magical dangers around you. Step into the portal and out into the Other realm and it is like putting on the correct pair of glasses; suddenly you can see everything around you – fire elementals, dragons, ogres. Everything magical is revealed to you and, of course, you have full access to your own magic. Glasses or not, the magic is always there; it is just a question of whether you can see it and utilise it.
As with everything, there is a catch. If you are on the human side of the Other realm like witches, wizards, werewolves, elementals and vampyrs, then once you are introduced to the Other you must continually hop back and forth between the realms. We humans have to charge our magical batteries in the ordinary world (the Common realm) ready for use in the magical world (the Other realm). It’s annoying and inconvenient, not to mention dangerous.
The creatures – dragons, dryads, ogres, satyrs and centaurs – don’t have the same restriction. They have an advantage in that they don’t need to go to the Common realm and they can exist wholly in the Other if they want to. They never have to be without their magic. I had long since decided that it is this disparity that lies at the heart of all human–creature tensions.
A human faction had been spouting Anti-Creature rhetoric. They imaginatively called themselves the Anti-Crea and they wanted a world where the creatures were tagged and monitored like animals.
Of late, there had been increasing tension between the two groups, which then escalated into violence and a full-blown battle. The Anti-Crea had not come out well from a fight with the dragons and their human counterparts, the brethren. The brethren were raised to be as deadly as Rambo, so the battle had reached its inevitable conclusion. For now the Anti-Crea were licking their wounds but the situation couldn’t continue. If I could develop a potion that significantly extended the time the human side could spend in the Other, maybe I could reduce that tension. I wasn’t naïve enough to think it would resolve everything – but it would be a damned good place to start.
‘It’s not that much of a secret,’ I defended myself. I was stretching the truth a little because I hadn’t told another soul about my potion research. I hadn’t wanted to put it out there and then have it fail.
My time was limited, though. Eventually, after making agonisingly slow progress during the last six months, I’d had to give in and apply to the council for help. ‘I got an initial grant, and I made an application to the coven council for a temporary Coven Mother to take over whilst I focus on the potion,’ I told the Crone.
Being a Coven Mother is a coveted position. I didn’t want to step aside from it, but I was struggling to juggle all my duties and work on the potion. The latter had to be my priority because it had the potential to be life changing. With this potion, I could achieve something huge for the Other Realm.
With a temporary Coven Mother here, I honestly believed that I could make the potion in less than a week. That would give me time to source and harvest the final ingredients and make the final brew; I already had a base ready in stasis.
‘Yes,’ the Crone harrumphed. ‘That application is why I’m here. The coven council is concerned that you have painted a target on your back. They fear that news of your project will leak and that the creatures will seek to kill you to put an end to your research.’
I blinked. ‘I haven’t told a soul about my application or my project, so I don’t see how it will leak.’
‘Evidently it already has,’ the Crone said grimly. ‘Your application appears to have been … misplaced.’
‘My application marked “highly confidential, for the coven council’s eyes only”?’ I asked drily.
‘Yes. That one. The council believe that they have now…’ she paused ‘…stemmed the leak, but further steps are needed to ensure your safety. To that end, they have hired the griffins to protect you.’
Horror flooded through me. ‘No! You know how I feel about them!’ A griffin had killed the love of my life, Jake.
The griffins are on the creature side of the Other realm. They have no need to go to the Common realm or experience life without their power if they don’t want to. Instead, they have their own cross to bear: they have to battle a constant compulsion to kill.
When the Connection came to power some eighty years ago, they hired the griffins to carry out their black ops; they also gave them permission to open their own assassins’ guild. The Connection wanted them to channel their deathly urges into more … productive pursuits. Consequently, all kills carried out by the griffins nowadays are sanctioned by the guild or the government.
All too often history has shown us that if a griffin does not kill within a certain time frame, their lethal urges can take over and a deadly massacre will follow. Since the guilds’ inception, there have been no more accidental slaughters. Evidently, the guild has its own rules as to what makes a target acceptable or not.
For some reason, Jake had ticked all the boxes.
‘I am aware of your issues, princess.’ Aunt Abigay’s tone softened and I was pleased I’d been promoted from child to princess, the term of endearment from my youth. She continued. ‘Regardless, hiring them is the only way to guarantee your safety. If the griffins are hired to protect you, it creates a conflict of interest such that they are unable to accept a contract to kill you.’
I could see the wisdom of that because the guild has never failed to carry out a contract. The ogres are hit or miss; they are paid on a ‘time-spent’ basis. If they don’t manage to kill the target in the given time frame then you pay more or the target walks away. It is different with the griffins; if they accept a hit on you, you die. Always.
‘Okay,’ I admitted reluctantly. ‘I guess that makes sense, but I think the council is over-dramatizing. No one is going to want to kill me.’
‘If you think that then you’re being naïve, Amber,’ the Crone said bluntly. ‘But that’s not the bad news.’
I stilled. What could be worse that having a griffin bodyguard? ‘If that’s not the bad news, then what is?’
She looked at me with far too much sympathy. I wasn’t going to like what was about to come out of her mouth. ‘The griffin that has been hired to protect you is Bastion.’
‘No! No way. No way in hell!’ I spat. Bastion was the griffin who killed Jake. Of all of the creatures in all of the realms, he was the sole being I couldn’t stand. ‘No,’ I repeated.
‘The guild was quite clear. It was him or no one.’
‘Why? Why him?’
‘It is a term of their protection that you must first remove the witch’s curse from him,’ she said reluctantly.
That was the nail in the coffin. I folded my arms. ‘Absolutely not.’
Bastion had once walked into a black witch’s trap and the curse was slowly draining his life force. I might not be willing to kill Bastion, but I was prepared to sit back and watch the curse do it for me. He would still die but my hands would be blessedly clean. Maybe that was sophistry, but I found I didn’t really care.
‘If you do not remove the curse and accept Bastion as your protector, you are as good as dead,’ Aunt Abigay said steadily. ‘Someone will hire the griffins to kill you – and the ogres, too. The deadliest of the creatures will come for you and your research. You won’t last five minutes.’
Ye of little faith. ‘I think you’re being ridiculous. You’re blowing the risk level way out of proportion,’ I argued.
‘Not just me but the council, too. If you do not accept this safety measure, the council will not allow you to continue your experiment. The risk is too high.’ I knew that she wasn’t talking about the risk to me but the risk that my research would fall into the wrong hands.
She leaned forward and took my hand. ‘Don’t you see? This is a test Amber. Can you – will you – put the council’s needs ahead of your own? Will you do what is right for your people even though it is wrong for you personally?’ Abigay squeezed my hand. ‘You and I both know that the Goddess has said you are destined for greatness. This is your moment, Amber. Will you really deny yourself your dreams out of spite?’
‘I won’t work with Bastion,’ I said tightly. ‘I won’t save him.’
She released my hand and leaned back. As her lips pressed in a thin line, her disappointment in me was plain to see and it stung. She reached up and grasped the pendant around her neck, and she sent her eyes skywards, as if she was praying for strength. She let out a soft sigh and returned her eyes to me. ‘If you do not agree to having a protector, the coven will deny your application and forbid you to continue with this experiment. We can’t afford for such data to fall into the wrong hands simply because you are headstrong. You either make history with Bastion or you sink into obscurity. Alone.’
‘Obscurity, then,’ I snarled around gritted teeth.
‘Then you have failed, and I have failed you.’ Abigay moved to the edge of her seat and tried to stand up. I offered her my arm. ‘It was so much easier to make a dramatic exit when I was younger,’ she muttered, pulling a smile from me.
