Chapter 15
JOSIE
Lanterns hang from vine-twisted trellises in the courtyard behind the mansion. They cast a soft, yellow glow on the delicate flowers and lush greenery of the well-tended garden. A marble fountain in the center dances as spurts of water shoot out of a cherub’s mouth, its tinkling melodies doing nothing to help my nervous bladder.
I should’ve gone pee before things got started.
The tension is thick with anticipation, and I bet this is how the gladiators felt in the Colosseum right before they released the lions.
What has Phi gotten me into?
I may have agreed to this, but now that I’m here and about to battle my fellow Sun Witches, I’m having second thoughts.
I figure my chances are roughly sixty-forty that I duff this stupendously and end up embarrassing myself and my family line.
Scanning the faces of the surrounding witches, it seems like some of them might’ve prepared for this moment their entire lives.
Suddenly, I feel like I’m a tribute in the Hunger Games. Surely the stakes aren’t as dire as that, though…right?
The witches around me stretch out their limbs, while others sit cross-legged in the dirt, meditating. A couple are in the process of shedding their poofy gowns to reveal unrestrictive athletic wear.
Good Gaia, I’m seriously out of my league.
The violent churn of my stomach makes me wish for an entire bottle of Gravol to chug back, so I can make it through this without hurling.
I search for my Celt in the crowd of onlookers, needing a heavy dose of his calming reassurance. It isn’t hard to pinpoint him, standing in line with Sebastian, and then Rune.
As if my trio of vampire plus-ones didn’t stick out enough, the crowd has formed a gaping chasm around them.
Fintan looks worried, but lifts his chin with a smile and gives me a subtle thumbs up.
Rune is more boisterous in his encouragement. He pumps a fist into the air. “You got this, Josie!”
It earns him more than a few looks from the Sun Witches around him, but if he notices, he doesn’t care. His gaze is fully focused on me without an ounce of doubt coming through our connection.
Though, his judgment might be in question because he offered me up to a crowd of vampires less than a week ago.
Maybe he just likes to watch me fight.
It must be the Viking in him.
Ironic, considering I had to pester him into our deal to train me how to fight properly. And while we haven’t had nearly enough lessons to raise my confidence, I’m hoping something he’s taught me will come in handy tonight.
My gaze drifts to the King of the Quarter. Sebastian looks on with mild interest. It isn’t like I was expecting him to offer me any words of encouragement, but it would have been nice to have his support.
He seems distracted, but I don’t have time to wonder about that before the crowd falls to a low hum of excitement, signaling the arrival of Francine and the elders.
My stomach tightens as they take their seats on the second-story balcony to oversee the proceedings, and constricts tighter still as Elder Edith steps up to the railing. “Let’s get the formalities out of the way so we can move on to the selection trials, yes?”
Her voice carries over the courtyard with a wave of magic that tickles the hairs on my arms. “The first trial, physical fortitude, will continue until only five contenders remain. Those five will then move on to the second test in two days’ time.”
Five?
I glance around, doing a quick head count. There are nearly two dozen witches spread out in the makeshift courtyard arena.
I don’t like those odds.
“If you break the boundary, you are disqualified. If you can no longer compete, you are disqualified. If you yield, you are disqualified. And, of course, in the case of death, you are disqualified.”
“Death?” My pulse pounds in my ears, so loud I barely hear Elder Edith address me.
“Did you have something you’d like to enquire about, Miss Dumont?”
I shift uncomfortably under her stare.
“What are the rules?” I ask.
The corner of her wrinkled mouth quirks up in a smile. “Other than what I’ve laid out, there are no rules.”
I’m liking this less and less by the second.
“Whatever you deem necessary is what you are allowed, but remember: the eyes of your sisters are upon you.”
How could I forget?The weight of more than one hundred stares isn’t easy to ignore.
The tradition of choosing a new high priestess may be a three-step process, but no witch can officially be in charge until approved by the rest of her coven and welcomed into power through a ritual ceremony.
A coven is nothing without the sisterhood that connects us all. We’re family, the way a vampire has its horde, or a werewolf has its pack.
And like all families, we fight sometimes.
“May Mother Gaia be with you. Blessed be.” With the formalities taken care of, Elder Edith raises her hands to the crisp night air and casts, “Septus.”
A pulse spreads through the courtyard arena, and my stomach churns so hard I almost lose the fancy shellfish appetizers all over my dress.
Is it too late to back out now?
As if in response, the ground rumbles beneath my heels as a spell takes hold. Rising all around us, a filmy bubble of magic encases me and the other competing witches in a battlefield that spans from the courtyard to the gardens.
I take my inclusion as a yes from Gaia herself.
The water in the cherub fountain gurgles and starts bubbling, catching my attention. That’s all the warning I get before it erupts into a spout of swirling water, funneling into the air and then arcing down towards a witch across the arena.
The target of the attack throws her hands up to defend against the assault, slicing the spray in two and freezing each into icy blocks that shatter into chunks against the stone of the courtyard ground.
