Wildfire Witch (The Cursed Coven of Spells Hollow)

18. Nix

NIX

We returned to the motel late that night. Rusty’s sharp nose had helped him find our clothes, at least. He carried me, since he’d turned my legs into jelly after claiming me so fiercely.

Ceridor opened the door to the motel room while we whispered about the key. We must’ve been quite the sight, dirty and satisfied. Rusty had given up on plucking the leaves and twigs from my hair after we’d rolled around in the forest together.

The fae’s brows lifted before his silver gaze flashed up to meet Rusty’s. “She’s practically radiant. Well done,” he whispered. “Seth’s asleep, but I couldn’t find rest without her.”

Rusty hesitated, holding in his first reaction with visible effort. “Do you want…?” He lifted me up a few extra inches.

Ceridor nodded, and the dragon transferred me to his arms. I was too sleepy and content to complain, especially when he whispered, “Let’s get you clean, firefly,” then muffled my moans with his mouth while we made love in the shower.

I was an exceptionally happy witch when I finally laid down to sleep with my three men.

And I woke quite sore between my thighs from last night’s sexcapade. “Pussytown’s closed,” I informed a handsy Rusty, swatting his hands away from my thighs once he realized I was awake.

A second set of warm hands framed my curves from behind. “I’d love to know its hours of operation,” Seth said sleepily.

“It’s rarely open before noon. Sometimes earlier, with caffeine,” Ceridor commented from the chair in the corner of the room. He was dressed and thrumming with energy, his leg bouncing with it.

“Yup,” I agreed with a yawn. I was sandwiched between my dragon and witch, their hands still roaming everywhere but over my overworked lady bits. I could fall back asleep just like this…

“Today’s the day we break the curse!” Aodhnait announced while I was on the cusp of dozing off. My eyes opened wide.

I grabbed Rusty’s arm, and he made a curious rumble. “Today’s the day!” I exclaimed. “You guys get to meet Aodhnait, my phoenix. She’s lovely.”

“Thank you. Don’t forget beautiful and talented.”

“And humble,” I added more dryly. “Feeling better?”

“Feeling amazing. Aren’t you?” she answered, whistling happily.

Now that she mentioned it, yes, I definitely did. Bonding with Rusty really had been the last piece to bring balance back to my magic. The curse would still infuse any spell I tried to cast with fire, but soon we would defeat it by pulling Aodhnait free of me.

Both Rusty and Seth were saying something about meeting her, but I’d tuned them out to talk to her. She was a merry, crackling fire in my chest again, no longer suppressed by a wet and cold environment.

“Let’s go,” I declared, getting up. I stumbled into some clothes and braced myself in front of the bathroom mirror, just to recoil with a laugh. My hair was a puffed-out mess, improperly dried after Ceridor had rearranged what was left of my wits last night.

I wiggled my fingers over my head, wetting my hair with a rain of hot water and brushing it out. A different gesture summoned a warm wind to dry it fast, and I fixed in a tail, turning to see my men staring at me. “What?” I asked.

“You’re stunning,” Rusty said, smoldering at me.

“A vision,” Ceridor agreed.

“Just the casual magic use, you know?” Seth answered. That was probably the real answer. He glanced at my other two men. “And what they said.”

I blushed and limped for the door. “Let’s get some breakfast…hey!” Rusty scooped me up in his arms. “You can’t just carry me everywhere.”

“Why not? It’s my fault you’re sore, my diamond,” he answered.

I made a show of crossing my arms, but silently appreciated the lift to the diner. Seth passed me some ibuprofen, and I was ready to walk on my own after a hearty, greasy breakfast. The mood between us sobered after we did a pass around the area, looking for signs of fire bros. Still nothing, not even a sniff of them to Rusty’s nose. It was a reminder that I needed to break my curse before they arrived.

That done, we got into Seth’s car and drove to Spells Hollow. Now that our things were at the motel, I sat in the back with Ceridor in the freed up seat. My heart was in my throat to see what was left of my old home, the location I’d grown up and also the place I was cursed so viciously.

The dirt path leading to the ruins was terrible. We hit a particularly bad pothole and there was a crunch from the wheel well. Seth exclaimed, “My car!”

“I got you, bro,” Rusty said, rolling the passenger’s side window down. He stuck his arm out, shifted up to the elbow in brown scales and sharpened claws. The path smoothed out ahead of us like an invisible pair of hands pulled it taut.

“Won’t the locals notice if you re-pave the road for them?” Ceridor remarked.

The dragon shifter shrugged. “It’ll go back to how it was behind us.”

I breathed a tense sigh as I sensed an ominous presence looming. Ceridor reached over, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. “You feel it,” he murmured.

