Intermission 6
Sixth Intermission
FREYA
Another couple down! A part of me believes Carina and Ryder were less exhausting than Harlow and Alec, simply because they were more self-sufficient, but I think a lot of it also had to do with Alec wanting to kill Harlow.
Made my workload more involved to ensure he didn’t actually accomplish that, whereas these two morons grew together on their own.
Wasn’t I right in the beginning about Carina having such an interesting backstory? Water witch turned Dark, but also a half-shifter, which was her saving grace.
Then there’s her birthplace. Wonder what happened to the Coven of the Silver Seas… Like I told Ryder, they’re not even on Earth anymore. Theories?
Bonus of being the First Witch is knowing where they went. You should try it sometime. Or don’t. The pay sucks.
Having been inside Banff for half of Harlow’s relationship and all of Carina’s, I’ve come to enjoy the outdoorsy shit, so it’s with a sad face I announce we’re leaving the very mountains that helped made me fall in love with Earth.
In the beginning, the world was so different. So much better, to be frank. Then humans kept on procreating, and while it thrills Hecate to no end, I vote on mass destruction of every city so humans can return to pre-industrial revolutionary era living.
Works for the shifters, why not everyone else? Deep down, they must secretly crave it too. It’d be the best explanation for all the end-of-the-world-disaster movies they’re obsessed with.
Yes, I’ve watched them. When witches aren’t killing one another or another species, my job can be pretty slow and boring. Movies are a cool way to pass the time.
Anyway…I’m leaving Banff and wandering the streets of Montreal, Quebec. Camping in the woods may not have been ideal, but it’s infinity times better than city congesticolouron where car honks are the soundtrack, smog the perfume, and chaos the view.
Ugh. The next couple better entertain the hell out of me.
Caden Blackstone and Wynter Devereux—those names just go together, don’t you think? In terms of vibes, they’re closer to Harlow and Alec than Carina and Ryder. Considering she’s a witch and he’s a hunter of Otherworld creatures, they’re definitely going to have some hatred between them at first.
Far below my spot atop a building’s rooftop, I’m able to look down upon the city’s chaos—and the woman in question, as Wynter walks with her hood drawn up. Because how else would you dress when you have a crazy hunter after you?
“Oh, Hecate, this couple’s really gonna do me in, aren’t they?”
Yes, She replies with amusement in her tone. Always listening, always present. My mother, my sister, my best friend, my mentor.
As Wynter turns the corner, a figure slips out from the shadow, weapon strapped to his back. Because how else do you fit in with mortals within a big city?
“And he’s one of the best?” I muse aloud, skeptic. Like Ryder, he’ll need something to help him along because he’s about to get his ass handed to him by Miss Air Magick below.
Until she gets a vision, which will change the trajectory of everything. Ooh, you have no idea how much I want to spoil it for you, but I can’t. It’s truly her thing, not mine.
Also, what do you think happens when a Seer meets another Seer, hm? Think on that, won’t you.
“This war concerns me, Goddess.”
All will be well. Stick to your path. Wind blows, Hecate’s arrival and Her departure. When it passes, so has She, leaving me to my third task.
Two down, two to go.
Personally, I’m excited by Wynter since she may just have the best personality of the four witches.
I mean, can we be honest for a second? Harlow was a big ball of depression.
Carina was anxiety in physical form. Adalyn, we already know will be a twig in the mug or whatever the saying is.
Don’t get me wrong; I love all of them, but between you and me, Wynter’s the most interesting.
She’s the definition of “don’t judge a book by its cover.” She looks like a coven princess, but the girl carries some shadows inside her.
Speaking of shadows…what the hell’s above me?
Oh, it’s…no.
No, no, no, no. no! You weren’t supposed to know about this yet—or at all.
What is he doing? Is he trying to force me to show you?
Oh, shit, this is unavoidable.
Maybe he’ll keep flying. Maybe he won’t know the person on the rooftop is me. Maybe he’ll assume I’m a mortal about to jump to my death. Should I stand on the edge to make it believable?
Oh, he’s still approaching.
Fuck. Fuck me. Just…fuck.
Since being inside my head with all my chaotic thoughts won’t be helpful, I’ll slide back a bit for you and let you see what happens next properly, the same way you were getting Harlow and Carina’s stories. From their perspective but less direct than how I’ve been speaking to you.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
That voice.
It’s one of literal nightmares. Of old hopes and dreams. Of broken promises and nightmares.
It’s one belonging to a demon who began as an angel.
In both lives, he turned his back on me.
In both lives, he broke my heart and made myself live by a certain vow: to never trust another.
One spell, and I can make myself disappear from sight. Another, and I can transport myself to anywhere in the world and ensure he never finds me again.
Yet, I remain corporeal but face the street below. Wind shifts as the burst from his wings takes him from the sky to the gravel roof, his feet making a light thudding with his landing.
