Chapter Nineteen
Walker
A s Freya’s scream pierced the silence, I lit the Sol Sword with my lightning and pushed Cadence behind me. Ryder growled, and Arion hissed. Five floating women appeared in front of me, each wearing extravagant petty coats and covetous smiles. Dark magic wailed, but amid it, Freya’s power flickered.
I studied my adversaries and moved farther into the mansion and closer to the source of Freya’s awful scream. I didn’t care that I faced some of the most infamously cruel and powerful witches to ever exist.
They were mere obstacles between me and my—
My Freya.
“Perfect,” the plump, older woman preened. “Let’s see what he can do, girls.”
The four younger witches—ghosts—whatever the hell they were descended upon us. With her yellow teeth bared, one of them flew directly at me, and I swung. As my electric sword struck, the ghost-witch hissed and writhed then dissipated into nothing.
With horror marring their pale faces, the others paused and darted through the walls. They reappeared just as quickly and lunged at my friends.
Darkness plumed from the shortest one's hands—right at Cadence. She dipped out of its path, but the darkness grazed her arm, and she cried out. Red glazed over my vision. I drove the Sol Sword into the ghost-witch’s chest and just like her sister, she perished.
My hunter’s instincts to protect and kill took over. I lunged and parried, and Ryder maneuvered out of my way. The other witch threw darkness at him, but he avoided it with a graceful leap, which drove the ghost-witch into my path. I sliced the Sol sword through her neck. She gasped and dissipated.
“Walker!” Cady yelled.
The remaining daughter pressed her against the wall and reared her arm back to strike my sister. I drove my sword through her ribs and basked in her demise. Breathing raggedly, I met Madame Delphine’s smug gaze.
“You really are a masterpiece,” she whispered in awe.
“And you’re a psycho,” I spat. “Where’s Freya?”
“Shit,” Ryder muttered.
Madame LaLaurie’s daughters flickered back into existence at her sides.
“Miss me?” the revived ghost-witch taunted.
I balked.
“Did you really think us so easy to destroy?” Madame LaLaurie chided.
As a door swung open on creaking hinges, power—so brilliant and strong it vibrated my chest—blasted into the room. The air thinned and something shimmery and silver attacked the yellow-toothed sister. Her shrill scream rattled the walls, and the others lurched away from her. Flames erupted from the ghost-witch’s chest, until they swallowed her body whole and all that was left was a singed mark on the tiled floor.
“Yes,” Freya said. “I think you are that easy to destroy.”
Despite the magic that radiated off her in waves, she half-crawled down the stairs. The left side of her face was mottled with bruises, and her left shoulder hung awkwardly at her side.
As Freya’s copper eyes met mine, they blazed with magic.
“Duck!” Freya yelled.
I grabbed Cadence and threw myself over her on the floor. Ryder and Arion hit the ground beside me, and Freya launched a gust of wind so powerful it howled in my ears and wrenched the mansion’s door wide open.
Dark magic rattled the walls, and one of the witchy sisters towered over me. She threw liquid darkness at Cady and me, but I sliced through it with the Sol Sword, then drove it into the witch’s stomach. Both she and her magic dissipated into nothing, but it wouldn’t last long.
“Salt!” Freya screamed. “We need salt!”
Leaning against the damaged stair railing, Freya faced off Madame LaLaurie alone. With her hand outstretched toward the infamous madame, Freya held her in some kind of magical vice. Though Freya trembled like a leaf, her hold on the ghost-witch remained strong.
“Walker,” Cady instructed, “bring the breeze, and I’ll pry the salt from it.”
I hesitated. I had succeeded in using my magic a few times, but I had never summoned wind without summoning a whole storm.
“ Now!” Freya screamed.
Cursing under my breath, I raised my hands to the open door and willed the salty, sea breeze to come into the mansion. Wind swept into the entryway so violently it knocked a painting off the wall and the door slammed shut.
“Cover me,” Cady ordered and rose to her feet.
As Cady whispered a spell, Arion, Ryder, and I fought off the remaining witchy sisters. At the behest of Cady’s buzzing magic, a wave of shiny, silver particles filled the high ceiling of the mansion.
Realizing what was headed for them, the ghost witches fought harder. The shortest one disappeared through the wall, only to emerge once again with rage in her eyes and dark magic in her hand. She launched it at my sister, but I dove in front of its path and swung the Sol Sword through it.
As salt pelted my body from above, I squeezed my eyes shut and crashed into the far wall. Screams shook the walls and pierced my ears, then heavy silenced replaced the cacophony. All that was left were ragged breaths.
