Chapter 18

18

M alcolm woke early the next morning and extricated himself from tangled sheets. Sofia was draped over him, but he slipped out quietly. He turned to look down at her. Dawn light gleamed on her cheeks and the half-moons of her lashes. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful.

She looked perfect in his bed.

He brushed a hand over her cheek, regret washing through him. What could they have had if he hadn't botched it all? A long life together. A good one. She'd be with him always. Maybe bearing his children—something he'd never considered or wanted before her.

As it was…

He shook his head and turned from her, headed toward the bathroom, flicking on the light and revealing the white marbled space. His power had earned him ridiculous wealth that had bought this immaculate castle. He couldn't care less about it now .

A hot shower did nothing to help him find peace. They'd fight a battle in two days that might kill them both. If they lived, he'd have to leave Sofia.

He couldn't win this, no matter how he tried.

After he'd dried and dressed in clean clothes, he returned to the bedroom. Sofia was still asleep, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her. He went to stand by the window, gazing out at the mountains that had been his home for more than two hundred years.

The sheets rustled, but he didn't turn. A moment later, he felt Sofia's arms wrap around his waist. Longing suffused him, warm and cold at once. Like he was standing in the doorway of a warm cabin as the snow raged behind him, wishing he could walk in but knowing he couldn't.

His chest ached as he turned to her.

The sheet was wrapped around her and her golden skin gleamed. She was so beautiful.

Her gaze darkened. "What is it? You look upset."

The words scratched his throat on the way out. "You're right, Sofia. We can't make this work."

Her lips parted.

"I've been fooling myself," he said. "I've wanted to be with you so badly that I told myself I could avoid fate. But I was wrong. I recognize that now. I went to Corrier's yesterday. There's no way for me to stop being a warlock. This has to be the last time we're together."

Her shoulders sagged and a shining tear rolled down her cheek. "I know. There's no hope for us. For me."

For her? Of course there was. Did she think she would die in this battle? The hell she would. He'd protect her with everything he had. "Of course there's hope. I'll help you with your battle. You'll win this."

She nodded. The pain in her eyes made his heart feel like it was tearing itself out of his chest. He had to get out of here. This was too hard.

He squeezed her shoulders. "I'll meet you in Bruxa's Eye. I—I need to go now." He spun on his heel and strode into the hall, then down the stairs and all the way into his aether room.

When he reached the cool, dark room, he bent over and propped his hands on his knees, heaving. His whole body was rejecting the idea of pushing Sofia away. Gods, he felt ill.

But it had to be done. This had been wrong. He was a warlock. Love and life weren't in his future. He was destruction and he always had been. Great power at great cost, and he was paying it.

But Sofia shouldn't have to.

Malcolm sucked in a hard breath and straightened. He had to help her. To at least make up for part of this. Sofia would go meet her council in Bruxa's Eye. He'd follow, but first, he needed to fuel up on as much power as his soul and body could hold. A battle was coming.

He turned to the center of the room, taking in the space that was the epicenter of his power. This room's worth was immeasurable. Its enchantments made it strong enough to contain the portal to the aether that gave him unlimited access to power. He could fill up with almost as much raw magical energy as a god.

But without this room to contain the aether, he'd lose control. It'd go wild, an impossible flame that would devour everything in a forty foot radius. More, even .

This type of room was everything to a warlock.

And he hated it.

Didn't bloody well matter though, did it? He'd thrown away the one person worth anything, so now the least he could do was see to it that he protected her.

He focused on the air around him, and more importantly, on the aether. He reached out toward it, focused it on the center of the room and multiplied the aether he felt in the air around him, using it to tear a hole in space until he accessed the core of the aether. Like the darkness of outer space, but when accessed by a warlock, compressed into the brilliant white light of magical energy. He had to squint against it.

His skin prickled and his mind and muscles strained to contain it. Even with the room's protections, it took strength to keep it from bursting outward. He extended his hands, drawing energy from the aether, filling himself up with it until his muscles vibrated and his skin tingled. The power of the aether burned into him like the heat of the sun, and he embraced the flames because the pain that touched him now replaced that in his heart.

When he felt full to bursting, he cut it off, closing the aether until the room was dark.

He panted, his chest heaving. He could blow up a city right now, he had so much magical energy vibrating within him.

After his breath calmed, he checked his watch. More than an hour had passed. Sofia would be in her village, meeting with her council.

He aetherwalked there, sucking in the warm jungle air and realizing that the wild smell reminded him of Sofia. The screeching cacophony of tropical animals filled the air .

It was two hours earlier here than it was in Scotland and the early morning sun was just starting to peek over the top of the canopy. The buildings were quiet and the street was dead.

He made his way down the quiet street toward the bar where they'd first met the council and slipped in the door. He kept to the shadows, finding a spot near the door to watch.

The same half dozen council members were seated in the dim room. Sofia, cloaked in her Crone form, stood at the front with Aleia, who he'd figured out was her informal second in command. Inara stood with them as well.

Sofia glanced over at him, then quickly turned back to the burly Were who was giving his report on how many outsiders from different packs would join the fight.

It sounded dire. Though nearly all citizens were willing to stay and fight regardless of whether or not their ancestors had been cursed, the Were was reporting that less than a dozen Weres from outside the village were willing to fight to their potential death.

Not surprising really. Weres were loyal only to their packs, so getting others to help them was unlikely.

"Thank you, Alistair," Sofia said. She reached down to rest a hand on Kitty's back, who stood on the stool next to her. She glanced at the small female vampire who'd spoken at the last meeting. "Cora?"

