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“I know,” Sofia said. “Do what you can. Get a message out and see if anyone will come. But we’re going to be fighting today. Soon.”
Two of the council members raced down the boardwalk, shouting the alarm. The rest aetherwalked away.
Malcolm understood why she was the leader. Not just the Protector of Bruxa’s Eye, but its commander. Pride welled in him.
Gods, how he wished that she were his.
Sofia’s sharp gaze met his. “Get Aurora to rally the help she promised. We need them. Now.”
He nodded sharply, and though he hated to leave her, he aetherwalked away.
Fear suffused the pain Sofia felt at watching Malcolm disappear. Kitty pressed up against her leg, but it gave her no comfort. Seeing him but knowing they couldn’t be together felt like a burning knife in her chest. And it didn’t even matter if he could stop being a warlock, because she was fated to die.
In the battle that was about to start. The High Witches hadn’t given them until the end of the deadline. They were attacking now.
The air was deadly silent and now held an unnatural chill. The waters of the river were nearly half gone, receding in both directions.
“Why?” Aleia asked from her side. “Why the river?”
Sofia glanced at her friend. “I don’t know.” But it scared the crap out of her.
“It will come back,” Inara said. “Stronger. More. It will flood.”
Sofia whipped around to look at her. Inara’s face was white, her fists clenched. “What?”
“I’ve seen this before. It will flood. And it will bring more than water.”
“More?”
“Evil. But I don’t know what kind.” Inara was stepping slowly backward.
Sofia turned back to the river. The morning was bright, normal, except for the river and the unnatural chill of dark magic in the air.
The sounds of townspeople spilling out of their houses sounded behind her, breaking through the eerie silence. But her gaze was riveted to the far side of the river, over a hundred yards away. Morning mist still clung to the groundon that side, which was more shaded from the harsh rays of the sun.
From the ghostly mist, figures began to appear, walking from the jungle toward the bank. Their cloaks flapped around their feet.
Thirteen.
The High Witches. They would wage their battle from that side. The thirteen figures came to a stop at the bank, so far away that they appeared small and slight.
A lie.
A snarling wolf loped up to her side. Alistair, leader of the werewolves. Other wolves, all smaller but no less deadly, appeared next to him. Vampires armed with swords and speed came to a stop behind them.
On her other side, next to Aleia, a group of fae arrived, clutching bows and arrows. Their wings trembled in anticipation, their eyes gleamed with a feral hunger. Fae loved to fight, but Sofia was worried that they were biting off more than they could chew here.
Not that they had much choice. They were here to fight for their lives.
Sofia reached for Aleia’s hand and squeezed it. She wanted to scream at the High Witches, curse them to hell, but they wouldn’t hear her at this distance.
Her skin heated as the energy in the air shifted. Her gaze darted over the water, at the boats that rocked.
The water rose.
Slowly, but it rose. With it would come evil.
Her heart pounded. They couldn’t wait here for it, not for whatever dark magic the High Witches would raise against them. But they would have to. Even now, she could see theshimmer in the air that denoted a magical barrier surrounding the High Witches. If they tried to aetherwalk, to attack directly, they would be blocked.
