mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate (8 page)

She shrugged and turned left, choosing the first door. It opened to reveal an opulent sitting room. Green brocade upholstered mahogany settees and chairs.

A door on the left wall of the room stood opened.

A bedroom? She entered and crossed the soft rug. Kitty stopped and dug her claws in, scratching. No doubt it was a priceless antique.

“Good work, Kitty.”

Kitty purred and Sofia grinned. Malcolm could afford to fix it. Hell, a wave of his hand and a shot of magic could spiff it right up.

As she’d thought, the door led to a beautifully appointed bedroom. An enormous canopied bed occupied the space, its green silk drapes hung in elegant folds. The fire in the hearth burst to life as soon as she crossed the threshold. 

She frowned. What magic could already be here? The fire was enchanted to light, but were there other spells? A spying one, perhaps? 

She raised her wand and spun in a slow circle about the room, removing any spell that might have been placed upon it. The fire died. The room felt different, as well. She didn’t know what spell he’d put on the place, but she’d broken it.

Good enough for her. A huge yawn stole over her. Kitty mimicked it.

A second later, she fell into the bed. She barely got the covers up over her head before she passed out.

Malcolm watched Sofia walk out of the room, her little black familiar on her heels. At the door, Kitty turned to glare at him out of her good eye, then flicked her tail and stalked out. 

He frowned, then downed the last of his whisky, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. His wolf was restless, as if it sensed something of great value was near but out of reach.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the image of Sofia out of his mind. Images of her from tonight were acceptable. That was about sex. But he kept seeing her as he remembered her, from their first meeting.

So beautiful. Smart and determined, she’d been so quick-witted she made his head spin. He’d first seen her sitting in Corrier’s study where they’d had their lessons. Corrier hadn’t arrived yet. It had been just them amongst the towering bookshelves stuffed with ancient tomes and trinkets.

He’d walked into the study to find her sitting  in front of the fire, Kitty at her feet. The feline had assessed him with her one good eye, but Sofia had ignored him, preferring to spend her energy studying the book in her lap. 

He hadn’t been able to look away from her. She’d made him feel something he didn’t understand. His life had been all work and preparation for becoming a warlock. Life was very staid amongst sorcerers and emotions weren’t something his sorcerer kin expressed. 

Eventually, she’d glanced up at him, spearing him with her sharp gaze. “Do you need something?”

“Your name,” he’d said.

“I’d hardly say you
need
that.”

“But I do.”

She shrugged. “Sofia Viera.”

Beautiful. Like her. “What are you?”

She raised a brow. “Don’t you know that’s rude?”

“Is it?” With her, he lost his mind a bit.

Apparently, he still lost his mind when it came to her. He’d only been back with her for a few hours and he was reeling. This wasn’t how he’d expected to feel when he’d forced her to come to him. In fairness, when he’d come up with this plan, he hadn’t done much thinking about what would occur after he had her here. He’d just known that he was done being without her. For centuries, he’d thought he was fine the way he was. He had as much power and wealth as any Mythean could want. 

It wasn’t enough.

Now he had to go up against the Salem Coven—and possibly the High Witches if they failed to get the Grimoire—or he’d lose more than Sofia. As much as his ego hated to admit it, they might need help. Not tomorrow. But if everything went to shit, they’d need someone to call on. 

He wouldn’t risk Sofia’s life like that.

Malcolm set the tumbler on the mantle above the blazing hearth and envisioned his brother’s home in Iceland. A second later, he stood on the doorstep. Frigid wind whipped off the glacier, freezing his skin. The Aurora Borealis danced overhead—blues and greens lighting up the night and making the snow sparkle.

He knew why his brother had chosen to live on a godforsaken patch of ice in the middle of nowhere, but the Vatnajokull glacier was not where he’d have chosen. He might be a loner, but this was taking it too far.

Malcolm pounded on the heavy wooden door, eyeing the golden glow of the windows to his left. This place always looked like a bloody Christmas card. Pretty cabin, snow-covered eaves, windows lit with warm light. He’d love to just aetherwalk in, but his brother had a new bride and well… Best not to.

At least they appeared to be here. They’d spent the last several months traveling.

Finally, the door swung open to reveal Aurora, his brother’s mate. She wore flannel pajamas that were decorated with pumpkins and black cats.

“Malcolm!” Her golden brows rose. 

All of Aurora was golden, from her skin to her hair and eyes. She was a soulceress, one of the most despised species among Mytheans because her kind got their magical power by stealing it from the souls of other Mytheans. Whereas all other Mytheans could draw power from the aether using their immortal soul—and that’s what actually fueled the unique magic each species was capable of—Soulceresses could not. They took it from others. It made them immensely powerful and equally despised.

It didn’t bother Malcolm because he had unlimited access to the power of the aether, so he just let a smile crack his face.

“Aurora.” She and Felix would be a great help to them if he needed to call upon them. Neither were as powerful as he—almost no one was, he wasn’t too modest to admit—but there was strength in numbers when all else failed.

“Come on in,” she stepped back to let him in. The cabin was cozy and warm, the large living room lit by a crackling fire that gleamed on the honey-colored wooden wall. Aurora’s familiar, a sleek black cat named Mouse, watched him from the back of the couch. Her golden eyes were luminous, her posture straight. 

He recalled that Mouse liked to play. As an afterthought, he waved his hand near the floor and a rat made of smoke darted across the floor. Mouse leapt off the couch and streaked after it.

