Page 12 of Reckless Witch

“Trouble follows me like shadows,” I groan.

It’s a phrase Grams used to say, but not one most witches would make a habit of using. Grams thought that fearing a word like ‘shadows’ was just plain silly. She’d garnered criticism for that stance. Still, how could anyone think she would stray to the dark side? She was nothing but light. She’d surrounded her shop with crystals to encourage the light to remain long after nightfall. We positioned herbs throughout the house to encourage harmony and peace—and, generally, we had peace.

Memory jumps to a fuzzy view of Grams leaning over me, chanting powerful words, her face drawn with fear. A prickle creeps up my spine. Behind her, candles flicker in the nooks and crannies of a cave wall. When was I ever underground with Grams? As a jumble of images follow, I sit up abruptly, unwilling to remember more. Tonight, I’ve had enough of the past.

It’s tomorrow that worries me, now.

Chapter Five

ETHAN

Of Mages and Students

I stand at the window in Raith’s office and watch the sun’s early rays dapple the gray Mercedes that glides up the school’s drive. Olympia, the Grand Witch, Head of the Illumina Council that controls all Illumina Academies and ensures the Hell Gates remain sealed, has come to set up the first virtual world created since virtual worlds were outlawed during the Shadow War.

I release a breath. I’m not looking forward to our war games this year. A virtual Shadow world is a space that swallows light. Without light, love cannot grow. Hate and fear are sure to slither like brackish water in this created void. That reminds me too much of the myriad of nights Raith, Blade, and I prowled the streets of New York stopping crimes the NYPD had no idea were taking place while we searched for the source of The Shadows. Little had we known they were waiting in our dreams.

The virtual Shadow world is a huge undertaking, even for the Grand Witch. But I wonder if there’s more to her visit, even more than her concern over Miriam having killed herself while practicing Shadow magic: she’s unearthed news of Damien.

My fire warms. We kill Damien, The Shadows cease to exist. At least, that’s the theory. I’ve lived long enough to heed caution when dealing with demigods. The last time someone other than a god tried to kill a demigod, Yissa, son of Erra, the god of plague, sent the Black Death in retribution for the attempt on his life. I doubt Damien will go as quietly.

The Mercedes stops in front of the building. If we do manage to kill Damien, that will lead to the next big crisis: do we open the Hell Gates? Olympia has kept the gates closed, despite efforts by demons and religious zealots to break the spell. Even some among the Zidruhin want the gates opened. One would think that the followers of the ancient god of angels—the god responsible for hell’s creation—would accept that if their god wanted the gates open, he would open them himself. Interestingly enough, Elohim has remained silent on the matter.

I grimace as Olympia’s driver opens her car door and she steps out. Even Elohim might think twice about tangling with the Grand Witch of the North. She has no intention of relinquishing her power.

Five minutes later, Raith’s assistant, shows Olympia into Raith’s study. I nod thanks to Madeline and she closes the door on her way out of the room.

Despite her great age, Olympia’s skin is virtually wrinkle-free and, while the sparkle in her eyes lends a light-hearted, youthful appearance, she’s anything but a dust-sprinkling fairy.

The Grand Witch settles into the Spanish leather chair in front of Raith’s desk. Head held high, she surveys the room as if she’s seated on a throne and holding court. But then, I suppose she is.

“Ethan.” Her smoky voice is deep for a woman.

Even though we both protect Margidda, Olympia’s a schemer, yet her voice fascinates, slides under your skin. Somewhere in her veins, Fae blood must flow.

“Grand Witch.” I angle my head, then sit to her left, and we wait.

Two minutes later, Raith enters followed by Blade. So, the Fae got Raith’s message last night. I send him a look that says we’ll talk about Ciarah after this meeting. Blade gives a barely perceptible nod and, ever the charmer, approaches Olympia. His smile melts her like butter. She extends a hand. He grasps her fingers and brushes his lips across her knuckles.

“Blade.” A coquettish gleam lights her eyes.

“An honor, Mistress Olympia,” Blade murmurs.

She watches him saunter to the window as Raith settles behind his desk. Raith and Blade are polar opposites. Blade enchants women. Raith…well, Raith demands loyalty.

“I’ve found him,” Olympia says without preamble.

My heart picks up speed. Am I right? Has she found Damien?

“The perfect man to fill the position as Headmaster of Illumina Academy New York,” she says. “Mage Edd Domini, Master Extraordinaire of potions, brews and concoctions.”

“Never heard of him,” Raith says.

I haven’t heard of him, either, which is odd. Still, there must be something extraordinary about the man if Olympia chose him.

“Impeccable credentials,” she says. “He is Italian. You will love him.”

“I’ll consider him,” Raith replies.