Soulceress (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 2) (7 page)

“Cernowain’s golden boar has escaped again. Everyone is trying to grab a golden bristle.”

Esha grinned, thankful that Ana had skipped out and come to earth. Her friend always made her feel better. Ever since Esha had run away from her witch school in America three hundred years ago, she hadn’t had any friends other than the Chairman.
 

Not that she needed them. But meeting Ana a few years ago had been a godsend. Literally. She snickered at her own joke.
 

“Didn’t want to stay for the show?” Esha asked.

“Nah, gets old after the first four dozen times. It’s probably the only interesting thing that happens in Otherworld, but I’m over it by now. Where are you going?” Ana fell into step next to Esha as they set off toward the witches’ part of campus.

“Got an assignment for the Praesidium.”

“Ooh, how’s that superfox Warren?” Ana pulled an arrow out of the quiver at her back and twirled it idly between her fingers.
 

“Ugh, a jerk. Every time I see him, I reach for the vinegar instead of the honey. No question, I’m an idiot. But he’s worse.” Esha kicked at the low mist that had begun to hover over the ground.

“So, is he actually a jerk, or do you poke him until he snaps?”

“You know me too well. But both, probably. He hates what I am. Really hates it. He seems so perfect and nice. I actually thought we had some kind of connection. But he’s been a real jerk. It’s a mess.”

“He has to have some kind of issue. I mean, he’s a total upstanding citizen and all, but anyone that perfect has something really weird about them you can’t see. This can’t go anywhere good. You’ve got to quit mooning over him.”

“I have.”
I haven’t. Have I?

“Liar.”

“Whatever—you killed the dude
you
liked.”
 

Ana stopped twirling her arrow and glared at her. “Don’t remind me.”
 

“Sorry, low blow. I’m in a shitty mood, and I shouldn’t take it out on you.” Ana had become the goddess of victory by killing Camulos, the previous war god. It had been an ugly mess that Esha didn’t fully understand, only that Ana had liked Camulos but had been in a bad situation with the other gods. To protect her family, she’d had to kill him.

“Fair enough, it’s true. But enough of that. You’re down here on earth. You’ve got a shot at a real relationship! All the men! I mean, sure, you’ve been mooning over Warren for about a decade now, but he’s clearly got too many issues. Maybe you should start looking for someone else, for a real relationship.” Ana’s voice was wistful. Esha had a feeling that Ana might live vicariously through her.

“As if I care.”
Liar.
“Anyway, even if I did, where am I going to find someone for a
real
relationship? Mytheans hate me.”
 

“Brian was a freak, you know. He didn’t deserve you.”

“Quit being so insightful.” Her friend
would
get to the heart of what was bothering her.

“It’s true. I get that having your first love turn on you can do some serious damage. Trust me, I do. But it was a fluke. He was a jerk.”

He was, though he hadn’t started out that way. He’d attended the boys’ school across the lake from her own all-girls witches’ academy, the North American Academy for Immortal Magics. She shouldn’t have been at a witch school, but it was the only place for an orphan soulceress to go. The Burnings hadn’t been a problem in America, so it had been safe enough, and baby witches were basically like baby soulceresses. Until they came into their powers.

It had been a good fit, until it hadn’t been. During the good times, she’d had all her friends and eventually Brian. They’d dated for two years. Two years of blissful young love. Love that might have made it.

But then she’d come into her powers as a soulceress, which normally happened around adulthood. It had started over the summer, coming in bits and spurts. When her friends figured out that she was sucking their powers away from them, they’d turned on her.
 

Brian had promised he wouldn’t.
 

But eventually the disgust of their fellow students and the pressure of his prejudice had driven him away. The more desperate she became and the more she tried to cling to him, the faster he withdrew. She’d had no control of her powers or of herself at the time, had been floundering with no life raft, and it had been the last thing that she could bear.

With no friends and Brian gone, she’d left the school before graduation. She’d learned the hard way what happened when she let down her guard.

“I can’t believe I told you about all that,” Esha said.

“Of course you do. We’re friends, idiot. And I love you even if that asshole didn’t.” Ana punched her.

“Thanks. Really.”

“What about a mortal, then?”

“Mortals die.”
 

She’d tried that too, when she’d been too young to know any better and wanted to bury the memory of Brian. The mortal she’d fallen for had been lovely and kind. She’d loved him. Had even been stupid enough to dream of a life with him.
 

Until he’d died in a carriage accident from which she’d easily walked away. It had pulled her world out from under her.

Since then, she’d never tried for something permanent because her options were only mortals. She didn’t even know how she’d go about having a real relationship. She had no practice, only a long series of one-night stands and rejections by her own kind.
 

Their loss.

“So, what’s this job like?” Ana asked.

“Gotta help the lame-o witches. They’re in over their heads.” She was looking forward to it. A chance to show those bitches up.

“Do you know what it is?”

“No. Something that Warren told me not to screw up.”
 

They’d reached the beautifully wild garden surrounding the witches’ cottages and greenhouses. Even now, well past dark and at the height of autumn, fluffy bunnies and cute cats roamed through the flowerbeds. Other animals would be about as well—raccoons and deer, badgers and voles. They were drawn to the Animus witches, who, likewise, were drawn to them. No one hated a witch who drew her power from the happy feelings of a kitten. Esha scowled.

“Fates,” Ana said when a bunny hopped up to her to sniff at her leg. “It’s like a Disney movie.”
 

“I thought you liked Disney movies.” Ana loved all movies. Anything that showed life on earth was her bag.

“Not like this I don’t. Don’t even think about it,” she said to the bunny.

