Chapter 18

Brooks

A reflection in a car window is bad enough, but an animal from the Witchwoods running loose in town? That's a bad sign.

I stand in front of the Witch's Tree, hating it. Feeling disgusted by it. Wishing I didn't have to be here and knowing there's no other choice. We're the only ones who can deal with this problem; we're the ones who started this problem.

No. No. Not we. Me . I'm the original sin as well as the leader.

It's my goddamn responsibility, my duty. I take things like this seriously.

"Shall we give this a shot?" I'm not really asking. I don't ask unless I believe someone else knows better than me. Rarely happens. "Who's the fucking provider now?" Oh, North. You think you know better than me, do you?

What a brat. A brat in need of another spanking.

"Won't work, but it's always worth it to try the simplest solution first." Tanner moves across the clearing, sidestepping mushrooms and ferns as Kate's dog trots curiously after him. She takes them in with a frown, glances at Marlowe, and then focuses on me with hard eyes.

Even when she's quiet, she's challenging me.

My palm fills with flames and Kate gasps, watching with wide eyes as I press it against the side of the tree. Magic surges through me, curling up from the earth and digging into the soles of my boots. The fire burns hotter, brighter. Orange then red, blue then white.

Nothing happens to the cursed tree. Not a huge surprise. We'll have to metaphorically burn it down then. Disable it. Close it. We'll need a spell I've never cast, one that my mentor never conceptualized. I'll be writing this one on my own.

There's giggling in the trees, a noise that I'm no longer used to. Nobody giggles in the Witchwoods. Not true. Kate might've giggled a time or two. She's in a league of her own, that's for damn sure.

The eyes on my hat shift to take the newcomers in. Each eye sees in a different spectrum. One detects temperature. Another uses ultraviolet. I had to work really hard for this hat. Had to kill something big, too. Tanner and I almost died.

A group of young women—six of them, all young enough to be high school students—appear between two large redwood trunks. They're wearing brightly colored clothing and showing off their belly buttons and piercings in a way that would've been unthinkable back in my day.

Doesn't bother me, but it is disconcerting to see how much the world has changed while I slept. I should've been here to see it, watched it grow and shift around me. Hell, if I hadn't been trapped in the woods, I'd have found a nice girl to marry. Had kids. Been a grandpa. A great-grandpa.

I'd also be ancient or dead, so I guess there's that.

The girls cluster together, pointing their devices—ugh—at us. Making eyes. More giggling and a loud shriek that makes Tanner curse. I'd just ignore them, but North is wearing a face that's as grumpy as any I've ever seen on Marlowe. What a feat.

"Alright, ladies. Time to fuck off." I tug another charm from my hat and snatch North by the hand. I snap the wishbone in my fingers, and the group pauses.

"I don't ... I don't think we should be out here," one of them says, like the thought's just occurred to her. It hasn't. I've cast a spell of foreboding, something to keep them away while we deal with this shit.

"I agree," another says, but they're all still pointing at us with their ... well, I don't know what they are. Cameras? Phones? Those ugly rectangular devices, they're all addicted to them, every person in this modern world. I can't go five seconds without seeing someone immersed in it like the whole universe is trapped within.

What a fucking nightmare.

The girls leave for the trail without realizing that they've been spelled.

Heat prickles my palm, and I release North's hand.

I didn't like her at first. I'm still not sure that I do, but maybe I dislike her a little less than I did. Some part of me feels sorry for her. Bad timing and unfortunate circumstances have led us to this place and time where she doesn't have a lot of choices.

The four of us, this is our world now.

Everything else is secondary.

"Should we test it out?" North asks as she gestures toward the hole in the tree. Could be a joke. She's got both brows raised, teeth nibbling the right corner of her bottom lip. Marlowe snags her by the wrist before I get a chance to move forward and do it myself. We're not taking any chances here.

"Do not fucking touch it," he snaps at her, more aggressively than necessary. He's upset about his circumstances, about being left behind by the world, by his parents, by Miriam. But I'm already tired of it.

