Chapter 24: Chapter Twenty-Four

I was in that damned itchy white lace gown again. I gritted my teeth as I knelt, resisting the urge to rip the dress from my body and itch all over.

One day, I would burn this dress and save any future women from having to suffer its confinement.

I was adorned once again in my ceremonial crystals. I clinked and shone with each move I made, the silver and the stones catching the light from the candles.

This time, however, I was also wearing rose quartz to encourage unconditional love, trust, and bonding.

Eve was kneeling in front of me, also wearing an old, itchy white dress. She had braided her long hair back in the same way mine was.

Both of us had stargazer flowers wound into our hair after we had agreed that ambition would be our unifying trait.

Typically, the Celestial Oath was taken outside under a clear sky. But with the start of the Witch Hunt, the skies had been overcast for the last thirty-six hours.

The rain fell heavily now, thunder and lightning urging it along. Roseburg was under a flash flood warning, but the witches faced a far more severe threat.

Their extinction at the hands of the Daemon Hunters.

As my aunt had explained to Grant and me over a cup of bitter herbal tea, the Daemon Hunters were a group of fanatics that had existed for centuries.

They rose to power around the same time King James of Scotland wrote ~Daemonology~, which was a text published to warn the British people that witches were among them.

The text went on to describe how to differentiate the innocent from the guilty and the proper ways to both judge and execute those found guilty of witchcraft.

The book gave the people an excuse and a guide to hunt down and murder witches. The next century was filled with murder based off little more than superstition.

As my aunt explained, any real witches living in Britain at the time promptly left. Simply disappeared. The men and women who were executed were innocent.

Even the ones who confessed to witchcraft, my aunt claimed, had only done so to stop whatever torture they had been forced to endure.

The Daemon Hunters emerged around this time, but unlike the panicked mass population, these individuals were spot-on with their hunting.

My aunt said they had been lucky from the start, capturing an actual witch whom they kept for years. Subjecting her to trial and torture and abuse.

From her, the Hunters learned of the other supernatural clans, and they had been gaining knowledge and power ever since.

These Hunters are known as different things to different supernatural clans. Vampires call them Slayers. Fae call them Iron Wielders. Werewolves call them Sun Warriors.

Regardless of their title, they were a problem for my clan. Their obsession was the eradication of the supernatural world.

Eve and I were on our knees facing each other in my mother’s voodoo room.

The witches had decorated as well as they could, hanging astrological tapestries and dotting the space with heavy candles and bundles of flowers and dried herbs.

Eve was also decorated in crystals, a choker at her throat glittered with them. She grinned at me when our gazes met, her eyes sparkling. I smiled too, sure that I was making the right choice.

Eve’s tattoo had been filled in with smudges of colored powder, making the grayscale tree come to life on her arm.

I looked over Eve’s shoulder and caught Grant’s eyes. Under normal circumstances, only clan witches would be able to attend this ceremony.

My aunt had tried to shoo him out into the rain, and I had silenced her with one look.

He stood off to the side, hands clasped in front of him and shoulders dipped in respect to the witches who fidgeted at his presence.

He didn’t smile as our eyes met, but he did look at me in a way that sent a quick shiver through me. He was not only accepting of me in this element, but he was intrigued by it, excited by it.

His look made me feel raw, made me feel powerful. I felt like I could turn myself inside out and Grant wouldn’t look away. He accepted this part of me, every part of me.

I turned back to Eve and held her eyes. I heard my aunt move then, coming around to kneel beside us both. She was humming low in her throat, singing an old ballad.

I felt water splash the side of my face, felt heat from a candle as it was circled around us, felt salt under my knees, felt the smoke from burning sage caress the side of my face.

With the elements, Eve and I were cleansed.

“Eveline and Morda,” my aunt evoked our names, “enchantresses of forest and fire, do you wish to continue with this Celestial Oath? Do you still wish to be divinely paired in the eyes of our Goddess?

“Do you wish to connect yourselves to one another, to share yourself with one another, to give access to your strength to the other?”

Eve’s voice was sure and strong. “I do.”

