Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books) (14 page)

Marcus shot to his feet and shielded her from this new menace. Beside her, Busby was hunched and snarling through bared teeth.

“What the—”
A shuddering fear kept Avy rooted in place. Reality seemed to be suspended. She just stared, frozen, as five shapeless forms floated towards them. She didn’t need anyone to tell her this was The Witches Council. An old movie line popped into her head,
They’re he
e
’ere
! A shiver crawled over her scalp and the mist thickened until it felt like she was trying to swallow cotton wool.

Marcus drew in a sudden deep breath as if readying for battle. She wondered how he’d managed to get enough air. All she could do was straighten her spine, square her shoulders and try to slow her racing pulse.

She shushed her familiar. Busby stopped snarling but remained alert at her side.

She didn’t need to ask who had joined them. She whispered to Marcus, “Where did they come from?”

Marcus replied, keeping his voice just as quiet, “The portal to the Otherland. It’s not far from here.”

“I thought it was in Lost Lake?”

“The lake is only a communication channel. We can’t travel through it.”

She nodded and didn’t ask any more of the questions swirling around her brain. The five figures seemed solid but, with the mist, she couldn’t be sure. She still knew so little about Marcus’s world. Her new world.

The group stopped a few feet away from them, and then stood motionless. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but they looked like ordinary people. They were all wearing similar, full length cloaks, which obscured their body shapes. Their heights, however, varied widely.

Marcus angled himself between her and the new arrivals.

Busby edged forward on her other side closing her in from the front.

Marcus spoke over his shoulder to her. “The two on the left are Pelles Ferran, Blake’s uncle, and Tobias Larcon, Council Second,” he whispered. “The middle one is my father.”

She glanced around him to the three faces as he identified them, stopping with some curiosity at Jeremiah Egan. He shared his son’s stature. He also seemed to have thick, darkish hair. It could have been his cloaked figure but her main impression was aloof, emotionless. Marcus must take after his mother, she decided. Or maybe, Council thrived on pomp and formality and the wizard-capes were for show.

“The two on the far right—.” Marcus reached back for her hand although she wasn’t sure he realized it. “—are your grandparents, Joseba Gwynn and Xanthus Kemena.”

A sharp stab struck her heart. Grandmother Gwynn. Avy mouthed the name but it felt foreign on her tongue. She hadn’t really thought about her grandparents. Even when Marcus told her about her past, they were just story characters, one-dimensional, but the eyes were a solid link to her father. And to her.

She’d thought she had no living family, yet here were two grandparents. She firmed her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to see their features. Would either of them look like their children, her parents? Like her? After a lifetime without relatives, she just didn’t know what to feel about meeting them now. Her grandmother was ageless, with braided, white hair coiled around her head. Her face was fine-boned, with a complexion as smooth as wax, fram
ing
piercing blue eyes. Her father’s eyes. Almost. His were
clear
and bright like
polished sapphires
. This woman’s were an ocean at night, deep, dark and cold.

She looked to the next face, a man. He may have been blond in his youth. The color had faded to grey. His skin was also pale, making his charcoal grey eyes stand out. They held more curiosity than the woman’s but still none of the warmth of her mother’s dove-grey eyes.

Avy shivered although she didn’t feel the cold. Her eyes began to water and she felt a lump form in her throat. She squeezed her free hand into a fist until the nails bit into her palm. Her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. She wrapped her free arm around her waist, trying to hold herself together.

Despite the pounding of her own heart in her ears, she began to hear a pulse beating a slow, steady rhythm. It was Marcus. He looked down at her and raised a brow as if he’d sensed her sudden swell of emotion. She felt the earth throb in time to the pulse and soothing warmth seeped into the soles of feet, crept up her legs and wrapped around her. The light pressure slid across her back, along her arms, as if he w
ere chaffing them. Calming her.

With her breath more even, the panic dampening her mind lifted, leaving one clear thought. These were her grandparents sitting on Council—the same Council who ordered her death. Finally, she knew exactly what to feel. Damned angry.

* * *

Two guardians in an all-out battle, not to mention what Avy threw in—it was no wonder Council felt it and wanted to know what the hell was going on. When they appeared, he felt Avy falter and reached out to her with his magic. Her resilience stunned him as she quickly regained her balance.

Marcus scanned the faces he’d once respected and trusted without question. The political maneuvering must be reaching theatrical proportions if they were wearing their ceremonial cloaks. They hadn’t dusted them off in more than half a century.

He looked along the line of dispassionate faces and took a steadying breath. Avy wasn’t the only one whose reality had changed forever. This was the Council to whom he’d pledged his life. One of them had discovered the two lost Guardians in Bandit Creek, and was prepared to commit murder if that’s what it took to get their amulets. All for more power over The Otherland. He glanced at Pelles, and tried to imagine his lifelong friend and mentor manipulating his own nephew to gain more power. He just couldn’t see it.

Pelles didn’t offer a smile or any sign of encouragement. He simply nodded and said, “Speak.”

Marcus hoped they wouldn’t shoot the messenger. It could be his imagination but he felt animosity rolling off them. That wasn’t good. Not that he expected an unbiased hearing. Three of the Council Masters had skin in the game. Or rather, family genes.

“Masters,” he said. “Blake Ferran of The Otherland has violated Council Laws, with the murders of Devlin Gwynn and Eavan Kemena in Bandit Creek.” He kept his eyes on the wall of witches hoping to read their reactions. As a unit they were clearly shaken by his words. There was uneasy shuffling of feet, murmurs of surprise and a subtle shifting to physically distance themselves from Pelles as if his nephew’s actions might be contagious.