"Calm the fuck down, Lo," I command him, and he looks at me like he wants to kill me. He tried once in the past, couldn't go through with it. We're a coven, and you don't hurt members of your own coven. He knows that. "She's a lady. Treat her like one."

"Didn't act like a lady in the woods," he murmurs, and North slaps him. He lets her make contact with his face, like he wants to feel pain, like he wants to be punished . The dog bares his teeth at Lo until Kate whistles for him to stand down.

What a coven I've conjured. They all have attitudes that need work.

"You didn't act like a man either. You acted like a beast," North says, bringing up that first night in a way that I'd rather she didn't. I wasn't all there myself, rutting into her like some sort of wild animal. It was primal and slick and hot, and just thinking about it makes my prick turn to stone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I keep telling the others that she's a lady, but I sure as hell haven't been treating her like one. My lips press together against my greedy tongue. I want to meet North's eyes, lick my lips. An invitation. But it's not fair to fuck her if it isn't for a spell, not when we're at odds with one another.

You're an idiot, Brooks.

"See anything?" I ask Tanner as he studies the trees, the undergrowth, the shadows. He's the best tracker between us by far, and I trust his judgment on this. He's the one that spotted and ultimately killed the were-rabbit.

My eyes flick back to North, remembering the crestfallen expression on her face as we walked back to the table. She was upset that we were gone. It's not our winning personalities, I know that. It sure as hell isn't good memories and special times shared together—like me spanking her ass and pumping her tight hole with a knife.

It's the magic.

It's the commitment we made to each other.

My teeth grit together on a strange sound.

So, yeah, I'm still not sure how I feel about Kate, but I'm going to take care of her like she's the woman of my dreams. It's the right thing to do—especially after what happened between the four of us in the woods. A coven ritual that felt like a marriage.

No sex until we've sorted out our issues.

Unless ... it's for a spell. That's different.

"I've been talking to you for the last two minutes, and you haven't heard a goddamn word I've said," Tanner growls, getting too close to me. "You want our woman, you better tell her so. Don't pull any of your bullshit with her."

"Report," I tell him, crossing my arms and ignoring what he's just said.

"Nothing here that doesn't belong. A few squirrels, a rabbit—real one this time." Tanner whistles and his crow flutters down to land on his shoulder. I don't know how he does it, but he has a way with birds of all kinds. His father trained hawks or something, worked the fields to keep pests away from crops.

North is doing something on her ... phone. I don't know what it is, but she's as addicted to that damn thing as the rest of modern society. I'll have to prove to her that there's more to life. Has she ever spent the whole night dancing? Gone to a baseball game? Made love until the sun came up?

"Seems like that influencer girl and her friends left the woods pretty quick the other night," Kate says, looking up. "They didn't try the tree, thank God. The video they posted has a lot of views, but mostly because you three are thirst traps." I have no idea what that last sentence means. Who cares about the girl from last night? I only care about the Hag Wytch.

Something catches Kate's attention, and she pales.

I glance over my shoulder, ready to burn the possible threat alive. I can't be blamed. I lived longer in the Witchwoods than I ever wanted to. Every day, something there tries to kill you. It's a routine you get used to fast or else you end up in the stomach of a predator more ruthless than you.

Be the most ruthless predator, that's the trick.

But it's not a monster, not one of the massive bear-like animals that stalks the woods. It's not the Hag. It's not even a stag in rut. It's just a pair of weak-looking men, one in a suit and another in jeans and a t-shirt. I heard them coming but didn't pay much attention. They're no threat to me.

Seen nothin' but weak men since I got back here. That handshake this morning was abysmal. How does the asshole plan to get a job with a grip like that? Might have to teach him a thing or two.

"Katelynn Poppy, my God," says the suited man, running a hand over his balding head. He looks shocked to see her, and then immediately puts his hackles up when he spots the boys and me. He sees us as threats which is probably a good thing.

We are threats.

"I'm sorry, and who are you?" Kate asks as I rub my forehead. I'm getting irritated, and I don't want to be irritated today. I need to be resourceful. Thoughtful. For two years, I dreamed of getting out of those woods. Here I am. Nothing can ruin this.

