Hedge Witch Diaries Complete Series Boxed Set, page 15
Dorian chuckled. “No, I’ll stay here and help you.” He moved to stand beside me, and we flipped through the ancient pages. The words were in Latin and French, and even though I had taken a semester of French in school, I found it difficult to decipher. Dorian, on the other hand, read with ease.
“This chapter talks about their rituals.” He pointed to a passage. “It seems they use human sacrifices to channel their power.”
My stomach churned at the thought of innocent lives being taken. “Human sacrifices? That sounds like the sort of evil you’d think witch hunters accused witches of doing!”
Dorian shook his head. “Not just any human sacrifices. The sacrifice of witches. It’s not as out-of-character as you’d think. From what I’m reading here, they can harness the power of the witches they kill and manipulate it to their will. This is really disturbing stuff.”
“Tell me about it. Like using witch power to kill other witches?”
“More or less. Check this out, right here. Et hoc modo Diabolus potest propria virtute Diaboli debellari.”
I cleared my throat. “Uh-huh.”
“Sorry. Roughly translated, it means in this way, the devil might be defeated by the devil’s own power. Their charms aren’t some kind of pious relic consecrated by saints. That’s what I used to believe. These witch-haters are using dark power to turn the forces of nature against us, warping their power through a dark ritual to kill more witches.”
I shuddered. “Which means the more witches they kill…”
“The stronger they become. If Gareth is right, if they’ve already abducted witches from the region who’ve gone missing, these bastards will only get stronger and harder to kill.”
I tilted my head. “Well, that’s something. It’s not exactly a way to stop them, though. All we know now is they’re even bigger assholes than we suspected.”
“And more dangerous than I ever believed.”
“Then we keep reading. There must be something else in here we can use. If these people are using witch power, they must have some way to turn it off, right? If they slaughter a bunch of witches, at some point, they have to stop.”
“Perhaps.” Dorian flipped through the pages. “Then again, maybe not. If they gained enough power, they might be able to target all the world’s witches at once.”
“With one big-ass sacrifice?” I asked.
“Maybe. If they don’t perform the ritual, they don’t gain the power from the sacrifice. So, if they absorbed enough power, they could cast one big worldwide spell to wipe out every witch from existence. They could expend all their power for that purpose and wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with it later.”
“But these Rémy-ites—”
“Réminians,” Dorian corrected me.
“Whatever. The Réminians must have tried this before and failed, or we wouldn’t be here today. What did they do with the power they gathered during the witch trials and inquisitions in the past?”
“That’s a good question. This book was penned by Nicholas Rémy himself. It won’t tell us what his followers did with the power in the past, but if there’s a passage in here they used to silence that power, even temporarily, we can find it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The pages of the Daemonolatreiae were difficult to decipher. Some of the ink was faded. Certain pages were ripped out. I had to wonder if that was intentional. If Gareth had torn out pages that could have given us clues about how to stop the Réminians. Sure, Gareth wanted Dorian to stop the witch hunters. But he wanted Dorian to do it in a particular way, using a spell that would infect him with dark magic.
“Hey, Dorian,” I whispered as if afraid to disturb the malignant spirits within the book. “If the Morai have a Réminian in captivity, whoever they took this book from, why don’t we interrogate them?”
Dorian’s gaze flicked up to meet mine, the irises as dark and inscrutable as a moonless night. He sighed, leaning back from the book, his long fingers drumming against the table. “The Morai most likely interrogated their prisoner already,” he commented. “But you’re right. There’s no reason to believe Gareth would pass along all the information he may or may not have managed to extract from the prisoner. He probably wants me to wipe out the Réminians like I did centuries ago.”
I caught a glimpse of pain flitting across his face, and I wondered what horrors lay buried beneath the façade he wore so well. It was like peering through shadows. Dorian might have intended to be honest with me. I didn’t think he was trying to hide anything from me. But it struck me that for a witch who’d lived for seven centuries, there was no way I could really know him. Not completely. At least not after only meeting him a few days ago.
