Mathilda, SuperWitch (49 page)

And cocky didn’t go well with nervous. In fact, cocky and nervous were a recipe for disaster.

Another rumble came just as Bligh spoke.

“Don’t worry, Miss Honeycutt, this won’t be like one of your movies where we give you a chance to figure out some ingenious plan to get away. No, instead, I think we’ll just kill you.”

And then, without further ado, he shot at me just as Scary Faerie threw his orb.

* * * * *

The orb should have killed us.

But, you forget.

I
am
The Chosen One.

And we were standing at the base of The Tor.

Which also happened to be the Gate to the Underworld.

* * * * *

Not to mention, Ash
was
from magical stock.

So before Bligh’s finger squeezed the trigger, Ash stepped in front of me.

Faster than a speeding bullet?

Not exactly but almost.

And very,
very
unfortunately.

* * * * *

At the same moment I used everything I had left to wave a sheet of protective magic up in front of us and it shot forward, toward Bligh and Scary.

* * * * *

Simultaneously, with a final rumble and an awful hiss and screech, the Gate opened and out flew a twinkling of multi-colored light which separated instantaneously and formed into a two women.

One was Althea.

The other one, I did not know.

And together, the ghostly spirits absorbed, and my shield deflected, the ancient, powerful orb of faerie magic then shot it straight back at Bligh and Scary Faerie, pinpointing them with deadly accuracy.

The blistering burst of mingled otherworldly and SuperWitch power blew them off their feet and backwards to pin them hideously against the side of The Tor. It scorched off their eyebrows and most of their hair and clothes and, icky though it was, quite of bit of their skin as well as a huge spray of the earth around them.

* * * * *

I stared in horror at this result and then, without hesitation, Althea and the woman zoomed back into the Gate as if their borrowed time was more than up.

The Gate closed with a resounding whoosh the instant they passed through it and the ground rumbled its last warning.

And in the distance I could just hear the echoing:

“
This will be the last time I’m going to tell you, quit calling me Elly or no more help from me!”

* * * * *

My spell mixed with the power of the Underworld was extraordinary, unheard of magic.

Beautiful and astonishing.

This fusion of natural and Underworld power would someday fill pages and pages in history books.

The problem was, magic could repel magic.

But faerie, witch, Chosen One or Underworld magic…

None of it…

Could stop bullets.

And Bligh’s bullet hit Ash.

Right in the belly.

* * * * *

“Don’t worry, baby,” I whispered to Ash, whose head was in my lap as he lay across the backseat of Aidan’s Mercedes while Aidan drove like his usual madman to the nearest hospital and BecBec zoomed beside the car, lost in a rocket of color.

We’d jumped into the car, amid dressed and pajama’ed townies staring up at the noise and mayhem of the enormous pink lollipop of The Tor. Staring at what they probably thought was a “silly” and annoying Druid ritual or an amateur (but spectacular) fireworks display.

Things such as this were what humans thought, for centuries, to protect their fragile psyches from the likes of the evil and beauty that were just then pouring down from The Tor.

But deep in their bones, they knew.

And although they watched, they made no move to go up, to intervene, to understand.

Their time would come.

* * * * *

“You’re gonna be okay,” I said to Ash as Aidan pulled to a jarring stop outside a hospital.

Ash opened his mouth to speak.

“If you say you’re honored to die for me, I’m gonna hurt you,” I told him.

He closed his mouth and grinned.

Then I watched as the light went out of his eyes.

* * * * *

Pain shot through me, excruciating and sharp. Fire burned a searing path from my chest to my throat and my eyes instantly filled with tears.

There would be no beautiful sparkles and flashes from his human death.

Just that extinguished light noting the passing of a magnificent man.

I closed my eyes, the wetness there slid down my cheeks as I bent forward, kissed his forehead and whispered, “I love you, Sebastian.”

Aidan yanked the door open (woefully, hideously too late) and BecBec zoomed into the car and halted in a glittery dazzle, tears falling from her eyes. I tore my gaze away from Ash and watched as the gossamer from BecBec’s wings detached, it’s ethereal beauty filling the interior of the car, shrouding us, Ash and me, in its glittery light.

She opened her mouth and I watched, silent tears sliding down my cheeks and I understood, for the first time, the exquisite Elfin words as she sang the timeless Lament of the Elf.

The Month of November

15 November

Baker Historic District

Denver, Colorado

A.K.A. Mathilda’s Version of Heaven
and
Hell

* * * * *

Su found a huge, six bedroom Victorian mansion built during Denver’s silver boom.

It was built on a rise so it had, from its top story, a view over the other houses to the famous purple mountains majesty.

It had a circular turret that rose two stories further than the rest of the house on the front western corner.

It had a massive, high, wrought iron fence surrounding the property.

The veranda floor was tiled in Italian marble.

There was a two bedroom carriage house on the side and a one bedroom mother-in-law house at the back.

It had a ballroom.

It was painted butter yellow with turquoise, pink and grape accents.

It was fan-fucking-tastic.

It was my childhood home.

* * * * *

Su’s coven was night and day to the Honeycutt Coven.

