Witching There's Another Way: A Cozy Mystery (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 4) (14 page)

Chapter 23

Whether it was by design or chance, the door through which Bailey and Aiden had entered Faerie hadn’t been, on this side, an actual door. They’d just popped up in an illusory Coven Grove that, for all they knew, had no geographic connection to the actual place. Certainly, the forest they now ran through was nothing like the real world.

In short, they were hopelessly lost.

Isabelle had grown heavy in Bailey’s arms, so now she clung to Aiden as he worked to keep up a pace that was beginning to wane to a slow jog. Behind them, and sometimes in front of them or to one side or the other, the horn of the Wild Hunt blared periodically, ever closer but with such a ghostly quality that determining just how far was impossible.

With no reagents or materials, Bailey’s choices of magic that might be used to find an exit from this place were severely limited. None the less, she tried a minor incantation meant for sailors to find north while on the sea. It nearly drove her insane—there was no magnetic north on this side of the divide, so instead she momentarily felt herself pulled in all directions, lights and sounds going off in her mind until she jammed her magic down deep inside and cut the charm off.

Aiden, likewise, attempted a wizard spell with a ridiculous name—wizards were, apparently, so proud of the new spells they devised that they named them after themselves for posterity—but the torrent of magic that resulted only served to make the ground briefly glow like burning magnesium until Aiden cut it off. They stumbled, light blinded, after that for some time. The spell had been meant to illuminate a path to his desired goal; something as vague as ‘a way home’ was apparently dangerous in Faerie.

Neither of them spoke for fear of worrying Isabelle, who was already stunned into abject silence. No doubt she would need a great deal of therapy after this. Bailey wondered if anyone would believe her when she told the story—or if she ever would, for that matter. At her age, Bailey might have been inclined to keep it to herself.

Instead, Bailey and Aiden shared occasional eye contact loaded with everything from frustration to worry to hopelessness. The fact was, they were in Faerie—someone else made the rules, and for all Bailey knew that meant that they would never find anything like a way home. Maybe this is what Esme had felt when she was trapped here. How long had she managed to elude the Hunt?

Just as Bailey  stopped thinking about how to get out and  started to plan out how she might help fend off a pack of Faerie hounds and their sidhe masters without access to any spell components,  Isabelle made a small sound of wonder, and pointed.

Far ahead of them, twinkling in the dark, there was suddenly a light.

“The hunt?” Bailey asked.

Aiden shook his head. “No. They don’t use any lights; every Faerie involved can see in the dark, according to the stories. That doesn’t mean it’s safe, though. Could be a will-o-wisp.”

The light stopped flickering, and became steady. It was familiar, somehow; a quality of light she knew she’d seen before. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Don’t those normally come close, lead you somewhere?”

“Deeper into the woods, normally,” Aiden said. “But I think you’re right. Does it seem a bit… familiar, somehow?”

Bailey stared at the light, and then smiled as she recalled where she’d seen it. “Oh my God… it’s the same kind of light that came from the keystone when we ran Gloria down. Aiden… it’s a signal. It has to be. But… how are they doing it?”

“We’ll ask them when we’re back home,” he said as he heaved Isabelle back up. “Hang on, little bit. We’re almost home.”

With renewed stamina, they ran toward the light. It was farther away than it looked, and by the time they found the source of it they were both drenched in sweat again and heaving. Bailey’s lungs burned and she had the painful urge to bend over at the waist from the stitch in her side.

The light came from a circle of stones, fist sized, about six feet or so across. A quick count revealed thirteen of them, glowing with warm incandescence that wavered only slightly.

“A Faerie circle,” Aiden breathed. “But it shouldn’t be open. It could be a trap.”

“If it is, we’re no worse off,” Bailey said. “If it isn’t, we could be home.”

“Yes,” Aiden whispered. “I suppose it’s worth a shot.”

Aiden’s face was screwed up in concentration. “Any idea how we get through it?” Bailey asked.

“I have several ideas,” Aiden said. He took a breath, and pointed to the circle with his wand. He twitched it back and forth as he pronounced some kind of formula, until fine lines appeared in the air over and around the circle. They looked almost like cracks in the world, barely visible due to the glow of the stones themselves.

He leaned in and examined them, drawing the tip of his wand along several as if testing for something. When he was satisfied with whatever it was he was looking for, he straightened. “It’s definitely a portal of some kind. I can’t tell where to, though.”

It wasn’t as though they had much of a choice. “Can you make it work?”

“I can give it my best shot,” he said. “Here, the two of you stand here…”

Bailey did as she was instructed, and the three of them stood in the center of the circle, near a knot in the air where the cracks all convened. Aiden began to speak formulas in clipped syllables, sketching out something in the air with his wand.

