Witch-Mage Breaking, page 18
“But it will be delayed,” Kira explained. “Giving us enough time to whip something up. We need a binding ritual.”
“How the hell does that work?” Brandon demanded.
Kira drew lines of magic onto the floor, then pulled them together until the shape of a pentagram gleamed before their eyes. Thea’s expression opened. “I see. If we can get it on the pentagram with enough magic already in it, we can bind and trap it.”
Kira nodded. “Get to work, witch.”
Thea stepped up to the pentagram and began pouring her magic into it. At first, she gave small amounts spaced out by several seconds, then added and shortened the length of time. The door to the room rattled with the impact of the darkness slamming against it.
She hoped the hedge witches’ bodies would somehow survive the possession, but she doubted it. The remaining hedge witch community would hate her forever if she could not save them, but she didn’t know how she could. They were already taken over. Four more murders under Folsom’s belt.
The thought ignited a new rage inside Thea. Her magic met it, pouring into the lines of the pentagram with Kira’s guidance. “We don’t have much more time,” Brandon warned, bracing himself for a fight with new shadowy monsters when the doors broke down.
“One. More. Second,” Thea gritted out. Forming words was difficult with all the magic pouring from her. Her body felt weaker, but Kira’s hand was on her shoulder. The creatures could only be defeated by magic.
The door blasted apart, and the shadows lurched through. Screams leaped from the hedge witches’ mouths as Thea’s light yanked the shadows into the pentagram. She pushed and pulled, trying to get the rest of the forms within the lines so she could bind them.
“Brandon, you have to go,” she managed to tell him. If Mother Folsom got any more of a head start than she already had, who knew what destruction could befall the city? She’s using the Grimoire. Someone has to stop her now!
“I’m not leaving you!” Brandon protested.
“I can’t leave, so you have to!”
She hated the anguish on his face, hated her anguish pounding through her body. He knew it had to be done, and so did she. Thea reached for his hand and squeezed once. “I’ll join you when I can.”
“Come back to me,” he commanded.
“I will.”
The shadows continued to scream and batter against Thea’s shield. “How do I get to the door?” Brandon asked.
“I’ll count to three,” Thea replied.
He nodded and braced himself for one hell of a move.
Thea’s magic rushed into the lines of the pentagram, strong enough that the shadows she pulled could not resist. They drifted into the lines, taking the form of a shadowy, tree-like monster similar to what Brandon had battled before. Behind it, the four hedge witches stood with eyes open wide and mouths gaping. Curdling screams tore from their throats. Brandon wasn’t sure he’d ever heard anything worse.
Thea’s binding magic leaped from the pentagram and wrapped around the shadows. All she had to do was work the sealing magic. Brandon’s heart thumped faster. Would that save the hedge witches? Trust her, he thought.
“Go!” Kira shouted at him.
Brandon gave Thea one final look and hoped it wouldn’t be the last before fleeing the building.
Blackwood estate, twenty-eight years ago
“I don’t understand why you came all this way. You told me only a month ago that no one was to know about my new position. So why, Mother Folsom, do you believe you should be seeing your shadow member alone so soon and without meeting in another realm?”
These were the words Samuel Blackwood used to greet Michelle Folsom when she arrived at the Blackwood estate one rainy day. She had sent no word ahead of her coming, and Samuel wondered if she had used a portal or another magic he had never learned to arrive so quickly.
Other than his servants, his house was empty. His brother was absent and would not be returning for days, weeks even. Peter had promised to only be gone five days, but Samuel knew his brother well. Peter would not return without what he was looking for. If he didn’t find it, well, he’d keep searching. All he could hope for was to have his brother home by Christmas. That was three months away.
It was not alarming to have the coven Mother in his house because of these things, but because Samuel was the coven’s shadow member, and only Folsom knew about it. Not even his brother, his life’s closest companion, knew he kept the most guarded secrets of the coven. If Mother Folsom deemed it necessary to see him today, it meant she either wanted a secret or had one for him to keep.
The rain drizzled against the window as Mother Folsom took a seat beside the fire. “Really, Samuel, you should work on your manners. It wouldn’t hurt to offer me tea before you demand why I’ve come.”
Samuel called for a servant to bring them tea, then settled in the other chair by the fire. Sitting on Mother Folsom’s lap was a small, black box. Though it did not have a lock on it, Samuel sensed it could not be easily opened. She must have hexed or warded the thing.
Her tight grip on the item told him this was the case more than anything. She was afraid to lose it. Samuel had always been good at reading people. It was both an innate skill and one he had sharpened through his magic. Being the coven’s shadow member required him to watch everyone carefully, including its main leader.
Samuel scrutinized Mother Folsom until a servant came and went. She sighed. “If you think reading my mind will let you know why I’ve come, Samuel, you are mistaken.”
Was she trying to irritate him on purpose? He kept his voice even. “Then tell me.”
The crackling of the flames and the distant patter of rain were the only other sounds until Mother Folsom spoke again. “I have found pieces of the Grimoire. Yes, Samuel, the same thing your brother is off looking for in Ireland. He is a fool if he thinks he can find it there. The Grimoire only appears in pieces to the person it wills to see it. It doesn’t matter that it was last whispered about across the sea.”
