Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books) (9 page)

“What’s the difference?”
Avy kept her eyes on Marcus, afraid he’d disappear if she blinked. Her world slowed to a snail’s pace with her trapped in its center, motionless, gasping for air.

He didn’t try to pull away from her, but some unfathomable turmoil churned behind his strange eyes.

In the silence, she could hear her own heartbeat and felt the now familiar tingling in her fingers. She gulped in a breath and palmed her chest to ease the tightness. She wished she could accuse him of lying but her sixth sense told her otherwise.
She’d always been able to tell when people were lying to her. Was that another magical talent
?

Her gesture caught his attention. He reached out to take her hand and led her to the couch.
His power had been a
raging river
rushing
between them
as he held her hands within the circle.
Now, it
flowed more like a
sinuous
stream.

“You’re going to need to sit down for this,” he said, his eyes warming to burnished gold, sprinkled with flecks of the other colors. Avy watched him as he snapped his fingers and the furniture was suddenly clear of debris. A nod of his head and the broken windows healed themselves.

Avy’s
legs
wobbled and threatened to buckle under her
. He steadied her while
guid
ing
her o
ver
to the couch. He
eased her
down
to
fac
e
him and
pinned her in place with his hands palm down on top of her knees, as if he was afraid she'd bolt.

“I’m a warlock because my family line is one of only a few—” He paused to choose the word. “Let’s say, who evolved, to be stronger than the general witch population.”

“Why?”

“Like any population, there are divisions along cultural and religious lines that tend to
clash
unless managed.”

“So you’re like the government?”

“More like the police.”

He didn’t move while she gave that some thought. He was some sort of magical police officer. She’d never gotten so much as a traffic ticket but now her life seemed crowded with police. She needed to ask more questions but she couldn’t find the right place to begin.

Marcus seemed to sense her dilemma. With a sigh, he sat
leaned
against the cushion still holding her hand. “There’s a whole magical realm that exists beside the mortal world. It’s called The Otherland”

Busby joined them and sat at her feet. She looked down at him and then back at Marcus, “Busby’s from The Otherland too, isn’t he?”

“I don’t think so but he is a magical creature.”

“I think I heard him talk.”
She whispered it, still afraid that, despite everything, Marcus might think she was insane.

“He’s your familiar so you can hear him but mortals can’t.”

Her Busby. The familiar sat up and put his paws on her lap. She couldn’t resist ruffling his ears. “Wow, Busby
.
Magic
.” At least he was hers.

When the dog settled
again
on the floor at her feet, she turned her attention back to Marcus. “Where is this Otherland? How did
you
get here?”

“There are ways to pass back and forth between the two worlds. The magical world knows about these portals. Mortals do not.” He was speaking slowly, and turned his head to watch her.

When she nodded, he continued. “Both of your parents came from the magical world.”

“Why did my parents leave their home in The Otherland? Why live in this world?”

A frown creased his brow. He was hiding something from her. She clenched her teeth, mad at him for holding back, and feeling angry at her parents for keeping secrets from her as well.

“Tell me,” she said.

“It’s complicated but your parents weren’t supposed to be together. It’s forbidden by the Witches Council.”

“A Witches Council?” She scrutinized his face then said, “I think you’d better start at the very beginning.” She settled into the couch to wait.

Marcus scrubbed his face with his hands and hesitated for a moment before he rested his head back.

“In ancient times, The Otherland had many distinct
societies.
Think
of them as covens.”

“What do you mean distinct? How?” she asked.

“
The main difference was the way they practice their magic. But we don’t need to go into that now.” He hesitated, and his gaze drifted over her head to a point on the ceiling behind her.

Within a moment, he refocused on her and continued. “Each coven believed they were the most powerful and nearly wiped each other out trying to prove it. Finally, the Goddess of Peace and Protection separated the covens. She chose five of the strongest families to form the Witches Council to govern our race. Even now, between all the covens, the only point of connection—communication even—is through the Witches Council. They are supposed to make decisions for the good of all the covens as a magical race.”