“Morfran’s magic,” I said. The signature of his black magic was unmistakable, even from a distance. It only got worse as we slowly rolled towards the ruins, Seth still driving cautiously due to the low visibility around us from encroaching tree limbs. Until there weren’t any trees, only blackened stakes in the ground amongst charred and brittle grass and distant buildings in varied states of disrepair.

Rusty whistled low as we drove past it. “This part of the land is dead,” he said. On cue, we hit another pothole. Dead earth didn’t respond to an earthen dragon’s will.

“This must be the blast radius of Morfran cursing the land itself.” I felt sick. I curled in on myself, clinging to my fae husband like a lifeline. From my past life, I knew the feel of Spells Hollow deep in my gut, and the hollow silence in my magical senses was so wrong. The once-great font of magic governed by the high priestesses of the Nightshade line was ruined.

“Pull over here,” Ceridor said. “Do you see that line? We will want to proceed on foot past it.”

I lifted my head to look past Seth’s seat, seeing exactly what he was talking about. We rolled past an ancient wooden gate that’d been thrown open and scorched by what looked like lightning. Past it, there was a thick black line bisecting dead ground and living earth, curving in a massive circle to encompass the ruins beyond. Something had protected this part of the land from the full extent of Morfran’s magic, as the wilderness was overtaking some of the standing buildings.

As soon as Seth parked and turned the car off, I stumbled out and touched the ground. There were no earth motes to answer my summons, just the vomit-inducing feeling of black magic. I crossed the scorched line and repeated the gesture. I hadn’t communed with the earth as a green witch since before my curse and only dared to try it now because of my connection with Rusty.

Earth motes gathered beneath my fingertips, sharing their wisdom. Aged magic hummed under the circle, wards . It was Nightshade magic, Melisande’s doing. She had protected what she could of the town.

Ceridor was standing next to me once I straightened. “Do you recognize where we’re standing?” he asked.

I pivoted to get a better look around. The rundown husk of a building over to our right…that was the town hall, once a three-story building. Straight ahead of us was the town square, which meant only one thing.

“There’s our house,” I said, pointing to a patch of black past the closest coven house. There were nine coven houses in total, and mine had been engulfed in flames centuries ago. Nature had moved in around some of these homes, but it hadn’t reclaimed the Carmine family home.

The men followed as I headed for my old home. It’d been the backdrop for my whole first life. Growing up, bonding with Aodhnait, and later running my shop and bending over my alchemy table for long days of experimentation. All gone. The collapsed ruin of the house remained a heap of charcoal, long after the original fire, and from it spread a swathe of dead ground, covered in the same brittle black grass as the area outside Melisande’s wards.

I stopped at the edge of the ruined land, leery of bending down to confirm that it was dead, too. I stood there, staring, until twin trails of tears slipped down my cheeks.

After I woke up from the shock of the curse settling in my body, I’d dragged my body in the same general path the blackened ground formed. There’d been a bigger blaze around me, but most of the land had healed. Not where the memory of my first life had burned, though.

When a sob escaped my mouth, it was Seth who put his arm around me, cradling my head. I clutched his shirt in my fists and cried, even when the moment became a bear hug as Ceridor held me too, and Rusty pulled us all in. We swayed together, and no one said a word while I mourned what I’d lost.

“There’s something else I want to see…before we try to break my curse,” I murmured. There was still an oppressive force in the air, and I wanted to see if I could destroy it.

“Of course, love. Lead the way,” Ceridor said.

I edged closer to my old home, seeing the edge of an unburnt circle of wood. My body had laid there safely while the rest of my world burned down. I pulled out the stick of casting chalk I’d brought, setting it down as a bright line in the dead grass, so it would be there when I needed it. Then, I skirted the burned land and headed towards the high priestess’s home…and the source of the feeling of unease that sat low in my gut.

“Melisande loved her garden,” I said, slowing only to take Seth’s hand. He looked concerned, but listened with an encouraging expression as we walked. “The high priestess, I mean. My friend. If there is any magic left in Spells Hollow, it would be in the sacred garden. But I’m worried Morfran left something behind to destroy it, since it was something she cherished.”

“You know, I really hate this Morfran person. He messed up a good thing,” Seth murmured.

I breathed a low, humorless laugh. “All because he couldn’t impress Melisande, no less.”

“Good thing he’s dead now,” he said.

I made a noncommittal hum until we rounded the side of the town square and I spotted what remained of Melisande’s family home. A promising bounty of green plant life grew behind it, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief, my eyes landed on the epicenter of the black magic lingering here.

A set of gallows, still perfectly intact. Morfran’s presence lingered up on the deck like a death-touched malignancy. “I dunno, Seth.” My lips twisted in disgust. “Practitioners of the darkest arts tend not to die on schedule. Do you feel that?”

“I do,” all three of my men confirmed, almost at the same time.

“It takes a significant amount of magic to cast this kind of curse. I would venture to say that it’s still feeding off of an energy source around here…or perhaps several. Otherwise, life would flourish outside of the wards,” I said, stroking my jaw thoughtfully.

