Page 64 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
My bare feet sensed the change in the earth before the rest of me did.
Had it not been for my fire element, they would’ve become numb after I’d entered the apple orchard, completely dull when I charged into the eastern forest. But here, the anti-frost wards of the moonflower grove kept the dirt dry, and a breath of warm air passed over me as I sped into the clearing.
The cold scents of winter evaporated in the presence of the clean, sweet smell of the flowers. Their petals glowed with a pearlescent light that rivaled the twinkling of the stars overhead. Slanting across the grove, moonbeams charged the crystals nestled amongst the vines’ leaves.
On the opposite side of this tiny micro clime, three witches stood in a circle around the summoning mirror. It seemed an age ago when we’d all sat at the farmhouse table preparing the rowan, ash, oak, and cherrywood to strengthen it for a conversation with an Unseelie demon.
Below, nestled between the stand’s feet, was the family grimoire.
Hands linked and glowing green eyes lowered, the three female witches chanted a protection spell. A fourth witch, haggard with deep hollows under his eyes, guarded them with a knife in each hand.
I cut the Rabbit Step Spell short before I could barrel into him. “Dad.”
“Meadow,” he breathed. He almost sheathed his knives. Almost. Lifting them, he demanded, “When you were eight, what did you slip into your cousin Rose’s tea?”
He thinks I’m Ossian’s illusion magic , I realized. “It was Rose who dosed me with buckthorn, and I still haven’t forgiven her for that night of diarrhea.”
“ Meadow. ” He sheathed his knives and closed the distance between us in one quick stride. The air wheezed out of my lungs from his crushing embrace. “By the Green Mother, it’s good to see you. You too, Sawyer.”
“Cat-tosser,” came Sawyer’s snarky greeting, still sore at Dad for nearly hurling him out the car window that one time.
Tod Hawthorne was affectionate only for a second longer before the tactician/tracker surfaced. “I felt your ping, Meadow. Why would you sustain a Scouting Spell that long? If we could all feel it, our enemies could too.”
“I’ll explain later. We need to summon Arcadis.”
“You got the Samildánach?” That wasn’t disbelief in his voice, not quite.
“Where are the others? We need them all to activate the summoning mirror.” I’d assumed my Scouting Spell was signal flare enough, spurring them to rejoin the witches here.
Mom, Aunt Peony, and Aunt Hyacinth formed the circle that protected the summoning mirror. Of the same generation and linked by blood, they had incredible power that had undoubtedly turned back many an attack, given the scorched marks littered nearby. How old were those?
“Iris, Eranthis, and Otter are in the north working to break down the barrier,” Dad replied. “Badger is with them. It’s weak where Ame planted those toadstools. Reinforcements from the manor are on the other side.”
“Reinforcements? How did they know to come?” I didn’t wait for an answer before moving on towards the summoning mirror. Every second counted, and unlike Kian, I could walk and talk at the same time.
“We got in touch with your Uncle Stag once our hearth ember regained its power. Apparently Ossian had sent one of his hunters to start a war between the Hawthornes and the hedge witches of Cailleach Lodge to keep their focus at home instead of here. The Nemean wolf’s brother and your cousins figured it out, particularly Lilac. ”
“ Lilac ?” My crush-stealing, conceited cousin whose only hobbies were looking pretty and not chipping her nails had unearthed a sabotage plot?
“We were surprised too. Apparently she’s been keeping secrets… like another witch I know.” He gave me a wry smile, his eyes lifting to the sound of flapping wings. I didn’t see him move, but his knives were in his hands again. “Is that, uh, winged cat with you?”
“I’m a faelene,” Thistle sneered, landing lightly on the ground and dissipating her momentum with a few trotting steps. “And you should fear me.”
Dad snorted.
“She’s not joking.” Sawyer dropped from my arms and greeted her with a bunt.
“You really should,” I said.
Thistle leveled a green-eyed stare at him and retracted her wings with a sharp pop .
“Oh.” He backed up a step.
Reaching up, I placed a hand on the nearest witch’s shoulder. “Mom.”
The green glow of her eyes and her muttering lips ceased. She blinked, dropping her sister and cousin’s hands, then whirled. I shied away before she could snag me into one of her classic lasts-for-an-hour hugs. Her sister and cousin cried out my name, but I flung up both hands for silence.
“We’ll all hug later,” I assured them quickly—Mom especially, so she wouldn’t get offended. “We need Marten back first.”