Warily, I opened my eyes.
Eyes still blazing with magic, Cady breathed hard. The dark magic had singed her side, but she remained otherwise whole. Ryder stood and rubbed his eyes, and Arion raced down the entryway to Freya.
She wobbled on her feet.
Worry soured my relief, and I rushed to her side. When I tried to reach for her, she waved me off and steadied herself, but her bluster didn’t convince me she was okay. Her entire right side was swollen, and she cradled her arm against her chest. When her eyes met mine, I noticed the many burst capillaries under them, but it was the fear that shone in their depths that boiled my blood.
I wanted to bring Madame LaLaurie back to life just so I could be the one to end her.
Instead, avoiding her injured shoulder, I hugged Freya. She melted into my embrace and hid her face in my chest. As she took steadying breaths, I shielded her from our friends’ sight and let her collect herself the only way she would want to—privately.
“You’re safe,” I whispered. “You’re safe.”
Eventually, she pulled back. Though it was crooked because of the swelling, Freya smiled.
“You found me,” she said in a voice hoarse from her screams.
“Of course I did,” I said. “I’ll always find you.”
No words had ever been truer.
“I hate to break up this adorable reunion,” Ryder said, “but we should probably get out of here before someone notices we’re trespassing.”
I released Freya from my grip but steadied her with a hand on the small of her back.
“Did they see everything?” I asked in a rush. “We can’t expose magic to humans or this whole thing is for nothing.”
“Spirits—witches or not—are invisible to humans,” Freya assured me, “but it doesn’t mean they didn’t catch a glimpse of the broken padlock and the gusts of wind.”
“We have to get out of here,” Cady agreed. “Surely, there’s a rear exit?”
“Let’s go check it out,” Ryder said.
As he led Cadence through the doorway to the left, he nodded at me in silent confirmation that he would keep my sister safe. I studied Freya, who remained unsteady on her feet. I wanted to pick her up, but I didn’t want to lose my tongue for suggesting such a thing.
She eyed the closed door. “We need a glamour.”
Freya murmured a spell and buckled over. I caught her by her waist, and she whimpered in pain. I loosened my grip immediately.
“ Freya,” I whispered. “You can’t cast another spell—you’ll burn out. We’re either sneaking out the human way, or you’ll have to walk me through the spell.”
She righted herself, but I kept my arms in the air around her.
“It’s not the kind of thing I can teach you on the fly,” she said. “And we can’t risk getting caught—”
As a woman stepped into the doorway, her shadow filled the entryway, and I tucked Freya behind me.
“I could be of assistance,” a sultry voice purred.
As she stepped farther into the mansion, her plush, red-wine lips stretched into a smile. Magic hummed against her skin.
Witch.
I pulled my sword from its sheath, and it crackled to life. The beautiful, brown-skinned woman merely chuckled.
“Now,” she said, “waving that thing around with the door open? That’s asking for trouble.”
The witch murmured a spell. Rich magic filled the air, and a shimmery glamour slid over the blasted door. She threw her long braids over her slender shoulder. Earrings dangled midway down her delicate neck, and she wore a colorful wrap dress that framed her gentle curves. Her beauty was timeless, but her face was lined with the beginnings of age.
“You’re…” Freya trailed off and struggled for a name. "La…La…"
“Marie Laveau,” she provided and bared her bright white teeth. “ Not to be confused with the wench who ruled this mansion.”
???
Freya
Goddessdammit, I thought. I always confuse LaLaurie with Laveau.
Behind me, the door Cadence and Ryder had walked through opened, and two witches led the werewolf and witch into the room. I tensed, and pain bloomed throughout my battered body. Though Ryder was pissed, and Cadence was bewildered, neither appeared harmed.
I studied the two unknown witches, but I didn’t recognize either the bronze-skinned brunette or the blonde. The brown-haired witch’s eyes were a startling shade of turquoise, and the blonde’s ears were weighted down with dozens of silver hoops. Both of them eyed Walker like he was a zoo animal. I curled my lip at them, and they averted their gazes. Arion snaked between my legs but didn’t stiffen from a threat.
“You can put down the sword,” Marie Laveau said to Walker. “Despite your Anchor’s mix-up, my coven and I are here to help.”
Walker did not lower his sword, though his lightning wavered. “Anchor?”
I wanted to ask about the odd use of the term too, but the longer I stood, the further my strength faded.
“Whoa,” Cadence said. “You’re Marie Laveau—you’re one of the most talented healers ever. You created what is now the standard salve and spell combo for burns! Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
Marie chuckled. “My death was nothing more than a tall tale for the humans to consume. They like to visit our city for a taste of magic, but they would be frightened to learn of our true power and long lives.”
