Page 14 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Fourteen

CASIMIR

V alorean’s roar echoes over the docks the second we step off the Deadwood . Nos and Nilsa wear matching grins, the two of them disappearing swiftly into the crowd.

My idiot ass lingers by the gangplank instead of following.

It's only when strangers start pointing in the direction of the ship that I look back and almost choke on laughter.

The sails of the Deadwood are a bright, luminescent pink. When the captain appears at the top of the gangplank, his hair has turned the same garish shade.

“Witch! Get back here and FIX THIS!” he bellows, startling several passers-by.

I just chuckle, watching his impotent rage.

Val can’t take a single step off his ship without sickening, but right now he looks mad enough to try. His muscles strain beneath his shirt as he searches for Nilsa in the crowd.

“WITCH, I WILL FUCKING END YOU!”

I duck into a passing group of people before Val spots me and hurry to catch up with my twin and mate. The sound of Val’s yelling follows me all the way to dry land where the two troublemakers are bent-double with laughter.

“Pink.” Nos is grinning so hard it looks like his face might break, gasping for air between chuckles.

Everything in me stills. Beast and man fascinated by what we're seeing.

My brother hasn’t laughed so much since Fate touched him at sixteen.

“It’ll wear off in three days.” Nilsa’s completely unrepentant, her cat wound around her neck like a scarf. “But for three days he’ll be the pinkest captain in the kingdom.”

I watch them both silently, my beast fascinated by the perfect, carefree moment. Jealousy rears its head for an ugly second; I want to be the one putting that expression on their faces. But that feeling is gone as soon as it arises. My beast is too content with their happiness to let me ruin it with our selfishness.

Nilsa catches sight of me then, the laughter still in her eyes as she pries her cat from around her neck and sets her on the ground.

“Well, this is where I leave you,” she says, flipping her hair out of her face. “I’m grateful to you both for getting me out of Coveton. Maybe someday I’ll repay the favour.”

Nos just smiles and winks at her. “See you round.”

See you round? How can he be so casual about the fact that our mate is leaving us?

I want to throw myself on the cobbles in front of her and beg her to stay. I want to shift and wind her up in my coils so she can never go. My beast writhes under my skin, throwing himself at the fractured cage I stupidly thought might help me contain him.

Nos is so fucking calm.

The realisation slams into us like a punch to the face .

The only way my brother can be this calm is if he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that Nilsa will be back.

My theory is proved right when the Solar disappears and Nos just smiles.

“When does she come back?” I demand. “You’ve seen it—don’t deny it—or you wouldn’t be so fucking calm about her walking away.”

I instinctively take a few steps in the same direction as our witch, but my twin’s cane snaps out, thwacking me across the shins in a painful reprimand.

I turn back to find Nos’s white eyes fixed on me. “Kier and Rysen are both following her. She’s well defended. We need to supply the ship for her return.”

I grimace, my beast thrashing in my mind. “How long?”

Nos shakes his head, refusing to answer. “Come on, while the others are protecting her we can get a head start on improving her cabin.”

My beast raises his head at that. The stupid creature wants to preen at the opportunity to show our mate his ‘nest building’ skills. I just want Nilsa to have something better to come back to than a half-furnished storage cabin.

If she comes back.

No—there is no 'if'—when.

NILSA

We arrived at the port a lot later than I thought we would. Rysen said dawn, but it’s nearly noon by the time I step off the Deadwood and back onto the blessed, solid earth.

I almost kiss the dusty cobbles in relief.

The streets of Port Evert are narrower than Coveton. It has no crystal mine or temples, so the whole town is centred around the docks and the crowds naturally draw close to the safety of the waterfront where the majority of the shops are .

Opal and I wander for hours until we inevitably conclude that Alletta’s shop isn’t here. Opal doesn’t catch even a whiff of magic until we’ve strayed far from the main street. Even then, the scent is so faint she loses it twice more before she’s certain we’re going in the right direction.

Her nose takes us deeper into the seedier areas of the port. Away from the safety and anonymity of the crowds and into the dingier streets.

Eyes watch us from every alley. Fingers twitch as I pass.