We don't need anyone out here by this tree, not right now. I want to say it's not my problem, walk away from this. But while I can rationalize letting folks make their own choices about trying out the Witch's Tree, I can't seem to rest easy with the idea of monsters getting out.

I fought too long and too hard to get here, and I'm not going to sleep uneasy in my bed at night wondering if the Hag is coming after my coven. She will, too, given the chance. Once the Hag has your scent, she never loses it, can find you anywhere.

Without the cottage, we'd have all died in her beak or her human mouth or her pit of horrors.

"Detective Gilley, and this is Detective Benedetti." The balding man gestures at the one in the t-shirt, but his gaze never leaves me. His partner is focused on Tanner and Marlowe, and nobody is looking at Kate. "We've been searching for you for a month, young lady."

"It's not a crime to disappear," is what Kate says, surprising me.

Good girl. I almost smile. Won't let myself though.

The bald man—Detective Gilley—turns to look at her with his heavy brow furrowed.

"Excuse me?" he asks as Marlowe and Tanner move to stand on either side of me. Kate fits nicely in between, a feminine presence to balance out all this masculinity.

"That's what the police told me when my dad took off and left everything behind: it's not a crime to disappear. I didn't do anything wrong, but I'm sorry you were searching for me. I was going to call today and ask you to drop my case."

Detective Gilley pushes his jacket back and puts his hands on his hips.

"Right." Patronizing smile. "You were just backpacking with your cousins ," he says, making his way over to the tree as Kate's eyebrow twitches and her lips purse. Gilley's smart enough to walk around me rather than try to go through the four us standing in a line.

"Nice to know that you've seen the video." Kate is speaking in tongues again, but I've had enough of that woo-woo phone crap. Spelling the police isn't ideal without more extensive planning, but a charm will have to do for today. I'm done with this conversation already.

Gilley puts his fingers on the tree's lightning-black bark, and North fidgets like she might ask him not to touch it. Her dog lets out a warning yip on her behalf.

"It's not a moonless night," Marlowe grinds out in frustration, grabbing Kate's arm again. The detective glances back at us as his partner moves forward and takes over.

"Want to tell us who your friends are?" Benedetti asks, and then Gilley is sliding his arm into the hole of the Witch's Tree.

"All of this nonsense over a local legend that's nothing but bull—"

And then he's gone.

The tree opens up and swallows Detective Gilley down. Experiencing it myself, I felt like I blinked and moved from one realm to the next. This makes it seem like a trip to the Witchwoods is more akin to being eaten. The trunk gobbled him right up. Huh.

"What the fuck?" the second detective shouts, stumbling up to the tree and looking around like he has no idea what to do.

Neither do I.

Marlowe is right: it's not a moonless night.

"The gate is open?!" Marlowe shouts, and he doesn't care that the other officer is still here. We're on the same page then.

"Calm down and relax. We'll figure this out." With a sigh, I jerk another fucking charm off my hat.

At this rate, I'll be completely out by the end of the week. They're not all that easy to make, but it's not like they were easy to make in the Witchwoods either. I needed them just as much there as I do here, so nothing has changed. We'll craft more together, as a full coven.

I walk up to the second detective, crack the small glass vial between my fingers, and throw it into his face. It's not as powerful without me touching the others, but this charm's strong enough that it doesn't matter.

Benedetti collapses to the ground in a heap. He'll wake up later, but is unlikely to remember this. These memory spells are coming in handy.

"Shit, his phone." North kneels beside him and reaches into the guy's pockets until she finds what she's looking for. "Oh," she says as she tries to turn it on, furrowing her brow. "It's dead." She pats around him some more as Tanner, Marlowe, and I focus on the tree. "His GoPro isn't working either. What is this powder anyway?"

"Ground mugwort and toad eye," I tell her, and I'm not messing around. If she thinks that, it's only because she doesn't know me yet. I never mess around.

"This isn't Macbeth," she spits back at me, standing up and wiping her palms on her pants. Her body shifts in discomfort when she looks at the hole in the tree.