I nodded and swallowed thickly. “I do.”

My aunt nodded solemnly. “Please take ahold of one another’s hands.”

I sucked in a quick breath as I reached for Eve’s outstretched hand. Her fingers were cool against my skin.

I pressed firmly against her hand, my ring digging slightly into her skin. Eve only grinned back.

“Eveline and Morda,” my aunt sang, her throat becoming throaty and low. She picked up a heavy rope and began binding our hands together.

Eve squeezed my hand tighter as the rope was tied around our wrists, our palms, our fingers.

All around us the witches stood and sang.

~Under moon and star, two become one.~

~Through night and day, their spirits unite.~

~By Goddess and Mother Divine, strangers become sisters.~

~From womb to earth and earth to sky, join forest and fire.~

~Allow for another heart in each body.~

~Allow for another tongue in each mouth.~

~Allow for another being in each soul.~

~Give blessing, give strength, give struggle, give growth,~

~For those who take this Celestial Oath.~

I was in the forest. I could feel leaves and bracken underfoot, could smell rain-soaked dirt, could taste the pollen in the air.

The leaves rustled high above me, the wind pushing the tops of the trees so they swayed and shook. Sunlight trickled through the branches, diluted by the time it struck my shoulders and the earth around me.

I heard a laugh and turned. As I did, the image around me shifted so I was standing surrounded by four walls of fire. The heat made my skin tight. My eyes watered from the smoke.

My heart hummed with each crack and pop of the coals. I grinned and held my hand out for the flame. It took the shape of a tree, flickering and jumping beneath my hand.

I felt Eve squeeze my hand. I blinked and looked around, my knees firmly planted on the carpet of my mother’s voodoo room.

Eve was shaking her head, eyes slowly slipping back to the present. She raised her green eyes to mine hesitantly, testing.

The heavy clang of bangles alerted me to my aunt’s presence beside me. “Eveline and Morda, you are now joined until death. By taking this Celestial Oath, you are now bound by both force and soul.

“Shall you ever attempt to betray this oath, the might of the Mother Divine will strike you down. Cherish your bond, cherish each other. Congratulations.”

Eve squeaked and threw an arm around my neck, squishing me to her. She was rambling on, too fast for me to follow much. I hugged her back tightly.

We were sisters now—she had access to my power and I had access to hers. Beyond that, though, there was a deep-rooted feeling of trust that gave me a newfound sense of security and comfort.

“—I’ll teach you everything about poplar trees and—”

“Congratulations,” Marty said, squeezing my shoulder through Eve’s crushing embrace.

“—we’ll be able to climb and—”

“Strength and happiness to you both,” another witch offered, one eye straying to Eve who was still squeezing my neck. I grimaced and thanked her for her well wishes.

“—I can’t believe we’re—”

“You’ll make a strong pair, I’m sure,” Greta said, glaring at Eve.

“Thank you, I—”

“Stop smothering my niece before she passes out,” my aunt barked. Eve jumped and released me, leaning back with a dopey smile. Aunt Robin rolled her eyes and came over to us.

“I want to offer my congratulations to the two of you. Few witches have the opportunity to take this oath. Honor it. Morda, can I speak to you alone?”

I nodded and smiled at Eve, assuring her I’d catch up with her in a few minutes. The older witches had made an easy transition from chanting age-old ballads to eighties karaoke.

If the cheesy music and shrimp ring were any indication, celebration was in full swing.

I felt my aunt’s firm hand on my upper arm and let her steer me to the hallway. She sat on the staircase, and I followed her lead.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into with that one,” my aunt said, not bothering to hide her distaste for the chatty young witch.

I grimaced. “She’s got a good heart. She came with me to the pack in Astoria without question. However much she might ramble, at least she’s reliable.”

My aunt grumbled under her breath; that was a fact she couldn’t dispute.

“It is a good idea anyway, you and Eve taking this oath. I have a feeling you will need all the strength and support you can get in the upcoming months.”

“I wish Mom was here for it,” I said, voicing for the first time what I had been feeling all night. Everything was starting to become too much.

