Witch & Curse (36 page)

So she had come to the ocean to lose herself in its vastness, to seek its solace. The sea had comforted her before, and she prayed that it would again.

The waves reached up gently and tickled her toes, their caress soft and persuasive. The water called to her to come, explore, be one with it and its power. A tempting offer from a tempestuous lover. But Holly knew that the ocean could whisper words of soft promise one moment and then turn on you the next. It could change in seconds and kill so easily.

Never turn your back on it
. Her father had told her that when she was five. She had been splashing in the waves for an hour when her mother called her to go put on more sunscreen. She had turned and tried to run out of the water. A huge wave had come out of nowhere and knocked her down. The undertow had sucked at her body, threatening to pull her out farther with it. She remembered trying to struggle, but the
current had been too strong for her and she couldn't stand up or get her head out of the water.

Daddy had swooped in and picked her up, carrying her carefully from the water and stepping backward the entire time. He had deposited her, frightened and crying, into her mother's protective arms. She would never forget the look in his eyes as he bent down.

Never turn your back on the ocean, Holly. It may be beautiful, but it is also very dangerous
.

She shivered now as an icy wind whipped around her and a wave slapped at her ankles. She took an involuntary step backward. Another wave slapped at her and she hopped back another step. The sound of the ocean was changing; instead of a gentle lapping sound, a dull roar jangled in her ears.

Startled, she had no time to react before a fresh wave crashed into her, soaking her in an instant in icy water waist-high and grasping at her with invisible hands.

The undertow pulled at her and she nearly lost her footing as she stumbled backward, shock quickly changing to fear.
You are not five!
her mind shouted at her as she fought to make it up onto the sand when another wave crashed around her chest. It knocked her off her feet and swept her several yards out.

I'll be swept out to sea! Oh, my God, is this happening?

Her long skirt wound around her legs, binding them like a mermaid's tail. Her arms were dead weights inside her heavy jacket. She could barely move, much less swim.

The fresh burst of panic focused her attention.
I have to get out of these clothes
.

“Goddess, grant me strength in battle and from death,” she murmured in a Spell of Protection. Whether it worked or she was buoyed by the thought that she was never truly alone, she managed to snake first one arm and then the other out of her heavy jacket. It bobbed in the waves like a bloated jellyfish.

She worked on her skirt next, but her hands fumbled at the drawstring. She couldn't manage it; still terribly bogged down, she turned and tried to start swimming back to shore using only her arms. Within seconds, she was exhausted. Then a wave crashed over her and she coughed violently as her lungs dispelled the water she had just sucked in.

No sooner had she managed that, though, than another wave crested over her head. And another. Her brain began to numb and it locked on to the horrible images of the rafting trip that had claimed the lives of her parents and best friend.
It's been a year and now the water has come for me
, she thought fuzzily.

I'm not the same helpless girl I was then, though. I'm a
witch, and a powerful one. I should be able to do something to save myself
.

She turned to look out to sea, her legs wearily treading water. What was it bodysurfers did? They rode the waves.

I can do that, too
.

A huge wave began rolling in; Holly took a quick breath. “I can do this!” she cried as the wave reached her.

Her body was tossed up into the air, and then she was on top of the water, slightly in front of the crest of the wave.

She flew with dizzying speed toward the shore. Almost upon the beach, the wave broke behind her and threw her up onto the sand. Her mouth and eyes filled with the stinging granules as she clawed her way wildly up away from the water.

At last the strength in her limbs gave out and she collapsed, barely managing to roll onto her back as she coughed weakly. Her eyes stung and her face was raw, as though sand had been forcefully shoved into every pore and crevice. Her eyes began to tear fiercely and she let herself cry—to flush out her eyes, and to flush out her terror.

I nearly died. As I should have a year ago
.

Don't be ridiculous. I was not “supposed” to die. I was meant to live. I have a coven to run, followers to protect
.

At last the tears stopped flowing; she blinked rapidly trying to clear her vision. Slowly the sky shifted into focus . . . and it was low and dark and menacing.

The air was heavy; it almost seemed to crackle. She glanced quickly around. Nothing seemed familiar. Had the wave washed her up farther down the beach?

Electricity crackled down her spine as she slowly straightened. There was magic here and it felt very, very old. Feeling strangely compelled, she turned around so that her back was to the ocean.

Oh, my
. . .

TWO

FALLING LEAF MOON

We grow stronger with each death
Reborn with each foe's last breath
With each sacrifice we renew
Our oaths to the Lord, loyalty true

We spin the wheel of the year
And know there is no cause to fear
For truth it is, that what has died
Strengthens us and dwells inside

The castle was ancient but beautiful. It called to her in a high tenor chant like a medieval troubadour telling the stories of King Arthur and his court. She felt as though she were floating as she moved toward it, her footsteps silent. The vast heap of stones was alive; she could feel it.

“Something wonderful happened here,” she whispered.

A shadow crossed her mind. “And also something horrible.”

Somehow she had covered the ground between her and the great walls without noticing. She reached out her hand to touch the weathered stone and her fingers tingled where they made contact. Power surged through the wall. It reached up her arm and wrapped itself around her, as though to bind her to itself for all eternity.

From within, something called to her, though she could not have told how or who. She placed her whole hand against the stone and leaned against it. Slowly, her flesh melted into the wall, merged with it, passed through it. As her hand went, the rest of her followed.

