The Bound Witch by Ivy Asher
15
Iwatch as the light disappears from Marx’s dark brown eyes. Eyes that were filled with laughter and teasing less than thirty minutes ago. Eyes that have continually offered me a warm look of friendship and loyalty since the first time I met him. Eyes that I know with excruciating certainty will never look at any of us again.
Anguish sears through me as I watch Marx’s body fall lifeless to the ground. I get my magic walls back up around the others just as the tether between Rogan and me ignites with heartbreak and pain. I can’t see him, but I know Rogan’s watching his friend fall right before his very eyes.
I was too late.
A soul-shattering lament fills the air, and tears spill down my cheeks as the man I love shatters with loss. I can’t breathe, as the shock of what just happened tightens around my chest like a vise. There’s a brutal pull on my magic as Rogan taps into more power than just his own, but I do nothing to stop him.
He can drain me dry if it helps him avenge the horror of what just happened. It’s the least I can do after fucking up so heinously. I don’t know how I’m ever going to forgive myself, let alone ask Rogan to forgive me. Grief claws at my soul, but I try to shove it away. We need to get out of here, or next it will be Prek, and after he’s just another body lying on this destroyed field, the High Council will test how many times Elon, Rogan, and I can die, and just how painfully, before one of us gives them anything they want to make it stop.
I feel sick at the thought, and desperation drives me to push back up on my feet. I cry out as I try to put weight on my wounded leg. It hurts like a bitch, but I can at least hobble. Order members slam against my magic-made barriers, their faces contorted in rage and hate as they fight and fail to break through and kill me.
Anger once again begins to boil in my blood, and I scream with violent and vicious fury before shoving feral untamed magic out at every enemy in my way. I limp and watch as they begin to melt from the inside out. I don’t know if I’m attacking their bones or their blood or both, I just know I want them dead so I can get to the others and we can run.
Screams and pain dance all around me, but all I can see and feel is Rogan fighting savagely as he tries to purge the grief and rage he’s drowning in right now. His green eyes are locked on the Contegomancer, his face promising pain and retribution as the evil High Council member watches back arrogantly from the top of the little hill he’s perched on. His smirk is taunting, and I read his lips as he orders the soldiers next to him to reload and fire at will.
Rogan’s fighting to get to the High Council member, shattering bones and spilling blood as he slowly makes his way closer. I can feel the Contegomancer focus all his acidic power on Rogan’s sluggish advance. I want to scream. I want to rage and avenge Marx. I want to rip every Order member on this field apart with my bare hands, but we need to go. We need to survive. We need to run and prepare so the next time we go head-to-head with the High Council, we crush them once and for all.
I turn, frantically searching for Elon and Prek. I need to get to them and then convince Rogan to get to us so we can get the fuck out of here. More bullets fill the air all around me, ricocheting off my barriers. Instinctively I duck, terrified that somehow a shot will break through like the one that’s currently buried in my thigh. Order members go down all around me, and disgust fills me at the careless waste of life.
It’s revoltingly clear that the High Council is corrupt beyond hope, but each and every one of the soldiers who are shooting at their own people without question or hesitation deserves to rot in fucking hell. I spot Prek, and my heart leaps until I see that he’s carrying Elon’s limp body. I think Prek is hurt; he seems to be favoring his right side as he drags Elon closer to the ley line running through the field and parking lot.
I start limping for them, fear burning through me as I make my way, and I steal back some of the magic Rogan is syphoning from me and reinforce the barriers around Prek and Elon. I can’t tell if Elon is dead or just unconscious, either way it reinforces the driving need I feel to escape as soon as possible.
“Rogan,”I shout in my mind, hoping it somehow gets his attention through the tether, but he doesn’t look my way. I shove more of the panic hammering through me at him, but I must weaken my shields when I redirect the magic, because the next thing I know, I’m spinning from the impact of a bullet in my side.
Fire fills my veins as the bullet tears through my stomach and out through my back. A feral scream crawls out of my throat as a new wave of pain assaults me. I press my palms to the wound, and dark red blood slips through the seam of my fingers, all too quickly darkening the front of my shirt and pants. Surprise stifles my thoughts, and I try to shake away the lethargy that’s trying to set in.