This is not the sort of place a Solar should go. My white robes, which afforded me respect on the docks, now paint a target on my back.

I duck into the first unoccupied alley and draw a little magic from Opal. The white robes transform into loose, neutral men’s clothes at the flick of my fingers, and the white cloak turns a dull grey. The new outfit still covers me from head to toe, hiding my femininity from men who might make the mistake of trying to take advantage, and the new colours blend much better.

Opal waits for me to change, then continues walking, her delicate nose sniffing out the traces of magic that lead us to one plain, unremarkable door in the middle of a row of shambling houses.

“This doesn’t look like a shop,” I hiss at her. “Are you sure?”

She gives me a look.

I hesitate, then knock once.

The door flies open, and a hand drags me inside before I can say anything.

“You’re late!”

I barely catch a glimpse of Alletta’s black hair before she disappears down the gloomy hallway that she’s dragged me into .

“Come on!” Her voice echoes through the only door. “We’ve been waiting!”

“We?” I resist the urge to go for Glenna’s athame in my boot as I trail after her.

I emerge into the most cluttered shop I’ve ever seen. Shelves cover every inch of floor space, forcing anyone who wanted to browse to squeeze themselves in between. It’s a murky place, with no windows to let in light, and only three, dim crystal lamps to illuminate the dusty stock.

Alletta’s wares would seem random to a non-witch, but to me this is a power storehouse. Amulets, poisons, potions, dried herbs, crystals, books, ribbons, dried insects, bottles, cauldrons. Everything a witch could ever need is on these shelves.

I want to linger. My eyes catch on the umbrella stand, overstuffed with a collection of dusty brooms in the corner. But Alletta is still on the move, already starting up a stairwell on the opposite corner of the room.

I struggle to weave my way between shelves.

“Sister, please wait!”

Her laughter echoes down the stairs as I finally squeeze through and scramble up them after her. Opal is ahead of me, bounding up two at a time, but the stairs keep going and going, and eventually she gets tired and leaps back onto my shoulders.

When we finally reach the top, past several locked doors, I’m out of breath and panting. I almost fall through the open door to the roof garden but catch myself at the last second.

Alletta just laughs again. She stands in front of a huge bowl of water on the ground, illuminated by the light of the setting sun.

She… isn’t what I expected.

Her beauty is undeniable but her madness touches every aspect of it. Her hair is split perfectly down the middle, one half is cut at chin-length while the other hangs down past her shoulders. Tiny braids decorated with charms and beads hang from each side, chiming in the wind.

Her dress is made of huge panels of intersecting black and white, each embroidered with the opposite colour. It covers all of her, like a Solar’s robe would, but caresses her every curve like a Lunar. It might have been beautiful once, but age and use have soiled it. Stains from unnamed potions blight the material and the hem and sleeves are ripped.

Then there are her sigils. Glenna had had the most I’d ever seen until now. There’s barely an inch of Alletta’s golden skin that isn’t inked. Lines of sigils run from under her eyes to her jaw like tears. They fan out across her cheekbones and line the edges of her lips. Even her fingers are each decorated with a single line.

I barely recognise a quarter of them.

Alletta catches my gaze and winks. Her dark eyes are lit from within with a spark of insanity that’s hard to stare at, but harder to look away from. Without meaning to, I draw closer until we stand on opposite sides of the stone bowl.

Covenless , my mind whispers. This is the madness that awaits a lone witch. The reason even Solars band together.

We aren’t meant to live like this.

She's worse than I anticipated.

She grabs a handful of bay leaves from the bush by her side, then swoops down and snatches a sprig from a tiny thyme plant at her feet. She scatters both in the water, then draws her athame and pricks her finger with the tip until blood wells and falls into the bowl.

“Sacred Ladies of Night and Day…” her prayer turns to a whisper and I involuntarily take a step back.

No witch invokes both Goddesses at once. That’s suicide.

The ancient witches who’d had the hubris to try were smote the moment the words left their lips .

But Alletta just stands there, smiling, as the bowl begins to glow.

Not with the silver of Lunar power, or the gold of Solar, but with a mixture of both.