“You like familiars,” Aurora said.

He shrugged and was saved from answering when his brother entered the room.

Felix was as big as he was, though younger. They shared a father—the man who’d given them the wulver half of their soul. Felix’s mother had been a timewalker. Time travel was a powerful strength, but Malcolm would take his own mother’s powers any day. The sorcerer half of him had given him the magical ability necessary to become a warlock. 

A twinge of regret streaked through him. 

Regret? No. Definitely not. He pushed the strange feeling aside and greeted his brother.

“Good to have you visit,” Felix said, glancing at the clock. “At two in the morning.”

“Sorry about that.”

Felix joined Aurora and wrapped an arm around her waist. He leaned down to press a kiss to her head.

A jolt of jealousy shot through Malcolm. He swallowed it down.

That right there—seeing his brother so bloody happy with Aurora—was the reason he’d finally caved and sought out Sofia.

Their happiness shined a light on the great, gaping hole in his life. Maybe he’d always known it was there. Maybe not.

But he knew now and was unable to ignore it any longer. 

“You remember the dagger I brought you? The one that returned Aurora’s soul to her body?” 

Felix nodded, rubbing Aurora’s shoulder. Her gaze had grown dark, no doubt recalling the horror of learning that a huge part of her soul had been stolen by an old enemy. Mouse appeared at her side, leaning against her shin. The smoke rat had been abandoned in favor of comforting her mistress.

“I didn’t return it. On purpose, but now I could be in a bit of a bind.”

“What do you need?” Felix asked.

“I’m going to Salem to retrieve the Salem Coven’s Grimoire.”

“Oh shit,” Aurora said, her eyes bright. “You sure you want to do that?”

“Yes. If I fail, I’ll have a problem with the High Witches.”

“Double shit,” Aurora said.

“Do you want help in Salem?” Felix asked.

“No. Stealth is the only way to get the book and I should be able to get it. But in the unlikely event that we fail, the High Witches will destroy my friend’s village.” He didn’t like calling Sofia his friend. He wanted to call her something more than that. 

Soon.

“Can’t they move?” Felix asked.

“I asked. Not possible. I’m going to Salem tomorrow to retrieve the Grimoire. If I don’t have it within a week, we’re going to need help with the High Witches. A lot of help.”

“Not a problem,” Felix said.

“I’ll get my sister, Esha. And her best friend is Andrasta, Celtic goddess of war. For that matter, Logan and Sylvi might step in as well, as they did when I was in a bind. And we can put the word out at the university. This is right up their alley.”

“Thank you.” He’d worked at the university for a few decades, though it was easier to come to his brother for help. The Immortal University, as it was called, was located in Edinburgh. It was more of a governmental organization than a learning institution, dedicated to maintaining the order and secrecy of British Mytheans. Sofia had no ties with them—they normally didn’t operate outside of Europe—but at Aurora’s request, they would.

“I’ll leave you then,” he said.

“Can’t you stay for a drink?” Felix asked.

Malcolm shook his head, though he wanted to nod. While he’d managed to stay in his brother’s life, it’d been at the periphery since he’d become a warlock. He’d helped Felix after he’d been captured by a sadistic seer three centuries ago, and again with saving Aurora, but for the most part, Malcolm had had to stay scarce. He loved his brother. Only by keeping himself scarce could he help mitigate the risk. 

“I’ll let you know how we get on in Salem,” Malcolm said. “Thank you.”

“Good luck,” Aurora said.

Malcolm nodded, then aetherwalked home.

He found Kitty standing at the base of the stairs, staring at him. Glaring, more like. Familiars were notoriously loyal. Kitty might like his wolf, but she didn’t trust him.

“Did you miss me?”

Kitty just stared.

“I went for backup.”

The cat bobbed its head.

“Good night, Kitty.” Malcolm passed by the familiar and climbed the stairs, stopping just briefly at the closed door to the room Sofia had chosen.

He pressed a hand to the door, then shook his head and continued on.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sorcerer’s Tor

Entrance to the Sorcerer Afterworld

Dartmoor, England 

1606 AD

Cold wind whipped across Sofia’s cheeks as she watched Malcolm, who stood a dozen yards away from her. It was colder on Dartmoor than she had expected. Her cloak wasn’t suited to this chill weather. 

She
wasn’t suited to this chill weather.

But when Malcolm had told her of his mother’s death and that he had to go to Sorcerer’s Tor, the sorcerer’s sacred space, to make an offering in her name, she couldn’t help but ask if he wanted her to accompany him. She’d only known him for a month, but she’d quickly grown to care for him.

Kitty pressed against her leg, huddling under her cloak with her little black head peeping out. Despite her thick fur, she too was used to the heat of the jungle. But sorcerers were a strange group—as least, Malcolm’s clan was. They lived in a remote part of southwestern England, just at the edge of Dartmoor.

At the highest part of the moor, on a desolate tor formed from the biggest granite outcropping in England, they said goodbye to their dead. According to Malcolm, there was a crevice in the rock on Sorcerer’s Tor that led to their afterworld. Only the dead could enter, but it was here that the living paid their respects when someone passed.

Her heart ached as she watched him. Tall and strong, his black hair and cloak whipping in the wind as he stood with his head bowed. He was so beautiful that she almost couldn’t believe he was real. When he’d started courting her, she’d been surprised. He seemed so distant, so cold.