“But in practice—” Trouble there, she thought. She could feel a deep frustration radiating from him.

“The Council operates in secrecy. Only Council members and Guardians are present when decisions are reached and no one is allowed to discuss the proceedings outside The Chamber. There are those who think the secrecy of The Chamber and the segregation between the covens is no longer viable and is causing tension and misunderstandings.”

He took a deep breath and looked at her as he said, “Council politics gets complicated. We probably should leave that for later too.”

“Okay.” She didn’t want to stop him from sharing the important stuff.

“The Gwynns and the Kemenas are two of the Council families. Devlin Gwynn was serving as a Guardian as preparation for succeeding his mother. Eavan Kemena would have ascended to Council as well once she gained enough experience as a Guardian.”

“My parents,” Avy whispered.

His jaw tightened and he looked away from her. “Council can only function as long as there is a balance of power among the five members. To protect the balance of power with Council, the families are not allowed to form alliances. Your parents broke Council laws by getting involved with each other. Such blatant disobedience is unacceptable—dangerous—to our social order. Council would have to deal with it severely.”

“So my parents ran away so they could be together.” Memories of her parents drifted through her mind. The way she’d always seen them. Would always remember them. Holding hands, tender looks, she’d never doubted how much they’d loved each other. How could that have been wrong?

“So they couldn’t go back,” she said. She was trying to keep her emotions in check. It wasn’t easy. But if she gave in to the tornado swirling inside—

“Not if they wanted to stay together. Running was a huge insult to Council.” He looked at her again before adding, “There would have been no mercy if they’d been found.”

She tried to imagine what her parents had gone through just to be together.

“Which leads to the next chapter,” she said. “Me”.

“Yes,” he paused. “Everyone has always believed that the Council families, among other things, can’t interbreed.”

She squirmed at his choice of words. “If Council families can’t breed, as you say, why am I sitting here? I’m perfectly healthy. Always have been, even as a child.”

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know.”

She sat up and looked at him. “That’s crazy. Why wouldn’t two perfectly healthy people—magic or otherwise—be able to have children?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “But we have no record of it ever happening before.”

“None? You’re kidding.”

“”Well, even if they could have, it would’ve been a bad idea. I mean, even humans—if you look at the interbreeding among monarchs in the old days, it led to some pretty bad outcomes. Then add to the issues witches face. It would have eroded, and eventually destroyed, the balance of power on Council. So it was forbidden.”

“Okay, but just because you shouldn’t, doesn’t mean you couldn’t.”

“The families have never risked the loss of their position. Until your parents.”

“If we accept that, against all odds, they managed to conceive a child, me. Magic is hereditary so that makes me a witch too?”

“
Yes
,” he said.

“Hmph,” Avy squinted her eyes. “Okay, so why am I the last to know?” She couldn’t quite keep the hurt from her voice.

Again, something dark flickered behind his eyes. When he didn’t answer right away, she tried again.

“So if I was born a witch—” she raised an eyebrow waiting for him to confirm that much.

He nodded.

“Why now?” she asked. “Why wasn’t I setting off wind storms growing up? Why now?” she repeated.

“I really don’t know.”

He stood up before she could push further. “That’s probably enough for now.”

She noticed there were shadows under his eyes and his skin was much paler than she remembered. Had her storm hurt him when they called it back? She struggled with something to say. Thank you seemed silly under the circumstances.

Before she could find the words, he glanced at the grimoire that lay abandoned on the side table. She grabbed for it and hugged it to her chest with both hands. For an instant, she thought she saw hurt on his face. He shrugged. “Only another family member can open it. You can. I can’t,” he said.

He walked towards the front door but, as he reached it, he turned and his eyes drilled into her like red-hot pokers. His voice broached no argument.

