Bear Witness

BEAR WITNESS

I jolt awake, gasping for air as icy, lake water drips from my hair and seeps into my bones.

The chill of my near-death experience clings to me, Rowena’s acceptance of death sending my heart fluttering wildly. Disoriented, I struggle to shake off the effects of the vision.

Is this what it means to be my own grandma? A hysterical laugh bubbles up, but I stifle it, not wanting to wake the others.

I don’t understand how I could travel into the past, but Rowena hadn’t known the shifting spell until I gave it to her. If not for us being arrested and brought here, Rowena and her daughter would never have survived, and I never would have been born .

My brain hurts just thinking of it, so I don’t. Instead, I push off the sodden blanket and rise to my feet.

Every part of me wants to be in Owen’s arms right now, letting his warmth, his scent, his touch soothe the trembles wracking my body.

But there’s no time for that, not with the night already growing short.

Eyes closing, I reach out with my magic to search the ancient fortress for a bright pulse of power shining in the dark. Gathering my focus, I latch onto it and let the magic yank me through space in a dizzying rush.

Reality snaps back into place, and I stand in an opulent bedroom, the air heavy with sleep. Moonlight spills through a small window, illuminating rich tapestries and a sword mounted on the walls.

I drift over to it, raising a hand to touch the pommel. The scent of fire and blood lingers in my nose, the clang of swords ringing in my ears.

The spoils of slaughtering an entire coven.

I walk to the four-poster bed on silent feet, the plush carpet muffling my steps. Gael lies sprawled out on his back, his brown hair fanning across the pillow. Thick, sooty lashes fan across his high cheekbones in dreamless sleep.

Still not as pretty as my mates, and not half as cautious. Three out of four would have woken the second I entered the room.

As if in response, Gael shifts, one hand falling to rest on his sculpted stomach. The man must never miss crunch day.

My attention shifts to the nightstand, where his wand lies. Head cocking to the side, I reach out and close my fingers around the polished wood, power thrumming within my grip.

It’s heavier than I expected, the weight of it like gravity in my palm. I give an experimental swish, watching a flurry of silver sparks trail from the tip.

There is something to say about the flair of having a wand, unnecessary as it may be.

I spy a chair tucked into the corner on the other side of the bed and walk over to it. Plopping down, I kick my feet up onto Gael’s bed and lean back, tapping his wand against my chin as I wait.

It doesn’t take long. The dip of the mattress under my feet finally startles Gael awake. He jolts upright, his hand flying to the nightstand in search of his wand. When his fingers close on empty air, confusion furrows his brow .

Then he twists toward me, and shock crosses his handsome features. “What the—how did you get in here?”

Eyebrow rising, I twirl his wand between my fingers. “Are those really the first words you want to say to me? Not, ‘Rowe, my deepest apologies for coming to Hartford Cove under false pretenses. However can I make amends?’”

Gael’s jaw clenches as he pushes himself up to a sitting position, tugging the sheets with him. Like I have any interest in ogling his bare chest.

Well, maybe a little interest. I’m used to at least four naked men running around my house on the daily. Who am I to ignore eye candy when it’s platonically right in front of me?

“How did you get out of your cell?” he grits out, glaring at me through sleep-mussed hair.

I hum, continuing to tap his wand against my chin. “Funny you should ask. I have questions of my own. I’ve been wondering… You were so curious about the wards around Hartford Cove. Have you ever studied the ones here? At your very own Northern Fortress?”

Gael stills, his expression turning wary. He shifts to sit against the headboard, putting a bit more distance between us. “I have… But their in tricacies elude me. The magic is old. Complex.”

“Hmm, yes, old .” I flash him a saccharine smile. “Tell me, did your family build this nifty place where my people and I are being held captive?”

His eyes narrow. “I answered your question. Now you answer mine. How did you get out of your cell and past my warded door? It should be impossible to step through without my permission.”

I tap the tip of my nose with his wand. “So reason says I didn’t step through it.”

Uncertain, his head turns toward the narrow window.

I shake my head. “I didn’t climb up your tower wall, either, Rapunzel.”

“How did you escape your cell?” he grits out.

“The same way I entered your room. Now, that was two questions. We won’t count the window one, since you didn’t technically ask. Now it’s my turn again.” I rise and pace past the tall footboard of his bed, trailing my hand along it.

It’s newer than the fortress, but of course all the furniture up here would have burned to ash.