“Coven mother,” the blonde witch interrupted, “shouldn’t we be returning home?”
Marie nodded and met my gaze. She gestured to the glamoured doorway behind her.
“Come with us,” she said, not unkindly. “We can heal your wounds and offer insight I suspect you desperately seek—insight about the chimera.”
Walker’s hand grazed mine, and I met his gaze.
“Healing would be good,” he murmured.
I considered Marie’s offer. Though I had never personally met her, she was well-respected among witches for both her talent and compassion, and we were short on options. I wasn’t in any state to conjure a glamour, and we couldn’t traverse the city without drawing attention to ourselves thanks to my injuries.
“All right,” I said. “Lead the way.”
With a glare at the witches who trailed them, Ryder led Cady back to her brother’s side. Marie whispered a spell and cast a glamour over us, and we followed her outside, into the bustling city. Thanks to Marie’s magic, nobody paid any mind to the mansion or to us, and humans gravitated out of our path.
Trepidation and exhaustion weighed me, and each step I took felt like a colossal achievement. Glamours required complicated spells and more power depending on the number of people to be fooled. The glamour surrounding my coven’s apartments involved a monthly spell in which every witch’s magic helped cast it. Wearing my Emily glamour had been exhausting, and it was one of the many reasons I had loathed human high school.
Marie Laveau didn’t appear the least bit fatigued.
When we reached a grime-covered grate, the two younger witches lifted the lid, and Marie gestured for us to climb into the dank, disgusting space.
Walker grimaced. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Squeamish?” Marie taunted.
“I don’t think a sewer is the best place for Freya’s wounds,” he ground out, though I doubted all the disgust on his face was out of concern for me.
“I don’t think a sewer is the best place in general,” Cady added.
A breeze swept down the street and stirred the already horrific smell. I coughed to cover my gag.
“Every second we waste standing here,” Marie chided, “is another second I must maintain this glamour. I suggest you follow me before my desire to help you wanes.”
None of my friends took a step closer to the grate. We were weakened and without options, which made following Marie into the darkness even less appealing.
“How do we know it’s not a trap?” I asked.
Marie crossed her arms. Considering her age and power, I doubted she was accustomed to being questioned.
“Aside from the fact that I considered your mother one of my most respected colleagues,” she explained, “we also share a common goal. We both want the chimera apprehended. That is what you all want, right?”
She knew Mom, too? I thought. How much time did Mom spend in New Orleans?
I sighed and shuffled toward the grate. Though I refused to so much as slouch in front of the foreign witches, every part of my body ached. Part of me was desperate enough to enter the sewer for the mere chance of rest. Walker stood close enough for me to lean on, but I refused to accept his help and appear weak.
“I’ll go first,” he offered and lowered himself to the ladder. He took a few steps down then peered up at me.
He’s waiting to catch me in case I fall.
My heart squeezed in my chest, but I swallowed the lump of emotion and approached the opened grate. Though I would never admit it, I was grateful for the cowboy’s help.
As I climbed down, my shoulder and thumb burned. I barely held in my whimper and hurried down the last few steps. In the shadows of the sewer and out of sight of the others, Walker steadied me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Walker nodded.
“Cady?” he called.
His sister appeared in the grate’s opening and hurried down, followed by Arion, who simply leaped to my side. As the others descended, I bit back bile from the stench and the pain. Rancid water trickled past the platform we stood on.
“This way,” Marie announced and walked deeper into the sewer.
With a wave of her hand, the blonde witch magically shifted the grate’s covering back into position. Along the grimy, concrete walls, floating balls of flame flickered to life and lit our path. The magic’s song blended with the constant rush of water.
“They couldn’t have spelled against the smell?” Ryder complained. I rolled my eyes, and the other witches did not deign to respond.
As we walked, time stretched. I leaned more and more heavily on Walker’s sturdy form. He brushed his hand against mine in silent comfort that I knew I shouldn’t accept but couldn’t shy away from.
Shadows danced on the walls. They reminded me of the chilling darkness that had settled over the mansion under Madame LaLaurie’s will. I had been trapped there, alone, without my friends or my familiar—
Walker squeezed my hand, and I realized my breath had grown ragged.
Ashamed, I quieted myself and focused on his touch. His callused palms were solid against mine, and his gentle grip tethered me to the present.
He came for you, I reminded myself. They all did.
It was a selfish thought. Walker never should have been in the vicinity of the cruel witch. She would have ripped him apart to try to replicate his power, but I couldn’t help but be grateful he had found me.
