Hedge Witch Diaries Complete Series Boxed Set, page 48
“We’re talking about lives here, Set. Things aren’t like they used to be. I’m not the only god who has changed,” I told him as I recalled Horus’s words. “Others feel as I do.”
Balzac paced around the room. “Tell me, Isis. Do you remember what it was like at the height of our glory?”
I narrowed my eyes, doing my best to tap into the goddess’ old memories. “I do. We were never as great as we thought. We forced the people of Egypt to obey and to honor us, and we trained the netters to do our will. We enslaved foreign people to build monuments to our chosen pharaohs.”
“Yet eventually, our people fell,” Balzac cut in. “They forgot about us, and other gods took our place. It wasn’t because we weren’t strong but because we’d grown complacent. I won’t make that mistake again.”
I shook my head. “You’re delusional, Set. Even the gods of the Greeks, though later adopted by Rome, fell. Ultimately, a single god whose followers preached compassion prevailed over us all.”
Balzac waved his hand through the air. “Tell me, dear Isis, how has that fared in history since? This god of compassion, revered by millions, is honored among some of the most arrogant that humanity has ever produced. A compassionate deity breeds a rebellious and prideful people. Humanity craves submission. They want and need to be ruled. We’re here to fulfill their deepest desire.”
The man on his knee looked between us uncertainly. “I honor you both.”
“See.” Balzac ruffled his fingers through the man’s hair as if he was a dog. “Only those who die can come back and know their place. This is what must happen to all of them. They must all die and rise again. This is our purpose.”
“To kill everyone?” I shook my head. “That’s madness.”
Balzac shrugged. “Their deaths are temporary. They must die, their bodies with their pride. Then, they will live again. Happiness isn’t found in imagined freedom. Humans can only be happy when they serve. When they worship their betters.”
I narrowed my eyes. I should have known better than to bait Balzac into this debate. Even my ancient memories protested against his words. I couldn’t push it, though.
“We’ll discuss this further,” I told him. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Of course I am!” Balzac laughed.
I turned to the man with a gentle smile. “What’s your name, friend?”
“G-George,” he stammered.
“Stand up, George,” I pronounced. “You’re coming with us.”
He climbed to his feet, poker still clenched in one dirt-caked hand. I studied him sadly. We may have delayed this one man from violence, but countless others were out there, and we couldn’t reach them in time. Balzac didn’t care if they killed people. The more who died, the more who could come back and worship his pompous ass.
George shuffled from the house behind us, poker still in hand. As we emerged into the moonlit yard, Gareth, Sydney, and Aiden came into view near the tree line.
Aiden’s eyes widened as he took in George’s filthy, bedraggled form. “Hey man, I know you! We had algebra together sophomore year. How’ve you been?”
George fixed Aiden with a hollow glare. “I’ve been dead, asshole.”
Aiden put his hands up, affronted. “Whoa, no need for name-calling. I was only making conversation. Why you gotta be a dick about it?”
At the word ‘dick,’ something in George seemed to snap. With a feral growl, he reared back and swung the iron poker at Aiden’s head.
Aiden yelped and dodged just in time. The rusted metal tip grazed his cheek and left a bloody gash.
“George, stop!” I shouted. Magic I hadn’t intended to channel amplified my voice. “You will not harm these people. Stand down, now!”
George froze mid-swing, the fire in his eyes dimming to confusion as my command overrode his violent impulse. The poker dropped from his fingers to thud dully on the dirt.
Meanwhile, Sydney was already at Aiden’s side, tracing a healing spell over the wound on his face with her finger.
“We gotta get you some anger management classes, buddy,” Aiden suggested to George with a nervous chuckle.
I sighed, gazing sadly at the dazed resurrectee. Controlling them was the easy part, but we weren’t any closer now to stopping this undead apocalypse. Clearly, Balzac had no intention of helping us do that, either.
I turned to Balzac, who was watching the scene unfold with an amused smirk.
“See, Isis? Your pathetic human morality makes you weak,” he stated. “Allow me to kill the boy. He’s not your true brother. I am! He’ll rise under our command and be ten times more useful than in his current state.”
