Chapter 18 #2
“The serpent has been born… a warlock of a new age. His magic will fail him until he finds the witch destined to be with him. She will restore balance… she will help him lead the witching world into a place of hope. They will protect the power of magic at its source but she… the mongoose will be his rival, his equal, his balance. Without her, he is cold, he is lost… he is dangerous. Without him, she will no longer bring sunlight into the world, no longer protect her people. Only together do they belong. Only together can they both be strong.”
The vision faded and Malcolm swallowed hard around the lump of his throat. It wasn’t just about him; it was about Calli too, and that they were meant to be together.
“Who’s the other witch she spoke of?” Tamsin asked. “Do you know her?”
Malcolm waved a hand and the ball floated back into its stand on the top shelf.
It hadn’t ceased to amaze him that his magic came so easily now, did exactly as he bid.
When he’d been upset with himself and his father, his magic hadn’t worked because he’d been afraid of it.
When he’d been with Calli, he’d wanted it to work too much.
Now… when apathy ruled him, his magic did just as he wished.
Soft afternoon sunlight crept through the nearest window, warming his cold skin. He felt Tamsin’s eyes on him, curious, her question still hanging in the air.
“I know her,” he finally admitted. “Do you know anything about witch-locking?”
“Just the usual romantic stories tied to it. Did you lock with her?”
“No… but we were going to. It’s funny how quickly you can connect,” said Malcolm. “It’s like you knew them from a previous life, and you just need to catch up a bit to pick up where you left off.”
“Wow, it’s really like that?”
Malcolm nodded. “It took less than a week for her to become my entire world. And less than a minute for me to destroy hers. Twice.”
“Seriously?” Tasmin said. “But, you didn’t mean to, did you? This wasn’t some weird Council initiation thing? How did you do it twice?”
“The first time, I was a child, and it was by accident,” said Malcolm. “But it was also a prophecy.”
Tamsin sighed. “Oh… I’m so sorry.” She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “What happened?”
“I killed her parents. I was flying my broom low to the ground late at night and caused a truck to swerve to avoid me, which forced her parent’s car off the road.”
“And you said you were a child?”
“I was fourteen. She lost both of her parents that day. Then, last week, we were told I was the cause of it. I might as well have killed them all over again.”
Her brows rose in surprise, then lowered. “I’m so sorry you found out that way. But you have to understand that even if it was foretold, it was still an accident. I know you want her to forgive you for this, but that takes time and understanding.”
“I’m not sure I could have forgiven her if I had been in her place.” Malcolm replayed that night over and over in his mind.
“I don’t know you well, but I’m certain you would have forgiven her immediately.” Tamsin’s eyes seemed to peer straight through to his soul.
“How could you possibly know that?” Malcolm asked.
“You told me what it feels like to be with someone you can witch-lock with. So answer me this. Do you love her?”
For a moment, Malcolm couldn’t speak. But the answer was obvious. “I love her so much it feels like I’ve always loved her. That every atom in my being carries her name, that my heart beats to her breath, that my soul exists to see her smile. Every part of me loves her.”
“And this is a witch-lock we’re talking about. You think that happens every day? You don’t give up on something like that. Give her the chance to see it, to feel it. She is your destiny. The witch you will lock with will not be able to walk away from that cosmic pull.”
“She already has given up,” he replied, remembering that haunted look on her face when she told him to leave her house.
“You think perfect couples always have it easy?” Tasmin said, her eyebrow arched. “She was dealing with shock, and reliving her grief. Once the shock has worn off, and she’s had the chance to see the truth, forgiveness will come more easily. Especially if she loves you.”
“You sound like you have experience in this.”
Tamsin’s face pinkened. “Not really… not yet, anyway. I believe I found my special someone. Problem is, he isn’t approved of by my family.”
“I can understand that. Calli’s a hedge witch.”
Tasmin nodded. “Ah, that kind of roadblock. In my case, I’m the seventh child of a seventh child.
That comes with certain… responsibilities.
According to my parents. Now that I’m twenty-one, my parents want to fulfil a contract for me to marry a warlock that lives here in Boston.
He’s the son of an illustrious witching family.
I’m trying to find my way out of it.” She lifted the book she’d been holding. “Hence the research.”
“What is it with parents interfering in their kids’ lives?” Malcolm asked in all seriousness.
“No idea.” Tamsin chuckled, though the sound held a hint of bitterness. “Good luck with your witch, Wayward Malcolm.”
He laughed at her teasing.
“And good luck with your true warlock mate,” he replied.
“Actually, he’s a dragon,” Tamsin said with a laugh.
Malcolm gasped. “An honest to God dragon?” He’d always known dragon shifters existed, but they were rare.
“You can see why my parents don’t approve. You think hedge witches get a bad rap with this crowd? Try telling them you’re in love with an ancient English dragon.” She jerked her head to signify the Council in general and laughed, this time a hint of mischief in her eyes again.
“Well in that case, good luck with your dragon,” Malcolm said. It was oddly comforting to know he wasn’t the only one going through challenging times when it came to love and talking to her had given him some hope.
He left the prophecy chambers and searched for the scrying room.
Thankfully it wasn’t far, and it was empty.
In the center of the room, a large scrying mirror made of a circular cheval glass with a metal frame that might have dated back to the Middle Ages, its shape bent and damaged in places around the edges.
Malcolm double checked to make sure he was alone, then placed his palm against the mirror to wake it up. A ripple of liquid silver shot across the surface.