“Nilsa? Nilsa, can you hear me?”

Danika’s voice is so unexpected that I almost jump out of my skin.

When I peer over the edge of the bowl and come face-to-face with her, I know my eyes are wide as saucers.

The coven-sister and friend I know is gone. In her place, a silver-eyed, battle-scarred High Priestess looks out at me.

I’ve only been gone a few days, but Danika seems to have aged years. Her cheek is crumpled under the still-pink scar of a magical burn, her eyes the same luminous silver that Glenna’s had been. Her long, carefree blonde hair has been twisted into warrior braids which fall around her face as she stares down at me from the central courtyard.

Danika is only twenty-five. No High Priestess was ever chosen so young.

I barely have the sense to sink to one knee.

“Mother Lunar,” I whisper, still reeling.

Danika smiles, but it’s a grim expression. “Get up, Nilsa, we don’t have time for this.”

I do as I’m told, uncertainty slowing my movements. “How…?”

I don’t know if I’m asking about her scars, her ascension, her talking to Alletta, Alletta’s dual magic, or all four. My confusion is tempered by joy at seeing her again and hope that maybe this means I’ll be allowed to come home.

Danika shakes her head. “The Moon Mother chose me but some of our other sisters disagreed. In a few hours I have to pass Lady's Judgement on the twelve who lived through their rebellion.”

I can see it weighing on her. Danika is not a person made to take so many burdens. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s been irresponsible, reckless, and fun. She’s freedom incarnate and my complete opposite, which was probably why we got along so well.

When I get home, I’ll be her Shadow and I can take a little of the burden from her like I did for Glenna.

“I contacted Alletta at our lady’s request,” she continues. “You cannot come home, Nilsa.”

Those five words smack into my gut like rocks. My eyes burn with unshed tears and I take a shuddering breath to steady myself.

Danika swallows, knowing what effect her words are having on me, but she still carries on speaking. “It’s not my choice. Believe me, I want you back. But the Goddess has other plans.”

My head falls forward, strands of my hair tickling my face. “What does the Lady ask?”

“You are to find the ones responsible for Glenna and Felicity’s deaths,” Danika’s words are heavy. “The coven has been told to declare you an exile to preserve the truce between us and the Solars. The Lady doesn’t wish for any more bloodshed in Coveton.”

I can’t speak. My head shakes from side to side, but my voice has abandoned me.

Betrayal echoes in the words that finally escape. “I am the Shadow of the Moon. I’m meant to serve by your side as your left hand, not act as a scapegoat to preserve a false peace.”

“And you will,” Danika insists. “Glenna was… Glenna wasn’t what we thought she was. There are so many things going on right now, and I—” she cuts off. “I am not exiling you for no reason, nor by choice.”

A shadowy hand slips over her shoulder, one of her harem offering wordless comfort.

“I have no family, apart from our coven,” I murmur, words turning steely in a last, desperate measure to protect the shattering pieces of my heart. “No harem, just duty. I always thought it was to make me better able to serve the Goddess. Now I see it was just to make sure I could be disposed of more easily.”

Danika bites her lip, silver eyes brimming with tears. But her voice is steady as she replies, “The Goddess commands Her Shadow to accept Her marks and follow Her orders or forfeit her life to allow someone else to take up her sacred duty.”

I just gape at her. So that’s what it comes down to? Obey or die?

Danika’s eyes flick sideways to Alletta.

The crazed witch is staring into space, apparently bored by the horrible way my life is fracturing. But she must be here for more than that. My eyes take in the athame still in her hand and her subtle, yet confident stance.

I’m looking at my executioner, I realise. If I refuse, Alletta will kill me.

I stand no chance against a witch of her age, insane or not.

“Her Shadow obeys,” I whisper, because what other choice do I have? “I will find the person or persons who murdered Glenna and Felicity and bring them to justice.”

“You will accept her marks?”

I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about, and I’m a little too numb to think about it, so I just bow my head in answer. “As the Moon Mother commands.”

“Alletta, you know what you must do. Nilsa… safe travels.”