“DO NOT, under any circumstance, read any spells, incantations or invocations from that book. Or try to make any of the potions or charms or anything else.” He yanked open the door. “Or you’ll blow us all up,” he said and then stepped through the doorway.

She suddenly was very afraid of being alone. Not just with the book. But with herself. And her magic. She leapt up and ran onto the porch.

There was no sign of him. She could see all the way to the end of the lane. Marcus had disappeared. Into thin air?

Marcus rolled his shoulders to release the tension as he waited in the cluster of trees at the edge of Lost Lake. A fine mist shimme
red in the crisp night air over the water. At this hour, everything around him was black as pitch with only a few stars in the distance to reflect off the water.

Worry gnawed at his gut and knotted his muscles. He checked his watch. He had to wait until the witching hour to contact Council. He needed the extra power
it would give him
to wrap a secrecy veil over his usual communication spell. He glanced around to make sure no mortals were wandering nearby. Worst case
,
he could wipe a mortal’s memory although that tended to leave residual brain damage.

Minutes ticked by. Another look at the time. Finally. He cast the initial spells. Then, clearing his mind, he sent a focused thought down through them into the depths of the lake, a summons to his superiors.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and waited. The response could take a few minutes. Even Marcus knew not to rush Council, but patience wasn’t one of his virtues. His temper sparked too close to the surface. He pushed it back. Now wasn’t the time. He’d been given a straightforward assignment. Avy hadn’t been part of it. She made everything about his job frustrating. Harder.

His mind wandered. Avy was never far from his thoughts which added to his discomfort. His little witch would continue to be a menace until she learned to control her magic. Her windstorm had been a close call. The sooner he got Council’s permission to teach Avy to control her power, the safer everyone would be.

Restlessness started to set in. He shifted his feet and scrubbed his hands over his face. He liked Avy. He felt drawn to her in ways he didn’t understand. He hated that he’d had to tell her about her parents’ disgrace. They should have told her. Prepared her. Why didn’t they?

His reverie was interrupted by the sudden boiling on the lake’s surface. The night sky absorbed the moonlight and showered the area in a phosphorescent glow. A misty apparition moved towards him hovering a foot above the wave peaks. It was Pelles Ferran, the oldest Council member at 250 years of age.

Pelles Ferran was OverMaster and therefore oversaw all Council decisions. At the sight of his mentor and friend, relief washed over Marcus like a warm shower.

Pelles wore the deep purple cloak of his office which completely enveloped his small body. Council rarely wore their ceremonial gowns anymore but with the increasing tensions, Pelles had made a point of dusting his off. In the darkness of the night, his head appeared to float in the air. Disembodied. The contrast with his silver wisps of hair and pale white face enhanced the illusion.

“The others are on their way,” Pelles said. The familiar voice sounded muffled as it drifted to Marcus on the shore.

Dread settled over Marcus. “The others?” Pelles was his contact while he was on the mortal side. “All of them?”

“We felt the magic surges, Marcus.” Pelles shrugged. “The first one was not from you. We expected an explanation sooner.”

Marcus opened his mouth to explain but wasn’t sure where to begin. Finally, he said, “It was an accident.”

He felt like a schoolboy ratting out his best friend. “She didn’t even know she was magic.”

He could hear the plea in his own voice as if begging forgiveness. His simmering temper threatened to erupt yet again. A Guardian never shows weakness.

“Who didn’t know she was magic?” Pelles said.

Marcus trusted his mentor in all things yet tension pounded at his ribs. Maybe he should have told Council before about Avy. As soon as he realized who she was. No. He hadn’t had anything substantial to report then. She could have been adopted, and completely mortal, for all he’d known. He’d taken the time he needed to dig into the whole Gwynn situation. Confirm she was their offspring. Confirm her magic.

Now, he had no choice. He needed Council’s permission to train her. “Avy,” he said. “It was Avalon Gwynn.”

Pelles’ face registered a momentary shock, then surprise.

