Two Halves Series (73 page)

“She’s a witch.” I laughed, pushing off my boots before I pulled my feet along the floor into the living room.

“Did you get him?” Xander lifted his gaze from a paper. His legs were draped over the side of the couch, and head rested on Xela’s lap. His witch was occupied with writing magic spells in her new book, propped on the elbow on the other end of the sofa.

“Yeah, I got him. What happened to you?” I slouched in the arm chair beside the fireplace, pressing my hand on my chin to crack the back of my neck to one side, then the other.

Xander’s arms were covered with red blotches. Some spots broke, releasing yellow puss. He’d looked like he ran into a bee hive. “Allergy, I think. It’s been itching since this morning. I can’t seem to shift out of it fast enough,” he complained.

Xela put down her pen. Her eyes rolled back into their black hue, not an uncommon sight whenever she did a reading or foresaw a prediction. Then she chuckled under her breath before resuming writing her spells.

Xander kept scratching his blotches without asking me what’s next. We all knew what’s next, but I was the only one with the full wrath of the keepers’ consequence thrust upon me.

I sighed.

“Let me see those.” Mira peeled my turtleneck back. “I’m gonna put ointment on your neck.” Her fingers brushed my skin and spread green goo from a jar. I noted she braided her hair into five parts, running from the back to the side of her face, the way it had been this morning.

“Your natural hair suits you better.” I touched the leftover tip.

She smiled. “I know. It’s just something new I tried.”

I winced.

“Stop moving. You fight demons without a flinch; I think you can hold still for a moment. It will help heal.” Though she meant to scold me, her soothing voice eased the itching, or perhaps it was her touch and the cream that smelled nicer than it looked.

Basil and mint.
“Thank you.” I closed my eyes, resting my head against the back of the chair.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.

She continued to circle the tips of her fingers around each bleeding node where my spikes extended. The skin contact was like ice to fire. My blood rushed again, and my neck throbbed.

“Is it just me or are you happy to see me?”

I imagined her smirk. My spikes had peaked from under the skin.

“I’m always happy to see you, sugar.” I grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on my knees.

“Keep them in until they stop bleeding,” she warned, her lips vibrating against my ear, forcing me to inhale her scent. I would never forget her smell; even if the keepers stripped my evil-bending skills, they couldn’t take that away from me. Could they?

“Then stop being so sexy,” I whispered.

“I’m going to help with supper so you can rest.” Mira winked, pushing off my lap. Grazing across the room toward the kitchen like a delicate swan, my muse went to cook.

“How can I rest when all I can think about is…” I stopped when I noticed Xander and Xela staring at me. Sharing the limits of the hill as our home definitely had its disadvantages.

“I’ll help too.” Xela shut her book and stood. Xander’s head bounced on the couch.

“Hey!” he whined.

“Don’t be a baby.” Xela laughed.

“Come back here, and I’ll show you what I am.” He propped himself up on his elbows. The magazine resting on his torso slid down to the floor.

“Try to catch me first,” Xela coerced.

“You’ll just use magic to stop me,” he whined again.

I rolled my eyes.

“You know it, baby,” Xela teased, and laughed. Leave it to a black witch to tame a sexually predatory shapeshifter.

Xander dropped down to the couch, scratching a new blister on the side of his arm. He picked the magazine off the floor and resumed his reading.

Living with two shapeshifters and two witches had benefits. It never got lonely. The sibling rivalry between Mira and her twin provided more entertainment than I could have asked for. Even at times when I wished for privacy, I preferred to be here. I wanted to remain as far away as possible from Monasterio de Piedra, my home for the past hundred years in Spain, where I had served the keepers. We’d extended the hill beyond its original perimeter, building a private addition for Mrs. G so she could enjoy some time away from us.

The aroma of herbs and fresh berries drifted into the room as I leaned my head back, wondering what we’d eat tonight. If Xela was in the kitchen, I predicted goulash, but we were all sick of goulash, everyone expect Xander. Plus, Mira and Mrs. G agreed to stop cooking food, which increased Xander’s libido.

