Page 63 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

White clouds enveloped us. Or maybe it was just one cloud and we were all caught in the thick of it. This wasn’t like before, where we’d instantaneously passed under the archway as if nothing but the film of a soap bubble separated the two realms. There was a pause here.

Elfame’s judgment.

As if inspired by Lori’s smoky exhales, the portal extracted vaporous images of our time in the immortal lands.

They happened simultaneously, extracted from our hearts like someone had made a slit there with an invisible knife to let what looked like ink bleed free.

The many inks spread like watercolor paint across a damp page, took shape, then rose and jumbled together like a litter of puppies clamoring for attention.

There were the tables and chairs that Cody had fixed at The Happy Hound.

Emmett repairing Kian’s lorgnette. Shari with her arm around a sobbing Lori while with her other hand she practiced summoning her hellfire.

Dozens more of these wispy gray memories rose from my friends—all services rendered to the citizens of Elfame.

But the strongest was the baby luachra that rose from Daphne.

Whereas the other vaporous images were amateurish sketches of pale gray, the luachra was fully rendered in sterling.

A greater service. The dragonet spread its strong wings, roared—to the surprise of us all—and took flight.

Daphne cried out as an invisible rope yanked her forward.

The linked Redbudians staggered forward from the force, stumbling and tripping, but they couldn’t catch their balance.

Suddenly the bleached tourmaline in Flora’s fist erupted with opalescent light.

The garden gnome shouted as she fought to keep hold of the crystal as a fierce wind funneled the magic up and away.

It took only a second or two, then Flora, Daphne, Shari, and Emmett winked out of existence.

“Gah!” Cody exclaimed, lurching forward from the force of their disappearance. “Coon! Where did they—” When he turned back to me, his Adam’s apple bobbed like a buoy at sea as his gaze lifted to the air above my head. “Misty…”

A black Manann mare pranced above my head, bobbing her head and whinnying. A black larch sapling’s branches wiggled in an unseen breeze. Hundreds of black fae ghosts wafted on invisible currents, each peaceful and serene. I recognized Muriel and looked quickly away before I saw the child.

From my hood, Sawyer trilled and swatted playfully at the ghosts who swooped too close. An image rose from him, too, a complete copy of the winged faelene perched on my shoulder. Thistle growled and swiped at her mirror image, jealous.

It was my turn to start in surprise—the faelene was glowing. And sparkling. The iridescent purple of her raven-like wings had spread to her body and wisps of that sparkling glow drifted up and away. The portal, exacting its price.

There was a violent pull on my gut, and I suddenly understood what juice felt like when it was sucked through a straw.

“Hold on!” I cried, clamping down on Cody’s twiggy fingers.

Opalescent light burst from where our hands were joined, and the same wind that had funneled the magic away from the tourmaline descended again. It took less than I expected, and between one blink and the next, we were stumbling into the trampled clover field.

“Jehoshaphat!” Cody swung his fist before his wobbly legs collapsed beneath him.

“It’s alright,” Emmett cried, grabbing his friend’s flailing arms and lifting him upright. “He’s dead.”

The carpenter brushed the frost-covered clover and grass from his friar frock. “Oh, well, that’s alright then. Good riddance. One down and— Meadow?”

I hadn’t taken more than a step away from the portal before doubling over.

Breath sawed in and out of my lungs like I couldn’t get enough oxygen.

After being connected to Elfame for so long, even just nine days, returning to this realm was a shock.

My head swam, and not even Sawyer’s inflow of magic could steady me.

The abundance and vitality of the life I’d felt in the immortal lands was gone.

This land, my world, was… dormant. Not dead, but so much of its magic was gone, drained.

Maybe that’s why our crystals could be filled like batteries, why wild caches were so rare, why witches were born with condensed cores of magic instead of it infusing every cell.

No wonder Ossian had seized the magic and lives of all those women.

How frightened he must’ve been, existentially so, and not just because of his brother’s curse.

I could empathize now, but only a little.

At some point Ossian had learned about the crystal batteries, which should’ve ended his need to siphon women dry, but he hadn’t stopped.

He became a predator for dominion, not survival, and that I couldn’t excuse.

“Meadow,” Sawyer whined, rubbing against my neck.