I’m busy watching the water display and miss the witch barreling straight at me until it’s too late.
Running full-tilt, her body collides with mine with the force of a Formula 1 racecar and sends us both toppling over.
I grunt as I hit the ground, sharp edges of rocks digging into my arms. I don’t have time to block, dodge, or counter before the witch is on me, the bulk of her weight pinning me down.
She flattens her palms and elongates her fingers. With a surge of magic, the digits meld together and morph into sharp blades. The points of her sword hands descend toward my face, and I react on instinct.
My eyes squeeze shut at the same moment my magic bursts free, erupting from me in a blast powerful enough to send the witch into the air a good twenty feet. I watch the wind get knocked out of her as she hits the ground and struggles to push herself back up.
Rune’s right—I can do this.
I roll to my feet, tripping not once, but twice on the bottom of my tattered and torn dress.
First things first.
Bending at the waist, I take hold of the hem of my dress and pull. The fabric tears and it breaks my heart to destroy such a beautiful gown, at the same time is so satisfying to free myself from its constraints.
I test my range of mobility. It’s better, but still not great for moving around.
I’m jealous of the witch in the paisley-printed jumpsuit, her feet planted wide to steady herself as she wields a length of thorned ivy against two opponents simultaneously.
“This dress was not made for this,” I complain to my costume organizers and cheer squad watching from the stands.
“Sorry,” Finn calls from the front of the onlookers pressing up against the bubble encasing the arena. “I didn’t realize you’d be playing gladiator, or I would have gotten you sensible sandals instead of those heels.”
Speaking of…
I swiftly kick my shoes off, sighing when my aching feet touch the stones. They are still warm from being baked in the Louisiana sun all day, and that soothes my soul.
Much better.
“Josie, behind you!” Rune yells.
I lunge to the left without a second thought, trusting Rune’s guidance and having just enough forethought to tuck my head as I roll into the dirt. The jagged edges of little stones jab into my arms and I scrape the top layer of skin off my knee, but I don’t have time to assess the damage or think before Rune is yelling directions again.
“Five o’clock. Aim low.”
With a vampiric second set of eyes looking out for me, I spin around and send a push of magic that hits the woman in her center of gravity and sends her skidding backward into another witch.
The woman she collides with doesn’t appreciate the affront, and the two begin to battle and exchange blows.
It leaves me without an opponent for the precious moment I use to catch my breath and get my bearings. “As grateful as I am for the heads up, Viking, I don’t think you’re allowed to help me.”
Rune looks like he’s enjoying this way too much. “No rules, remember?”
No rules, but there’s only so much he can do from the sidelines. What I need is a plan.
“Yield!” The cry comes from the second witch who came after me. She falls to her knees in the dirt, blood coating the side of her face and staining her silver and blue dress. “I yield!”
That’s one less witch I have to worry about now. One down, way too many to go.
A giant hunk of marble flying past my face reminds me I don’t have time to pause. It crashes into the force field and kicks up a plume of dust when it thunks into the dirt.
When I turn to trace the projectile back to its caster, I find Summer Saint-Clair advancing on me. She raises a fist and punches the air. A chubby cherub arm breaks free from the statue with a sharp crack.
It soars past Summer and straight at me.
I duck out of the way, but she sees the move coming and redirects faster than I can evade. The cherub’s stone palm hits me in the side with so much force it could have been a Sumo wrestler’s fist crushing my ribs.
I stumble, the breath knocked from my lungs, but catch myself before eating dirt.
Yep, that’s going to bruise.
“Josie! Shields up!” Rune yells, but the warning comes too late this time.
An electric pulse hits me from behind and shoots through my spine. It sends me sprawling on the ground and, yeah, this time I get a mouthful of dirt and scrape my chin. The charge makes its way through my body, frying the connection between my limbs and my brain as I convulse.
This is a Wild West free-for-all of magic.
I’m not a fan.
I flop onto my side, still seizing and drooling into the dirt. Above me, Summer and my electric attacker—I think her name is Delaney—are duking it out. That buys me enough time to get my feet under me and back in the game.
No one is focused on me, but I’m still at risk of being struck with a stray spell in all the chaos.
As if my thoughts bring it into being, a spark of orange magic explodes next to my palms, where they are pressed into the earth. The shock of it restarts my brain and I roll away from the action, tearing my dress more in the process.
This is not how I envisioned my night at the masquerade ball going. At all.
“Shit, that hurts.” I come to a halt when I get a face full of sharp thorns from the bush I ran myself into. Mercifully, none of the short spikes end up in my eye, but it still stings like a bitch as they cut my cheeks and forehead.
I do a half-roll back and am about to get my feet under me when a shadow draws my attention upward. There isn’t time to see what it is before a heavy weight falls over me, forcing me flat on my back and trapping my arms at my sides.
The force of the weight presses the oxygen from my chest until it’s impossible to breathe. I try to inhale, but there’s no room to fill my lungs.
Panic sets in. My bare heels shuffle against the hard-packed earth as I fight. And then I freeze.
“Josie!”
