mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate (9 page)

That coldness came from the sorcerer within him, but she sensed there was more than just coldness. She’d fallen for him. Enough that she accompanied him to say goodbye to his dead mother, though he’d never spoken of his family before.

He turned to face her then, a sad smile kicking up at the corner of his mouth. Dusk cast his face in shadow. His stride was powerful as he approached her. He reached for her hand, his grip strong and warm. 

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Fine. Thank you for coming.”

She nodded. “Shall we get back?”

He shook his head. “Wait with me a moment. The sun will set. I know how you love sunsets.” His big hands gripped her shoulders and turned her gently to face the setting sun.

Sofia smiled. He’d remembered. Even more than sunrises, sunsets symbolized renewal to her. 

She sighed when he pulled her back to rest against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. Comfort washed over her. In all her life, she’d never thought she’d find a man like him. She was falling in love.

“See?” His whisper was rough at her ear. 

The sun had just flared into a beautiful orange and yellow sunset, fingers of color streaking across the sky and lighting it up. 

“You were right. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” She turned her head to look up at him.

At his eyes. He looked at her like she were life itself. 

“I can’t believe what you’ve come to mean to me,” he said. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel like this.”

She shivered.

“Everything that’s happened—my mother’s death, meeting you, being here with you—makes me feel like I want to be part of something bigger,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Her heart fluttered with hope. She tried to crush it, but failed.

“You, Sofia. I want to be with you.” He rubbed her arms and kissed her temple. “Forever.”

“Forever?” A smile stretched across her face.

“Forever. I can help you protect your village. Once we’re warlocks, we can surely free you of the burden of providing tributes.”

The breath whooshed out of her. He wanted to be with her forever, and help free her from the High Witches. Even if they couldn’t manage it, to have him share the burden would be incredible. She wouldn’t be alone.

Better, she’d be with the man she loved.

She spun around, leaned up on her toes, and kissed him. He groaned and pulled her closer, his mouth slanting over hers and stealing her breath. Stealing her heart. She clutched his cloak tighter, trying to pull him closer to her. To never let him go.

If she lost this, lost him, it would break her.

CHAPTER SIX

Malcolm’s Castle

Glencoe, Scotland

Present Day

The bed shook hard enough that Sofia almost bounced out onto the floor. Her eyes flew open.

What the hell?

Sunlight filtered through the sheer drapes at the windows, illuminating the beautiful green room. Everything looked normal, except for the fact that the house was vibrating. 

Kitty stood at the base of the bed, hissing. Sofia scrambled out from beneath the fluffy covers and found her footing. Everything continued to vibrate. The chandelier above tinkled as crystal clashed with crystal. Paintings rattled on the walls. It took her a second to remember why this felt familiar, then it hit her.

Malcolm must be accessing the aether in massive quantities.

“Come on, Kitty. Let’s go check this out.” She hadn’t seen the pure white light of harnessed aether energy in centuries. Only warlocks could harness and compress the cold darkness of the aether into pure magical energy.

She made her way out of the bedroom and down the hall, her whole body vibrating slightly. She followed the tremors, holding onto the stairwell, as she made her way down to the first floor. Every painting and artifact on the walls and tables sat calmly. Though the floor vibrated, even the furniture stayed still.

Malcolm must have enchanted everything in the house not to bounce and break. She’d taken the charms off of the bedroom, therefore the bed had shaken her awake. Sofia made her way down the house’s second main corridor—the one she hadn’t gone down last night—passing many closed doors and a few open ones. 

She didn’t take time to explore—her gaze was trained on the door at the end of the hall, from which the vibrations were emanating. Of course, just like his office, his workspace was at the end of a hall.

How ominous. It was as if he liked being a scary warlock, or something. Frightening folks away before they could become bothersome.

Sofia didn’t hesitate when reaching for the doorknob. The door was made of heavy wood, dark and ornately carved. The iron knob turned easily beneath her hand. She pushed the door open to reveal a dark stairwell. Rough stone steps spiraled down into the basement. There were no lights on the wall or above, but a glow flared up from the beneath, lighting the way.

Kitty followed her, hissing occasionally. The nearly-unrestrained access to the aether had always made her nervous. Warlocks were specially trained to access and control it, but it was still a difficult job. Kitty was right to be wary.

Sofia reached the bottom of the stairwell and found a small antechamber. A door on the opposite wall a dozen feet away glowed around the edges. She moved quietly toward it, twisting the knob slowly and inching open the heavy wooden door.

A huge stone-walled room opened up before her. It was easily the size of the entire castle, if not larger, all built under the stone of the Glencoe Mountains. 

In the center, a glowing white light shined. It was a great orb, outlined by a hazy, shimmering glow that floated in the middle of the room, bright as the sun but easier to look at. Malcolm stood between her and the orb, his tall form silhouetted by the bright light. His arms were outstretched toward the aether, both controlling it and drawing power from it.

The power of the aether bathed her in its glow, though she couldn’t harness it for her own use the way Malcolm could. She’d have to rely on what her soul could reap, which, while substantial, was nothing like this. 

Jealousy streaked through Sofia. She’d wanted this. The unlimited power that could have helped her destroy the High Witches.

But the cost had been too high for her. Faced with the enormous power before her, she couldn’t help but think that maybe being an Oath Breaker wouldn’t have been so bad. Malcolm could do almost anything he wanted. He could wave his hand and make one of the surrounding mountains rise. He could bring lightning down upon his enemies, striking them dead. He could mimic almost any supernatural talent with his magic—like creating fire. If he wanted, he was strong enough to battle a god.

