Chapter 31 #2
Wylder appears on my other side, his magic surging to life with the scent of pine and green growing things. He doesn’t look at me. His signature scowl is locked on his stupidly handsome face and, as bizarre as it is, I wonder if that’s about me.
Is he pissed because I didn’t tell him about the demon contract or is his frowny face a result of us being in the middle of a magical crisis?
Maybe I’m projecting and he’s too busy to be angry.
It’s beyond vain to think it’s about me when the world is in chaos, but yeah, that’s how it feels.
Sebastian joins the circle across from us, his spirit magic so much more powerful and substantial than mine. No surprise there. He has more than a decade of experience with his and mine has been damned up.
But boy, it feels nice to let it loose.
I glance across the circle to check on my friends, and it seems everyone is doing well. Rowan has her hands raised, her shadow manipulation creating an inky blanket holding back anything that might try to sneak through from the hellscape beyond.
Even Asher finds a way to contribute, standing at the outer edge of the clearing with his phone raised. He’s recording this and yeah, maybe we can use it to learn about the demonic energy that’s been released.
“On my mark,” Laurel calls, her voice ringing with authority. “We pull the rift closed and seal it. All at once.”
The chanting intensifies. Latin phrases I don’t fully understand pour from the lips of witches I’ve never met, but the meaning resonates in my bones.
Repair. Restore. Renew.
Jane’s flames roar higher, plumes of orange and red lighting up the night sky. Stuart’s roots thicken, becoming iron-strong. The other witches pour everything they have into the collective working.
And I feel the moment when individual power becomes something greater. Our powers synergize, and my cells vibrate with the resonance of the power that creates. Wow, is this what coven magic is like?
No wonder it’s preferred over singular spellcasting. It’s incredible.
It’s also highly effective.
The magic of the Wiccan circle snaps into alignment, and energy flows from witch to witch. The connection creates a circuit of magic so potent the air itself crackles.
My spirit magic surges, feeding into Wylder’s plant magic, which feeds into Mica’s metal magic, which feeds into Jane’s fire. And so it goes around the circle until it feeds back into Laurel’s raw, concentrated will.
“Now!” Laurel shouts. “Pull!”
We pull, and the rift screams.
It’s not an audible sound—not really—but I feel it in the vibration of my teeth, in my chest, and in the marrow of my bones.
The tear resists—or perhaps it’s the demon spellwork that shredded it in the first place—fighting us like a living thing, thrashing against the combined force of more than a dozen witches who refuse to leave it torn and broken.
My arms shake. Sweat trickles down my ass crack. Laurel’s demand on our magic pulls more and more, threatening to empty reserves I didn’t even know I had.
“Hold,” Laurel commands.
And so, I hold. I brace myself against the draining of my essence, wondering too late what happens if a witch gives too much. Would Laurel do that? Could she take so much that she harms a witch in her circle?
The thought terrifies me.
I glance sideways. Wylder’s pursed lips and furrowed brow clarify I’m not the only one suffering.
The edges of the tear begin to weave back together.
Slowly. Inch by agonizing inch, purple-black energy writhes and spits. The lattice of roots and flames and shadow and spirit forces it back together, mending it, healing it.
“Almost there,” Jane grits out, her voice strained.
The tear shrinks to the size of a doorway. Then a window. Then a crack.
“Seal it!” Laurel’s voice cracks like thunder.
Every witch in the circle slams their power forward in unison.
The veil knits itself shut with a sound like fabric tearing in reverse, a sharp snick that reverberates through the clearing.
And then it’s gone.
The purple-black energy dissipates, and the wrongness in the air fades. The ground solidifies beneath my feet.
I stagger, my legs suddenly unable to hold my weight.
Wylder catches my elbow and pulls me against his side to keep me upright. “Easy.”
Asher rushes over and pulls a chocolate bar out of his pocket, quickly breaking squares off. “Here, baby girl. Eat this. You look white as a sheet.”
I take a square of chocolate, thankful for my best friend. Everyone needs an Asher in their life.
