Chapter 5
The house was not one any witch of his previous coven would have deigned to live in. Those witches were dark and dangerous. They cast blood magic and sex spells. Regular people knew angering a witch resulted in boils, lunacy, and famine. That was the coven of the old days. A coven to fear.
But this house? This was ridiculous. There were bright pink and yellow flowers in front, and they weren’t even poisonous. As he nudged the front gate open and strode into the garden toward the birdhouse that contained the tiny cottage, he paused.
“What’s the matter?” Jessamine asked as she paused with him.
He was staring at the flowers. He couldn’t stop staring at them, because they were the most ridiculous thing he had ever seen.
Jessamine leaned to look, and the little “oo” in her throat made him want to turn right around. Fuck the witch and her sacrifice.
“Nasturtium! Have you tasted these before? We used to put them in salads at the palace; they’re quite delightful.
” She plucked one, lifting it in her hand so she could spin the pretty yellow flower between her fingers before popping it in her mouth.
“I wonder if this is where we ordered them from? I know they came from the Pleasure District, but I never paid much attention to the food orders.”
“This is the home of a witch,” he rumbled. “Herbs and plants for spells are understandable. Raising poisonous plants in your garden is an impressive feat for most witches. Not… edible flowers.”
Jessamine gave him a rather saucy look before swallowing. He could smell the peppery tang on her breath and, somehow, it only made him more disappointed.
“Elric, there are new witches now. We don’t all have to murder people.”
He watched her sashay toward the birdcage, and all he could think was that he’d already lost control over whatever coven he might build in this new century.
“Of course you have to murder people,” he muttered, following her through the beautifully made metallic doors and down the cobblestone path that led to the quaint little cottage. “You’re using my magic. Black magic that I have gifted to all of you. It’s death magic, Jessamine.”
“Maybe you can do things you don’t know about, too.” She lifted her hand and tapped her knuckles on the front door of the stone cottage.
It was something out of a storybook. This home was made of stone and rounded walls, and there was vivid ivy growing all over it. The door itself was a glossy brown, and the central knocker on the door was in the shape of a bright gold bee.
Was he hallucinating? Was this part of having a physical body? Perhaps something was wrong with this form and his mind had fractured. Or he’d conjured this moment in his sleep, and he was about to wake up at any moment.
“Coming!” a bright voice sang out from somewhere inside the cottage, and he swore he heard the trill of birdsong.
Nightmare. Definitely a nightmare.
The door eased open to reveal the strangest little being on the other side.
She was so small that he almost mistook her for a child.
But with that curly mop of hair on her head, she was unmistakably the same woman they had previously seen in the scrying mirror.
He just hadn’t realized she would only come up to the center of his chest.
She wore the most ridiculous dress. With hip caps and massive bell sleeves at her shoulders, she looked like a cupcake. A decorated cupcake with chocolate frosting on top.
“You can’t be her,” he muttered, certain that his expression had crumpled into one of complete disgust.
This new witch gave him an odd look before turning her attention to Jessamine. “Are you here to pick up the new budgerigar? It’s quite an unusual color, and I am very proud of its lineage.”
He watched Jessamine’s nose scrunch. “A… budgerigar?” she asked.
“The parakeet?” The woman looked at the two of them, clearly becoming more confused by the minute. “Or are you here for some other reason?”
He noted that her voice deepened on the second question. There was a warning in that tone.
So, there was a backbone in this woman, even if she was fragile in appearance. This was the witch he had expected to see. He was far more inclined to help her if there was a bit of evil inside her, after all.
“May we come in?” he asked.
Her hand tightened on the door. “I’m afraid not. I don’t know who either of you are, and I don’t have a habit of letting strangers into my… private abode.”
He allowed some of his power to seep out of his skin.
He could feel it crackling in the air around them, raw magic that was so tempting to any witch.
Her pupils blew out the moment she felt it, and then he leaned down so he could look her directly in the eye.
“You’re the one who summoned me, witch. No one denies a god entry. ”
There went all the blood in her face. Just gone.
Leaking out of her flesh to make space for the fear that sent her heart thundering in her chest. He could almost hear it, the rabbitlike thumps of a creature who knew they were standing before a predator.
And he would like nothing more than to clamp his jaws around something soft and fragile.
Jessamine’s hand pressed against his back, and the two of them entered the house before they made even more of a scene. The witch before them stumbled back as she tried not to touch him.
The room beyond was pretty and quaint. There was a small hearth in the corner, more plants growing on every surface that could hold them.
She had a strange metal contraption hanging from the ceiling where she’d attached her copper pots and pans.
A cozy chair in the corner had been patched with multicolored fabric, but it seemed a stylistic choice, as there were no worn bits and all the patches were rich and colorful.
And then there were the birds.
Some of them were massive, with long orange beaks. One for every color of the rainbow. Their feathers glimmered like sapphires, emeralds, rubies, and pearls. Others he could have grasped in one hand, they were so small. And there were easily a hundred of them, if not more.
He ducked as one of them flew too close; the witch made a sound of worry, as though he would kill the little beast. Frowning, he looked up and saw they were surrounded by multiple levels of birds on roosts above their head.
“Birds?” he muttered, sidestepping another one that dove out of the air and seemed to make a beeline for his head.
“Birds,” Jessamine replied, but there was wonder in her voice. “You’re Lady Elissa Burnham, aren’t you?”
The witch sagged against her door and seemed incapable of response.
“You know her?” he asked.
“Everyone knows of her. She’s a very exclusive bird breeder. Nearly all the nobility I have met have one of her parrots. They’re prized possessions, and surprisingly long-lived for creatures like this.” Jessamine’s dark eyes widened as she looked back at the woman. “Are you all right?”