I’m not sure whether it’s Finn or Rune who calls my name—or, hell, it could even be Sebastian—the outside world grows distant and the only thing I can hear is the thundering of my heart muffling out every other sound like I’m underwater.
“Josie,” the faint voice calls again, “Move! You have to move!”
But I don’t move. I can’t. Because I’m staring at not what fell on me, but who. Delaney lies across my middle, her head angled so I’ve got a full view of her dull, empty eyes.
Blood trickles out of her slack mouth, slowly staining the ground red around us. The shock of the sight stuns me stupid. All I can do is stare.
She’s dead.
Coming into the challenge, I knew it would be difficult. I knew it would be dangerous and was warned it could be deadly, but I wasn’t prepared for anyone to lose their life here tonight.
Even staring straight into the unseeing eyes of my fellow witch, I don’t want to believe it.
Fiery pain erupts from my ankle, and the sound of my own shrill scream fills my ears as every other sense is overwhelmed by the searing agony radiating up my left leg. The world tilts on its axis, but I push myself up enough to peer over Delaney.
I want to throw up.
The skin from my shin down to my foot is burned away. The edges of the wound fester and sizzle, and I realize the spell is eating away at my flesh. It chews past the muscle until I see bone.
With the battle still raging on around me, I don’t have time to do anything other than counter the spell with one of my own.
“Medeor.”My voice shakes as I cast, but the gentle glow that wraps around my leg brings immediate relief, turning the pain down a few notches. It still feels like I dipped my foot into a boiling pot of oil, but it’s manageable for now.
I hope that means I can walk, because Summer is after me again.
Seriously?There are a dozen other witches to go after. Why is she fixated on me?
No time to ponder that. Summer launches a spell towards me, a yellow-green blast that makes me flinch—as much as I can with the dead weight pinning me in place. Thankfully, it misses its mark and catches Delaney in the shoulder instead.
The spell eats through the silk sleeve of her dress in less than a second, but I don’t wait around to watch it devour her skin like it did mine.
My battered feet scrape against the dirt, frantically pushing to get me out from under Delaney’s dead weight before I become Summer’s next victim.
Every part of me protests, but when Delaney’s body finally rolls off me, I scramble backward only to run into the thorny blackberry shrub again. This time, I bear the pain and use the bush to my advantage.
I call on my connection to Mother Gaia and feel her power wrap around me like a protective shroud. With the goddess on my side, I push my magic into the plant at my back and send its branches flying at Summer.
She screams when the first few vines catch her by surprise as they snake up her body. I command them to tighten, and rivulets of blood begin to flow down her arms and legs.
It won’t keep her distracted for long—her acidic touch is already making quick work of dissolving the vines into an oozing puddle of green-brown gunk around her.
I use the momentary distraction to sink into the background, letting the bramble swallow me up and hide me behind a thick wall of thorns and berries.
“Good game plan, Jo!” Rune is cheering for me like a crazed fan at a World Cup match.
He’s right though—I’m using green magic on a level that would make Elara proud if she were here to witness it. She’ll have to settle for listening to me tell the story over tea and beignets tomorrow morning. If I’m still walking and talking come sunrise, that is.
The network of shrubs encircling me keeps Summer out even as she hurls a spell at its entwined branches. I grimace as I funnel all my magic and focus into reinforcing my hiding place until Summer gives up with a growl of frustration.
Ha! I’m not such an easy target now, am I?
“Come out here and face me, Dumont,” Summer calls. She backs away from the circle of shrubs, giving them a wide berth as she searches for another way to get at me. “Real leaders face the challenge head on. They don’t run and hide.”
I don’t miss the not-so-subtle jab at my grandmother. She’s only trying to get a reaction out of me and throw me off my game. It won’t work. I close my eyes and trust my magic to keep me safe while I take a moment to slow my heart rate and reorient myself.
“Is this what the powerful Dumont line of witches has become?”
“Piss off, why don’t you?” I glare through the mess of thorns and bunches of half-ripe berries.
It isn’t Summer that catches my attention next…it’s one of the other witches in the ring.
Yzma is encased in a dense force field bobbing in the shallow fountain. The other witches dodge for cover as Yzma’s shield ping-pongs dozens of attacks back at them in wild ricochets of magic.
My heart bangs against bruised ribs, watching the relentless barrage of spells coming from all directions. I’ve been playing the defensive too, and I’m barely holding on.
Quickly scanning the courtyard, I count less than a dozen witches still up and fighting. I’ve made it to the half-way point. I consider holing up here until a few more of my opponents are knocked out, but decide against it for two reasons.
One: I’m a sitting duck with Summer so determined to take me out.
And two: she’s right about one thing—leaders don’t run and hide when things get tough.
Sweat beads on my forehead, and my breath comes in quick gasps as I test my injured foot by putting weight on it. It’s not good, but I’m losing steam and can’t keep this up much longer.
To make it through this, I have to act now.
Desperation gnaws at me, urging me to find a way to turn the tide of this battle.
“Okay, Josie. New tactic. Time to kick ass.”