Samuel frowned. “And what makes you think you’re so worthy to have seen the Grimoire?”
“All mothers of my coven have since Alia Fiorina, student of Ambrosius himself. She was the one who put the spell on the Grimoire and made it so it could appear to any coven Mothers who followed her.”
“You told me the Grimoire was nothing but myth, that Ambrosius was a figure made up by a radical group of rogue mages who stole spells from ancient tombs,” Samuel replied. “You said these people were against the function of covens, yet you speak of one of Ambrosius’ students being one of the first mothers to your own coven. Did you lie to me, or have you suddenly found reason to change your mind?”
“Both,” Mother Folsom answered. She left him to burn with curiosity while she sipped her tea, then relieved him. “I always knew Alia and her work with the Grimoire was real. I was unsure if Ambrosius was real or if the entire Grimoire existed. I always believed parts of it were real, but not the whole thing. As for Alia, she is not ‘one of the first mothers’ but the first. She is also your ancestor.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve searched your ancestry. She was the lover of one of your great-grandfathers several generations ago.”
Samuel decided to ignore this for the time being. “You said you believed parts of the Grimoire were real, but not all of it. What changed?”
Mother Folsom tapped the top of the black box. “This came to me with pieces of the Grimoire inside.”
“Open it and show me.”
Mother Folsom shook her head. “I can’t. It’s locked, and no key will open it. Only magic from the person the Grimoire wants to see it.”
Samuel grew more irritated. “Then how do you know what’s in it?”
“I used a Seeing Spell. I can see what is inside, but I cannot access or use it.”
“You’re telling me this for what reason?”
“You must stop your brother from finding the rest of the book.”
“You said he’s on a fool’s errand.”
“I did.” Mother Folsom paused, her gaze moving to the fire and resting on the flames as if they could provide a solution to her dilemma. “But he is a Blackwood. Your mother was a coven Mother before me, and I suspect her ability to see the Grimoire might have passed into your blood or his.”
“You believe having the Grimoire would be dangerous,” Samuel guessed.
Mother Folsom raised her tea cup. “For some.”
Her tone was light enough to give Samuel pause. He leaned forward, echoing her words. “For some?”
The coven Mother lowered her voice even though they were alone. “Alia and Ambrosius both prophesied a person who would one day have access to the Grimoire. They would see a symbol, and it would show them the Lake of Power. This person would have power unparalleled to anything we have seen before.”
Samuel shook his head. “That’s impossible. No one has ever seen the Lake of Power.”
“They’ll be able to tap into it, too. Without ritual or a coven to help them.”
“It can’t be.”
“I have reason to believe this person will be born a Blackwood based on Ambrosius’ various prophecies and writings about family bloodlines and the passage of magic. There are many places where he has written about magic growing stronger with each pure-blooded magical child.”
“You think it’s my brother or I?”
Mother Folsom shook her head. “Do not flatter yourself. Signs tell me this person has not yet come.”
“But will soon?”
“Perhaps. I have no way of knowing. It depends on who you and Peter marry, whether the woman has magic, and if she can bear you a child. I wouldn’t plan on it, though. Do you want to father someone whose magic could be too powerful to control?”
“Frankly, I’ve never thought about it.”
Mother Folsom sighed. “What I do know is that pieces have come to me, and I cannot open the box. More pieces might come to you or Peter. If they come to you, tell me. If they come to Peter, make sure he doesn’t keep them.” Mother Folsom rose as if to leave, but she placed the box on her empty seat. “I leave this here as a sign of my trust in you. Don’t think to break it, Samuel. I will make sure you never breathe again if you do.”
Samuel Blackwood had no time to process what she said before she vanished from the room, and he was left with the fire and the rain.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Only because her winged dragons sailed
swiftly with her up to the lofty sky,
escaped Medea punishment for this
unheard of crime.
Borne on the wings
of her enchanted dragons, she arrived
at Corinth, whose inhabitants, 'tis said,
from many mushrooms, watered by the rain
sprang into being.
There she spent some years.
But after the new wife had been burnt by
the Colchian witchcraft and two seas
had seen the king's own palace all aflame,
then, savagely she drew her sword, and bathed
it in the blood of her own infant sons;
by which atrocious act she was revenged;
and she, a wife and mother, fled the sword
of her own husband, Jason.”
—Ovid, Metamorphoses Book VII
New Orleans, present day
Brandon raced across town at breakneck speed, calling every source of backup he could think of to meet him at the estate. He hoped Mia had already gotten some calls through and that he would arrive with help waiting for him. “We’ve got a rogue coven Mother on our hands!” he shouted into the phone when he called Jax.
The former Marine had a hundred questions, but he refrained from asking and simply followed orders. “I’ll explain everything when I can,” Brandon promised before hanging up. The ounce of fortune he retained was that the coven offices were only an hour from the estate, not two like AID headquarters. He wished he had chosen to hold the tests at the coven estate but then remembered that Folsom wanted that at first. She would have killed us herself if that was the case, he thought. She’s been biding her time, waiting for the public to hate us.