"No," I agree with a sigh, trailing a finger along the brim of my hat in thought. "It's not fucking Shakespeare. That powder is ground mugwort and toad eye."

"How did your mentor know about all this stuff anyway?" she mumbles, but it's not a real question, not right now anyway. She's just muttering. Her beautiful hazel eyes shift up to me, and I hate how pretty they are. Just as pretty as they were before the woods crept into her blood.

Damn it, Brooks. I might have some issues with this woman, but there's nothing about her physically that I do not like. God. Shit.

I look back at the tree and let my mind wander to all of my mentor's books.

There was nothing about this in her spells or archives, and we never heard back from the one coven that we sent home. I'd say we could find them, but that was ... shit, nearly two years ago Witchwoods time. That's sixty years ago in real time.

They were no spring chickens when they left, so I figure they've got to be dead by now.

"This isn't going to look good for us, is it?" Tanner asks, rubbing one of his wolf ears in frustration. His gaze shifts to mine, and I meet it.

The police sent two detectives here to talk with Kate, and now one of them is gone and the other is going to wake up without a clue as to what happened. No, that's not good at all.

"We need to cast a stronger spell," Marlowe observes, and there's a fire in his eyes that I wonder if North can see. He's excited because he knows what this means. Guilt-free fucking.

My lips part as I exhale.

"Like what you did to those girls, but ... bigger?" Kate makes a shape with her arms, black and orange braid hanging over her shoulder. Wearing hideous overalls—that show off her shapely legs. Mm. My brain is scrambled over our new North.

Her brow is pinched, and I can tell she's worried about Detective Gilley.

Hopefully he finds the cottage. I left a fire burning on purpose, ensuring it'd stay lit by use of my magic. But I wonder if he'll even make it that far before the Hag eats him. Unless she's already out here with us.

My eyes shift around the forest, but if Tanner says she's not here then she's not here.

Not yet.

"Exactly like that," Tanner agrees, putting a palm on the side of the tree. "Until we close this up, we should keep tourists out of here." His voice is dry and laced with irritation, like this is an inconvenience.

Once again, I agree.

I agree with Marlowe, and I agree with Tanner.

I turn to Kate, but she's staring up at me like she wants to ask the question that none of us have even bothered with. See, we already know the answer, but we've netted ourselves something sweet and soft, and I don't know what to do with her.

In the Witchwoods, there's no such thing as sweet or soft, and I think I'd forgotten what it looked like, what it could be like.

But maybe her ... I won't agree with.

"Shouldn't we go in there and try to save the detective?" Kate asks gently, like maybe she does know the answer to this question. It's just that she doesn't like it. I shake my head, and then put a hand on the back of her neck.

She shivers. Pretty sure she likes that. I rub a thumb against the base of her skull, and her lips part in a sigh that she tries to choke back.

"No." That's all I'm going to say on the matter. She needs to know that I'll do a lot of things, but I will never go back into that tree willingly, not for any reason. "I'll try to stop people from going in there, but I will not visit the Witchwoods. I'd rather die here."

"Tell me how to cast this spell," North says, and even though she's looking at the tree, her eyes narrow and they glow. I see the same expression in them that's in Marlowe's, in my own I'm sure.

Guilt-free fucking.

"I hope you're in the mood for some kinky shit, kitten, because this one's pretty fucked up. In terms of magic ... it's expensive, and expensive magic can only be cast quickly with two types of currency." Tanner's voice dances with glee and unrestrained excitement, and he doesn't care who knows it.

"Sex?" North guesses, and just hearing her say the word shifts the air around us. She's still looking at the tree and not at anyone else.

"Sex and blood," I tell her, feeling my already thick cock ruin my borrowed sweatpants with pre-cum. I glance down at North, and she finally looks back at me. Ah. I like her peering up at me like that, eyes big underneath thick lashes.

"Let's go home," she says, and whether she means it or not, it's an invitation I can't refuse.

Home.

Fuck Marlowe for putting that idea into my goddamn head.