“I’m alright,” I wheezed. “It’s just a momentary shock.” Straightening, I lifted a hand to touch Thistle. She was a fairy cat, a creature of the immortal lands. “How are you, Thistle?”

“Perfectly fine.” She stretched her wings and flicked her tail.

“How—” I cut myself off after the first syllable.

“Because I’m a faelene,” she answered anyway.

But of course.

“Who’s dead?” I asked the others.

Only a few yards away, a cylindrical cage of woven saplings rose from the clover. I shuddered, remembering when Marten had trapped me in such a prison. His hadn’t been a variation of Mabian bindings, but it had ensnared me well enough that only Boar’s power had been able to free me.

Similarly, Shane had set Ossian free. The blond magic hunter stood as if petrified in place, a husk of his former self. It had taken everything Shane possessed, his magic, his strength, his muscles, even his life, to free the Stag Man. Under compulsion, undoubtedly.

There was a ragged hole on the far side of the woven cage where the saplings had burst and the fae had torn his way free. Tracks depressed the clover, frozen in place by the cold of the oncoming winter, but they were old and the only ones present.

Yet we weren’t safe, not even close. No sooner did I take another step away from the portal than a raucous cawing pierced the sky.

“His spies,” Sawyer cried.

“Over here!” Flora led the charge to a stone crow positioned just outside the portal’s light. It was the same as the sentries stationed around the castle walls, and now the stone crow was alerting its master that I had returned.

A bolt of opalescent magic left my fist, and the stone crow exploded into dust.

“Blight me.” The garden gnome kicked at the gravelly crumbs. “I thought we’d have more time. And where’s Shannon?”

The high lady hadn’t followed us. I scowled, suspecting Callan had something to do with it.

“We can’t wait,” I said grimly. “Plan A is scrapped, since no one’s here, and so is Plan B, due to that crow. Plan C, everyone.”

I wiggled out of my boots and socks and inhaled deeply, grounding myself to the land I’d been born to.

Another breath, sinking deeper into its embrace.

Another, and another, until I was touching the dormant heart of this world.

It was no sparkle vision of Elfame with such few connections remaining, but it was still wondrous.

My time in the immortal lands had expanded my sight, and I could see clearly the glittering threads that bound me to my friends as if I were still in Elfame.

Sky blue for Daphne, green for Flora, red for Shari, amber for Sawyer.

There were other threads too, thinner silver ones that linked me to nine others—the robed elders of the Hawthorne coven—and a gold one that could be none other than my tie to Lewellyn Chase.

And one more the color of cobalt that led to the west. Still frayed, still ragged. But still there.

Forcing my lungs to take deep, steadying breaths, I wiggled my hands through the frozen mat of clover until my fingernails scraped into cold soil. Anchored and steady, I pushed my perceptions to widen.

A bird’s-eye view expanded rapidly, signatures of all the living creatures coming alive like freshly struck matches.

In Elfame, even the plants had glowed, consuming my vision with a magical bioluminescence.

Here, in this quieter world, only the stronger signatures appeared.

They were still marvelous, especially since I could identify them on a scale greater than ever before.

Roland, Dale, Walt, Joe, and Ricky ( Good job on that rescue mission, Lewellyn!

) moved in the tunnels beneath the farm while the other hobs clustered in Grandpappy’s secret whiskey cellar.

Dozens of Redbudians—Brandi, Ms. Charlotte Harris, Olive McKatt, Axel, Mayor Robert and his sister Rosalie among them—found haven in the farmhouse.

The hearth ember leapt upon sensing me and increased the intensity of its wards.

That alerted the pixies, who roused from their hibernation in the birdhouse.

What animals remained in the forest hid in their nests and dens.

Further off, there were magic hunters and Coalition enforcers and witches. My family. Including Grandmother.

And there was one signature, blazing like a bonfire, that I recognized above all others. Arthur .

“Arthur’s alive,” I choked out, fighting back a sob of relief. The cobalt thread had told me so, but it was nice to have a second opinion through the sparkle vision. Hold on, bear claw.

I heard Cody release a shuddering breath, the rustling of friar frocks and a muted thump as Emmett wrapped his friend up in a hug.