“Show me Callista Wynter.” The mirror hanging inside Pages & Potions showed a busy bookstore, but no signs of Calli. Then the mirror flashed again to show the inside of Mystic Mornings. The coffee store was bustling with customers but Calli wasn’t there either.
That was strange. Why did it show him places where she wasn’t? “Show me the Wynter house.”
The interior of her old Victorian house opened before him and his heart came to a stop.
The front door was open, broken glass scattered on the floor.
Potted plants were turned over everywhere, and broken protection spells hung loosely like cobwebs.
A bloody handprint streaked across and down the side one wall, and there was a pool of blood a few feet from the door.
No… oh no no no…
“Calli!”
Something terrible had happened there. He bolted into the spell-weaving room, then headed straight for his private traveling mirror, focusing on the place he needed to go.
He shot through the mirror and into his father’s study. He came through so fast he accidentally knocked over several framed photos and books on the shelves trying to stop.
An anxious but welcoming voice spoke to him. “Son?” His father pulled him up to his feet.
“It’s Calli… Something’s happened to Calli. I have to help her. I have to get there fast!” He stared into his father’s face, and all the hurt and betrayal simply vanished because Calli needed him and he needed his father.
Reginald looked into his son’s eyes. For a moment Malcolm thought he’d waste time with pointless questions. Instead, he pointed to Malcolm’s old childhood baseball cap on the shelf behind him. “Grab the baseball cap,”
“Sarah!” his father bellowed. “I need you in my study, now!”
There was a thunder of steps above them, then down the hall as his mother burst into the room.
“What is it, Reg—?” Then she saw Malcolm. “Malcolm? Are you all right?”
“No time to explain, mom. Calli’s in trouble.”
His father held out a hand, and his mother took it just as they activated the traveling totem.
They landed on Calli’s front doorstep. Malcolm didn’t wait for his parents and rushed inside the house, calling Calli’s name.
His boots skidded on broken glass and the congealed blood on the floor, nearly causing him to fall.
He steadied himself, his heart pounding.
But he had to keep moving. He passed by the mirror he had used to scry into Calli’s home.
His reflection was fractured, as though something had struck the mirror and broken the perfect glass.
He called her name again as he headed up the stairs with his parents following him inside the house.
“Dad, check the first floor,” he said as he rushed up the steps.
He passed by the empty portrait of Celestine Skycaster, then halted, though he wasn’t sure why.
His head turned to look at the painting again.
A glowing dot appeared on the horizon of the painting’s skyline, growing brighter and brighter until a wizened old witch halted at the edges of the frame, her face blocking out the scenery behind her.
She looked like she wanted to crawl through the frame and into the room.
“Son of Salem, you came! Quick! He’s taken her, taken my sweet grandchild!” Celestine’s voice was breathless.
Malcolm’s fists clenched. “Who took her?”
“A witch hunter with a dark heart. He’s headed for the Black Cliffs.”
“How do you know that?”
“The old spells have claimed him like they took you that night, I could see the fragments of them wrapped around him. He’s under the thrall of the past, wanting to satisfy their need for a blood sacrifice.”
Malcolm remembered what happened that last time they’d reached out. He’d almost taken a short walk off a very tall cliff. “How long ago? Maybe I can open a portal there? Get ahead of him?”
Celestine shook her head. “Not on the cliffs, they are bewitched with magic far older than you or I. You must take a broom, boy.”
Why did it have to be a fucking broom?
Celestine read his expression. “Snap out of it, child, this is no time for navel-gazing, you hear? There’s a broom in the downstairs closet. Go!” Celestine’s words snapped him out of his budding dread.
He heard his mother call upstairs. “Mac? What’s going on up there?”
“Mom, get dad to summon the Council here on my behalf. Tell them it’s an emergency.
We have witch hunters in Moonstone Falls!
” He raced down the stairs passed her toward the broom closet, then he turned and tossed her his cell phone.
“Then have dad meet me at the Black Cliffs. You stay here and call Sage and Jasper.”
“Who is Sage? Never mind, I’ll figure it out.” She caught the phone and started scrolling through his contacts.
Malcolm opened the downstairs closet, shoving heavy winter coats and witch cloaks aside, searching for a broom. He stilled at the sound of a kitten’s muffled cry at the back of the closet.
“Sephie?” He found a brown burlap sack deep inside the closet and opened it. Calli’s familiar was shaking hard, struggling for breath. If Sephie was still here, then Calli was still alive!
He cradled the kitten against his chest and put on one of the old barn coats, tucking the kitten inside against his chest before zipping it up. Then he found the witch’s broom in the closet and pulled it out.
His parents were waiting for him in the living room.
“Malcolm, you can’t go alone.” His father grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt. “What if your magic fails? I should go with you. You’ll need protection.”
Malcolm could hear the unspoken words that shone in his father’s eyes “You’ll need me.” His father still wanted to protect him, to be there for him and that sent a deep ache through his heart.
He shot his father a bittersweet smile. “Bring the council. That’s what I need you to do, dad. My magic won’t fail. It can’t fail, not for her.”
I can’t fail her, he thought.
“Get the Council. The whole town is in danger.” He gave his parents one last look of love before he turned away. Deep down he knew prophecy wasn’t done with him yet. Blood was going to be spilled tonight. And one way or another, he was going to make sure it wasn’t Calli’s.