mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate (30 page)

“Thank you,” she choked out, forcing away her grief. “For helping. We wouldn’t have—wouldn’t have—”

“We understand,” Diana said, her voice kind. “We’ll send back healers from the university to help your wounded. Call upon us if you need anything else.”

Sofia nodded blindly, barely noticing when they departed. Kitty pressed against her leg and Sofia reached  down and picked her up, holding her to her chest. She looked out at the remnants of her town.

Her people staggered in the street, helping the injured to their feet. The building Malcolm had destroyed still smoked. The street was mud and littered with debris. The tornados and waterspouts had destroyed several buildings near the wharf.

In the distance, she saw Aleia helping Inara walk.

The sight of her friend—of her village and her people—hit her in the chest. She sucked in a ragged breath and pushed the near-crippling pain down deep inside her.

The High Witches were dead, destroyed in the aether blast, but she was still the Protector of Bruxa’s Eye. And her job wasn’t over yet.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sofia staggered down the street, so filthy and exhausted she could barely see straight. It’d been nearly six hours since Malcolm had died and the battle had ended. 

Every muscle hurt, and with the oncoming dusk, it was becoming harder to see the street and debris in front of her. If she tripped and fell on her face, she’d probably just stay there. Kitty would probably sleep on her back.

She hugged Kitty closer. Normally she didn’t carry her, but everyone was exhausted after the battle this morning.

“It does look better,” Aleia said from beside her.

“Yeah, much.” Inara’s voice sounded as exhausted as Sofia felt.

Sofia glanced around at the main street. At least there were no more bodies amongst the debris. Their dead—over a dozen in all—had been sent to their afterworlds. The afternoon had been a time of mourning and goodbye. Though the loss of her people—of Malcolm—stabbed her like a dagger through the heart, they’d been lucky. As bad as what the High Witches had thrown at them, that hadn’t been the death blow. 

Losing only fourteen wasn’t so bad. 

Except that they were her friends. Other Mytheans’ loved ones.

Like Malcolm.

She tried to force the thoughts away. There was so much left to do that she couldn’t collapse. She had to focus on the good. Only fourteen. It was terrible to think
only
in front of that number, but she’d been a Mythean long enough to know the nature of their world. They’d have lost more if the university hadn’t sent healers. The gravely wounded were too many for Cata, the healer of Bruxa’s Eye, to handle. Sofia had been able to lend a hand, as had others, but they’d needed more.

The university had stepped up and she’d been grateful. As the healers had swept through town in their white cloaks—so different from the white cloaks that the High Witches wore—she’d realized that they were going to recover.

“We’ll rebuild,” Sofia said. “Though I want the building that was destroyed turned into a park. A memorial.” Her throat burned at the thought, tears trying to escape.

Aleia squeezed her shoulder. “That’s a great idea.”

Sofia nodded. They could move the three-story bar that had been there before. The village had loved it, but they’d understand. 

“And I think we should loot the High Witch’s afterworld.” Vindictiveness seethed pleasantly in her belly. Thinking of it pushed away the hurt. “We’ll take back every tribute I ever gave them, every piece of gold, then burn the place to the ground.”

“
That
is an excellent idea,” Inara said.

Sofia nodded. If she were going to keep it together, she had to focus on duty and vengeance. Duty had to be done, but vengeance would keep her spirit from sinking into oblivion. 

They reached Aleia’s apartment over the apothecary and stopped in front of it

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over? Inara’s in the second bedroom, but my bed is big enough to share,” Aleia said.

Sofia shook her head. Though it was tempting, she wanted to force herself back into normal life as soon as possible. Malcolm had only been back in her life for less than a week. So short a time. She could get over that if she tried.

“No, but thanks,” she said. “Kitty and I are headed back to mine to check it out.”

“All right. I’ll see you in the morning. The rebuilding won’t be so bad.”

Sofia glanced down the street towards the wharf. A whole row of buildings had been destroyed by the waterspout. Piles of timber and debris stood along the front of the river.

If Aurora and Esha hadn’t been here to help, would all the buildings have been destroyed? 

Probably.

Grateful. Be grateful.
It could have been worse.

But the worst did happen,
part of her whispered. 

To her, yes. Losing Malcolm had been the worst thing that could have happened to her. Worse than her own death, even, because feeling like this wasn’t something she wanted to live through.

But she had more than her own problems to worry about. For over four hundred years, she’d been the Protector of Bruxa’s Eye. Just because the High Withes were dead didn’t mean she could throw away that mantle so quickly. She had to be grateful that more of her village hadn’t been destroyed, that more lives hadn’t been lost.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Sofia said.

“Yeah.” Aleia started to close the door.

“Hey, wait,” Sofia said. “Your premonition of my death—was it me on the roof with the witches?”

Aleia nodded. “I guess so. I didn’t see much detail. Malcolm must have saved you from it.”

Sofia nodded and managed to squeeze out a weak, “Thanks.” She turned away before they could answer and headed down the street. It was almost full dark now, the night animals waking up, screeching and howling. It felt hotter, unusually so, and the sweat dripped down her spine. Probably just misery. Her mind was miserable, her body too.

She just wanted to fall asleep. To forget all of this for a while.