Marcus fumbled for the words to explain. Before he could, four more figures suddenly appeared in the mist over the lake, knocking the response from his mind. The Witches Council formed a semicircle around him. He tried to swallow but the air around him was too thick with magic. No wonder Council rarely convened outside The Chamber.

Marcus nodded to his father who was sitting stone-faced as usual. In return, he received the full glare of his father’s onyx eyes. The Council Second, Tobias Larcon, was immediately recognizable by the constant flutter of his eyelids as if he was staring into the sun. Joseba Gwynn and Xanthus Kemena, Avy’s grandparents, faced him with features as bland as theatrical masks. He fought against the vice tightening around his chest.

Pelles spoke first. “Marcus was just reporting a significant update in his investigation.”

A sign that formalities had yet to begin or his mentor would not have used his first name. Trying to break the tension, Marcus almost smiled. His mentor had been a bit of a renegade in his day. He still was in many ways, which drew the ire of some of the others on Council
, but
Marcus could always count on his support.

Marcus took a moment to gather his thoughts. He felt the heat of all eyes on him.

“The storm in Bandit Creek was raised, accidentally, by the daughter of Devlin Gwynn and Eavan Kemena,” he said.

There was momentary stunned silence, then the bland masks slipped away and they all spoke over each other, some voices raised. Pelles let it go on for a few minutes before silencing them. “Guardian, present your report.”

He complied, concluding with, “I ask Council for permission to begin immediate training. It’s the only way to ensure the witchling’s magic is used safely and in accordance with our laws in the future.”

His father piped up first, asking the question that had been simmering at the back of Marcus’s mind from his first meeting with Avy. “The hybrid is well past the ripening age for magic. Why did the magic emerge now instead of in adolescence like most of our kind?”

“—and with such force. It’s a sign of her excessive power,” shouted Tobias, waving his fist in the air like an avenging warrior.
“She couldn’t do it herself. Her parents must have stop
ped it somehow.”

“There aren’t many ways to suppress magic. Was it a binding spell?” Joseba Gwynn, spoke with a rich alto voice. It was Avy’s voice, Marcus realized with a jolt. It must be a strong familial trait, inherited from her paternal grandmother. The old woman’s face, though framed with soft white hair, was impassive and not at all grandmotherly.

“Binding another witch’s magic is illegal,” his father reminded them. His voice was even, attentive, without the fervor of his colleague. “I can’t think of a single instance of it being done.”

“But they weren’t in The Otherland anymore.” This from Xanthus Kemena.

It struck Marcus that neither Kemena, nor Joseba Gwynn, had asked anything about their granddaughter.
Shouldn’t they have been curious about her?

The OverMaster spoke again. “Could such a spell be maintained for years?”

Xanthus replied with no pride in his voice. “My daughter was already extremely powerful when she left.”

Marcus noticed the
Master Witch
made it sound as if she’d moved to a prestigious European coven rather than run off in disgrace. At least he still acknowledged the family connection.

“We’re talking several decades given the hybrid’s age.” Tobias had regained his composure but he continued to blink frantically in his excitement.

Marcus clenched his hands with each reference to
hybrid—
Avy was not some mutation. He spoke without forethought. “Her name is Avy.”

His elders looked stunned for a moment—the formalities of appearing before Council were written in stone. Marcus knew to speak only when spoken to. He didn’t give a damn.

After a moment, they continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Maybe the rules didn’t apply. None of them were in The Chamber, after all.

“Remember Eavan wasn’t alone.” The group swung their attention to the speaker, Joseba. “Devlin was also unusually gifted with magic,” she said. Her mouth pursed as if saying her son’s name left a bitter taste in her mouth, yet her pride couldn’t resist mentioning the strength of his magic.

Marcus ground his teeth. What was wrong with these witches? Was it all about power to them? Family was integral to magical life. Like the guardianship and Council membership, magical powers were handed down from one generation to the next. Many rituals and spells required family members to combine energy to succeed. Witches revered the family tree, which they also called the Tree of Life, because each branch could only thrive as long as it was connected to the tree. If a limb broke off, the tree withered and died.