Mother Folsom had let things go too far with Samuel. She could have stopped him before more hedge witches were killed but chose not to, so AID would appear irresponsible and with blood on their hands. Brandon’s heart sank at the thought of arriving at the estate before anyone else and facing Folsom alone.
Don’t worry about that now, he told himself. He had to focus on stopping Folsom before she did anything else. Judging by how today had gone so far, he doubted he would find her sitting idly in her office. She was carrying out a plan that had been in the works for a long time, for whatever fucked-up reason she had.
Brandon had as many questions as everyone else, but he was more worried about leaving Thea behind. Whatever Folsom was doing must be serious, so he shoved Thea to the back of his mind. She had Kira and her power. She would be fine.
At least, that was what he hoped. Brandon clenched the steering wheel harder.
Not long after, he halted in front of the coven estate. Everything in and around it appeared still and silent. The wind itself didn’t bother to brush through the trees or the gardens surrounding the house.
A chill darted up Brandon’s spine. He knew when he came here that something would feel off, but he hadn’t imagined this. Where had the other coven witches gone? Had Folsom sent them away while she conducted her ritual, or were they helping her? If they were helping, were they brainwashed or doing so willingly?
Brandon started toward the house, knives drawn. The magic inside them extended their blades, forming something halfway between daggers and swords. Brandon doubted he would find Mother Folsom working alone. All those years of talk about how covens were sacred because of the joint power of thirteen witches.
She doesn’t have thirteen witches here, he thought. Four of them are back at the coven offices. Folsom had also spoken of the dangers of the Grimoire but seemed to be using its power or, at least, trying to. This told Brandon she might be working alone. Does it matter? he thought as he headed into the house.
The doors were wide open with no signs of wards over the place. She wanted us to come here in case we escaped her first trap, he realized with a penetrating fear. He kept himself in check as he entered the front hall and stopped short at the gruesome sight before him.
Dozens of bodies were scattered along the stairs and the floor, all in estate servant uniforms. They were distorted and still. Many of them were bleeding. Red blood and oozing blackness stained the ornate rugs. A wave of nausea overcame him, joined by the putrid smell of bad magic. If he could sense the foul energy, it meant there was a lot of it in one area. He cursed, wondering if he could have saved these lives if he’d arrived sooner.
Another thought hit him with sudden, sickening horror. Or these servants have had dormant dark magic inside them all along, too.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, shrieks filled the room. The bodies began seizing as the hedge witches had, and the oozing blackness took a solid form. Shadows rising with gnarled limbs and blazing red eyes.
The servants weren’t dead. They were vessels for unclean spirits. Dread rising, Agent Brandon Cole realized he had stepped into another trap.
Jax drove himself, Claire, and a team of agents toward the coven estate at a speed that would have been illegal if not for their emergency. He and Claire were equally confused about what Brandon and Thea had discovered and why, for God’s sake, coven Mother Folsom was at the center of it. What the hell did it mean?
As far as Jax knew, they were supposed to find out which of the hedge witches, or how many, had been involved in trying to upstage the coven and the Free Witch Council. “It seems like someone else has been behind the attacks the whole time,” Jax growled to Claire after informing her of Brandon’s call.
Jax should not have been surprised. Mother Folsom had always been a snake. Whatever truth Brandon had discovered, he trusted his friend would confront the coven Mother with it. He feared the thought of Brandon alone with her, for it sounded on the phone like Thea had not gone with him.
A colder fear settled inside Jax. What if Thea was all alone, fighting something she could not handle? He gripped the wheel harder. He didn’t have another moment to consider the situation before he came to a screeching halt. “What is it?” Claire demanded.
Jax pointed ahead. “Wards. The sensor on the van tells me they’re ahead. They’re strong, too.”
“Have they always been there?” Claire looked more harried than ever. The winding gravel road toward the coven estate was before them. Jax had always been able to drive to its entrance without obstacles.
“No,” he replied grimly. “They’re new, and from their strength and complexity, they must have been created by a coven witch.”
“Only one?”
“Several, by the looks of it,” Jax replied as more data from scanning the wards came in over a screen. Their technology was advanced enough to sense wards, but it would take a long time to undo them. Tire tracks on the road leading to the coven house told Jax that Brandon had already gotten through. The wards came up after he passed this point, which told him Folsom had intended for Brandon or whoever was chasing her to come here.
“She’s trapped him,” he growled.
“We should get Thea here to take them down,” Claire suggested.
Jax tried not to lose his patience, but it was wearing thin. “If Thea was available, she would have come with Brandon.”
Claire blanched.
“Call Mia. While we wait for her and some hedge witch backup, I’ll see what I can do with our tech to bring them down,” Jax told her.
Claire gave a curt nod and reached for her phone. She paled further. “My service is gone. That’s never happened before.”
Jax cursed. Those damn coven witches had disrupted the cell towers, too. It wasn’t hard to do if they combined their magic. “I’ll do what I can.” However, he feared that no matter what he did, he’d be too late to save Brandon.