Bailey held Isabelle close to her, breathing rapidly through the pounding in her chest. No matter what she did, she couldn’t calm herself, and she could feel Isabelle’s little heart fluttering as well.

Aiden’s eyes flickered to Bailey’s for just a split second.

“Aiden,” she said, when she saw the look there. She reached for him.

It was too late, though. Aiden stepped backwards, out of the circle, and gave a final flick of his wand.

As if she’d blinked, the world was changed. She stood in a much thinner woods, and the strange, ambient changed to the pale illumination of a starlit sky. She still had one arm outstretched.

“Bailey!”

It was Avery. She yelped when he grabbed her from behind and hugged her. Aria was nearby as well, and when Bailey looked around, frantic, she saw Frances and Chloe and… “Is that Thomas?” She asked.

Avery let her go, and frowned. “Where’s—”

“I have to go back,” Bailey said. She gently but urgently shuffled Isabelle out of the circle. “Send me back.”

“We can’t,” Avery said, “we didn’t bring you over, I was just hoping that—”

“Aiden’s back there,” Bailey told him. “He’s right next to the circle, he sent us through but the Wild Hunt is closing in on us and I can’t leave him there, Avery; not so what happened to Esme can happen to him, you have to figure it out.”

Avery held up his hands. Each and every finger except his left pinkie was burned and blistered, badly. Bailey’s mouth dropped open. “What happened…?”

“I have one good finger left,” he said, “one spell. I have to use it to shut the enchantment down.”

“What enchantment?” Bailey asked. “What’s been happening here?”

“It’s a long story,” Aria said. “And we don’t have much time. I need your help to do our part of the spell and—”

“I’m not leaving Aiden there,” Bailey snapped. She turned, and pointed at Avery. “If you can get me back over there and I can get Aiden back here, he can… do whatever it is you’re trying to do here.”

“There’s a crack in the world, Bailey,” Avery said, pleading and apologizing at the same time. “If the Wild Hunt is coming, and it comes through… we can’t risk that; you have to understand.”

“I understand that Aiden is an asset we can’t afford to lose,” Bailey said, glaring. “This won’t be the last fight we have. We need him. Avery—I need him.”

His mouth worked, and Aria rested a gentle hand on Bailey’s shoulder. “Bailey we have to—”

“Okay,” Avery said. “Okay. I think… he must have used Norin’s Phasic Transference—”

“No,” Bailey said, “no he said something like… Locusts?”

“Locutius?” Avery asked.

“Right!” Bailey confirmed. “Does that mean anything?”

Avery closed his eyes, his lips moving silently as he searched his memory. “It must have been Locutius’ Slipstream Transportation… but why? Maybe he was trying to account for the ongoing exchange of energies…” he rambled on quietly to himself for a moment more, making imaginary marks in the air with his fingers and occasionally pausing to count something until, after a few tense minutes he snapped his fingers and then gasped with the pain of it. “God, why did I do that?” He shuddered as the pain passed, and then pulled Bailey to the center of the circle.

“I think I can do it,” he said. “It’ll be modified. You need to grab him, and pull him into the circle with you. You’ll have… call it three seconds. Maybe five, but count on three. Okay? I’m going to loop the spell so you’ll pop over and pop back and…”

“What?” Bailey urged. “Talk, spit it out, time’s wasting.”

“Well the spell needs a contagion element,” he said. “And the fastest way is… you know…”

“Contagion,” Bailey repeated. Under other circumstances, she might have blushed. “Fine. Okay. Three seconds. Do it.”

Avery bit his lip, and then hugged her tightly before he took a step back, out of the circle, and began to draw in the air with his pinkie.

Chapter 24

Bailey and Isabelle disappeared with a burst of wind as the air filled in the spot they had just occupied. Magic crackled around the end of Aiden’s wand and over his nerves. The magic here was thick, volatile, and difficult to control. Once they were gone he sagged, and closed his eyes while he re-centered himself.

It was done, then. Isabelle was back to her mother, Bailey was safe. All that was left was to close this crack.

Aiden licked his lips, and very carefully drew magic from the area into his wand. Sparks leapt from it, vanishing into the air. His wand wasn’t made to handle this kind of power; probably he only had a few attempts before it cracked. That was all he likely needed though.

He muttered formulas as he walked the edge of the circle, weaving the structures for containment and sealing in an attempt to cut off whatever magic on this side was maintaining the cracks. At each turn of phrase, though, something from the other side seemed to seep in and disrupt his spells. It very quickly became apparent that whatever closure was going to take place would have to do so from the other side.