It felt like I’d known him my entire life. I suppose he knew me his whole life. He’d given my father a spell in his book to help my dad protect me. Had he ever used it? What did it do? We didn’t get that far. Maybe if we’d had more time to spend together, so he could show me more and teach me. The world of the craft was vast. The little I’d learned in a few hours total was intense. How much more could I learn if Dorian and I had days, weeks, or years together?
My heart told me to trust him. It felt like I knew the true Dorian. Yet there was so much I didn’t know. His long life held mysteries that might take years or a lifetime to uncover.
I sat on the couch, my face resting in my hands, as Dorian gingerly turned one page in the book over and examined the next. “We might not have a choice. Gareth came to us. If he turns on us when we go to him for more information, well, he can suck it.”
Dorian laughed. “I highly doubt he’ll be willing to suck much of anything.”
I crossed my arms. “If he wants my cooperation with anything in the future, he’ll agree. We can’t afford to play guessing games when lives are at stake.”
“All right,” Dorian conceded, carefully closing the book and standing from the couch. “Briar, you should know that my presence at the Morai headquarters might not be exactly…welcome.”
“Because of all the ass you kicked and the names you took the last time you were there?” I asked, remembering how he had attacked the place in order to rescue me from Gareth.
“Exactly,” he replied, running a hand through his dark hair. “Simply because Gareth spoke to us with a few Morai witches at his side doesn’t mean the rest of the Morai know that the Grand Coven sent him to recruit me.”
I shrugged. “You know what they say. Fortune favors the bold. What are they going to do to you? They couldn’t harm you then. They won’t now.”
Dorian rubbed his brow. I could anticipate his protest before he spoke.
“They won’t hurt me either, you know. Gareth thinks I’m valuable. Look, Dorian. It’s a simple question of risk versus reward. There’s a small risk that the Morai won’t be happy to see us. But if they really do have a prisoner we could question and get more answers, I’d say it’s worth stepping on a few Morai toes.”
“All right,” Dorian agreed, his jaw set with determination. “If we’re going to do this, there’s no sense waiting. The more time passes, the more witches those bastards kill, the stronger they’ll become.”
“Let’s do it, then.”
Dorian extended his hand. “Hold on tight.”
I took his hand. I noticed one of the tattoos on Dorian’s arm glowed with faint blue energy. I blinked. That was all the time it took. We were standing somewhere else entirely. I looked around, trying to get my bearings, but found myself utterly disoriented. There was nothing in front of us. Only empty air.
“Is this the right place?” I asked, confused.
Dorian frowned, clearly puzzled as well. “It should be. The Morai must have cloaked the building. Clever.”
“Great.” I sighed. “Now what?”
“Let’s try getting Gareth’s attention,” he suggested before taking a deep breath and shouting, “Gareth!”
“Think it’ll work?” I asked, my voice laced with skepticism.
“Who knows?” Dorian replied with a shrug.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion ripped through the air. The shockwave sent us flying, and I felt a searing pain in my leg as we hit the ground. What was it? Some kind of bomb? A mortar or an IED? I wasn’t an explosives expert or anything, but it certainly wasn’t magic. It was military-grade shit.
I screamed in pain. My foot was mangled, my leg oozing blood. It was a wonder I had a leg left. I winced in agony as I clutched my injured limb. Blood seeped through my fingers, and my vision swam.
“Stay with me, Briar,” Dorian urged, appearing back at my side, a combination of worry and outrage etched on his face as he scooped me into his arms.
As if on cue, Gareth appeared beside us, his expression stern and unreadable. “Réminians.”
Dorian handed me over to Gareth. I wanted to protest, but the pain was so great I couldn’t get out the words. Why not teleport me out of there? Don’t be an idiot, Dorian.
“Keep Briar safe. I’m going after them.”