He turned to find that the bird witch had slid down the door until her bottom reached the ground. Under the weight of his gaze, she rolled onto her knees and pressed her face against the floorboards, prostrating herself before him.
Oh, this disappointing witch was going to be the death of him. “Elissa, what seems to be the problem?”
“Glorious Deathless One,” she cried out, her voice shaking with emotion. “Most powerful of your siblings and giver of magic. You honor me with your presence, and I humbly offer my mind, body, and soul in your service if you but grant me one wish.”
Jessamine met his unimpressed stare, and he shrugged while rolling his eyes. “Witch, I have accepted your sacrifice. You may ask anything of me.”
Her only response was to mutter continued supplications and prayers as though she hadn’t summoned the god she was looking for.
Another bird dove toward him, and he ducked yet again. Before he could even think about the words, he muttered, “If one of these birds shits on me, I’m going to kill them all.”
That seemed to do it. The witch on the floor froze, and then looked up at him with big, sad eyes. “Please don’t do that.”
“I will have little choice.”
“I beg of you, god of my mother, have mercy.”
“God of your mother…” he repeated, before crouching in front of her. With his arm braced on his leg, he tilted his head to the side and really looked at her. “Your mother was one of my coven?”
“Well, my great-great-grandmother, who passed on much of her power throughout the lines of women in my family. She was your devout follower until the day she died. She believed you were not dead, not like the others. And that someday, you would come back to save us all.” Elissa looked a little uncomfortable.
“My mother gave me the remains of her power, but I am not a true witch. I have no coven. And I… bottled it.”
“So that’s how you knew the words,” he muttered, drumming his fingers on his knee before he stood. “Your great-great… maybe another great… grandmother. Who was she?”
“Gloria Burnham.”
“Burnham,” he muttered, trying to place a face to the name. “She was a hedge witch, wasn’t she?”
“Green magic, yes. That was her speciality.”
“Poisons.”
“Sometimes. But in the later generations, my family just enjoyed growing whatever plants would thrive under their touch. There was very little magic left.” Elissa cleared her throat.
“And what little my mother had preserved, she wished to give to me. She said someday I would feel magic in the realm again, and that was the time to make a sacrifice to you. That in my hour of greatest need, I should always trust that you never really left us.”
And there it was. That burning sensation in his chest that whispered he owed this woman something. Because she believed in him. She needed help so badly that she was willing to make a deal with the most dangerous god in this kingdom, and because of that, she deserved to be heard.
She was alone. Without him, all witches were alone.
Pity made him weak. But then again, it always had.
Growling low in his throat, he held his hand out for her to take. “Rise, witch. You have pleased me with your sacrifice.”
Her big eyes rounded even more. She took his hand like it was a snake that could bite her, but Jessamine smiled at the touch.
“I will show you the greatest part of my soul,” Elissa said as she dropped his hand and guided them into a back room. “I cannot lose her.”
He steeled himself for an equally odd woman who was likely going to disappoint him yet again. Witches should not have weak consorts, and yet, how was he to know what these new witches wasted time on?
But when he walked into the room, there was no one here. Just a bird. Lying on a table.
Under a blanket.
Fucking hell.
“A bird?” he hissed. “You summoned a god to save a bird?”
“Not just any bird,” Elissa said. “She’s the love of my life.”
Silence. That was all he could manage. Because now that he was really looking, he could see the remnants of a spell gone awry. There were loops of dark magic chained around the creature, but they were all broken. Wrong. A spell cast by a novice who had no idea what she was doing.
“What did you do to this poor woman?” he muttered, striding around the table to get a look at the spell from every angle.
“I tried to make it so she could talk to them,” Elissa whispered. “Sarah always loved them so much. And I thought, with a bit of my mother’s magic, I could give her a gift that would make her ever so happy.”
“You turned her into a bird?”
“I didn’t think that was what I was doing at the time!”
Jessamine paused at his side, tangling their fingers together so she could look as well. Gently, she pointed out a portion of the spell that looked like it had rotted into the bird’s flesh. “That doesn’t look good.”
“That’s because it’s not,” he replied. “Magic like this cannot be undone. It’s beyond fixing. The spell is embedded into the creature. You’ve turned her for good.”
Elissa gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth. “But you’re a god! You can do anything.”
He stared her down, hoping that all of his fury was shown in his features.
She was shaking in fear, but he was shaking with rage.
“Magic is not for the unpracticed. Magic has a price, and sometimes it is permanent. Even a god cannot unravel it. Do you wish for me to kill her? I can do that. I can prevent her from dying, too, if you wish to have her by your side for the rest of your life. But I cannot undo what you have done.”
“Elric,” Jessamine whispered.
He’d been harsh, but witchcraft was not for a novice. Especially not a spell like this.
“Oh dear,” Elissa said, her shaking hands still pressed against her mouth. “What have I done?”
“Nothing good,” he muttered, but then jolted when Jessamine stomped her foot hard on top of his.
Hissing out a pained breath, he sighed at her pointed glare.
“The two of you should leave. I will see what I can do. There is no bringing her back to her previous form, but I might be able to conjure some… staying spell that will give her the lifespan of a normal mortal.”
“Thank you,” Jessamine whispered. She squeezed his hand, and he knew he’d done something right, even if it was just to satisfy the needs of a witch who wasn’t even a witch.
Watching the two women walk out of the room, all he could think was that he’d gotten himself in bigger trouble than he’d thought. Because here he was, expecting a powerful new coven member, and all he’d gotten was a parrot on a table.
Sighing, he looked down at the bird, which was lying eerily like a human in a coma. “All right, you,” he muttered. “Let’s see what magic we can muster.”