Anger flared in my chest. “That’s not happening.”
“Isis! You’re only delaying the inevitable. We cannot stop the end. It’s been foretold in the Book of the Dead! The only question is if these dead who rise will rule beneath us or apart from us. You’ve seen what they’ll do without our guidance.”
“Enough!” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear another word of this ‘kill them to save them’ bullshit. It ends now.”
I saw the stubborn defiance in Balzac’s eyes, but he held his tongue. We’d continue this argument later, I was certain.
For now, I turned my attention back to George. The grave dirt was flaking off his skin and clothes, revealing pallid flesh and dim eyes. He stared at me, awaiting direction like a wind-up automaton.
My heart broke for him. For all of them.
“George,” I told him gently. “You cannot harm other people. I forbid it.”
He blinked slowly, processing my words. Then, with a guttural cry, he grabbed the fallen poker and plunged it into my stomach.
I gasped, more shocked than hurt. My divine thrall had failed. George was beyond reason, consumed by feral rage and pain.
As my vision darkened, a golden blur shot from the tree line. Charlie, still in dog form, leaped at George with bared teeth.
Charlie’s jaws clamped down on George’s arm, violently shaking as he tried to wrest the poker away. George howled, smashing at Charlie with his free hand.
“Enough of this,” Balzac snapped. With a flick of his fingers, a bolt of magic sizzled through the air. Charlie yelped as the energy coursed over his fur, forcing him back into human form.
He crouched there, naked and disoriented. I wanted to run to him and explain, but the pain in my stomach kept me pinned against a tree.
“Well, well.” Balzac sneered, looming over Charlie’s hunched form. “It seems we have a druid in our midst.”
Charlie glared at him defiantly. “I serve the balance. Nature itself. Not you.”
“Such confidence for one so exposed.” Balzac’s smile turned cruel. “I could end your life with a thought, whelp.”
Charlie’s jaw clenched, but he held Balzac’s gaze. “Then why haven’t you?”
Balzac laughed. “I admit, you intrigue me. A druid could be useful.”
He extended a hand to help Charlie stand. Charlie refused to take it and stood on his own.
“Charlie?” Aiden shook his head. “I can see your wanker, dude.”
Charlie didn’t respond. He fixed an enraged gaze on Balzac. “We’ll stop you. One way or another.”
“Will you?” Balzac laughed. “Come with me, Isis. Leave these foolish mortals to their trifles. We have work to do.”
I pushed myself between Charlie and Balzac. “You will not harm my friends. You will stop this madness. Need I remind you I’ve defeated you before?”
“Correction,” Balzac stated. “Your poor excuse for a son stopped me. I’ve learned my lesson. Besides, you don’t have the balls he did. Fight for them if you’d like, but soon they’ll die with the rest. Then, you’ll have no choice but to stand at my side.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t over, Balzac. We will stop you.”
Balzac narrowed his eyes. “Isis! Call me Set!”
I shook my head. “Call me Briar, asshole.”
My power welled up within me in proportion to my anger. Magic tingled on my fingertips. Before I could release it over Balzac, he waved his hand in a flourish and disappeared.
“Shit.” I shook my head. “So much for thinking he’d have answers.”
“He has answers,” Gareth countered. “He doesn’t want to share them. But you can access Isis’ memories now, Briar. The answers we need must be buried in your mind somewhere.”
I drew a deep breath. “Sorting through those memories isn’t as easy as you’d think. If I have the answer, it’s not coming to me.”
“Then perhaps I can help,” Charlie added, covering his bits with one hand. “There’s an ancient practice. I haven’t used it since I was a child, but it can help you access suppressed memories.”
Gareth shook his head. “All this time, there’s been a druid under our noses, and we didn’t even know it. I’m not sure I trust your magic, Chuck.”
Charlie shook his head. “My magic is not violent. It’s healing. It’s your magic that’s dangerous. The kind that tries to manipulate reality to accomplish your purposes.”