I stop in the spot where a cradle once rested, and a shiver goes through me. “Do you want children, Gael? ”

Incredulity raises his voice. “Did you seriously break into my room to ask about my family plans?”

“No, sorry. Got distracted for a second.” I turn away from the ghost of a happy nursery and climb up onto the foot of his bed to sit cross-legged in front of him. Frozen water drips from the ends of my hair, painting dark spots on his comforter. “Your bed is much nicer than my cot.”

“Thank you?” He frowns. “Why are you so wet?”

“I drowned.” His wand twirls between my fingers. “Do you remember when we stood on the roof of my house, and you said our barrier was one of the most complex spells you’d ever encountered?”

“Yes,” he says cautiously.

“ One of the most . Not the most.” I tap the wand against his foot beneath the comforter. “That would be the wards here .”

He winces. “Could you please be careful with my wand? I spent a long time crafting it.”

“It’s holding you back, in my opinion.” I toss it onto his lap. “Your ancestors didn’t use them.”

His brow crinkles. “What?—”

“Did you investigate why the council didn’t send help faster when the huntsmen attacked Hartford Cove? ”

He blinks at the topic shift. “Yes, it takes time to gather enough witches to open a portal large enough to move a unit of battle witches. Mel’s mothers were held back because they were the only ones with a direct link to someone within Hartford Cove who could act as a beacon for the drop point. It was simply that they didn’t have enough of a warning to arrive in time.”

“How long does it usually take to gather enough witches?” I ask, tucking away the tidbit of information about needing multiple witches to move more than one person.

“It depends on the power level of the witches involved. Teleporting is a power only witches in the first ring have mastered.”

“Huh.”

He studies me. “Did you learn to teleport?”

I cock my head to the side.

“It’s my turn for a question,” he points out. “You asked two.”

“Yes, I learned to teleport.” I hold my finger to my lips. “Shh. Aspen says I need to keep it a secret.”

“Within two days of finding out it was possible?” He shakes his head. “Your talents are being wasted in Hartford Cove.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” I fold my hands in my lap. “You weren’t in Hartford Cove for very long, so you probably didn’t have time to hear our Founder Story.”

“I see this isn’t going to be a quick visit.” He gestures to the blanket draped at the foot of his bed. “Use that for warmth.”

“Your concern about my comfort is belated but appreciated, nonetheless.” I wrap the throw around my shoulders and tuck it under my arms. “Long story short, there was a witch who lived in the woods, all by herself except for her wolf companion. Every year, she would cast this spell that gifted vampires with the ability to walk unharmed in the daylight.

“One day, a girl went into the woods for some medicine, and she stumbled on a wounded wolf and her pups, trapped beneath a tree. Despite the risk, she saved them, and her selfless act earned her the trust of the witch in the woods. She became her apprentice, and as the years passed, two men sought her affection.”

I hold up a finger. “The first, the son of the chief of vampires.” Another finger comes up. “The second, one of the wolf pups she had saved, who took the form of a man to be with her. Of course, it started a war. ”

“Of course.” Gael draws his knee up to rest his arm on it. “Who won?”

“No one won .” I shake my head at him. “The vampires slaughtered the villagers, the vampire chief’s son and the wolf shifter both died, and the young apprentice fled with her mother-in-wolf-law and those who remained from her village, the ones who had also learned the gift of taking a wolf’s shape. They walked until they hit the ocean and could go no further. There, they created a new home.

“My grandma used to tell me the much longer version of this story every summer.” I spread my hands out. “What do you think?”

“It’s a good fairy tale, and there’s likely some truth in it.” He leans his head back against the headboard. “Most stories have a foundation in reality.”

“Oh, I agree. The vampires tell a similar story, only with them being the ones who were wronged.” I lean forward to prop my chin on my hand. “So, what’s the Founder Story for the Northern Fortress? What tale do you have to tell about the sword on your wall?”

His gaze flicks toward it. “It’s a relic of the last fight against the dark witches, right before the Trinities formed the pact that later became the paranormal council. Our enemies had built this fortress as their stronghold, and our ancestors broke through at a significant cost. The Rothavens fought beside us, as did other covens. It’s why everyone thought your line had died. The fortress was almost destroyed, too, but we stayed and rebuilt it as a symbol that darkness would never again be allowed to take root.”