Esha laughed, but it made her vaguely ill too. Give her rogue Mytheans creeping through the underground any day. As a mercenary, she didn’t spend much time around bunnies. Not that they weren’t nice, but there was something about this place that put her off.
 

“Don’t worry,” she told Ana. “There are still plenty of witchy creepy crawlies.”
 

And there were. Insects and snakes loved the witches as much as the bunnies did, but they weren’t as easy to see in the dark.

Ana looked up from the bunny, who was now nibbling on the lace of her leather boot. “I’d better get back. You’ve got work to do, and I bet the debacle in Otherworld is almost over. Good luck with the sparkle witches.”

Esha smiled. “Thanks. Try to sneak out again soon. We can go out.”
 

“Sure. See you later!”

Without a sound, Ana left and Esha stood alone at the entrance to the gardens.
 

Now or never. She strode through the wrought-iron archway and caught sight of an illuminated cottage at the back edge of the garden. Night-blooming roses climbed up trellises in front of the stone walls and fireflies lit the way down the path. The Chairman hissed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a bunny scamper off. Esha grinned.

In moments, she was knocking on the wooden door of the cottage. It swung open to reveal a small witch with a marmot riding on her shoulder. Esha resisted rolling her eyes.

“Welcome—come in!” The pink-haired witch’s voice was cheerful.

The warm greeting took Esha aback, but she entered. The brightly lit little cottage was clearly a workspace and not a home. Shelves of books and crystals lined the walls, and a few chairs and tables were scattered about. But otherwise it was empty, save for a dozen witches, who smiled at her when she entered. Esha stared back, uncertain what to do. They’d never acknowledged her before. And they’d certainly never smiled.

“So, what do you need help with?” she asked.

“Um, a binding spell that we can’t do without you. But can I get you something to drink first?”

“No, thanks.”

“Oh my gosh, I love your jacket,” the youngest witch in the room burst out.
 

Esha glanced down at the short, honey-brown leather jacket. It was a good one. Maybe these witches weren’t so bad, with their compliments and drink offers.

“Thanks,” she said, then turned to the marmot witch. The woman had come a bit too close and flinched when Esha turned to face her. Disgust and fear glinted in her eyes.
 

Right. So that’s how it was, same as always. Nice on the surface when they needed her, but underneath it all was the usual bullshit.
 

When she looked more closely at the witches surrounding her, she saw the strain around their eyes that hadn’t at first been evident when she’d walked into the room. Except the complimentary witch. She just looked a little addle-brained. Maybe she didn’t know enough to be afraid of Esha.

“Anyway,” Esha said. “Let’s get started.”

“Okay. Come over here, if you don’t mind,” the marmot witch said.
 

Esha crossed the wide wooden floorboards to the table in the middle of the room. A slender ceremonial dagger lay on it, along with a few other things.
 

Esha rubbed her hands together. After the hit of power she’d gotten off Ana, she could do anything. In fact, she’d barely drawn any from these witches since she was basically full up. Jeez, they shouldn’t be so nervous. Like she wanted their piddly power anyway.
 

“So, what do you need me to do?” Esha asked.

Much of the magic practiced by these and most other witches was a group affair. But she doubted it would be this time, if she’d been called in. A soulceress wasn’t a witch because she didn’t need spells and her power wasn’t innate, but she was similar. Unlike the witches, she was able to work solo only because of the immense amount of power she could borrow from other Mytheans.

She listened as they told her about the prisoner who was locked up and how she would wreak havoc if she were allowed out again.
 

“So you want me to cast a spell that will keep her locked up forever? That seems pretty harsh. What’d she do?”

“This is the right thing to do,” one of the witches said, terror on her face. “The prisoner is evil like I’ve never seen before. The soulceress who locked her up before was the only one strong enough to do so. She’d have locked her up for longer if she could have.”

Soulceress.
Esha wondered who it had been. She’d never met another of her kind before, but she’d always wanted to.
 

Again, her eye caught the dagger lying on the table. Silver glinted in the light, and realization hit her. They wanted not only her power to bind the witch, but her blood as well. Esha’s head swam. That meant that they wanted her to imprison one of her own kind. Not a witch at all, but a soulceress.
 

Not only that, blood rituals were a big freaking deal. She would give away some of her ability permanently when she gave her blood for the ritual. It would leave her able to draw less power and manifest less magic.

“Holy shit,” she murmured.
 

Though some might call a soulceress a witch, what with the magic and all, these bitches knew better. They expected her to lock up her own kind. Forever. And to sacrifice part of herself to do so.

The witches had backed away from her a few feet. Esha was vaguely aware that the Chairman was stalking erratically in circles around her. She swayed a bit as she realized that she might have an opportunity to meet another of her kind. And that the witches had lied to her.
 

“Whoa, ladies. No way am I helping you with this,” she said.

“What?” The marmot witch’s voice sounded strangled. “You have to.”

“No.” Esha shook her head and turned in a circle, taking in the sight of the twelve frightened witches surrounding her. “No, I really don’t. Were you going to tell me I was locking up another soulceress?”

Esha could see in their faces that they hadn’t intended to. Did they think she was stupid?

“Right, then. I think we’re done.” She turned to leave, the Chairman already ahead of her and waiting impatiently at the door.

“But... why?”

Esha didn’t bother to turn around to answer the question. “Please. She’s probably no more evil than I am.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

In his office, Warren paced in front of the fireplace. Despite the autumn wind that howled against the mullioned windows, the hearth lay cold. His mind was a jungle of tangled vines, the only thought he could grasp was that of Esha’s coming task. He hadn’t been able to eat or shower. The duties of managing the Praesidium had fallen by the wayside.