Finally, Marie stopped. I searched for an indication as to why, but the grimy, concrete walls were as dirty and ordinary as ever. The sewer water flowed past us. A dark realization struck me, and I tensed.
Had they really brought us down here to kill us?
Marie murmured a spell, and her coven members echoed it. Light trailed down the wall and shaped a rectangular outline. In the center of the shape, the intertwined letters ML emblazoned. Marie’s coven members whispered under their breath, and the rectangle swung open like a door.
“Nifty,” Cady muttered.
Laughter and incense and languid magic poured from inside the hidden room. As we followed Marie inside, I blinked against the sudden but warm light. When my vision cleared, it was as if I had entered an entirely different world from the dank, smelly sewer.
Witches lounged on plush, velvet green and leather couches. Candles burned and spread the magic molded into the wax. The hardwood floors were adorned by brilliantly vivid rugs. Wooden figures and a wild array of photos sat on antique tables and dressers strewn across the expansive room. To the left was a kitchen and apothecary. Some of the herbs lining its shelves were familiar, but there were several salts, flowers, feathers, and bones I did not recognize
I took in my surroundings with a quick, but thorough sweep of my gaze and focused once more on the witches. There were more elder witches here than in my own larger coven. Their lined faces varied in skin tones, but the same eerie wisdom shone in their bright eyes. One of the particularly old witches, with wild, white curls, caught my stare.
“Dear Marie is credited as the Queen of Voodoo,” she croaked like a door swinging open for the first time in years, “but she is far from the first witch to learn the practice.”
“I,” I began and cleared my throat, “I didn’t mean to stare—"
“Freya needs healing,” Walker said without preamble. He reached out and tugged on his sister’s hair, who currently spun in a circle and basked.
I squared my shoulders. “I only request a place to rest.”
Walker glared, but I offered the tiniest shake of my head. Legend or not, I did not trust Marie Laveau. I did not want her or her coven’s magic touching me, nor did I want them to realize just how weak I currently was.
Marie chuckled. “You’re the spitting image of your mother, but I fear you inherited Josephine’s stubbornness.”
I flinched, and Marie’s gaze tracked the movement like a well-seasoned predator.
Did she know Josephine too? I wondered. Or did she just hear the rumors?
“She said she wants to rest,” Cadence said. Her face was tight with an unusual show of anger.
Ryder walked to my vacant side and crossed his arms.
“Very well,” Marie purred. A smile tugged the corners of her lips. “That can be arranged for all of you and perhaps you would enjoy a means to clean yourselves as well?”
“Thank you,” Walker clipped.
“Mira will show you the way,” Marie promised.
The dark-haired witch with wild, turquoise eyes gestured to the right, toward a hanging, vibrantly constructed tapestry. If exhaustion and throbbing pain didn’t blur my vision, I would’ve taken the time to admire it before the witch—Mira—pulled it aside and revealed a long hallway.
As she led us, floating balls of flame flickered to life, like they had in the sewers, and lit the way. Smooth, black stone formed the walls, dotted with wooden-framed doors and occasional, old paintings from another lifetime. Further down the hall, Mira paused.
“There are spare bedrooms here.” She gestured to the nearest doors, which were positioned beside each other, then turned toward the door opposite of the others. “The bathhouse is there. There are towels inside.”
“Bathhouse?” Walker questioned.
Mira blinked at him and walked away, back in the direction of the rest of her coven.
“And here I was,” Ryder said, “thinking this place was pretty modern considering its old-as-dirt residents.”
I was too tired to chide him for how his voice carried down the hall. Instead, I simply walked into the bathhouse. Though I wanted nothing more than to sleep, I couldn’t imagine resting without washing the harrowing day and sewer stink from my skin. As I shuffled into the large room, I gasped.
Though the cavernous space was constructed of the same slick, black stone and was lit by the same magical flames as the rest of Marie’s home, water trickled down the far wall and filled a pool of dark steaming water the size of three apartments back home. Lavender and jasmine lingered in the air. I breathed in the soothing scents and stripped out of my clothes and jewelry without using my bad shoulder.
I climbed down the steps of the bathhouse and hissed at how the hot water burned my wounds. Gritting my teeth, I waded deeper, until I was submerged to the chin. My wounds burned, but not with the ferocity of that initial sting. I ducked my head below and scrubbed my scalp. As I rose above the water once again, my tense muscles relaxed. I searched the shadowy walls and edges of the pool for soap but found none.
“I guess a rinse is better than nothing,” I muttered.
