Page 75 of Bad Witch

Fender’s hand slid up my spine, and his thick, long fingers curled around the back of my neck. The hold was possessive but also comforting. “Tell them what you know, peaches.”

My mouth was dry. I cleared my throat several times. “Okay, well.” I turned to Willow. “You’ve heard of the three priestesses?”

Her eyes flared. “Of course.”

“Have you ever heard of the Wraiths of Destruction?”

War straightened, seeming to grow bigger before my eyes.

“I’ve read about them in one of my aunt’s old books,” Willow said.

War made a rough sound. “We thought they were a myth.”

“They’re not,” Willow and I said at the same time.

“Fuck,” War growled.

“About a thousand years ago, there was some kind of natural disaster. In your book, Willow, it said rivers washed away crops, rocks fell from the sky, and the sun was darkened by unrelenting shadow for a full rotation of the sun,” I said, remembering what I read with Fender. “No one knew if the sun would ever return.”

“The darkest night,” she said, obviously knowing the passage.

“I think it was caused by an event, one that involved very strong magic.” I pushed on, telling them how the wraiths and the sisters fell in love, about the wraiths’ thirst for destruction, because that was who they were, and even love couldn’t change that. I went on to tell them that the sisters used glyphs and a spell to put the wraiths into a deep sleep and hid them, locking them away to save mankind.

“And you think the darkest night was a result of the sisters imprisoning them?”

“I do.”

She cursed. “Makes sense. And what happened at the Stonebridge cemetery?” Willow asked. “And how did you get past their wards?”

“Temp sorted that,” Fender said, massaging the back of my neck.

Her gaze slid to me again. “She did?”

I inwardly winced. That should be almost impossible. As far as they knew, I was a witch of average power with a gift for healing. I quickly looked away, anxiety churning through me. “The sisters spoke to me.”

“What did they tell you?” War said, his rumbling voice making me flinch.

“It’s okay,” Fender said. “You’re in no danger here.”

“Yes…I know that.” I cleared my throat again and hoped he was right. It wasn’t War I was afraid of, though, it was the way Willow was looking at me, as if she were trying to figure something out. “After they imprisoned the wraiths, the sisters became immortal. Their spell was so strong it connected…or, more, tied them to the wraiths’ life force. Unfortunately, their immortality didn’t save them.”

“They were decapitated?” Warrick guessed.

“Yes, well, Eartha and Petra were.”

“But the wraiths weren’t released?”

“No,” I said. “Brigid was the only one with the glyphs.”

“And a powerful spell like that would be intrinsically tied to the witch and her magic, and since we still produce magic even after death, the spell would still live on even after death,” Willow added.

“Yes, exactly,” I said. “Which is what happened when Brigid did eventually die…” I swallowed heavily. “After she took her own life.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, then Warrick planted his hands on his hips. “I’m confused. How is this all connected, and who killed Brigid’s sisters?”

“She’s getting to that,” Willow said to her mate. “Let her finish.”

“Apologies,” he said to me.