Marcus couldn’t help imagining himself in the young couple’s situation. They stood together in front of this same Council and declared their relationship. They had probably thought Council would allow them to commit to each other. At worst, they expected Council to replace them as Guardians. When Council refused—

The thought churned his stomach. How desperate must they have felt to run rather than live apart? Had Avy’s parents regretted the decision they’d made so long ago? He was starting to doubt it. He couldn’t condone a direct violation of a Council directive. But Avy’s parents risked everything to be together. Marcus couldn’t imagine that level of emotion. Guardians learned very early to supress their personal feelings; only duty and loyalty mattered to Council.

He refocused his attention on the Council discussion.

Pelles’s arm cut through the air in a sweeping motion. “To hide from us, Devlin and Eavan had to avoid using their magic. Or they kept their use low enough to stay beyond our detection.”

Marcus shuddered. The energy build-up must have been painful. Holding it down was like trying to cork Mount Vesuvius when it was ready to blow. They must have adored Avy to suffer it. Yet Avy’s anguish over their loss was proof of how strong their family bond had been.

He’d never given any thought to having a family.
Now he did. What would he do to protect his own child? His child?
His gut cramped and he knew the answer. He’d do whatever it took.

They needed a spell that could bind their daughter’s magic. For years. Marcus’s thoughts worked their way to his voice.

“They could only bind Avy for that long by combining their magical centers,” he said.

Five sets of eyes drilled him for his impudence in speaking without permission. He didn’t care. “Which were overloading with magical energy anyway. They were like two nuclear reactors bursting with excess power.”

“We would have sensed their use of magic. We were watching for it,” said Tobias, his curiosity overriding his pompous disposition.

“They may have been able to use their witchling to shield it. Yes, they were quite brilliant.” His father nodded in an unusual show of admiration
for his son
. “Holding the binding spell was a double solution. It kept the child hidden and gave them a pressure valve to steadily release their own energy in small enough amounts to go unnoticed.”

Damn brilliant, Marcus thought but said nothing.

“So what happened?” Tobias asked, the blink rate of his eyes picking up speed.

“Devlin and Eavan died suddenly so the spell broke.” Pelles spoke quietly. Out of respect for their relatives around him or his own sense of loss for one of their community, Marcus wasn’t sure.

“They were murdered.” Marcus heard the harshness in his voice but murder of a witch was the ultimate violation of their law. It was punishable by death. Council might have been chatting about the spring thaw, from the way they were behaving, rather than the murder of two of their kind
and
the potential danger to the victims’ daughter. Marcus still carried the memory of Avy as he’d left her—exhausted from grounding her storm, confused about what she was, but above all
,
wanting to be sure she wouldn’t hurt anyone with her magic.

“The magic should have begun to emerge naturally once the spell broke.” Pelles said. “Why did it burst out in a storm today?”

Normally, as soon as a witch left this plane, a ritual was performed to store the departed’s magic in a talisman. The power remained there until the Witches Council approved another family member to inherit. Marcus thought he had the answer to that question so he caught his mentor’s eye. After getting a nod, he tried to sound deferential this time when he spoke.

“The Gwynns were exiles in a mortal world,” he said. “When they died, together, no one was there to perform the Transition Ritual. Their residual magic wouldn’t have been contained properly.” He looked to Pelles out of habit when he asked, “Could their magic have sought out the nearest family talisman on
its
own? When Avy got upset and triggered the storm, she was holding the family grimoire.”

This time all the
Master Witch
es considered his words. Some nodded agreement. No one told him to shut up but he gave himself the order. He stood quietly while they whispered among themselves. The occasional word or phrase drifted over the water to him
...
“Threat to all the covens”
...
“Unknown, uncontrolled magic.” When he heard, “contamination of the family lines” and “unnatural mutation” he had to fist his hands to keep from using them on someone.