Pelles was struck silent, so his Council Second, Tobias Larcon, took the lead. “We accept your notice, Guardian. Please present your findings.”

There was no provision within Council for the OverMaster to remove himself from judging his own nephew. Marcus felt deep compassion but couldn’t read anything from the expression on the face of his friend and mentor. Although Marcus had never liked Tobias, he was glad he didn’t have to speak directly to Pelles about his nephew’s crimes.

He took a deep breath to give himself time to sort the facts so that they wouldn’t realize Avy’s magic was growing.

He used a formal, calm voice to present recent events. “Blake is a guardian warlock who used magic to kill Devlin Gwynn and Eavan Kemena, for the purpose of stealing family heirlooms. He risked mortal lives and exposure of our race when he cast an explosive spell at a bank building in the town plaza. And, he attacked, threatened, and held captive, a third member of our community and violently resisted capture. It is only with Avy’s help that I was able to subdue him.”

No matter what conflicts arose in The Otherland, none of them wanted their world revealed to the mortals. Marcus hoped that would overshadow everything else he said. He did not want to explain how he and Avy had enough magic to create the rock prison, although none of them seemed to be aware it was there.

His report was met by silence rather than an outcry about the risk of their disclosure he was hoping for. That was not a good sign.

Tobias asked, “The amulets are of no use to ordinary witches. Did you determine any deeper motive for Blake’s actions?”

They seemed to disregard everything that didn’t related to the damn amulets but Marcus wasn’t giving into defeat yet. “He did it for personal gain and advancement,” he replied, throwing the greatest offence in witchdom at them. He didn’t dilute it with further details.

They all eyed Pelles with varying degrees of pity and disgust. Despite their recent power games, in their view, Blake had shamed his uncle and the Ferran family.

Pelles ignored them. “Did she kill him?”

Marcus recognized the edge in his mentor’s voice as pain rather than anger. Despite it all, he still loved his nephew.

“She could have.” he spoke directly to Pelles and then glanced at each of the others in turn. “She was threatened and knew she was in the hands of a proven killer. Her parents’ killer. Under any law, mortal or our own, she had the right.”

He brought his gaze back to Pelles. “But Avalon Gwynn is a merciful witch. Because of her help, Blake was captured and contained with harm to none.” Always good to throw in the cardinal rule of witchcraft. He looked back at Avy and smiled. He was hoping this would give them the edge. What Council did next was critical. Fear prickled up his spine. If this didn’t work, Avy was dead.

A sudden movement on the far end drew everyone’s attention to Xanthus Kemena.

“Step forward, young witch.”

Avy squared her shoulders and stepped forward. Marcus wanted to hold her back but knew she wouldn’t let him. When she stopped in front of her grandfather, she raised her chin to look him dead in the eye.

“Why didn’t you kill your attacker?” Xanthus asked her.

“I’m a witch, not a killer,” she said and looked fireballs at the rest of the Council.

Marcus had to work
to
keep the pride off his face. She really was one tough babe. He knew she was scared spitless yet she was standing up to these powerful magical beings without flinching. He couldn’t think of anyone in The Otherland who would do the same. He thought he saw a slight twitch on her grandfather’s lips.

Joseba Gwynn stepped up beside Kemena. A glance flicked between them. Maybe Avy was not without her allies on Council after all. Despite her age, Joseba was an imposing figure with her cloak pinned back over one shoulder and held in place with a large, silver pin distinctly engraved with the family crest. Why was that so familiar?

Marcus struggled to remember without dropping his guard. Long ago, on his first day of training, he’d looked up at two Guardians with Pelles. The young man had worn that same pin on his cloak. Marcus realized he had met Devlin Gwynn that day.

Joseba scrutinized her grandchild. “You are aware of the missing family amulets?”

“Yes,
m
a’am.”

Marcus held his breath. Calling a
Master Witch
ma’am
probably counted as blasphemy, and it might distract from the fact he was hiding one of the amulets in his pocket right in front of them. He wasn’t sure if Avy had seen him pick it up.

Joseba stayed focused. “Do you know the whereabouts of the Goddess Amulets, young witch?”

This piqued the interest of the remaining three
Master Witch
es who also approached.

“We believe we can find them,
m
a’am.”

“And you are prepared to return them to their proper place?” This from Tobias, his eyes blinking frantically in his excitement.

“Yes.” Avy showed no hesitation as she made the commitment
,
no doubt
fully aware that
Council
had failed to specify
where that proper place might be, and in whose opinion.

Marcus swept his gaze across the Council masters, seeing each with new eyes. They spoke softly among themselves. He saw a slight shake of a head, a hunched shoulder, a voice raised and quickly lowered. He could tell they did not agree. He clenched his fists and realized he was ready to throw a shield between them and Avy. He would not let them kill her.

Tobias stepped forward. “We grant you forty-eight hours to recover the amulets and return them.” Without allowing them to respond, the
Master Witch
flicked both hands and disappeared back through the portal. One by one, the others followed, except Pelles.

“A word, if you please,” the older witch said.

Instantly Marcus was alert, but his mentor didn’t make any threatening move towards them.

Busby relaxed as soon as the others were gone and now sat at his witch’s side showing no concern about the remaining council member.

The older man shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry you’ve lost your trust in me, Marcus. I cannot blame you in the least. Perhaps I should have shared my concerns with you sooner.” He rested a hand on Marcus’s arm and let the truth in his eyes show. He smiled towards Avy. “I do promise I mean no harm to your young witch.”

“Then you’re the only one who doesn’t.
Council wants her dead and Blake was ready to kill her.”