Fated By Starlight: Volume 1

Chapter 25

Acapable-looking woman is the first to emerge from one of the homes. As she walks, she ties a linen apron around her waist, thick gray hair spilling down her back in a braid. Another woman comes running out of another house, her hair falling in loose black coils. A third slowly emerges, walking slowly, a staff clutched in one hand.

“Hurry your young legs over there, can’t you see she doesn’t have much time?” The older woman snaps.

“You’re always so grumpy when you don’t sleep well,” the younger girl says, grinning in spite of her tone.

“Hush you two, you’ll wake the whole coven.” The grey-haired woman says, a no-nonsense frown on her face as she approaches Dazgan. Molmith, still on a lead behind me, lets out a nervous whicker.

Fear washes over me. This is no hermit’s village, no simple mage’s town. My eyes slip over them, disbelief warring with the desire to help Ali.

Mother. Maiden. Crone.

“House Hecate,” I breathe. I thought they disappeared after Inasgow, gone with the other women.

“At your service. I see you’ve already paid the toll,” the crone says, jerking her head in the direction of the lake.

“He looks like he could use a stiff drink,” the younger says.

“He looks like he’s seen a ghost.” The old woman laughs at that, her eyes glittering with humor.

“Dabin said nothing of House Hecate.”

“Of course he didn’t,” the middle-aged woman snaps. “Anyone who received aid from us is sworn to silence. Otherwise the vampires would have taken us out long ago, just as they did your women.” She cants her head sideways, eyes narrowing.

“He has a woman in his arms, you dolt,” the old woman says. “They didn’t get her.”

“Magical poisoning,” the youngest gasps, her eyes wide. “She’s in a bad way.”

“I smell the Legrino flower,” the crone says, her nostrils flaring as she sniffs. “So you’ll be wanting the markings then too, hmm?”

Dazgan takes a step back, and I tighten my grip on the reins.

“She needs aid,” I say. “Tattoos can wait. He said you’d save her.”

“And you promised that old ass anything, didn’t you?” The mother shakes her head, eyes on the crescent moons overhead. “Idiocy. As though he has anything to do with us. Always trying to edge in.”

“That’s the way of things,” the elder says, reaching a papery-skinned hand up. “She’s burning.” With that, she turns around, making her way back to one of the houses.

“Well come on then, don’t just stand there. You want the girl saved, don’t you?”

“She’s a pretty one,” says the youngest, her warm gaze fixed on Ali’s face. “Things are happening as they foretold, then, aren’t they, mother?”

“Enough,” the gray-haired woman snaps. “Come on then, Scorpio, let’s save your mate. We’ll send the menfolk out to care for your poor beasts. Didn’t take good care of them, did you?”

Shame fills me as I dismount Dazgan as smoothly as possible, not wanting to jar Ali from her slumber. She’s right, the two horses are flecked with foamy lather, sides heaving after the pace I set them too. Even Westshear horses need rest, and I pushed them too hard.

“She summoned her power then?” The youngest asks, watching me hold Ali with shining, hopeful eyes. “What is it?”

“The wild hunt.”

The girl nods, opening her mouth to say more, but a withering glance from the mother has her snapping it closed again.

I follow them into one of the small houses, bending slightly as I step through the door. Like so many homes, it likely boasts one living area where everything is done: sleeping, eating, cooking. When I straighten, I swallow slowly.

The interior does not match the tiny outside. Three doors lead from the main area, each carved with different intricate symbols. A stone hearth dominates the far wall. A clock ticks in a corner, a wood and brass fabrication that’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen. A huge table presses against another wall, herbs and dried flowers hanging in bundles from the rafters. The whole house smells of the wilds, of pine and flowers and fresh air, and the unexpected smell of lightning in a storm.

It smells of power and magic, and my scorpion form roils inside me, wanting out, wanting to meet these witches where they work and challenge them.