Talking to myself was a sure sign of exhaustion, so I scrubbed the crystalline water into my bruised and scraped side and cleaned myself the best I could. My wounds ached under my touch, but relief bloomed in my chest. I wanted all traces of Madame LaLaurie washed from my skin.
When I had cleaned every inch of my body, I hesitated to journey out of the bath. Nothing had felt this good in a while. My thoughts and worries and fears drifted away on the bathwater’s steam. Completely relaxed, I floated in the bath’s depths and enjoyed the quietness of my thoughts.
Water clogged my throat, my eyes, my nose. I thrashed, but something—someone—yanked me up. As I blinked the water out of my eyes, familiar, strong arms laid me on the smooth black stone. I coughed and coughed, until I lurched to the side and spat out a mouthful of water. As I came back into reality, Walker’s worried face filled my vision. He hovered over me like a guardian angel.
“Walker?” I asked in a hoarse voice.
His magic thrummed. “You were drowning.”
“You say that like an accusation,” I said.
He sighed and ran a hand through his now damp hair.
“You lost your hat,” I complained.
He looked at me like I was crazy. “That’s your biggest concern?”
I shrugged, and his gaze dipped.
Oh dear Goddess, I thought as heat sprawled from my neck to my ears, how did I forget I’m naked?
Walker’s face softened with awe as it trailed down my form, and a different kind of heat set me ablaze. My heart galloped in my chest, wilder than Arion’s racing hooves. As if lost in a trance, Walker’s hand reached for my skin. I struggled not to writhe in anticipation. I struggled not to run from the weight of his gaze and the depth of his adoration, of that powerful emotion I refused to name shining in his eyes—
Walker stopped himself and redirected his gaze to the high ceiling.
“Your wounds,” he said breathlessly. He swallowed and so did I. “They’re healed.”
Disappointment and relief warred inside me. I wouldn’t admit that disappointment was winning. Cursing myself, I glanced down at my skin. It was slightly reddened from the warmth of the water and the heat of whatever had not just transpired between the cowboy and me, but there was not a bruise or scrape in sight. Even my thumb felt normal. I rolled my shoulder and realized it too was pain-free.
“That was why Marie was smiling so smugly,” I said. “This whole bath is enchanted with healing magic.”
Without tearing his gaze off the ceiling, Walker grunted and rolled away from me. I rose and quickly hurried to the shelves of white towels near the door. Once I wrapped one around me, I sighed.
“You can look now, cowboy,” I assured Walker.
“Cady and Ryder went to bed,” he said and kept his eyes averted. “Those weirdos chose to brave sleeping with sewer germs rather than wait on you.”
“Gross,” I agreed.
He ran a hand down his face. “It’s why I was the one to, um, to run in…Sweet— Freya, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or feel unsafe…” He cringed as if the thought was actually painful for him to consider. “I would never intentionally violate your privacy…I just heard choking and—”
“Walker,” I interrupted. “It’s fine.”
He still wouldn’t look at me, and guilt etched lines into his tired face. Cautiously, I padded across the smooth stones and sat on my knees in front of him. His gaze remained pointedly fixed at something over my shoulder.
“Look at me,” I whispered in a voice breathier than I had intended it to be.
At last, Walker met my gaze. Because I wanted to touch the broad expanse of his chest, I grabbed his hand instead. He intertwined our fingers without hesitation.
“I trust you,” I said. “If I trust anyone, I trust you .”
Familiar magic grew taut between us and overshadowed the languid haze I now recognized as one of Marie Laveau’s healing spells. As Walker’s electric gaze bored into mine, something settled in my chest.
I sank into the feeling, and minutes or hours passed. It was hard to tell in the pleasant darkness. Eventually, we went to our separate rooms. When I walked into the oddly orthodox room with two twin beds, I barely accounted for my surroundings. I was grateful to find a pile of clothes waiting for me on the emerald comforter of my bed. As I numbly changed clothes, Ryder’s snores rattled the walls. I laid down with one crippling but magical thought.
I had let Ryder go once things got too close, too fast. On this trip, we had settled back into our old friendship.
But Walker.
I could call Walker my friend till I drew my last breath—and I would—but he claimed more of my heart than almost anyone ever had.
You’re a spitting image of your mother, but I fear you inherited Josephine’s stubbornness.
As I drifted into sleep’s embrace, Marie’s words echoed into my dreams, where my mother and Josephine waited for me. In my mind, we were as we had once been—a family. But even there, peace couldn’t last. Shapeshifting monsters attacked us at our cottage. As they ripped the two people I loved most from my clutches, they were faster than even Arion.
I woke with a face dampened by tears and a heart hardened by hurt.