Damn it, Dorian! Couldn’t he see what was happening? Gareth knew exactly what had happened. Without any other method to attack the Réminians, Dorian would do whatever he could to stop them.
I was hurt, and Dorian was pissed. And Gareth had me in his arms. Son of a bitch!
Gareth wasted no time sweeping me up. With a few steps, the Morai headquarters reappeared in my fading vision. The pain intensified with each step he took, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
“Stay strong, Briar,” Gareth’s voice was firm but gentle. “I’ll get you fixed up.”
“Dorian…” It took everything I had to force my words through my gritted teeth. “He can’t fight them alone.”
Gareth didn’t respond. His gaze focused on our destination. After we were safely inside, he laid me down on a table, examining my leg wound. I tried to keep my mind on Dorian’s safety, but the pain left little room for anything else.
“Listen to me, Briar.” Gareth’s gaze met mine. “I’m going to perform a complex healing spell on you. It will take some time to work. As you heal, your nerve endings will awaken before the flesh is restored. It will only get more painful. I have to put you to sleep.”
“No,” I gasped, my fingers digging into the fabric beneath me. “Dorian needs me.”
Gareth didn’t respond. All I could see was his finger moving through the air. Or was it two fingers? I saw Gareth’s smug face looking back at me, doubled as my vision split. He was less concerned about my condition than he should have been. Maybe he’d set this up. Maybe he hadn’t. Still, everything was falling into place the way he wanted it.
As the first words of the spell left his lips, a warmth spread over my leg. It did little to ease the pain, but I knew the process had begun. My thoughts drifted back to Dorian, fighting alone against the Réminians. The fear that gnawed at my insides threatened to consume me, but I tried to hold on to hope.
Gareth touched me on the forehead. The same damn thing he’d done to me when he abducted me in the woods before. Everything went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Darkness swirled around me like a thick fog, and I struggled to find my way through it. My consciousness was a fickle thing, a flickering flame that refused to stay alight. When it did, the pain in my leg drowned out everything else, like a scream in an empty room.
At times, I saw Gareth standing over me, his face drawn with concern. He muttered incantations as he waved his hands above my battered body, and I felt the magic sparking off his fingertips. In those moments, I tried to focus on the warmth of the spells, using them as a lifeline to cling to reality. But I would quickly slip back under, the cold darkness swallowing me whole once more.
It seemed like an eternity before I surfaced again, gasping for breath like I’d been submerged in icy water. The pain had subsided somewhat, but my entire body felt foreign and numb, as if I were a rag doll with unseen hands prodding and poking me.
“Ah, you’re awake,” a soft voice cooed in my ear. “Don’t worry, dear. You’re safe now.”
I blinked, trying to clear the haze from my vision. Standing at my bedside was a beautiful blonde witch, her eyes wide with sympathy. She was one of the Morai. I knew that much. One of the two who’d come with Gareth to my trailer before.
“Where’s Dorian?”
“Shh, don’t worry about that now,” the witch murmured, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. “Rest.”
“Please,” I begged, grabbing her wrist weakly. “I need to know he’s okay.”
She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the closed door before returning to mine. “He’s alive if that’s what you’re asking. But there are…complications.”
“Complications?” Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, and I fought to keep it at bay. “What do you mean?”
“Enough questions for now.” The Morai witch shook her head gently, placing her free hand on my forehead. “You need your strength.”
As soon as her skin made contact with mine, a wave of drowsiness washed over me. My eyelids grew heavy, and the room spun.
Suddenly, I was gone. Back in the darkness. How long was I out? It was hard to say. It felt like forever, but it also felt like mere moments, like when you had surgery. I’d only experienced it once before, when they took out my wisdom teeth.
The cacophony of raised voices pulled me from the depths of a dreamless sleep, jolting my consciousness back to reality. Disoriented at first, I blinked against the dim light filtering through the heavy velvet curtains that shrouded the room in shadows.