Wings I know to be bat-like and leathery and insanely smooth are a result of when his magnificent white feathers burned from his fall from Heaven to Hell, alongside his master, the Devil.
Petting his feathers once entertained me for hours, but when first regarding his demon wings, I fell more in love since they spoke to a Darker side of me.
A side that no longer exists and can never again, especially with the current climate of war.
My spine tingles in that way he’s always been able to pull from me. It’s a sensation I’ve gone a long time without, but now it feels like receiving a hug from an old friend. Or coming home. My body’s always known him, and no matter what realm or century, it could never forget him either.
“I said, what the fuck are you doing, Freya?”
Steps scrape over the gravel—each one thudding through my insides. He’ll want me to turn, to face him, but doing so will undo a century of focus.
He betrayed you, I remind myself.
“Freya,” he snaps, but it’s nothing how he used to speak to me. This time, it’s like I’m one of his many minions—the Lower Demons—that he controls.
“Working. Same as you. Return to your master in Hell, report what you need to, and then kindly go fuck yourself and never seek me out again.”
All remains silent. Demons, if they choose to, can fly quietly. Ideally, he listened and left me alone.
And then, between the honks of vehicles below, the ground scrapes again.
The shadow grows and a burst of wind encompasses me as wide wings cover my vision.
And then feet. Legs with a body attached to it.
Black jeans and nothing but abs and tattoos for miles as he lands on the roof in front of me, poised on the very edge as an immortal soulless being.
No heart, just wrapped in a body created of sin, made for sin.
My gaze drops to the ground without looking past his waist.
His steps approach, erasing the two feet of distance. We both know I’m capable of throwing up a barrier that’ll toss his ass so far into the air, he’ll be swallowing stars. Maybe he can visit his old haunt of Heaven—and that’s in an entire other realm.
But I don’t. I don’t because he’s always held some kind of power over me. No matter the lies and betrayals, my magick refuses to bring harm to him.
Hecate, you suck.
A hand snaps beneath my chin and forces my head up, so I quickly slam my eyes shut before meeting the inky black ones that starred in both my dreams and nightmares for a long time.
Hecate made me immortal, but if there’s one being on Earth who’s always had the ability to kill me without raising a hand, it’s this one. Looking into his eyes are a sure way of returning to the past and abolishing everything I’ve been fighting for when he drags me down.
Maybe I’ll kill him first.
“Open your damn eyes.”
“Fuck off.”
His fingers squeeze tighter, a never-ending pinch until I’m compelled either by my body’s need for relief or his deep rumbling voice. My eyes clash with ones with the power to obliterate me.
His eyes…and everything else about him.
“Vampires, shifters, witches turning Dark… What is the Goddess making you do?”
“And I said, go fuck yourself and fly back to the realm you’ve crawled out of.” I jerk my face away, eyes descending on the ground before centuries upon centuries of wall building crumble.
His chuckle scrapes at years of self-worth. “Glad to see you’re the same, Freya. It’d be a shame if you weren’t. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“A few decades, yeah.” It’s been longer.
“Two centuries and you know that as well as I do. Keep pretending you’re not counting the days. You forget what my role is.”
“To be the biggest asshole around, though you do have competition from one of your distant relatives. The vampire king, Alec Dormer, is something else. Capital A, that one.”
“Beyond the creation of the first vampire, you know their business doesn’t interest me. Or anything else on Earth, for that matter.”
The simple statement—the remark he thinks he’s so smart with—drives my eyes up to his face again, wishing my glare could end the cocky smirk for good. “If that’s the case, why are you here?
“For you, obviously. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Does it matter? Guess it does, or else you won’t be the one to hand me to your master.”
He releases a growl comparable to Ryder’s, and a hand snaps beneath my chin, gripping my throat again. It’s a gentle hold, though, his fingers brushing over the pulse he could very well crush with a firm poke if he chose.
“That was never my plan, and you fucking know it. You never gave me a chance to properly explain.”
I still won’t.
He sighs and his hand slides off my neck, easily undoing a hundred years of self-progress. His fingers caress to my collarbone as memories of him touching me like this in a field, feathered wings preventing the sun from burning me, assaults more of my distaste.
“I’m warning you, keep your witches away from this war.”
“Tell me what you know about it, and maybe I will.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
Because of his master with the tail, horns, and wings who’ll burn him alive. “Then you know why I can’t either.”
He sighs and his wings shoot out to the side, reminding me of that very day I’ll be drinking acid to extinguish. “Stay alive, Freya. You know the consequences if you don’t.”
“As if you care.”
His wings push down, lifting him off the ground and hopefully back towards his realm or literally anywhere else that isn’t near me. Before he flies off, his voice floats down, so soft, it’s nearly lost on the wind.
“I care. Always have, always will.”
Um.
Yeah…
Fuck.
Now you know. Kinda.
Now isn’t the time for that depressing history lesson, because Caden and Wynter’s dramatic romance awaits!
Coming along?
But first, after that peek into the past…I need a fucking drink.