That changed things considerably. The horn of the Wild Hunt called out again, echoing through the woods, so close now that he felt the vibration of it in his bones.

“Defense it is, then,” he said to no one in particular. He found himself wishing Bailey was with him. But her skill in battle magic was probably limited, if it even existed. Witches weren’t known for their interest in offensive magic.

Aiden wasn’t either, personally—but it had been part of his curriculum, and like all his studies he had given it his full attention.  His opponent was insurmountable in this instance. He knew that as he began to work Logrim’s Immaculate Barrier and Gerof’s Greater Warding, layering the two defensive perimeter spells in a circle just a few inches outside the circle of stones. There were undoubtedly people on the other side of the crack in the center of the circle working to close it. He just had to trust that they’d be able to.

Once the defensive magic was in place, he took several deep breaths. Magic had begun to make parts of his body numb from the jagged currents in his nerves. How long he could hold out, he wasn’t certain, but he could command considerable power before he fell.

It wasn’t like his vision at all, he reflected. The future was indeed fluid. What part of his journey to this moment had been the turning point? Perhaps it was holding himself back from getting involved with Bailey. For once, he supposed, he’d made the right decision. Just one more correct choice, and perhaps that whole future would vanish into the mysterious currents of time, never to be born.

Keeping thoughts like that in mind, he spread his feet just enough to keep himself stable, a battle casting stance he’d learned in Cambridge and never used outside of practice. He found himself wondering what professor Tull would say just now. “Bend your knees,” probably, or, “Hands up, Rivers! Ready to cast, not taking a walk in the park, boy…”

Avery would like professor Tull, if he could get up the courage to leave Coven Grove. And Tull would like Avery, too. The truth was, Avery was brilliant. In the long run, he’d make a more talented wizard than Aiden ever had; maybe even better than Tull. They’d get on fine, if Tull could swallow his ego and Avery could keep himself humble over his growing skill. Avery was the sort of wizard who would make new spells, immortalizing his name in the wizard world forever with something like “Avery’s Miraculous Shelf Organizer” or some such. Hopefully, he’d have the luxury of developing utility spells, instead of battle magic. What kind of world had wizards like Logrim and Gerof lived in, that they’d produced two of the most effective defensive spells in the Codex?

The horn came again, louder this time—and now, off in the distance between the trees, the dancing lights of sprinting hounds were just visible. Behind them would be the sidhe hunters and, ultimately, the man himself—Herne, the huntsman, consort to Mab.

Aiden licked his lips again, relaxed his shoulders, and raised his arms. Spells filed into line in his mind, a series he could chain together… yes, that would be a good combo. He couldn’t stand against the Wild Hunt directly, so making distance and keeping them away from the barrier was best.

All other thoughts fled his mind as he focused his attention on here and now. He wove the tip of his wand before him, drawing up a sickening torrent of magic that instantly made his skin burn and his wand sizzle. The formulae flitted over his tongue and lips with the clipped precision.

As the hounds dashed into the open toward him, the ground before them exploded.

Bailey’s heart hammered in her chest. As Avery shouted formulas, his face was twisted with pain, and she watched his pinkie first turn red, and then begin to blister at the tip. The scent of singed fingernails wafted bitterly in the air.

When he was ready, he gave her the signal, and she and Aria locked eyes. Bailey opened herself to Aria’s mind, tracking the chant telepathically as she joined in. It was Gallic, and difficult to pronounce, but the quatrain was short enough that after a few repetitions she had it, and they began walking the circle. The world began to spin, all sense of direction fleeing the area. She saw Chloe and Frances both kneel, and close their eyes to keep focused on the spell that held Thomas in some kind of trance.

Avery finished his part of the spell, the lines of which were almost visible in the space above the circle like some complex geometric nest of shapes, one inside the other. Her own magic flowed out with the words of her shared chant with Aria, mingling with the other woman’s magic and filling in the faces of the construct as tendrils of magic seeped into cracks that began to glow until there was, as there had been on the Faerie side, a phantasmal spider web of hairline fractures in the world, hanging impossibly in the air before them.

Bailey gave Aria a nod, and stepped into the circle. Tentatively, she reached a finger out to the knot in the center of the web. It pulsed warningly, but did her no harm, and she took a step forward…

Aiden had never wielded magic like this before. It was beautiful, but terrifying.