I know I should, but I can’t meet her eyes as the glow of the water fades. I can’t meet Alletta’s either. I won’t while my own are still wet with unshed tears.

Opal’s tiny, furry head bops at my leg, offering me comfort .

I clench my jaw, blink away the evidence, and turn my best glare on Alletta.

But the other witch is already moving, snatching leaves and flowers from nearby plants as she goes. It’s not until she uproots a whole yarrow stalk that I put together what’s about to happen.

The marks the Goddess wants me to accept must be sigils.

I wince, remembering how the last ones hurt. I have thirteen in all and each one was agony. The coven sigil witch forced the Mother’s magic under the surface of my skin and bound it there with the blood and ink mixture.

Sigils inked into a witch’s body provide a magical shortcut, enabling us to perform spells without the words, prayers, and ingredients that are otherwise necessary. It’s a hundred times more painful for a witch to receive a sigil than it is for someone like Val. A thousand times worse than a human tattoo—or so I’ve been told by the Lunars who chose to decorate their bodies that way as well.

“How many?” I ask, hating the tremble in my voice.

“Oh, just enough for now.” Alletta smiles as she stops picking plants and leads me to an open piece of tiled roof beyond the planters, already laid out with a sheet and the inks.

My hands don’t shake as I unhook my cloak and start on the buttons of my shirt. This is my path now. I’ve borne this pain before. All that’s left to do is bear it again.

The shirt slips from my shoulders, and Alletta raises her brows.

I grimace and pull off my boots, checking that Glenna’s athame and the ring are still hidden inside before taking off my trousers as well. I don’t stop until I’m completely bare under the light of the rising moon. Opal hops up onto the planters and curls up, settling in for a long haul .

“Tell me something,” I say, lying face down on the soft sheet. “How did you call both Goddesses? The coven always said the power of both would kill any witch who tried.”

Alletta hums under her breath but doesn’t answer. She sets an incense cone burning in the dish beside us, the sweet fragrance of sage chasing away the spirits which might interfere with her work. That done, she adds her herbs to a bowl and crushes them, mixing them into the inks a little at a time and murmuring the prayers as she works.

It’s easy to forget how soothing the first stages are. I’ve almost dozed off by the time she takes up the traditional stick with its barbed silver end and dips it into the ink. She takes my head and turns my face away from her, pulling my hair back and exposing the space behind my right ear.

The first touch of silver against skin is like fire. The ice of moonlight burns as it sinks into my skin and I fist the sheet in an effort to remain still.

The second poke is worse, and I bite my lip to stay silent.

If I distract her or focus on anything other than shaping the magic with her, the sigil won’t take and will need to be done all over again.

“The first will let you understand spirits,” Alletta sing-songs.

“Understand spirits,” I echo, adding my will to her own, shaping the moonlight as it tears pathways into my soul.

It takes her ten minutes to finish, but she doesn’t grant me a reprieve. She slathers a herbal balm over the sigil, cooling the agony to bearable levels, then starts another just below it.

“Speak to spirits.”

I dutifully echo the words, though the last part is a groan as it begins all over again.

She doesn’t add any more there. The majority go along the backs of my limbs; her neat sigils forming perfect lines, leaving gaps for more, should I need them in the future. Alletta gives me sigils for speed and balance on my legs and others for recalling weapons, better reflexes, and perfect aim on my arms. There's one across my hips to help with controlling a broom, and another on my spine for endurance.

When she pauses, I mistakenly think that she’s finished.

“It is time for the Goddess’s mark,” she says. “This may pinch a bit, dearie.”

Like the others didn’t? “Get it over with.”

She starts on my spine. The Goddess’s mark is an upturned crescent moon, created from lines of sigils representing her gifts and highest ideals. It won’t work like the other sigils, but I feel Her magic seep into it, anyway.

Perhaps it’s na?ve to think it might hurt less, having no magical purpose. No, it’s a magical brand of ownership. Alletta may as well be using a branding iron to scald the Goddess’s mark into me.

I thought I’d be numb to it now.

No such luck.