With my eyes closed, I speculated when the next demon would show up. He’d announce his arrival from the underworld through the tingling in my neck. At this moment, I rested comfortably without any sensation of a luring burden. My neck always stung when the demons neared. I hoped he’d give me enough time to recuperate, but I doubted good karma was on my side. The keepers seemed to have slowed down my ability to heal quickly.

Why would they do that?

It felt as if their punishment had already started. My will to live began dying, and I wondered what kind of life the keepers would pick for me once this one was taken away. I imagined being a garbage collector or a mortician, and somehow, I was certain that kind of a lifestyle would be a blessing. Finally, my eyelids closed, and I drifted away.

* * *

My eyes flew open. The aroma of berries and baked rabbit tightened my grumbling stomach.

“Leave it to you two to sleep while we cook. Can’t wait for the day when I get to slouch on the couch. Come on, Xander, we’re going shopping.” Mira smacked the top of her brother’s head.

He didn’t budge, so she pulled her dozing twin off the couch, waking him when he hit the floor. Xela laughed, leaning against the kitchen door frame. I knew exactly why she found the siblings amusing.

“Aw. Now?” he whined, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes. We need wine, and you need to check on the clinic.”

The siblings had entrusted their veterinary hospital to local students in exchange for recommendations to universities and help with future employment.

“Eric, can’t you just vortex us?” Xander asked.

Mira kicked her brother in the shin. “Get up, lazy. No vortexing. Eric needs to rest.”

“Go. Help your sister,” Xela coaxed while keeping her focus on me.

Why is the witch looking at me that way? She wants something.

She sashayed toward Xander and planted a loud smooch on his lips.

“Fine. We’ll be quick, right?” Xander asked, a bit more relaxed, keeping his hands on Xela’s hips, pressing his front against her.

“If you can keep up.” Mira dashed out the door, planting a wet kiss on my lips before leaving; after all, her brother couldn’t outdo her. I licked my lips, tasting her delicious peck along with a raspberry lip gloss. Lust in the form of agony spread through my body, but I had to control myself to let the spikes heal.

Xander, of course, couldn’t resist his sister’s challenge, and shoved his tongue down Xela’s throat once more before following.

The dust finally settled after the siblings left.

Outside, the wind howled, pulling in the approaching spring storm. I loved rain. It seemed to wash away the flaws of nature while feeding it at the same time.

My gaze flew from the door back to Xela. “You’re scheming.”

She resumed her concentration on me. Her lip would bleed if she continued biting it.

“I’m not the one who’s being untruthful, Eric. What did they do to you?” she asked, tilting her head to the right.

“The demon? Don’t worry, these will heal.” I pointed to my neck. “He had no chance.”

“Not the demon. The keepers.” Xela looked at me from under her brow. “You’re hiding something.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m still a witch. The mark’s bearing doesn’t change who I am, only whom I may help. My only allegiance now is to Xander, and whom I choose.” She paused. “They punished you, didn’t they? Beyond what you’ve told us.” Xela circled the wooden table that propped her new book of spells, her bare feet swooshing against the oak floor. The pixie hair cut she insisted on to chop away her old life no longer reminded me that she was in fact a witch with the custom long hair. Her delicate fingers pulled along the leather binding of the book, and she stopped, dropping her head for over a minute.

“We already know they punished me,” I whispered, because I had a feeling Xela knew more than I wanted anyone to know.

The fireplace crackled in the background. The smell of burning wood and some charcoal drifted up the flue, out of the hill. Mrs. G had turned off the tap in the kitchen when the kettle began its continuous whistle.

I stared at Xela, straining to keep my hands, at the sides of the chair, steady, but inside, I trembled. My breath locked in my lungs as I wondered where this conversation was leading.

The kettle calmed its bubbling, and I heard Mrs. G pour simmering water into a mug.

Peppermint tea.

Xela stood straight again and let her eyes return from a black hue to their own golden brown shade. She exhaled, then strolled around the table for a third time before coming to my side. The witch sat on a lower stool in front of me. The black tank top squished her chest when she leaned her elbows on her knees.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice, more comforting than I’d expected, was filled with guilt. “They wanted me dead, not unmarked, and you defied them to make Xander happy.”