All I see is bodies. Everywhere. The sun, still hidden in the clouds, dips lower in the sky, and the trees surrounding us blanket the lost with their shadows. Too many vacant glassy eyes stare off at nothing, while others lie on the ground, writhing in pain, injured and calling out for help or their loved ones. Order members run around trying to provide medical assistance to their friends and team members, while other soldiers stay focused on the fact that they’re still supposed to be attacking us. It’s mass confusion, loss, and bloodshed that will taint this once peaceful place forever.
Tears slip out of my eyes as I look away, not wanting to see the carnage anymore. Rogan’s moss-green gaze finally finds mine, and I stagger a little, struggling to stay on my feet. Magic drains out of me, and I fight to call it back, mentally putting a stopper on my source so my protective barriers don’t get any weaker. My vision tunnels and then focuses as I try to breathe through the hurt and fear pulsing out of me and dripping to the ground.
Rogan’s face crumples with alarm, and he abandons his efforts to get to the High Council member and turns to come to me. In the distance, over his shoulder, I see the Contegomancer’s face contort with fury, and he strides off his hill and moves into the fray. Order members rush to get out of his way, parting like a school of fish for a shark.
I refocus my efforts to get to Prek. Elon still isn’t moving, and I suspect he’s been mortally wounded. My heart clenches at that thought, but he’s come back twice now, and I have to believe he will a third time. Prek is almost to where the parking lot pavement meets the field, which is the exact angle the large ley line runs. He turns to see me hobbling after him, and I can see the debate in his eyes, about putting Elon down to come get me.
“Don’t you dare,” I yell at him.
I don’t know if he heard me or just read the manic look in my eye screaming for him to hang onto Rogan’s brother at all costs. Gusts of wind start to blow Order members away. Out of nowhere, a sheet of icicles flies through the air like daggers, digging into some witches’ barriers or into the witches themselves if their wards are cracked. I realize that Prek is trying to clear a path for me, his elemental magic strong and relieving. I tamp down on the spark of magic envy that ignites in me as another burst of wind allows me to close the distance.
“Thank fuck,” Prek sighs as he runs his eyes over me, his gaze fixing on both of my wounds before lifting back up to my face. “Elon was shot through the neck. He’s dead, but he’ll come back, right?” Prek demands, his tone frenzied and panicked.
I reach out and squeeze his shoulder, offering him a comforting look that I’m pretty sure looks more like a grimace. “He’ll come back. Just hold on to him until he does, okay? Your only job from here on out is to watch over him until he’s awake again.”
Order members surround us, and they renew their attack, sensing that we’re within arm’s reach of escape. Different branches of magic bombard us, but it’s easier to strengthen the one shield now protecting three of us than it was to reinforce separate shields for everyone.
I swallow down the relief that streaks through me now that the three of us are back together again. I want to exalt the fact that I made it here, but we’re not nearly out of the woods yet. I look behind me to find Rogan knocking Order members out of his way. Further back behind him, the High Council member is doing the same.
“Can you feel the line, Prek?” I ask, my voice frantic as I watch Rogan pushing to get to us. “I can keep you protected while you apparate the both of you out of here. Is there somewhere safe you can lay low for a bit?”
Prek starts to argue with me, loading his mouth with all the reasons he shouldn’t leave us behind, but I silence him with a glare. “Prek, if Rogan and I can’t get away, you and Elon will need to get us out. You have to go. Is there somewhere safe you can think of? Or a way you can get back to Rogan’s house? You’d be safe there.”
My gaze pleads for him to listen, and his eyes bounce back and forth between mine for a moment before I see resignation settle into them. He scrubs at his face with a shaky hand and repositions his fireman hold on Elon.
“Yes, I have somewhere we can hide out until we can figure out where to meet,” he tells me, and I nod my head, eager to get him and Elon out of here. “You’re a good witch, Lennox,” he tells me somberly, and I shake my head at him.
“No goodbyes, Prek, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I tease. My smile drops too quickly as battle cries and wounded shouts seem to grow louder. “Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll drive them back, and you focus on getting the hell out of here,” I instruct, and he nods, closing his eyes and pulling in a deep breath.
“Go!” he orders, and I pull out the stopper to my source and shove the magic that’s now bleeding out of me at the fuckers in our way. Prek and I push the last handful of feet back to the line, my magic leaving a trail of carnage rippling out away from us as we go.
I watch panicked as Prek tries to focus, internally screaming for him to hurry up, and I almost crow in celebration when I watch the line take a hold of him and Elon and then fiercely yank them away.
Success rockets through me.
They did it. They got out.