Each poke of the needle spreads more pain down my back, tempting my muscles to spasm and ruin the design. I want to scream, to lash out, but I can’t.

Even if I could, I’m not sure I have the energy left.

“Death,” she whispers. “Courage, pleasure, chaos, destruction, loyalty…”

I barely have enough strength to echo the words. My throat feels raw, each breath scrapes against my lungs.

The moon is setting by the time she finishes. The sheet beneath me is soaked with blood, but Alletta doesn’t seem to care what happens to me next as she stands and stretches.

“You know how they work, dearie, so I won’t waste your time. No magic until after the next moonset, keep 'em moist ‘til they’ve healed. There are others you’ll need, but I don’t know the sigils, so you’ll have to hope the Goddesses put someone who does in your path. You have until noon to get going.” Alletta clears away her tools as she speed-talks, but her pleasant expression fades as she looks at me, becoming eerily blank. “Or else I’ll leave your corpse in the alley.”

“Leave?”

I grimace as I peel myself away from the floor and stand. My whole body protests, my back screaming at me to stop moving. My arms and legs feel heavy, but my head is curiously light. I sway as I try to keep myself upright and look for Alletta at the same time.

She’s gone again, the door to the garden standing open, waiting for me to leave.

I look at my discarded clothes, already dreading the sensation of cotton sliding over the wounds. I want to lie down and sleep for days until the last twinges fade and I can move normally again. For the oddest moment I wish I was back in my bed on the Deadwood , sandwiched between the warmth of the shifter twins.

I scoff at my own thoughts as I pull on the trousers.

The pirates will be long gone by now.

I drag the shirt over my bleeding back and do my best to hold in a whimper which threatens to escape.

“Well, that was boring to watch,” Opal comments, but doesn’t try to touch me as I grab the cloak and shuffle towards the stairs.

I have to stop several times, but eventually I make it into the shop.

I fish my gold out of my pocket and drop it on the counter in front of Alletta. “Before I go, I need a broom.”

Alletta rolls her eyes. “You can’t buy a broom for this, dearie.”

I can’t glower at her like I want to. I don’t have the energy. “How much?”

The crazy witch pauses and cocks her head to one side .

She stays that way for several seconds before she replies, “You say ‘how much,’ but you mean ‘whose life.’”

I don’t have to nod. “Name them." I'll draw the line if she names an innocent, but a woman like Alletta has to have her fair share of enemies.

She laughs. “Oh dearie, do you really think I haven’t killed everyone I want dead?”

“Name your price,” I insist. “I need a broom if I’m going to fulfil the Goddess’s orders.” I twist, grimacing at the pain which pulses through my sigils at the action, and pull the ring out of my boot. “This is my only lead.”

Alletta doesn’t even look at it. “I’m not a jeweller, am I?” She seems genuinely confused by the idea.

“You must be able to give me something? Anything? The Goddess asked—”

“Dearie, she asked me to mark you, but I’m not here to hold your hand.”

She crosses the shop, dodging between the teetering shelves as she makes her way to an umbrella stand full of broomsticks in the corner. I watch in confusion as she starts pulling them out, one by one, and chucking them around the shop without even looking where they’re going. Some knock over bottles, others smash glass or send objects flying. Alletta doesn’t seem to care.

When she’s finished, she looks at the empty stand and shrugs.

“No brooms here…”

I grind my teeth together, grab one of the discarded metal twigs and lift it. “Fine, if this isn’t really here then it's not stealing if I take it.”

Alletta turns to face me, and I realise I’ve made a mistake with my pain-fuelled snark. Her face has gone from amused to livid in the space of three seconds.

I hold up my hands in surrender, dropping the broom in the process. “Look, all I need is something to go on. Just one clue as to what the hell I’m supposed to do now.”

Her face flicks back to it’s normal, bland pleasantness. “Why, that’s simple, dearie.”

I begin to relax, pain and exhaustion making me slow.

Her eyes start to glow as her smile warps into a frown.

“You can get out of my shop!”

The force which grabs me around the waist is like nothing I’ve ever felt. It steals the breath from my lungs as it yanks me out of the shop and back into the dirty streets beyond.