“You can turn into a giant scorpion and snap beasties in half with your pincers, but a little taste of House Hecate magic turns you pale?” The crone glances over her shoulder at me, hands busy crushing fragrant herbs with a stone pestle. The stone mortar’s shaped like a skull. Noticing my expression, the old woman waggles her white eyebrows at me.

“Don’t let the old biddy’s scare tactics bother you,” the youngest says, pressing her palm to Ali’s cheek. “She’s in good hands.”

“Six hands make light work of heavy things,” says the middle-aged woman, stoking the fire in the hearth higher.

“Thank you,” I manage, and the mother turns toward me, a tight smile on her face.

“Don’t thank us yet. It’s going to be a long night.”

The black-haired girl measures out several liquids, stirring them into a pot, clockwise, then counterclockwise. “And a long day,” she adds. “He said it was the wild hunt, Mother.”

“A huntress, hmmm?” The crone laughs, a dry sound that sets my teeth on edge. “Things certainly are coming to a point, aren’t they?”

“Mother,” grits out the grey-haired witch.

“Get it, Lila? A point?” The crone nudges the young woman, laughing. “Like the vampire’s teeth.”

Lila laughs a little. “Good one, Granny.”

“Now is not the time,” the mother hisses out, joining them at the table.

My eyes narrow. Vampires? That’s what the Starbound women have all called the blood drinkers.

“Here,” says Lila, handing me a strange-smelling liquid. “Get her to drink this.”

I eye it suspiciously, then gag as I smell it.

“Men,” scoffs the crone. “So weak. Have her drink it, Scorpio. The taste alone could wake the dead….” Her voice trails off. “Not that I ever tried that.” She gives me a shifty look. “Not lately, anyway.”

“Don’t listen to her.” The mother rolls her eyes. “It’ll wake her up so we can try to put her back into balance. I assume you two have not sealed the bond? It’s trying to tighten between you, squeezing both your magic out, but something’s keeping it from working.”

“We swore an oath to each other. That we would not?—”

“You swore not to have sex with your mate?” The old lady stomps back to the table, shaking her head, muttering something that sounds like ‘kids these days.’

“Mother,” admonishes the grey-haired woman. “Well,” her gaze turns back to me, “that certainly would explain it. She has a lot of power. You have a lot of power. You’re calling to each other, as you would balance each other out. The marking spell will help, but mating will bring you back in balance.”

I nod, completely worn out and fighting exhaustion and fear, like this makes sense to me.

“Here,” she says, not unkindly, pressing past me to open Ali’s mouth. “Hold her.” With that, she dumps the vial into Ali’s mouth.

The effect is immediate. Ali jerks upright, sputtering and retching.

“Ali, you are safe, it’s okay,” I tell her, stroking my hand up and down her arm.

Her eyes swing to me, and I blink at her. The pale blue of her eyes, the color I’m so addicted to seeing, has disappeared.

Her eyes glow lavender.

“That doesn’t seem right.” Lila purses her lips. “Her eyes?—”

“They’re usually blue,” I grunt out, Ali’s power slapping me in the face. Outside, I hear Molmith’s scream. “She’s calling for aid.”

“She’s worse than we thought, Scorpio.” The old woman hustles over, more quickly than I would’ve thought possible, then shoves something into Ali’s mouth.

Ali’s eyes flutter closed, and she wilts in my arms.

“What was that?” I growl. “If you hurt her?—”

“Shut up, you brute,” says the old woman. “Let us work.”

I open my mouth to retort, my muscles bunching as I prepare to wrest Ali from these crazy witches’ house, preparing to chance it alone or seal the bond against both our wishes.

But before I can get a word in edgewise, the old crone’s stuck something in my mouth too. Something crunchy and strange and not altogether unpleasant.

My eyes go wide, and I struggle to stay upright.

“Oh, brilliant, mother, now we’ll have to heave that giant lug into bed.”

“Nah, just let him lie where he falls. Big warrior like that? I’m sure he’s slept in worse situations.”

Anger sears me, and though I struggle to stay awake, sleep pulls me under nearly as quickly as it did Ali.