I clenched my fists. “First, Charlie, go get some damn clothes. Gareth, we need his help. If there’s a way I can remember how to stop this, we have to find it. I trust him.”
“You trust a druid who has lied to you for years? How long have you known this man, Briar, and never had a clue?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. He had his reasons. Considering how you’re speaking to him when he intervened and risked everything to help me, I can see why.”
Charlie glanced at my blood-soaked shirt. “You’re injured, Briar.”
I tilted my head. “Oh yeah.” Then, I raised the bottom of my shirt. Blood stained my skin, but there was no wound. “I think I healed myself.”
Sydney approached and touched my stomach. “Wow, Briar. I can feel the power inside you. It’s amazing.”
“It is,” Gareth added. “Very well, the druid can help. I confess I don’t know how this power you have works. If he can help you, what do we have to lose?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Balzac was gone. Set was building his army, and he had his first recruit. The bastard who was supposed to be obedient but stabbed me with a damn fireplace poker instead. If Balzac thought he could control these undead bastards, I suspected he was in for a rude awakening. George paid us homage at first, but it didn’t take long for him to turn from reverence to rampage.
Charlie’s voice cut through the chill settling over the clearing.
“To tap deeper into your past life, we’ll need a stone circle for the ritual. If we were in the UK, it might be easier to get to one. Here, we usually have to build on an as-needed basis.”
Sydney, Gareth, and I exchanged knowing glances. “I know just the place,” I told him. “Dorian’s old sanctuary in the woods by the bar. It’s already got a stone circle.”
Charlie tilted his head. “Why does Dorian have a druid’s circle?”
I shrugged. “He used it to channel his magic. He allowed me to use it to amplify mine back when we were hunting down Gareth.”
Gareth snickered. “That was Darth Gareth, thank you very much.”
Sydney chuckled and backhanded Gareth on the arm. “You’re such a nerd.”
Gareth’s jaw dropped. “There’s nothing nerdy about Star Wars. It’s cool! They use the force. Did you know the netters in Egypt were sometimes called Djedi? We are the modern-day Djedi. That’s where the Jedi came from in those movies. Since I went to the dark side for a while, it’s not inappropriate to refer to that version of myself as Darth Gareth.”
“I like it!” Aiden piped up. “I’ll be the captain. Beam me up, motherfuckers!”
Gareth regarded Aiden with more seriousness in his eyes than was warranted. “You’re talking about Star Trek. I’m talking about Star Wars. You can’t mix them up. It’s a sacrilege.”
Aiden snorted. “Who the hell stuck a lightsaber up your butt? Head to the medical bay, buddy. You’ll need to see Dr. Crusher to have that removed.”
Gareth sighed. “You did it again.”
Aiden shrugged. “Did what? Who cares if they’re trekking or warring? They’re both Star-whatever. It’s all the same shit.”
I raised my hand to silence Gareth before the urge to defend the integrity of Star Wars against Star Trek overtook his better sensibilities. “Can we stay on task, boys?”
Gareth bowed his head. “Sorry.”
“Me too. Hey, while we’re on the topic, I have a serious question.”
Gareth sighed. “What is it, Aiden?”
Aiden scratched the back of his head. “What is a Captain’s Log anyway? Is that what happens when Captain Picard uses the shitter on the Millennium Falcon?”
I clasped my hand over my mouth as Gareth turned three shades of red. I cleared my throat and knew I would have to force a subject change before Gareth was lured back to the Dark Side of the Force. “We were talking about Dorian’s stone sanctuary.”
Gareth drew a deep breath, then shook his head. “Dorian has been a hedge for centuries. Stone circles aren’t usually a part of our practice, but general stonework is. The pyramids, for example. My guess is Dorian encountered druids at some point and coopted their practice.”
Charlie shrugged. “Well, I can’t say for sure if it will work. It’s been a long time since I did anything like this. Haven’t actually worked with a stone circle since I was twelve. Part of coming of age in my family. If it works, it should help focus your thoughts, Briar, so we can journey deeper into your past life’s memories.”
