Page 41 of Spellbound & Speechless (Witches of Starbrook #2)

Aspen

I’m alone in the house, and the wards are down.

I’m alone in the house, and the wards are down…

It’s a trap, of course, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Some may see me as a damsel in distress, but I’ve never liked the thought of playing one. That’s exactly what I’m doing now.

The others are just far enough that the witch will think I’m alone, but I’m less alone than ever. We have wolves on the block keeping an ear out, and if their hearing is anything like Mac’s, they’ll be able to run over at a moment’s notice.

My lone wolf is no longer alone, and while it will take some time for him to adjust to being part of a group, nothing could make me happier. He deserves a family—a pack. I want to be there for him in every way, but I know I can only fill one role at a time.

His new pack is proving useful already, so on a selfish note, I can’t complain.

The waiting is torturous. I’m sure it’s as excruciating for the others at the bar. The bar is a fifteen-minute walk, a five- minute drive, and likely even faster for Mac in his wolf form.

That means I’ll have to hold my own for five minutes—or less, if the pack steps in. We’re relying on my bond with Mac. If he can’t feel me needing his help, it’s all over.

She doesn’t appear with the flourish I’m expecting. In the blink of an eye, she’s next to me on the couch.

I’m proud of myself. I don’t even flinch when she materializes.

“Where did you get teleportation abilities?” I ask.

“Do you like it? It’s new.” She smiles a rotten smile, and my heart sinks. For a moment, she reminds me of any other woman—no, worse. She reminds me of a girl gushing about her new toy. “A gift from a cambion.”

“Ah…” I chuckle. Hopefully, it doesn’t sound as nervous as I feel. “I didn’t realize you stole from the beings that made you.”

“Only with permission.”

She gives me no actual answers, and I don’t expect her to—nor do I need her to. All I need is to buy time, and she seems happy to give it to me.

Help… she’s here.

I call to Mac through our mating bond. No response. There’s no saying if he’ll be able to hear it, but it’s my only hope.

“A demon gave you permission to steal from its spawn, then?” I ask.

She curls her nose. “I know what you’re doing. I know they’re coming.”

I lift my head higher. Maybe the plan isn’t as foolproof as we thought. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your coven,” she says. “Or are they your sisters?”

The grimoire isn’t here. There’s no way for her to attack our family—not yet, not now—but I still want to reach for it. If I can’t save myself, I can save them .

“Coven,” I say, lying through my teeth.

If only I knew how to use our mating bond better. Can Mac feel the stress I’m trying to send his way? Fear grips me to the point where I can no longer feel him. On the other side of our bond, Mac is always warm, like at a bonfire with friends or curling up in bed at the end of a cold day.

I’m ice cold now. Where is he?

“But will they come soon enough?” she asks.

I stand, and she follows. It’s all too like the last time she chased me through the house, but this time I’m prepared. We’re prepared. My heart races, but she can’t hear it. It’s a small comfort.

She doesn’t know about the wolf pack, either. She can’t. Someone will come any minute.

I have to scream so they can hear me, so they can know I’m in danger. That’s part of the plan, too, but I can’t do it. The sound doesn’t come. I don’t want to be the damsel in distress anymore. Just this once, can’t I take care of myself?

“It doesn’t matter if they do,” I say. “Don’t you want my magic? There must be some good in it.”

“But you’re too weak to use it.” She pushes closer, reaching for me with her clawed hands.

My chest heaves as I go back into the kitchen, nearly stumbling over a chair. “That’s what you think.”

Goddess. I’ve already backed myself into a corner. Why is the scream still caught in my throat?

Her grasp becomes more powerful, reaching me with a strength a witch shouldn’t have, surely borrowed from someone else—a wolf or vampire. She grabs my arms, making it impossible for me to wiggle out.

“Help!” I cry, finally finding my voice .

It’s the only word I can get out before she snaps a finger, silencing me. It’s as if my mouth is glued shut. Her grip loosens, feeble, and I realize…

She can only use one type of magic at a time. That may be useful.

“Be quiet,” she hisses. “Let’s leave this between us for now, shall we?”

It’s too late. With a rumbling growl, a wolf rushes through the front door. It’s Mac. I would recognize his wolf form anywhere. His light brown fur and bright blue eyes are still home to me, even when he looks more animal than man.

His presence does nothing to stop the erratic beating of my heart.

“Gods dammit all,” the corrupt one says, wheeling around to face the wolf. She summons a fireball, holding it like a warning. The magic that’s been closing my mouth loosens.

“Mac!” I yell. “Run! Get the others!”

It’s too late. He lunges at the witch, fast enough to dodge the fireball. The flame lights up our mother’s favorite rocking chair, burning it to a crisp.

“Oh, you evil thing,” I say.

The witch no longer pays me any mind. She lunges at Mac with strength that easily rivals his.

“Is this what you want, wolf?” She pants rapidly. “You’ll make me use your father’s magic against you?”

I freeze in place. She snaps and cracks, transforming into a wolf. The wolf is not as large as Mac and his mother, but it appears just as ferocious. I look around with wild eyes, willing Ozan to hurry.

Please, please hurry.