She shook herself. There was no point in being jealous, because no oaths meant no love. No close family. She couldn’t live without that. Worse, she might have had to break her vow to protect her village. She’d had to stand her ground—giving up Malcolm and all the power accessible to a warlock.

It’d been the right choice. The
only
choice. The fact that her life was nearly as cold and lonely as his was beside the point. Protecting her village might take up so much time that she couldn’t have a real life, but it was her sacred duty.

Sofia lowered herself to the ground and leaned against the wall. There wasn’t a stick of furniture in the empty room, but she was happy to just sit here and bathe in the glow of the aether, letting the warmth and power wash over her. Normally the energy from the aether was dark and cold, but a warlock’s power converted it to bright, pure energy. 

Kitty climbed onto her lap, purring like a little jet engine. Kitty wasn’t as fierce as some familiars—hence her name—but she more than made up for it in love and support. Familiars increased their mistress’s connection to the aether, giving them power and strength when needed. Kitty was always quick to donate hers. It was one of the reasons that Sofia was such a powerful Bruxa.

She watched Malcolm as he stood before the aether that pulsed and shimmered, performing some kind of magic she didn’t quite understand. Power radiated out from him. She could feel it, like an eerie caress against her skin. Only the strongest Mytheans radiated power. 

She’d given up a chance to be one of them so she could have a normal life. One in which she could keep her vows and thereby have family, friends, and a husband. Too bad it hadn’t worked out. She should have known that duty would get in the way no matter what. The position of Protector was too important. It took up too much time. Not to mention the fact that she was expected to appear as the Crone whenever she was out and about in Bruxa’s Eye.

It was tradition. Most citizens didn’t even realize that it was her—Sofia Viera—who protected the village. It was the Protector, appearing in the most powerful form a witch could take. A symbol meant to comfort as well as do the dirty work of keeping the village safe. 

She remembered begging her mother to allow her to appear as herself when she’d first begun her transition to Protector. Sofia had just gotten old enough to realize she liked the way boys looked at her. Willingly looking like an old Crone? No way.

Her mother had refused. Tradition was vital. The Crone was a symbol of power. Strength. Everything a protector needed to be. But Sofia had been stubborn. On their next mission to retrieve a tribute, Sofia had taken her own form halfway through. They’d been deep in an Egyptian temple, hunting for an ancient magical necklace worn by the Pharaoh Hatshepsut. Magical booby traps that had been held at bay by the power of her Crone form were no longer silent. They’d sprung to life, charms meant to dismember intruders.

She’d almost lost a leg. Her mother had lost a finger.

But it had been her mother’s words that had stuck with her: “Sofia, you
will
die fulfilling your role as Protector, as I will die fulfilling my role and as my mother died before me. It is our fate to serve until our lives are cut short by circumstance. Though other Mytheans may live forever, we will not. Our job is too dangerous. It will kill you. Do not let that moment come early by dropping your guard or the protection that the Crone offers you.”

Sofia had never gone without the Crone form in necessary situations ever again.

The downside of it was that she’d never had a chance to have a normal love life. Malcolm had been her only shot. She’d truly thought they’d be together forever. Not only had she loved him, he’d become her best friend. When he’d abandoned her, she’d felt as if her most vital organs had been torn out. She’d thought losing him would be the worst thing that could happen to her. That it would break her into a million pieces. 

How wrong she’d been. Naive. She’d become stronger. Tougher.

Especially after she’d returned to the village from Norway and learned that her mother had died on her last mission to recover a tribute. Sofia had been thrust into the position of Protector. That had toughened her up real quick. Eventually, she’d gotten over him.

She’d taken on the form of a Crone every time she was out in the village. True, she often spiced it up with a Halloween witch’s hat and broom, but even that was no longer funny. She’d had some relationships, though none had lived up to what she’d had with Malcolm. About two centuries ago, she’d just gotten sick of trying. One-night stands would have been her ideal, but those were impossible in her village since her public image was the Crone and those who knew her without the visage respected her position too much to ever fuck her.

Was that why she’d been so quick to succumb to Malcolm last night? Maybe. She’d prefer to think that she’d been desperate, rather than admit she might still feel something for him. The bastard had kidnapped her.

Power had clearly gone to his head.

She scowled as she watched Malcolm manipulate the aether. As usual, she was in a hell of a bind.

Finally, the aether began to dim. Seconds later, the room was entirely dark. A glow of flame appeared in the middle of the room. Sofia squinted. It hovered over Malcolm’s hand, a magical flashlight. She created one in her own hand, unable to resist drawing his attention.

He turned. “Sofia.”

“Malcolm. What were you doing?” She rose.

“Crafting a charm that can shield my power from Mytheans who might sense it.” He approached her and raised his arm. She saw a wide wristband of beaten metal around his thick wrist. “We’ll need it in Salem. It’ll be best to keep a low profile.”

“All right.” She followed him out of the room and up the stairs into the hall. “That’s your aether room? I didn’t sense any magical shields on it.” 

While warlocks could draw a moderate amount of extra power from the aether under normal circumstances, if they wanted a huge burst of it, they needed to have a magically reinforced room built to contain a portal to the aether. Normally, the room had to be built into a place that had an excess of magical energy, either from a large population of Mytheans or because the place itself was special.

“Yes. I used to have one at the university. It was excellent. So much magic there, it was easy to contain the aether.” He turned to face her. “But I wanted to be on my own. There were too many people at the university. So I practiced. Eventually, I could contain it, so I moved here. There’s a bit more magic in Glencoe than elsewhere, so that helps. But now I’m powerful enough to contain the magic myself.”