Gareth grimaced. “Well, we should get going. Dorian left his wards up before he left, so I can’t teleport us there.”
Charlie waved it off. “No worries. We’ll hoof it back to the bar first. Gotta check on things and make sure we have enough staff on the clock to take off for a few hours more. Then we’ll take a nature hike, conjure ourselves a past life or two.”
Gareth teleported us to Charlie’s parking lot in a blink. When we materialized, I saw Deputy Jones’ cruiser parked out front.
“Shit,” I muttered. This was the last thing we needed.
We headed inside, the little bell above the door announcing our arrival. Jonesy sat at the bar, nursing a soda and chatting with Grace. When he saw us, he set down his drink and stood.
“Evening, folks,” he announced in that casual yet authoritative way cops had. “Mind if I have a word?”
“Sure thing, Deputy,” Charlie replied smoothly. “What can we do for you?”
Jonesy’s gaze ticked over each of us before settling back on me. “I have some questions about these resurrection cases occurring around town. I told you to steer clear, Miss Bloom. Why am I finding evidence that you’re connected to a number of these cases? Too many to be a coincidence.”
I kept my face neutral, but my heart kicked into overdrive. How the hell did he know?
“Evidence?” I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “Who the hell has evidence? Someone snitching or something?”
Jonesy’s lip quirked. “I’m afraid I can’t reveal my sources. However, you and Mr. Sharpe here seem to be present at a number of the scenes.”
Aiden shook his head. “It’s those damn doorbell cameras, ain’t it?”
Jonesy tilted his head. “Well, I can’t—”
“Yup,” Aiden added. “Doorbell cameras. You’d think y’all would put them to good use, like catching UFOs and shit. Instead, you use them to cheat.”
“Cheat?” Jonesy asked. “How are we cheating?”
“Because it ain’t fair to the criminals if you have camera evidence anywhere!” Aiden insisted. “Like, how can they compete with that?”
“You think it ruins the competition between criminals and the police?”
Aiden nodded matter-of-factly. “It’s all about balance. Superman would be a big spandex-wearing bully without Lex Luthor. Batman would be a real jackass if there was no Joker or Riddler to give him good crime-fighting competition.”
“I’m not sure I’m following your logic, son.”
“Balance!” Aiden insisted. “You know, like yang and yin. Day and night. Hot and cold. Hot chicks and ugly people. Everything needs its opposite. It’s what keeps the universe together. That’s what Sydney says.”
“That’s not exactly—” Sydney stopped herself, realizing there was no point trying to explain. She’d probably tried to teach Aiden about how witches view the world, and he’d reduced it all to the balance of hot versus ugly females.
“Think about it,” Aiden continued. “How would I know Sydney was hot if I never saw any ugly people? You know, to know the difference. Ugly people are important. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t appreciate Sydney for the beautiful person she is.”
Sydney narrowed her eyes. She was trying to think how to respond but was at a loss. “Aiden, I think you’re kind of missing the point. Why don’t we let the deputy here do his job?”
“It’s not only that!” Aiden continued to rail, ignoring Sydney’s plea. “Those doorbell cameras ruin CSI TV shows, too. It’s not as interesting when they solve every other case because some dumbass walked in front of someone’s house.”
Jonesy furrowed his brow. Then he turned away from Aiden and back to me. “The point is, Miss Bloom, you’ve been investigating these cases as witches. I thought I made it clear this is homicide first. Until we’ve done our job, you can’t get involved. If you do, I won’t be able to protect you. Hang around these strange cases too much, and it won’t take some of my colleagues too long to suspect the witches nearby are probably responsible.”
I cleared my throat. “We’re trying to help, Jonesy. If you saw us, you know we were only trying to stop the dead from hurting folks. It’s a complicated situation.”
“It’s an ongoing investigation into multiple homicides,” he replied coolly. “Interfering could mean obstruction charges.”
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Fine, charge me, then! This is bigger than a few murders, Jonesy. We’re talking end of the world big. So, if you want to arrest me, go ahead. But at least let me save the goddamn world first!”