Once I’ve had a couple of squares, he hands one to Wylder, and then jogs across the circle to Rowan, Orion, and Sebastian.
Around the circle, witches collapse to their knees or brace themselves against trees. Mica sits heavily on the ground, her multi-colored hair plastered to her forehead. Jane wipes ash from her hands, breathing hard. Stuart looks like he might pass out.
Laurel remains standing, though even she looks drained. She surveys the clearing with sharp eyes, then nods once. “The veil is sealed. The ley line is stable.”
A ragged cheer goes up from the Emberwood witches, and they gather to congratulate one another on a job well done.
Our group doesn’t celebrate because we all know this is only a small victory. That tear was massive, and there’s no way it got that bad without something equally massive and powerful coming through.
The six of us step off to the side and leave the members of the coven to their back-patting.
“How many do you think came through?” Orion’s quiet voice cuts through the exhausted silence.
Sebastian’s expression hardens. “I don’t know, but when we arrived, the demonic energy was concentrated, deliberate. Something powerful crossed over.”
“Tharuzel?” Rowan asks.
“If I had to guess, I’d say yes.” Sebastian’s jaw tightens. “But whatever it was, it’s in Emberwood now.”
“Or long gone,” Wylder says.
Sebastian shakes his head. “No, I have the entire perimeter of the town warded against demons. Nothing in. Nothing out. If Tharuzel made it through the rift, he’s here somewhere. I’ll know if something challenges the warding.”
I shiver, the idea of that makes me want to puke.
Laurel leaves the circle of coven celebration and strides over to join us. She looks at us as if taking our measure. I’m not sure what she sees, but I honestly don’t care.
She straightens and frowns at Sebastian. “What’s done is done. Together, we sealed the rift, and that is a victory. I’m sure you’ll agree that working together rendered better results than infighting and working alone.”
To Sebastian’s credit, he doesn’t throw back any of the remarks that burn on my tongue. Instead, he arches one ebony brow and forces a smile. “Working together was all I ever asked.”
Laurel’s grin is way too smug for my liking. “Excellent, then I hope we can put the past behind us.”
Wylder’s gaze narrows, but he doesn’t say anything.
Asher opens his mouth, and I’m afraid of what is about to come flying out, but Sebastian beats him to it. “Are you nuts? Not a fucking chance.”
Laurel sputters, looking honestly confused.
“After what you did to Zoe and her family, and the way you continually manipulate the will of the Goddess Mother to your own ends, I will never trust you, nor will I work with you.”
“Drop the mic,” Asher spouts off. “Not to mention totally gaslighting Wylder and treating Orion like a second-class citizen. Bridges burned, bitch.”
I send Wylder an unapologetic smile. Asher is loyal to a fault and says what he thinks. I won’t apologize for that.
But he doesn’t seem to look for an apology for mouthing off to his mentor.
Instead, he lifts his chin and meets her gaze.
“I know how you think. You’ve realized demons escaped and things are about to go to hell, quite literally.
Now you’re hedging your bets to recruit the only people willing to step up to the dangers of the hellspawn. Too little, too late.”
Laurel shakes her head. “What? No, I’m making amends. I’m doing what should’ve been done from the start. We are stronger together.”
Sebastian scoffs. “What you’re really saying is you’ll be stronger with us there to do the dirty work. Sorry. Not interested.”
Yeah, me either. “A coven should be a family where everyone is welcome, and all affinities are embraced as gifts from the Goddess Mother. You don’t get to play favorites and pick and choose who you think has value.”
“Damn straight, baby girl,” Asher says. “We’ll make our own coven. One where everyone gets support and respect.”
“Why stop at witches?” Orion’s grin is magical. “I know other empowered people who would love to be part of a fellowship where they could train, fight the good fight, and be accepted for who they are.”
“Like our own Justice League,” Asher shouts, fist-pumping the air.
“I’m in,” Rowan says, grinning.
I look to Sebastian and Wylder, and when they both nod, I laugh. “Then I guess it’s settled. Looks like we’re doing this.”