I revel in the peace that washes over me for the briefest of seconds, and then I fold up the relief and happiness coursing through me and chuck it in some far dark recess of my mind as I turn to wait for Rogan. I try to feel for the ley line around me as much as I can, the fighting now background noise as I will myself to jump me and Rogan out of here just as soon as his fingertips touch mine.
It’s like watching someone run through three feet of snow when a polar bear is chasing them. The Contegomancer is closing in, and even as quickly as Rogan is moving, I can see he’s not moving fast enough. I let go of the hum of the line and focus on the polar bear instead.
My movements are sluggish and jerky. I can feel the effects of blood loss and exhaustion start to kick in. I’ve been in worse shape though, and I know I still have enough in the tank to get us out of here. With a rabid growl, I clear the enemy from around me, attacking their blood and their bones to ensure I’m buying myself enough time to end this once and for all. Magic pools in my belly as I track the High Council member with my eyes like he’s prey.
I can still see him in his swanky suit in the interrogation room at Order headquarters, thinking he’s the shit because he runs in high circles that he’s deluded himself into believing are untouchable. I would give anything right now to cut him down to size. To make him realize that picking this fight was the biggest mistake of his pitiful, useless life. I want to look in his eyes as understanding dawns that there’s no escaping my wrath.
I thrust my pool of magic out. I send every ounce of power I possess, knowing I’ll only get one chance. I grit my teeth and wait for the perfect moment, my magic surging and searching for my target. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, and nausea collects in my stomach. Pain pulses out of my wounds, but I try to ignore it all and concentrate.
Five more seconds, Lennox.
You’ll have him in four…
I see the moment the Contegomancer senses the rush of power I pushed out into the throng. He smiles as though he knows I’m coming for him, and I feel his acidic crackle through the air as he prepares for my attack.
Three more seconds…
What this asshole will never understand though is that there are far greater forces in this world than vengeance and rage. I could try to kill him. I could give everything I have in an effort to make him pay. It’s what he would do, and what he clearly expects of me, but fuck him. I choose love.
Two…
I’ll feel his death on my hands another day.
One...
Rogan’s bones practically sing to me, begging me to claim them and safeguard them always. I wrap my magic around him, my focus absolute and my will undeniable. All at once, I yank my magic back like it’s a rubber band that’s been pulled too tight for too long. Rogan is jerked forward, my power in control and calling him to me. He flies toward the line, barreling through Order members brutally, as the Contegomancer realizes what I’ve done and bellows out an enraged snarl.
Like the body snatcher I’m proving to be, I snatch Rogan from the danger hunting his back and pull him to safety. He’s feet away from me when a deranged cackle forces goose bumps up my arms and a shiver to run down my spine. The danger in the sound has me looking back to the Contegomancer, just in time for him to pull the trigger on the gun he’s pointing at me.
Everything slows and I can’t scream, or move, or react. Every ounce of power I have is focused on pulling Rogan to me. He’s feet away, and I risk trying to call the line, hoping somehow we can still prevail.
Rogan slams into me with a pained grunt at the same time the bullet does. I fall back into a ferocious scream of outrage and grief, my lamentation lifted up into the air like a haunting howl as the round pierces the side of my head, and the world and its deep humming all around me cease to exist.
* * *
Agasp tears out of me, and I sit up in a dazed panic, trying to make sense of what’s going on.
“You’re okay, Lennox. I’m here. I’ve got you,” Rogan consoles, his large hand brushing hair out of my face, while his other presses against my shoulder, trying to coax me into lying back down.
Adrenaline hammers through me, and I look around frantically, my brain not processing what it is I’m seeing. Something jostles the mattress I’m lying on, and I bounce up and down as though…
“Are we in a car?” I ask, bewildered, my voice a dusty croak.
Before I can even think about a glass of water, a bottle of it is handed to me. I chug it down, my mouth, throat, and body suddenly desperate. It’s gone sooner than I want, but just as a disgruntled whimper starts to sneak out of my mouth, I’m handed another open bottle of water. I drink this one slower, which is to say I drink three quarters of it in two seconds flat and then sip on the last remaining fourth like I’m the model of demure and lady-like behavior at all times.
I instantly feel better and more alert now that I’m hydrated. I look around to see that we’re in a large Suburban, the back of which is fitted with a mattress and Rogan, and wherever we are, it’s dark as pitch outside. I look up to see who’s driving, hoping it might be Prek or Elon, but to my surprise, it’s Riggs and Viv, the two alphas of the lycan pack near Rogan’s house.