“It’s a good fairy tale. A very heroic one. Something beautiful to pass down through the generations.” I consider him for a long moment. “Parents like to tell their children stories. My dad told me so many after my mother died. A werewolf murdered her in the woods next to my grandmother’s house. Owen and I witnessed it. I escaped unscathed. My mom and Owen were not so lucky.”

Gael’s expression softens. “I’m so sorry.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “My dad took me away from the scary monster. He kept me safe by keeping me inside, by moving around a lot, by never staying in one place for too long. In the beginning, I thought the monster was still after us. And when my magic built up, when I started to see monsters everywhere and thought I was going crazy, I believed him when he gave me medication to quiet the nightmares.”

“Your magic was eating you alive,” Gael whispers.

“He did his best to protect me from the paranormal world, to hide my existence. But running only lasted so long. Eventually, the monster caught up, and my dad died, too.” I tug the blanket closer around my shoulders. “My dad was a good man. He was my hero. He tried so hard to save me.”

“Rowe…” Gael’s knee drops, and he sits forward, reaching out to me.

“My dad was also a vampire, one of the founders of the Sunlight Project, and responsible for the murder of uncounted witches.”

Gael freezes, his hand still outstretched.

I smile sadly. “Both versions of him are true. He loved and protected me, and he was responsible for great evil. Until he met my mom, I’m sure Elias, the vampire in your dungeon, filled my dad’s head with stories, too, about how they only hunted evil witches to kidnap and drain of blood. It took meeting my mom to open my father’s eyes to what was happening, but instead of stopping it, he ran away, and he never stopped running until the day he died. ”

Gael’s arm drops to his side. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I don’t think you’re evil, and I don’t think you want to make babies with me.”

He rears back. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you or one of your brothers.” I arch an eyebrow at him. “Which two of you are the strongest in magic?”

“None of us want to have children with you!” he shouts.

“You should tell that to your granny, who offered me a very inappropriate deal to get out of my trial. Back to your question, though. I don’t want to run until the day I die. And I don’t want to be backed into a corner like I was the last time.”

Stretching my arm out, I turn my wrist to expose the black squiggle. “The monster who killed my father did such horrible things to me, cornered me in the same woods where my mother died.”

I trace the black squiggle and close my hand into a fist as I let the ethereal light my eyes. “Don’t let them force me into taking a stand here, of all places.”

Gael slowly reaches for his wand. “Why not here?”

“My therapist/vet diagnosed me with ADHD.” The ends of my hair stir in an invisible breeze. “One of the many, many symptoms is easily distracted .”

He shakes his head. “I don’t understand. Why are you?—”

“Because there’s so little to distract me down in my cell, this led to another symptom, which is hyperfixation . And guess what my mind fixated on?” I pat his foot, and he flinches. “Poor little Gael Hutchen with a broken leg, scared and alone in the dark.”

“You connected to the earthen ethereal,” he murmurs, silver magic reflecting in his pupils.

“Oh, yes, I found it, trapped in my cell in the dungeons of the Northern Fortress, where the last of the Rothavens was thought to have died trying to take down a group of evil witches.” The grout around the stones burns to life, silver fractal patterns knitting themselves back together. “But if this was a lair of dark witches, why are Rothaven protections built into every stone of this fortress?”

Gael’s head turns toward the wall, studying the protective barrier he grew up with all his life and seeing it for what it is for the first time.

The home of the Rothaven coven.

“I grew up here.” He shakes his head. “How did you see what I could not? ”

“Your eyes are only half open.” Outside his window, the sky lightens with the approach of dawn, and I shrug off his blanket. “Time to go lock myself up again.”

“Wait!” His head whips toward me. “How do I open my eyes?”

“Dunno.” I slide off the bed. “Three out of four times, I almost died. I don’t suggest going my route. Consider ditching the wand. It’s very earth-heavy .”

He scrambles after me, revealing that he sleeps in boxer briefs. For which I am not disappointed in any way, shape, or form, because I am happily mated to four men of superior beauty.

“What do you expect me to do?” he demands. “The entire tribunal is here. I can’t stop the trials.”

What do I expect him to do? Why did I come here tonight?

At last, I shrug. “Your ancestors did bad, bad things to mine. I don’t know if your grandma knows about the real history of this place or not, but she is dangerously close to repeating it. I guess I expect you to help me turn it around. If you can’t do that, then stand and bear witness, so that the next story written about this place has accounts from both sides. ”

Before he can stop me again, I focus on the dungeon and let my magic sweep me from his room.