Everyone was under fifty and nearly everyone was a hippy or Earth Mother.

And all of them dressed very well, for hippies and Earth Mothers, that is.

* * * * *

Lucy and Fay were due to arrive in a couple of weeks.

Before she left England, Lucy had to train Antonia, Nerissa, Pandora, Octavia, etcetera in her and my recipes, how to run The Dozen and how to treat Big Red with respect.

* * * * *

Mavis was on the hunt for Endora, who got away from what is now known as the Battle of The Tor.

Which, by the way, the Modernists won, forcing the Traditionalists to retreat. We also now control The Tor, which was a damn good thing, strategically, thank the goddess.

Yee ha!

* * * * *

Gran was on the hunt for Agatha, who also got away.

* * * * *

Scary Faerie and Bligh were both reported missing.

I can’t imagine Bligh survived but Scary Faerie was immortal.

Immortal and pissed off, no doubt.

Not good.

* * * * *

The “Real” World couldn’t even ignore what happened on The Tor.

Of course, most folks can’t see magic. Though, magic has been around a long time. There are lots of bloodlines, “normal folk” that have a latent magical history, a great, great grandma who was a witch, a great, great, great granddad who was a sorcerer, that kind of thing. Those are normally the folk who “see things” (and don’t believe their own eyes) and when they talk about those things, most people think they’re crazy (they’re not).

Then there are those with open minds, the ones who believe in magic and celebrate (and protect) the earth. They can see magic too (though it doesn’t happen often).

But that night, the magical flow tore through the veil. Even those without latent magical blood or those who don’t even believe in magic saw
something
.

Lots of discussion and suggestion worldwide about the “phenomena” witnessed by dozens on Hallowe’en night.

“Experts” came forward.

Some of them knew what they were talking about.

Others did not.

One “scholar” was (somewhat hilariously) ripped to shreds by Jeremy Paxman on
News Night
.

Churches issued statements.

Crazies took credit.

After a few days, most dismissed it.

But if you were even a little in touch with nature, you could feel it.

That night, the veil was torn away between the real and magical worlds.

And people were scared.

* * * * *

When Aidan and I arrived in Denver, Daphne in tow, Josie, Rory and Cosmo were already at the house, otherwise known as The Acre.

Gabriel was with them.

As was Windspear Jones.

(Oo la la… more like a Native American Indiana Jones. Hoochie mama he was cute.)

As was Douglas Addison and my mother.

* * * * *

I’m sure you’ve already guessed by now that Douglas Addison is my Dad.

Deep cover, indeed.

And Gabriel is my older brother.

I don’t credit it, considering that Gabriel is a super-lean, vampire machine and Viv, Su and I all carry our fair share of curves and not a single blood-sucking tendency but there you go.

Genetics.

Who understands them?

Mom was in Seven Kinds of Heaven to have “all my babies” for the first time in all our lives under one roof.

Not to mention “Dad” being there (which meant, even though all her babies were under one roof, Mom and Dad spent lots of time in her bedroom – ACK!)

* * * * *

You see, the neon pink fluid Ash injected me with was not only a protection against the magic-stripping spell but also a magic-regenerating spell.

While Viv, Su and I had been busy so had Mom, Mavis and Gran.

In Agatha’s evil plan, Ash was meant to be injecting me with a drug that would render me motionless.

Instead, he injected me with a brew of potent Honeycutt protection. A spell that simultaneously blocked the severing of my magic but also, with a good deal of help from the natural magicks that permeated The Tor, regenerated me to full power (and then some).

When my aura “exploded”, that was extra magic my body couldn’t hold and Dad and Gabe (you know he had to have a nickname) stayed close so they could absorb it and so that no one else would.

That magical spell also simulated pain (unfortunately).

But it had to look real.

* * * * *

When Althea’s magic was torn away by the Edwards Coven, they gave it to Dad-slash-Douglas in their preparations to make him a “Dark Lord” whatever that was… even Dad didn’t get it, he called it the “crazy rantings of a loon” (loon = Agatha).

So when Viv, Su, Lucy, Josie and I took it back, Mom had secluded Dad in my Tower Room so he would be protected from any magical surveillance for when the magic was stripped away again and restored to Althea.

(Oh, forgot to mention… as a vampire, Dad could act as a vessel to store magic. That’s why Althea’s magic didn’t disburse and why Agatha thought that he and Gabe could absorb mine.)

So, at that crucial moment on The Tor, Agatha and the rest didn’t know Althea had powers when she marched up that hill with Josie.

* * * * *

I could go into a long explanation of how it all worked.

But I won’t.

History will dissect it, I’ve no doubt.

* * * * *

I could be pissed off that a lot of folks were keeping a lot of stuff from me all this time, hell, all my life.

But I was alive.

And so was (most) everyone I cared about.

So how mad could you be?

I was classified as a Hazardous Sage.

I was a young witch.

Powerful but unripe.

And I had a lifetime of pretty fucking important work ahead of me.

And anyway, forgiveness is a powerful thing.

And we were at war; there was no time for petty trivialities.