For a moment everything was dark and damp; fear rose again in her mind, and she thought,
I'm drowning in the ocean; it's a trick!

The panicky moment passed, though, just as she passed through the wall. She turned to stare at the wall for a moment, to marvel in amazement.

Something still called her, compelled her to follow. . . .

She passed through wall after wall. The last wall proved a challenge, resisting her pushing at first, but finally giving way to her efforts. She found herself in a room luxuriant with light and warmth from a fire blazing in a great hearth. When at last she stepped completely through, she realized that she was not alone in the room.

Seated before the fire was a man with his head on his fists. She walked up slowly behind him, without even a whisper of sound to give herself away.
Who is he? Why does he sit with shoulders slumped in despair?

He must have felt something, for he looked up quickly, dropping his hands down toward his sides with a heavy clink.

She understood: Shackles bound the man's wrists and ankles. Holly reached out to touch the band about his left wrist but was painfully repulsed. The man was a captive, both physically and magically.

What could be his crime?

“Living,” he answered.

She jumped backward, startled. She had not spoken out loud; how had he heard her?

“I can feel you, even though I can't see you.” His voice was hoarse, yet hauntingly familiar. “It
is
you, isn't it, Holly?”

He turned his face directly toward her, and for one brief moment she thought he saw her. She shrank backward, but his eyes passed over her and continued on, sweeping the area around her.

And now she could see his face clearly, or rather, what was left of it.

“Jer!” she gasped.

“I'm not so sure of that anymore,” he answered
grimly, fixing in on the location of the sound and staring unnervingly at her left earlobe.

He held up his left hand, and in the flickering light from the fire Holly could see that it was horribly scarred.

“A souvenir. A reminder of how close I came to death and how much I've lost by being alive.”

She didn't understand his words, but she tucked them away in her mind. There would be time later to decipher his meaning.

“Where are we?” she asked.

He shrugged. “The island of Avalon.”

She gasped. “Then this must be . . .”

“Yes. There is powerful magic in these walls. The Supreme Coven has owned this land ever since the death of the dark warlock Merlin. He worked his spells within these walls.”

“Merlin? Supreme Coven? But where is it? Where is Avalon?” she asked, growing desperate. Something was pulling at her; she was slipping away.

Then he reached out to her, hands stretched and shaking with the effort from the weight and magic of them.

“Holly,” he said hoarsely, “don't come. I couldn't help myself, couldn't stop myself from sending my soul out. You are my other half, and I am yours. But
don't come. Exist without me, forever if you have to. Even though you won't be complete.”

He gazed at her with longing, with love, with despair. “Don't look for me,” he said.

“I—” Before she could promise him—
No, I won't promise; I will find you!
—she was ripped away. Back she sailed through all the walls, faster and faster, an undertow pulling at her, the pain accumulating, the hurt to her lungs profound—the hurt to her heart even more so.

She slammed against the last wall, and it groaned for a moment beneath her weight before giving way.

Pain surged through her right ankle.

Then she was back on the shore, in pitch darkness, running as fast as she could toward the water. Unseen hands hastened her along, and when she reached the ocean, they pushed her in.

The undertow caught her and dragged her so far out to sea that she could no longer see the shore.

Oh, my God, no. I was safe. Don't do this to me. Don't pull me out. I was safe!

Angry and frightened, she tried to fight the waves, to struggle back toward the unseen land.

A wave washed over her head and she closed her eyes tight against it. When at last she reopened them, it was once again daylight. The sun was yellow, tired, and wan, but it was shining.

There, not more than fifteen yards away, was the Seattle beach where she had been standing right before getting pulled into the water.

Holly gasped and swallowed sea water. She began coughing desperately. She was going through it all again, exactly as she had moments—
minutes? hours?
before. Remembering the huge wave, she turned and looked for it. There it was! She took a breath, offered up the same words, and felt the surge of power as the wave picked her up and carried her to the beach.

It took just as long to cry the sand out of her eyes, but when she opened them this time, Amanda was staring down at her.

Nicole: Spain, October

Cologne had frightened Nicole out of Germany.

Now in Spain, she moved like a hunted creature. Banners were up in the store windows to celebrate Halloween, presented as an American holiday; now it was late, the stores were closed, and no one walked the cobblestone streets. Silence hung thick like a blanket in this place whose look, whose feel, whose very smell was foreign to her. Nicole wrinkled up her nose. Coming to Madrid had seemed like a good idea at the time; there were hundreds of chapels, a cathedral, churches by the score.

But suddenly she wasn't so sure she should be there.

It feels very wrong
.

A noise behind her caused her to twist. She forced herself to relax as the stumbling drunk waved at her before veering off on his way home, perhaps to an expected chastening from his long-suffering wife.

She folded her arms tight across her chest and forced herself to walk. The youth hostel she had checked in to was not that far, and at the moment she wanted nothing more than to be tucked into her little bed, safe and asleep.

I wish I were back home in Seattle
. As it had a hundred times before, the thought came unbidden to her mind and she waved a hand in the air, as if she could push away the thoughts and feelings bombarding her: grief, relief, fear, homesickness.

She and her mom had started practicing magic because she had learned a few tricks from Eli. It had been fun, a secret game the two of them had played. Corn dollies and sympathetic magic.