The wolves are at each other’s necks. They’re all teeth and claws, but I can tell Mac is holding back. Why wouldn’t he? It must feel as though he’s fighting his long-lost father.

She pins Mac to the ground. He’s going to die. I’m going to lose him.

Erie coos, flapping her wings and ruffling her feathers as she perches on the bannister of the stairway. My little white dove. A message from my goddess.

I can’t be afraid anymore. I can’t hold myself back.

New magic tingles through me, threatening to burst from my chest. It’s a nameless and unforgettable energy, appearing to float around me without permission. Power. Strength.

What is this?

“Hey!” I call.

It shouldn’t work, but it does. The smaller wolf turns to me with red eyes, as if something is pulling her in my direction.

For the first time since she arrived in our home, my heart slows. I step forward, eyes narrowing, fixing her with a commanding stare. “Come.”

This shouldn’t work… she’s not a dog… she’s not…

The witch wolf follows me. Mac’s wolf tilts his head to the side, and I ignore him, holding my head higher. Magic swells again, pink energy flowing from my chest to the witch wolf.

My magic, I realize—a charm. I’ve charmed the witch.

A smile spreads across my lips, and my eyes sparkle with power. “Now… sit.”

She listens. The others burst in just in time.

With the witch under my charm, it’s easy to get her back in her human form, to put some clothes on—thank heavens—and tie her up in the attic with magic rope. We outnumber her, and for now, she’s stable.

But the charm wears off, and I don’t know how to activate it again. The confidence I carried leaves along with the magic. That’s fine. I don’t need to be brave now that the others are here.

I cower in the corner with Mac’s arm around me. The others shuffle around the attic, preparing for the spell.

It’s strange to see Ozan at the head of the scene, peering into our family’s grimoire like he’s one of us. We have the ingredients for the spell, and between all of us, we have more than enough energy.

The problem now is that the corrupt one won’t stop yapping.

“Free me!” The corrupt witch squirms in her ropes, but she’s incapable of doing anything more.

Rowan stands above her with a charmed dagger. It may not be enough to banish her, but it would be foolish to risk the stab.

“You know why we can’t do that.” Maple gives her the same warm smile she would give anyone else. “Just hang tight. This will be over soon!”

“Hold the crystals in the air,” Ozan says.

I look at Mac, hesitating.

He nods, nudging me gently. “Go on.”

Mac has been quiet since seeing his father’s wolf form, and I can’t blame him. I wouldn’t know how to face my mother in battle.

The rose quartz crystal beats in my hand, charged with the energy of love. My energy. Juniper holds an obsidian, Rowan with a Ruby, Maple with a pink tourmaline, and Laurel with a peridot.

Ozan may be the one performing the spell, but we’re all playing our part, simultaneously lifting the stones in the air.

“I call upon you, Thirnoth.” Ozan’s voice booms. “To take back the one you created. Take her power as an offering.”

We’ve never worked with demons before, but it’s not unheard of for witches. If our ancestors gave us this spell, we have to trust it.

“Wait!” the corrupt witch shouts.

In an instant, she looks younger. She sounds like a child crying for help. Corruption makes witches rotten, but there’s a flash of innocence in her eyes.

It’s a trick. It must be.

“I can tell you what happened to your mother,” she says. “I have information. Believe me. I will tell you everything about the weapon.”

The weapon? The weapon is the grimoire… and she doesn’t know about it. She can’t—not more than we already know.

Or perhaps we don’t know about it at all. A new spell was added days ago, and we don’t know where it originated. Our mother didn’t have enough time. There was more for her to teach us.

Now, she can never finish her work.

A hush falls over the room. Ozan looks to Juniper for an answer, but she’s frozen—her lips parted, tears welling in her eyes.

We don’t know which demon attacked our mother. Was it Thirnoth, the same demon in charge of corrupt witches? This witch may have information.

Or perhaps …

“It’s a trick,” I say. “I don’t believe her. She’s trying to knock our guard down.”

“Aspen is right.” Juniper snaps out of it, nodding confidently. “Continue.” She locks eyes with Ozan and doesn’t move them.

He continues the spell, chanting in another language—one I don’t understand, that only the spell-casters do. I can cast simple glamour spells, like I can make a glamour potion, but this level of spell-work is above me.

It’s all-powerful. The energy sways. Light forms between our crystals, connecting into a massive orb of rainbow light.

Ozan yells louder. The grimoire slams itself shut.

The corrupt witch lets out a wicked scream as she disappears into the rainbow light.

“She’s gone,” Mac says.

“She can’t return to this plane,” Ozan mutters, rubbing his face. He must be exhausted. In the span of a few moments, more grays have appeared in his dark hair and beard.

I look at where Mac stands in the corner. Tears spill from his eyes, and his nose is red as he falls to his knees.

“She’s gone,” Mac repeats. “It’s over.”

“No,” Juniper says. “This may be the end of her, but I have a feeling this is nowhere near the end of… of this. All of this.”

Though none of us agree with her aloud, we must all know she’s right. I know it, even if I want her to be wrong.

If this corrupt witch had information on our mother’s death, if she even knew about our mother’s death, that means there’s more to it than we were led to believe.