Her house, at the far end of the village away from the river, hadn’t sustained any external damage that she could see. Just water and mud on the walls about three feet high. She pushed open the door and stepped into the same mud that covered the street.

It was quiet and dark inside—lonely—but she could make out the puddles and mud. The walls were wet all the way up to her waist, furniture and rugs soaked and dirty. It barely registered on her scale of bad things. At this point, she couldn’t care less about the damage to her home.

She reached out a hand for the light switch and flipped it.

Nothing.

She sighed. No surprise after the damage to the village. She drew her wand and lit the end, heading for the stairs.

All she really wanted was a shower. Didn’t even matter if it was hot. Her footsteps thudded heavily upward. Every bone in her body felt as old as her Crone form normally looked. A form she’d no longer be required to take every day, she realized. With the High Witch’s death, her job as Protector was over. Bruxa’s Eye was free. Though she’d be able to use the form when she needed the power, she’d no longer be expected to appear as the Crone in everyday life. Her job was done.

She had no idea how that made her feel and didn’t plan to explore it. 

When she reached the top floor, she turned into the bedroom.

“Here you go, Kitty.” She set Kitty on the bed.

Kitty looked up at her with her good eye and her squinty one. Sofia reached out to scratch her head, then turned and went to the bathroom. A thudding sound indicated Kitty had hopped off the bed. Sofia glanced behind her to see Kitty following her.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Thanks, Kitty.”

In the small bathroom, she set her glowing wand on the sink and held her breath as she turned on the shower. It creaked, then water poured forth. Muddy at first, and then clear.

Her shoulders sagged in relief. It didn’t get hot after a minute like normal, but she didn’t care. It took only seconds to tear off her clothes, and then she was standing under the spray.

Immediately, tears started to roll down her face again.

Kitty meowed—more of a meep, really—then hopped in the shower with her. Water soaked her fur and her ears flattened. She looked like a fat, bedraggled rat and Sofia laughed pathetically.

Count on Kitty to try to make her feel better like this.

Kitty loved her. 

Like Malcolm had clearly loved her. The tears came again, this time harder. She stood in the shower, weeping as Kitty rubbed her wet little body against her calf. Sobs wracked her as she leaned her head against the cold shower tile and curled her fists.

Malcolm had sacrificed himself for her village. For her. 

He’d known what he was doing when he’d opened the channel to the aether. It’d been genius. Selfless. The High Witches were too powerful for other Mytheans to kill—as least as long as they’d been protected on the other side of the river behind their barrier.

Even outside of their barrier, it would have been almost impossible, given their numbers and the amount of power they’d already reaped from the destruction of Bruxa’s Eye. 

But an aether blast… that would destroy anyone. The High Witches, the warlock who opened the portal and inevitably lost control. Malcolm.

But not her. Through a dumb stroke of luck, her ancestors had been there. Souls. Creatures of the aether—pretty much the only thing capable of protecting her.

And Malcolm had orchestrated it all, pulling the trigger on the bomb when the remote option hadn’t worked.

And now she was free of the High Witches. Her life was her own. She could look like herself when she walked the streets of Bruxa’s Eye, take the Crone form only when necessary, and not have to spend her entire year searching for tributes and going through the hell of delivering them.

Malcolm had saved her from that. Set her free.

She knew she should be grateful, but as sobs tore themselves free of her throat, she realized that the only thing she cared about was Malcolm.

And he was gone.

She felt empty. Lost.

Ever since he’d come back into her life, she’d told herself that they didn’t have a future. But now she realized that she hadn’t really believed that at all. She’d thought it would work out—somehow.

She scrubbed her hands over her face. It was time to get out. Kitty was soaking and probably miserable. Sofia turned off the water and stepped out. First thing, she grabbed her wand and waved it over Kitty, drying her immediately.

Kitty started purring. Normally, it would make Sofia smile. But not now. 

She grabbed a towel and wrapped herself up, then dried her hair with her wand. Kitty hopped onto the bed and Sofia followed, falling asleep almost immediately. 

The dreams came slowly, through the dark exhaustion that dragged at her. As they coalesced in her mind, Sofia found herself standing atop the Sorcerer’s Tor on Dartmoor.

Malcolm kissed her as the sun set around them, shining its golden rays over the hills and valleys of Dartmoor. Desolate and beautiful.

It was the day they’d gone to pay their respects to his mother and he’d just told her that he wanted to be with her forever. 

She fell into the kiss, immersing herself in the dream. If it was going to be the last time she kissed him—even if it was a memory—she wanted to memorize every part of it.

Malcolm was so warm and alive under her hands, strong and powerful and vital. She gripped his big shoulders, pressing herself close, as his mouth took hers.

When he pulled away, her head was spinning. His gaze met hers as he said, “I love you, Sofia.”

Joy suffused her.

Then she woke up, gasping.

The pain hit immediately.

Just a dream. Malcolm wasn’t back with her.

But he’d loved her. He’d probably never stopped loving her, just as she’d never stopped loving him. warlocks shouldn’t love, but fate had been put on hold when he’d tossed her aside in the past. After he’d sought her out again, the wheels of fate had begun to turn.

This had been inevitable.

But it didn’t have to stay that way. Fate could be fought. She might not win, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.