I turned back around, this time gathering Ceridor’s hand so he’d walk on my other side. Rusty followed closely, so I was surrounded by a solid wall of muscle. “Morfran was not stupid. He earned his title as the Sorcerer of Spells Hollow for a reason.” I was just thinking aloud at this point. “He cursed me in such a way that I would forget who I was, so I would never find the weakness in my curse. But my cursing was part of some preliminary work he did…to cause all this.”

“You believe it’s all related,” Ceridor said. His presence was a cool breath of air in the stifling atmosphere of what Spells Hollow had become.

My brow furrowed as I combed through the memories of my first life. Some of Morfran’s last words to me were, “One member of every family has to live to suffer the consequences. Generations to come will remember my name, through curses of my design…”

But why? “Why go through all the bother of cursing all nine witch families that once lived here? Unless it was to obfuscate the way to fix the curse he set here, on the land,” I said, feeling like I was on to something. “My brother’s ghost told me to break my curse…and set free… oh no .”

“What?” Rusty growled.

“Morfran didn’t just curse the land, he cursed the Nightshade legacy. That’s what this has always been about. Ruining what Melisande made out of spite,” I explained. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach, dread to knot up my insides further. “He reversed what Spells Hollow was…a sanctuary. It’s a death trap now. If I could sense spirits, I could confirm it. But I bet you this place is teeming with ghosts that can’t move on to the next life.”

“Fuck,” the dragon shifter said. “That’s fucked up. Time to do your part, my diamond. We have to set your birdie free.”

“Right.” Though Aodhnait thrummed with anticipation, I was so incredibly nervous. What if we hurt her, trying to yank her free of my body?

“Before you do anything else, you have to touch that grass,” she said.

I snorted a surprised giggle. “Are you really making a modern reference right now?”

“No,” she sighed. “Touch the grass we burned.”

We were approaching the ruined Carmine house again. The same reluctance gripped me as before. On some deep level, I didn’t want to touch the obvious patch of cursed ground. But I let go of my men and bent down, doing so with careful fingertips and ready to snatch my hand back.

“Well, well,” said a voice that chilled me to the bone. I looked up, and there he was. Morfran, a skinny middle-aged man in clothes from another era, his black hair braided back from his face. “If it isn’t Verity Carmine, come to break her curse.”

Rusty growled with unease. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

My three men were watching me, seeing how pale I’d become. They didn’t see Morfran, else they would’ve jumped to put themselves between him and I. Straightening, I gestured that it was okay. “It’s an echo,” I whispered.

I’d triggered a piece of magic Morfran must’ve left here three centuries ago. This echo of him continued talking with a shit-eating grin the whole time. He was turned in my direction, but he wasn’t quite looking at me, nor acknowledging when I stepped closer.

“A what?” Rusty asked behind me.

“A remnant of magic, with a pre-recorded message,” Seth murmured back.

Ceridor remained at my side, glaring at where I was looking. “It’s Morfran?”

I nodded, holding a finger to my lips. The echo was saying, “I’m not sure how you did it, but you figured out that you’re from Spells Hollow. My congratulations. I sincerely hope it took you an eternity. In fact, it would have been for the best had you never found this place at all. But now that you’re here and listening to me, there’s no other recourse for me other than to explain the last part of my revenge.”

“What a bastard,” Aodhnait hissed, her anger giving me the sensation of heartburn.

“I agree, but…there’s more to our curse,” I said heavily. I hated the implications and how gleefully Morfran’s echo delivered them.

“Perhaps you can feel it while you stand on this part of the ground. Your curse is anchored here, Verity. I left a trail of tortured fire energy around the magical trigger that will release Aodhnait from your body,” Morfran continued, pointing downward. “The only way to get to the trigger is to absorb the energy and, as you are well aware, your magic is incredibly unstable.”

“Oh no, I see where this is going,” I said under my breath.

“Nothing’s stopping you from getting that trigger and freeing Aodhnait. All curses have a weakness, after all. But this energy…I made it extra hot for you. Either you or Aodhnait will die in the process of ending your curse.”

My phoenix released an outraged shriek in my mind. My hands balled into fists, gaping at the audacity of this echo.

“Which of you will it be, Verity? Do you love your precious familiar enough to die for her?” Morfran smiled maliciously as his echo faded until there was only his awful voice ringing in the air. “Or have you grown to hate her and see her as a parasite? It’s your decision…but only one of you leaves Spells Hollow alive…”

My breathing quickened. I pulled at my hair, releasing a shout of fury as I stamped my feet. “That. Fucking . Bastard! After all this, he…he…” I was so angry, I could barely speak. Ceridor watched me, his eyes rounding with alarm.