“Lewellyn’s with Charlie and some others in the grist mill,” I continued, steadier now. That’s where he must’ve led them after freeing everyone from the dungeons. “Monkfoot’s at Cedar Haven with some shifters.”

My vision narrowed onto two signatures moving at high speed. “Ame’s in the west. She’s traveling with someone I don’t recognize. But unharmed.”

“Oh, Ame,” Shari breathed.

“And Poppy? Flint?” Flora demanded.

“Give her a second, Flora,” Daphne said gently. “She’s searching the whole town.”

Their signatures were harder to distinguish simply because they were smaller, but I finally narrowed in on them. “They’re at the animal shelter. Looks like Flint is patrolling the perimeter.”

The garden gnome released a grateful sigh. “Good boy.”

“Sorry, Daph, but it looks like all your goats are g— Oh, there they are. At Alder Ranch.” I wondered if the magic hunters had raided the rescue shelter in search of meat and the goats had given them a merry chase across town.

These weren’t the pets kept by wannabe homesteaders—these goats knew the dangers of life and bolted from anyone but their shepherd.

The rest rattled out in a deadpan report: “The hobs are in the tunnels here. The magic hunters are in pairs, spread mostly throughout the western half of town. They’re trying to blockade the elm tree. Coalition enforcers are engaging them.” My voice brightened. “So is Gwyn.”

The plucky wight still hadn’t left us.

“The elm tree—that’s Cedar Haven.” Cody growled and started rolling up his sleeves. “I swear, if they’ve damaged any of my equipment?—”

“How do you know about the elm tree?” Flora asked. “We’ve been keeping that a secret for months!”

The carpenter hiked up his rope belt and sniffed. “You think I don’t know what happens in my forest?”

“Arthur told you, didn’t he?” the garden gnome accused.

“Shush,” I chided, still absorbed in my sparkle vision. “The barrier is still up, and my family… They’re separated. But they’re all accounted for.”

A long whoosh of breath escaped me as I blinked back into my normal sight and stood.

“And Ossian?” Daphne ventured.

His signature, second brightest to my perceptions, had not budged from the elm tree. “He won’t give up his position of strength. Not yet. We have some time.”

We’d all learned that time was relative, especially in the face of fae speed and strength, so the Redbudians didn’t hesitate.

They clustered close to me so I could sprinkle them with the last of the shrouding powder.

Armed with a meager amount of anonymity, it was now up to them to each do their parts.

“We can do this,” I encouraged. “For Redbud.”

The phrase be safe never crossed my mind. It would’ve been insulting to say it. We were all going into harm’s way, and we knew it.

“What I would give to be a honey badger again, just this once,” Flora grumbled. “At least I’d have four legs to run on instead of two.”

Daphne scooped her up. “Don’t forget to close the portal, dear,” she reminded me, “just in case.”

“The keys to the sedan are wedged in the sun visor,” I called after her as she started across the field. Emmett and Cody hustled after them. They would be sharing the same road for a time before parting ways.

Shari adjusted her glasses so they were more firmly perched on her nose. “See you soon.”

As they disappeared into the night, I turned to the bright glow of the portal, lifted the key on its chain around my neck, and paused.

Sawyer’s claws flexed into my shoulder in a pricking prompt. “What are you waiting for? Go already. Midnight’s coming and it won’t take Buck Boy more than a few minutes to realize it’s not just you he has to deal with, but the entire Hawthorne coven. He won’t want that.”

“But Shannon?—”

“If she was coming, she’d be here by now,” Thistle said. “While it seemed like we were trapped in the portal’s In-Between for several minutes, it was only a second or two.”

With a muttered curse, I inserted the filigree key into the lock, gave it an angry twist, then stuffed the key back under my shirt.

I grounded myself a second time and cast a Scouting Spell.

The ping rolled away from me like a vengeful wave, alerting everything in my path that a primal witch had returned to Redbud.

Saving this town wasn’t a one-witch mission, and our allies needed to know we’d come back.

So did our enemies. This was their only warning to flee.

Except Ossian. He had much to answer for.

Sensing what was to come next, Sawyer slunk out of my hood and into my arms. Couldn’t have him getting left behind. Thistle would just have to keep up with her wings.

“Quick as a rabbit, one, two, three.

Speed my steps to keep me free.”