The vampire rose and bowed low. "I have had better luck, Honored One. We have two dozen vampires willing to come to our aid, as well as all who live in Bruxa's Eye. Though they expect to be able to drink those they slay."

"Fair." Sofia nodded.

"They've agreed to arrive tonight to prepare for the High Witches' arrival tomorrow. "

"Excellent." Sofia turned her gaze to the group. "In addition to our own citizens, it seems that we have approximately forty outsiders willing to come to our aid and most will arrive in two days. That's good. We may stand a chance. I don't know what's coming, but the High Witches will use dark magic and we need to be prepared for anything. Continue to seek out assistance from your kind and we will meet again this evening. We'll devise a plan for the battle tomorrow."

Everyone rose and bowed low, then began to leave. Malcolm slipped out the door before them. He couldn't speak to Sofia, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be here to keep an eye on her and fight in the final battle.

The moment he stepped into the sticky jungle air, he knew something was wrong. The air vibrated with a dark, unnatural power. It was too quiet, the jungle animals silent. It made goose bumps rise on his skin and his hands tingle to unleash destructive magic.

The council members who filed out behind him stopped short.

"What's wrong?" Cora, the vampire woman asked.

"The air's not right." The Were's burly voice was worried.

Malcolm walked farther down the street, dread coiling in his belly. He was being pulled toward the Amazon River that adjoined the north side of the village. When the street opened up to reveal the small wharf and the river, he pulled up short.

The waters were receding. The river was over a hundred yards wide here, a huge expanse of murky water that was now slowly drawing away .

Fear, an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries, skittered over his skin.

The High Witches were here. Or close.

Damn it, they should have had another day.

Footsteps sounded behind him then halted.

"Shit," a feminine voice breathed.

The bank was slowly being revealed, muddy and wet, as the waters disappeared. Boats of all sizes sank slowly and came to rest on the slimy surface. He'd been at the site of a tsunami once. It had looked exactly like this before the flood waters had begun to rise.

"The battle is starting," Sofia's commanding voice rang out behind him. "Early. Council members, wake the village. Gather whatever outsiders you can who will fight."

"That'll be hard," Cora said.

"I know," Sofia said. "Do what you can. Get a message out and see if anyone will come. But we're going to be fighting today. Soon."

Two of the council members raced down the boardwalk, shouting the alarm. The rest aetherwalked away.

Malcolm understood why she was the leader. Not just the Protector of Bruxa's Eye, but its commander. Pride welled in him.

Gods, how he wished that she were his.

Sofia's sharp gaze met his. "Get Aurora to rally the help she promised. We need them. Now."

He nodded sharply, and though he hated to leave her, he aetherwalked away.

Fear suffused the pain Sofia felt at watching Malcolm disappear. Kitty pressed up against her leg, but it gave her no comfort. Seeing him but knowing they couldn't be together felt like a burning knife in her chest. And it didn't even matter if he could stop being a warlock, because she was fated to die.

In the battle that was about to start. The High Witches hadn't given them until the end of the deadline. They were attacking now.

The air was deadly silent and now held an unnatural chill. The waters of the river were nearly half gone, receding in both directions.

"Why?" Aleia asked from her side. "Why the river?"

Sofia glanced at her friend. "I don't know." But it scared the crap out of her.

"It will come back," Inara said. "Stronger. More. It will flood."

Sofia whipped around to look at her. Inara's face was white, her fists clenched. "What?"

"I've seen this before. It will flood. And it will bring more than water."

"More?"

"Evil. But I don't know what kind." Inara was stepping slowly backward.

Sofia turned back to the river. The morning was bright, normal, except for the river and the unnatural chill of dark magic in the air.

The sounds of townspeople spilling out of their houses sounded behind her, breaking through the eerie silence. But her gaze was riveted to the far side of the river, over a hundred yards away. Morning mist still clung to the ground on that side, which was more shaded from the harsh rays of the sun.

From the ghostly mist, figures began to appear, walking from the jungle toward the bank. Their cloaks flapped around their feet.

Thirteen.

The High Witches. They would wage their battle from that side. The thirteen figures came to a stop at the bank, so far away that they appeared small and slight.

A lie.

A snarling wolf loped up to her side. Alistair, leader of the werewolves. Other wolves, all smaller but no less deadly, appeared next to him. Vampires armed with swords and speed came to a stop behind them.

On her other side, next to Aleia, a group of fae arrived, clutching bows and arrows. Their wings trembled in anticipation, their eyes gleamed with a feral hunger. Fae loved to fight, but Sofia was worried that they were biting off more than they could chew here.

Not that they had much choice. They were here to fight for their lives.

Sofia reached for Aleia's hand and squeezed it. She wanted to scream at the High Witches, curse them to hell, but they wouldn't hear her at this distance.

Her skin heated as the energy in the air shifted. Her gaze darted over the water, at the boats that rocked.

The water rose.

Slowly, but it rose. With it would come evil.

Her heart pounded. They couldn't wait here for it, not for whatever dark magic the High Witches would raise against them. But they would have to. Even now, she could see the shimmer in the air that denoted a magical barrier surrounding the High Witches. If they tried to aetherwalk, to attack directly, they would be blocked.

Cowards. They possessed immense power, but they were cowards.

"Bruxa's Eye," she called, her voice strong despite her fear. "The High Witches fight from afar for their own safety—to wield their magic to destroy our greater numbers. Our home. They are cowards. Whatever they bring us, we will destroy."

A cheer rose, vibrating through the village. The courage and willingness of her friends and neighbors emboldened her. She might be fated to die here today, but they would win. They had to.