“It’ll take all of us to summon Arcadis,” Aunt Peony worried. “Can the others make it back here in time? Even with the Rabbit Step Spell?”
Tod lifted his gaze to the sky, marking the position of the stars. His tan skin blanched. “No.”
“We have to try without them.” I gestured to my family to take up their positions around the mirror and rejoin their hands. “You too, Dad.”
“But who will protect?—”
“I got this,” Sawyer said, trotting to a position a few feet away with his tail held high.
“Me too.” Thistle selected a spot on the other side of the clearing.
“It can’t be done,” Aunt Hyacinth fretted. “The power required is too great.”
“I am not the hobbled witch I was back at Hawthorne Manor.” The midnight deadline was making me snappish. Frantic. “I am Violet’s Heir, through and though. And that is my brother imprisoned for my mistakes. We will find a way. Now tell me what to do.”
“You heard her.” Mom swept her arms at the other witches like she was rounding up wayward chickens for a night in the coop. “Link up.”
Their battle leathers creaked as they stepped into a circle, enclosing me inside with the summoning mirror.
“While the portal’s echo is gone, a memory of it is still embedded in the mirror,” Mom explained, grabbing hold of Dad’s hand and Aunt Hyacinth’s. “You’ll be able to sense it, don’t worry. Place your hands on the mirror’s surface and give that memory all the power you have.”
I waited for the glow to return to the witches’ eyes and the summoning incantation to repeat before I did just that.
The opalescent magic of my primal core flooded against the black mirror.
There was a fleeting flash of red, like the crimson glare of Arcadis’s eyes.
The darkness behind the reflective surface resisted me, but with a firm shove, I broke through its barrier and seized that memory.
The faint smell of brimstone tickled my nose, and a breath of hot, humid air wafted over my face. On my finger, Arcadis’s ring hummed in anticipation of the reunion with its master.
The barrier gone, the summoning mirror sucked the magic straight out of my core like it was a keg on tap on St. Patrick’s Day.
It was worse than when the dead ground of Elfame had tried to suck the tourmaline dry in the muirdris’s treasure cave.
At least that land had been desperate. This mirror was just greedy. It wanted me to weaken, to suffer.
As it guzzled, the blackness faded like coffee lightened with cream. I remembered the darkness had to fade away completely before a gateway could be opened, and I gritted my teeth against the strain. It wasn’t as all-consuming as anchoring a fae portal, but I was still growing considerably weak.
Seconds ticked by. Minutes. How much longer did I have?
With a shout, I shoved a bolus of magic into that insufferable mirror and was rewarded with a burst of silver steam. My family continued to chant as the opalescent light winked out and a tall aristocratic figure with crimson eyes and black horns appeared on the other side.
Arcadis lifted a gold pocket watch from his vest pocket. “Cutting it close, little thief,” he purred. His oily voice seemed to slide over me like sweat on a hot summer day. “I don’t usually enjoy being kept in such a state of suspense.”
“I have the Samildánach.” Shrugging out of my pack, I slung it onto the ground and tore at the flap to get at the gilded mirror inside.
Thistle thorns, why hadn’t I done this before I’d activated the mirror?
There was a great deal of amateurish fussing, but I got the silver thing freed without the window of our deal passing us by.
“You were successful,” he said, impressed. “Well, hand it over.”
“Where is my brother?”
Arcadis tsked. “The bargain between us clearly states he’ll be returned after ?—”
“I want to see him.”
Flames flared in the demon’s crimson eyes at the interruption. “Of course.”
The lace cuff extending past his velvet coat sleeve swept through the air like a dove in flight as Arcadis gave a flick of his hand.
Marten appeared beside him, hands bound with thick coarse rope and a paisley silk scarf gagging his mouth.
Grime and soot streaked his handsome face.
In truth, he hardly looked worse for wear despite all that time he’d spent an Unseelie prison.
Perhaps that was Arcadis’s doing, since our bargain required him to return Marten to me unharmed.
A wild gleam came to Marten’s brown eyes, and he rushed forward with a muffled shout.
Without looking up from picking at his fingernails, Arcadis snatched Marten’s collar and hauled him back.
The demon flicked the grit away and leveled a condescending stare at me.
“You’ve seen him. Now give me what you owe me.
Time’s a-ticking, little witch. Ring first. Don’t let it go until I’m touching you. ”