I pinched my brow, trying to calm down so I could at least communicate what’d just happened. “I know how to break my curse. It’s actually quite simple, no array…or fancy elemental magic…or anything we’ve done is even needed.” Despair was setting in as I reached for the ground with my magic. Fire motes as hot and agitated as lava tried to rise and answer my call.

We’d made it this far, bonded this tightly, all for Morfran to screw me over one last time. Because I couldn’t just pull Aodhnait out of me. If I didn’t end my curse properly, we couldn’t destroy the blight on Spells Hollow itself.

“What did he say? What will break your curse?” Seth asked, a bit frantically.

I drew in him and Rusty, making a huddle with the four of us, and shared what the echo had told me. Aodhnait was still buzzing with indignation in my chest, about as communicative as a hive of pissed off wasps past her mutters of every insult she knew, aimed at Morfran.

Seth made a thoughtful hum. He and Ceridor exchanged a glance while Rusty gave a threatening rumble. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Seth asked.

The wind fae nodded. “Morfran designed his trap without us in mind.”

Aodhnait paused in her fury. “You know, they’re right.”

He’d assumed I would come back to Spells Hollow alone, not with the three men who’d forged connections with me to stabilize my fire. Those bonds were still there, whether the fire came from Aodhnait or purposefully agitated motes that kept this swathe of ground burned and suffering.

I worried my lip in concern as I considered the worst outcome, where I dragged them into an inferno with me. “It’s a lot of fire. This might take everything we all have, and if it’s not enough…”

“It’s going to be enough,” Rusty said firmly. “This Morfran guy isn’t going to force you to choose anything.”

“Agreed. I give you full permission to use all of my water magic, if you need it,” Seth added.

“And my wind is at your disposal, as always. Do what you need to, firefly. I can’t wait to hold you and Aodhnait again, separately,” Ceridor said with an encouraging nod.

I could’ve cried again in the face of such overwhelming support, but I kept a stiff upper lip and gathered myself. “This is what we came here for. Stand back, just in case there’s an actual fire.” As I dropped to my knees in the center of the burned grass, my men eased away to healthy ground, but not too far.

I sought my connections with them, tugging gently. Air, water, and earth flowed from them into me, circulating my body to prepare for what was to come. My men closed their eyes, surrendering their magic with full trust. It was their faith and support that convinced me that I could do this. I would neutralize Morfran’s trap and free my familiar, opening up a new life for myself with them and her.

The elements hummed within me, prepared for the first wave of fire that I summoned from the ground. It rushed up in a wave of malignant magic, tortured flames that’d been twisted both by dark magic and the amount of time they’d been embedded here unnaturally. Once I started drawing on this magic, I realized it wouldn’t stop even if I willed it to. Either I took in every mote of dark fire, or I burned.

Heat licked my skin and clothes, searing both inside and out. For each brush of fire, though, came another soothing wave of magic from my men. Rusty’s earth layered over me, protecting me even when my clothes caught fire and drifted away to ash in what felt like minutes.

Here in these ruins, there was no way of telling how much time I kneeled there, sweating, back arching and body contorting as I unconsciously tried to avoid the worst of the pain.

Seth’s water kept my body hydrated and temperature mostly stable. Those motes circled my bloodstream, fighting back against the dark fire that sought to bypass me and infect Aodhnait. There was fire everywhere and I was the wick of a candle, trying desperately not to burn.

Morfran’s trap emptied of fire motes faster and faster. Ceridor’s air was my last line of defense. Once I figured out how to create a trap of my own, a pocket of oxygen-less air, the last of the dark fire snuffed out.

I panted, my body saturated with sweat, ash, and smoke. But I probed the ground and only fresh, healthy earth motes answered my magic. They bubbled something else to the surface, a small piece of black magic. Take , the earth begged.

The moment I touched that remnant of Morfran’s power, it traveled within me, unlocking the binding tendril that kept Aodhnait trapped in my heart. Heat rose in my chest in a golden glow. Aodhnait’s spirit started to unfurl, free after over three centuries of suffering.

It was over. If I had any water in me left to weep, I would. We’d broken the curse. We would never have to be reborn again!

I opened my eyes when a man’s hand curled around my shoulder, expecting to see Rusty by the feel of claws dimpling my bare flesh. The afternoon light was slanted differently, revealing that I must’ve spent several hours working magic to end my curse.

Standing in front of me was Lance Drakkon, and I gasped in surprise. He already partially shifted, with crimson scales up to his elbows and a hateful sneer on his face. His other arm was cocked back, flames dancing on the end of his claws. “This is for putting my son in the hospital, you bitch ,” he snarled.

He struck as quick as a viper. I barely felt a thing, just an uncomfortable sensation of movement in my insides, followed by a violent wrench. His fiery claws closed around Aodhnait’s golden glow and set it aflame, just as he extinguished me when he ripped out my heart.