I shook my head. “Not only to make Xander happy. I don’t agree with someone being cursed when they haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I have done wrong, Eric.” Her gaze found a knot in the hardwood floor. She circled her big toe as if polishing the oval.

“You know what I mean, Xela. You had no choice when the sphere marked you at birth, then guided you to do its bidding. Why should witches be cursed at birth? Why not let everyone’s actions speak for their future? Like for me, Xander, and Mira.”

“You bring up a good point, but it’s always been that way.” She rested her chin in her palms. Xela reminded me of an innocent child in need of protection, not a compelling witch. How had she survived as a powerful sorceress in the underworld?

“It doesn’t make it right.” I widened my eyes.

“So, the question now is, what are we going to do about the keepers’ decision?” She raised her brows. “I cannot live knowing I was the reason your powers and immortality were taken away. Believe me, I know the consequences of losing what you cherish.”

My memories, feelings, and the life I’ve known for over a hundred years would be gone. Mira would be gone She could walk down the street, and even if she knew me, I wouldn’t recognize her.

“You think there’s something we can do?” I didn’t want hope to spark in my heart, but it did.

“I smell magic.” Mrs. G stepped out from the kitchen. Her flowery dress danced along the floor as her bulky hips swayed. The braid which I’d never seen undone crossed the front of her chest. She stroked it with her left hand, and the rattling bracelets slid toward her elbow. The water mark tattoo glistened on her wrist. A mark I would soon be deprived of.

She looked to the right and locked her gaze with Xela’s. The pixie witch stood and strolled to Mrs. G’s side. Xela took Mrs. G’s hand, and I knew they’d exchanged information without having to speak. I’d seen them do it before. It was an odd duo when Mrs. G and Xela worked as allies. Enemies in a previous life, quiet conspirators in this one. I knew their powers were great but often wondered what boundaries were involved. How far could the witches go with their spells without upsetting the balance? What limits could be pushed?

“When are you planning to tell her?” Mrs. G asked, startling me with the question.

“Mira already knows I will lose my abilities and immortality.” The witch mother’s first concern had always been her shifter children.

Mrs. G let go of Xela’s hand. “Does she know you will no longer remember her?”

She may as well had stabbed me in the heart. My mouth dropped open. The one punishment by the keepers I dreaded telling anyone was no longer a secret. Even if Mrs. G was a resourceful witch, I didn’t expect her to be privileged with information I hadn’t shared with anyone.

Xela leaned forward and pushed my chin up to close it. Her touch sent shock waves through my body, but she didn’t react. I imagined there wasn’t much in this world that could surprise Xela. She’d seen the best and worst of our kind, sacrificing herself to save her soul mate by defying Aseret.

“How do you know?” My whisper seemed to echo through the room.

“My husband is one of the keepers. There’s not much he can hide from me, but I try not to interfere,” Mrs. G replied.

Of course.
My head dropped.

“I can’t tell Mira. She’ll definitely meddle. She may get hurt.” I concentrated on the patterned sequence of the chair upholstery.

“She would, wouldn’t she? It doesn’t mean I agree with the keepers’ decision.” Mrs. G lowered her spectacles and pulled a stool over to sit beside Xela. “I know where your allegiance lies, Eric, and for the decades of devotion and help you’d given to the keepers, sacrificing your own life, and my daughter’s happiness, I think it’s safe to agree they’re being harsh.”

“So, you’ll talk to them for me?” My eyes must had doubled in size as I looked from one witch to the other.

I knew I sounded defeated, so unlike me, but it seemed the witches were the only hope I had to keep my memories, if any. For the first time in my life, the witches found me at my most vulnerable state. My frailness had never been shown to anyone, and my only weakness before the punishment was Mira.

“Talking won’t help. The keepers had never changed their mind; in fact, I think your last three opponents will present themselves quicker than you’re expecting. An arrangement has been made for your fate to be decided. Soon. It will be soon.”

Mrs. G’s eyes enveloped in black as she spoke, and her riddle didn’t surprise me. It seemed my punishment and events leading to its quick execution had been coordinated with precision and timing.