Gareth’s and Dorian’s voices seeped through the closed door, their tones laced with anger and frustration. Relief surged through me, momentarily drowning out my lingering pain and exhaustion. Dorian was alive. Whatever complications the witch had mentioned, they hadn’t claimed him yet.
I pushed myself up from the bed, the luxurious silk sheets pooling around me like molten silver. As I swung my legs over the edge, I braced myself for the stabbing pain that had been my constant companion since the attack. Instead, I found only a faint echo of discomfort, as if it were nothing more than a distant memory.
I glanced down at my leg, tentatively flexing my foot and testing my weight on it. To my amazement, my leg felt normal. No trace of injury remained. Gareth’s healing powers must have worked miracles while I slept. I had to wonder, though. Was that all he’d done to me? What other spells, strange incantations, might he have cast over me? Some of the spells I saw him cast when I’d faded in and out of consciousness weren’t focused on my leg.
I didn’t feel anything odd. Other than the general grogginess that followed my magically-induced slumber.
As I stood, a sudden chill made me acutely aware of my nakedness. My cheeks burned with embarrassment at the thought that Gareth might have seen me like this.
“Goddamn it,” I muttered, wrapping the silken sheets around me like armor against the cold and humiliation. A small part of me couldn’t help but feel grateful for his intervention, but I couldn’t shake the unease that came with it all. Not only Gareth having seen me in all my glory but the weird spells he’d cast over me.
Maybe I was overthinking it. I didn’t know how healing spells worked. I knew different spells were necessary for different ailments. At least, that’s how it worked, according to what I’d discovered in my dad’s spell book. Maybe he was numbing the pain, curing an infection. Somehow, though, I doubted there wasn’t more to it than that.
The argument between Gareth and Dorian continued on the other side of the door, their voices growing louder and more vehement. Whatever they were discussing, it was clear the stakes were high, and tensions were mounting.
I quickly scanned the room for something to wear and found a fancy dress hanging beside the bed. It was clearly not mine, but at least it would cover me up. I rolled my eyes as I put it on, somewhat disgusted that Gareth seemed to be playing dress-up with me while I was unconscious. The gown was flowing silk, adorned with intricate embroidery. Far too extravagant for my taste, but it would have to do for now.
Feeling more decently dressed, I crept toward the door, my curiosity getting the better of me. Pressing my ear against the polished wood, I strained to hear their heated conversation.
“…local rednecks, Gareth!” Dorian yelled, his voice laced with frustration. “Not every goddamn thing is about Réminians!”
“Open your eyes, Dorian!” Gareth shot back, his voice cold and edged like steel. “They’re working with the Réminians! Why else would they have attacked us?”
I frowned, trying to piece together what had transpired since my last memory.
“Absolute bullshit,” Dorian spat, his rage palpable through the door. “This was about Briar and your sick obsession!”
“My sick obsession?” Gareth laughed. “You should know better, Dorian. I’d be personally disappointed to see history repeat itself.”
“Disappointed my ass!”
“Enough!” Gareth’s voice boomed, echoing through the hallway. “You’re the one who told me to take care of Briar. I did what needed to be done.”
“Then tell me, where is this prisoner you captured earlier?” Dorian demanded, his tone accusatory. “I want to see him!”
“Unfortunately, he escaped,” Gareth replied coldly, the admission not sitting well with him. “Shortly before you arrived.”
“Escaped?” Dorian seethed, his anger threatening to spill over. “How very convenient for you.”
“Are you implying that I let him go?” Gareth challenged, his voice dripping with venom. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Unable to hold back any longer, I swung the door open and stepped into view. The sudden appearance of me in the doorway silenced them both. Their eyes widened in surprise, and all animosity between them seemed to evaporate.
“Br-Briar?” Dorian stammered, his dark eyes flicking up and down the length of my silk gown, his gaze lingering on my previously injured leg. “You shouldn’t be up.”