Riggs meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, his gaze twinkling with merriment, but he doesn’t say anything as Rogan pulls me closer to him, his touch stealing away my focus. I look back at him, puzzled, as I try to piece together how we’re here and why.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice low and careful as I search Rogan’s face for any hint of what’s going on. “How did we get away?”
Rogan pulls my face to his and rests his forehead against mine, breathing me in for a moment like he needs the touch to ground him just as badly as I do. “You jumped us out of there. I have no idea how you did it. You were dead before we could even hit the ground. One second, I’m feeling you die, and the next we’re in the middle of unfamiliar woods with a couple of angry lycans growling at us.”
My eyes dart back to Riggs and Viv, and I watch as Riggs reaches over to his mate and threads his fingers with hers, a loving smile stretched wide across his face. I try to shoot Rogan a discreet look, asking if they’re officially in the know about what we can do, but as I do, I realize I’m stupid for even questioning it. I did just wake up in front of them, and Rogan’s not exactly whispering phrases like you were dead and I felt you die, so my superior deductive reasoning skills are telling me they are officially in the loop.
“Elon and Prek?” I ask, worry percolating in my stomach.
“We’re on our way to meet them now,” Rogan reassures me.
“Tad?” I add, hoping Rogan has at least called him so he’s not pacing around the empty house in his finest yoga gear, stressing.
“My cousin Cohen is picking him up and bringing him here.”
I tense at those words, terrified of what could happen if Tad and this Cohen dude somehow walk into an Order trap like we just did. Rogan rubs my arms and drops a kiss to my shoulder.
“They’re safe, I promise. Cohen is a force to be reckoned with, and I doubt the High Council would be looking for either of them. They’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”
I want to point out that Rogan also thought the smear campaign against the High Council would buy us time to prepare for a fight with them, but I save the I told you so for later when I’m not still reeling over the clusterfuck we barely escaped. I look around again, the darkness outside making it incredibly difficult to get my bearings.
And here I was thinking waking up in a morgue was difficult.
“Where is here?” I ask, fixing my disoriented gaze back on Rogan. “How long was I down this time? What’s going on?” I add, looking down at myself and then back over to the lycan alphas.
I’m not wearing the clothes I left the house in this morning. My blood-soaked jeans and tee are missing, and in their place is a gray oversized hoodie and a matching pair of sweatpants that I’m more or less swimming in. Rogan releases a sigh, the skin around his eyes tightening, and I immediately want to pull him to me and try to soothe the tension radiating out from every inch of him.
“Did you know there was a ley line that ran up behind Rigg’s pack land?” Rogan asks me, his green eyes astute and careful.
I’m taken aback by the question. “No. I’ve only been to his pack that one time with you. I never noticed anything.”
Rogan nods like he expected this answer, but for some reason, it makes him look even more troubled. I search for his emotions, trying to understand the look on his face, but frustratingly, I run up against a wall.
“The line is apparently unregistered. I didn’t even know it was there. The pack uses it for business purposes,” Rogan starts to explain, and my brow furrows with confusion.
When I woke up, he said that I had jumped us from the ley line we were being attacked at to somewhere else. Somewhere that happened to have patrolling wolves nearby. My eyes dart around the dark car one more time, seeing our current circumstances in a more concerning light.
Are we in trouble or something?I wonder but then dismiss it. He said we were meeting the others, and I know for a fact he would never put them in danger for any reason, so that can’t be it.
“Okay, so I apparated us to a line nobody knows about on pack land,” I recap, trying to understand Rogan’s obvious worry. “I mean, if you’re wondering how I did that, your guess is going to be as good as mine,” I tell him, a frantic chuckle spilling out of my mouth. “I was a little busy dying, so I don’t know if my magic did the thing it does where it just instinctually guides me to take action. It’s been doing a lot of weird things since I woke up, so maybe that’s it,” I tell him, and when his jaw tightens at my casual declaration, my stomach drops.
He thinks something’s up with my magic.
“What aren’t you telling me, Rogan?” I ask flatly, and his unsettled gaze snaps to mine.
“What he’s hesitant to worry you about, Osteomancer,” Riggs cuts in to say, “is that the only people who know about the line you rode in on, is my pack and a clan of demons who pay us generously to keep it that way. We’ve been tossing around all kinds of theories, but I’m dying to know how you did it,” Riggs adds excitedly.
Well, shit...that makes two of us.