The force of every spell was magnified in Faerie. The ground didn’t merely crack—whole canyons opened up under the feet of the huntsmen and their hounds. Thunder cracked the air as lighting fell from the sky to strike at sidhe horsemen. Trees sprang up and fell down to block their path. Pillars of fire sprang up from the ground and lit up the night. If he knew the spell, he might have managed to split atoms in the air and devastate swathes of the Faerie pursuers.

There were swathes available to devastate. Their numbers were impossible to count in the moment, but they seemed to carpet the forest. Thousands, certainly. Enough to break through the crack in the world and sweep over Coven Grove in an hour—and overrun the rest of the country in a few days. They had no fear, no care for their own safety. As soon as he was able to rid himself of one group, others filled in. The great six-legged steeds the Faerie horseman rode leapt easily over the vast canyons in the ground, and with a swing of their glass like blades the fire and lighting were cut in twain so that they could pass unharmed.

And then, before Aiden knew it, they were at the perimeter, hurling acidic magic that clung to his defenses and began to slowly unweave them, like a sweater being unraveled from a loose thread at the hem. He was forced to abandon his offensive tactics entirely and focus instead on repairing his barriers. His hands were going numb quickly, though, and twice he had to start a spell over when he nearly dropped his wand.

He wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer. He expected to be afraid but, somehow… he was strangely peaceful at that moment. There was one last spell he could cast. It didn’t require a wand, and the formula was surprisingly simple. It was the last spell that any wizard could cast, developed ages ago as a last ditch tactic; a glass case to break when things got hopelessly dire. There was enough magic in the area to turn this region of Faerie into a crater, probably.

Before it came to that, though, he was more than willing to keep up his defenses, and give the Wild Hunt a chase it wouldn’t soon forget.

And then, he was there. Herne the Hunter. He was bigger than all the rest, and rather than charging forward, he waded through the morass on his great stallion. He looked almost pleased—not with the hunt, but, strangely, with Aiden. He tipped his antlered head briefly in salute, before he sidled up to the edge of the barrier and raised his spear.

Aiden stopped weaving defenses, and started to form the words of the Merlin’s Final Wish.

Someone grabbed him from behind.

He nearly turned around swinging as he shouted the first half of the formula—

And then stopped as soft lips met his, and he floated briefly in the sweetest moment of his life to date. The formula melted in his mind, along with everything else, and he drew his mysterious partner into a deeper kiss.

The noise of the Hunt faded, and the world blinked.

Bailey continued to kiss him.

He continued to kiss her back.

“Short on time!” Someone shouted. It was Avery. They were back. Back in the real world. Everyone was staring at them.

Aiden blushed furiously, and backed away from Bailey. “They’re coming,” he said. “Avery, I need you to—dear lord; never mind.” Avery had been casting without a wand, and had obviously discovered the price of that. He amended his previous opinion from ‘talented’ to ‘prodigal’.

“What are you using?” He asked instead.

Avery rattled off key segments of a number of spells. “You have to follow the form of Elwin’s Supreme Dweomer.”

It took precious seconds to comprehend, but once Aiden did, he gave a quick nod. His hands and arms were numb, but he gripped his wand tightly and began to carve the complex shapes in the air. Bailey stepped toward him, and set herself up to his left, away from his casting hand. She raised both hands and began to chant as well, and in a moment Aria joined her. Then Chloe.

The spells wove together, and pressed into the glowing cracks above the circle of stones—and then out and up, along strange threads that reached away, through the air, into the depths of the forest and away from the sound of the roaring ocean in the distance.

Aiden worked furiously, willing his arms and hands to move with precision until, at last, there was a great sound that rent the air, like great stones moving against one another. The cracks in the world began to shrink, and dim, and finally wink out of existence, one after the other until only a point of light was left.

Something came through.

The spell completed, Aiden, Bailey, Aria, and Chloe all shouting the final words of their respective parts at the same moment, and the light vanished. Something thudded to the ground.

Someone screamed behind them, and Aiden muttered a word to light up his wand.

Thomas Hope was on the ground, writhing momentarily, with Frances on top of him, holding his shoulders. Chloe and Aria rushed to her side and between the three of them Thomas was soon asleep.

Aiden looked around the circle.

There, in the center, was the upper two feet of a spearhead.

He knelt, and picked the object up. It buzzed with power, from the bottom of the cleanly cut shaft to the tip of a short, leaf-shaped spearhead. It was made of some kind of Faerie wood and metal, light as air but solid as steel. He glanced at his apprentice, and smiled.

Again, someone grabbed him from behind. A moment later, he was looking down into a furiously beautiful face. And then, he was looking slightly to the left. Though his face was mostly numb, the distant sting of a slap burned his cheek.

“Never do anything like that again,” Bailey snapped.

And then she kissed him.