Between what I did to Kale, what the Daemon Hunters had done to her, what I had to do to free Ben—I was starting to feel like success was more impossible than improbable.

With a sigh and a slight push, my aunt stood. “I know, punk, me too.” We both grimaced as one of the women wailed into the karaoke mic.

My aunt shook her head. “That’s Betty, fucking tone-deaf I tell you. She wasn’t any better in the Roaring Twenties.”

I laughed and stood. “Promise me that when all this is over you, Mom and I will sit around and talk about everything you guys have been through.

“I want to hear all about the twenties and the sixties and every decade—and century—before and after.”

My aunt touched her ring-clad fingers to her lips and smiled. “Kid, when all this is over, I’ll tell you as many stories as you want.” We both chuckled until the sound of thunder sobered us both up.

I looked out the front window, watching the rain run down the sidewalk. Somewhere out there the Daemon Hunters were lying in wait.

“Do you think—”

“Not tonight,” my aunt said quickly. “Enjoy your celebration—goddess knows you missed the last one. Dance with your mate, talk with your new sister, learn something from the old crones.

“Have fun, Morda. You don’t know when you’ll get the chance to again.”

I looked up, surprised to see her blue eyes misty. She pursed her lips, trying to stop the tears from spilling.

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it quick before releasing it, not wanting to embarrass her with affection. She huffed out a short breath and then nudged me toward the festivities.

She turned around and dabbed at her eyes discreetly.

Laughter grabbed me as I entered the living room. The witches were yelling and dancing and singing.

I watched as they each took turns butchering a toast and then happily chugging until their glasses were empty.

Eve threw her arm over my shoulder and laughed with me as the oldest witch downed her drink and then belched.

“I felt your fire,” Eve said to me, clinking her glass against mine. I looked up at her hesitantly, waiting for her to pass judgment. Her green eyes sparked with mischief.

“And I thought tree magic was sensual.”

I blushed scarlet. “Fire is overwhelming and dangerous and—”

“Sexy,” Eve declared with a small hiccup. She picked a stargazer petal out of her hair and wriggled her eyebrows at me. “Very sexy.”

“Er…”

Eve smiled seductively. “So you and Grant haven’t…”

I shook my head, stomach clenching and then dropping. “No.”

She grinned. “But you want to—”

“I—”

Her hair shimmered as she threw her head back and laughed. I blushed a deeper shade of red, sure my face was nearing purple. She turned her twinkling eyes on me.

“If you need anything—advice, protection charms, lingerie—just let me know.”

“I felt the forest too,” I blurted, trying to distract her. “It was beautiful.”

Her smile was dazzling. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“I look forward to it,” I said earnestly.

She laughed, “I look forward to hearing all the juicy details once you decide to put that sensual fire magic to good use—”

Grant cleared his throat above us. I jumped, spilling my drink on the itchy white gown. Eve giggled and stood before sauntering off to join the karaoke troop.

I dabbed at the gown, trying to get the worst of the spill off. The entire time my mind was looping around the same terrible question. ~How much had he heard?~

Grant took Eve’s seat beside me, hands folded together on his lap. I held my breath as we sat together, afraid that my exhale would give him grounds to tease me.

He seemed at ease beside me, leading me to hope that he hadn’t overheard.

He leaned in close, shoulder brushing mine. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s nice that you have a friend who’s willing to share lingerie.”

I smacked his arm.

Grant laughed, and the sound eased some of my nerves. “Sensual fire magic,” he murmured, taking his time with each word. “How intriguing.”

I groaned. “Please don’t embarrass me.”

Grant’s eyes looked darker in the low light, for once losing their eerie hollowness. “Never.” His follow-up grin was absolutely wicked.

The music changed, the disco ’80s tunes replaced by a slower ballad. I felt Grant tense beside me before he moved his lips to my ear. “Would you like to dance, witch?”

I fought a smile. “I’d love to, wolf.”

Grant stood and pulled me up with him, his hand holding mine tightly. Without much warning, he pulled me tight to his chest and then slowly spun us to the center of the room.

There a few of the older witches were swaying side to side together, humming along to Marty, whose husky voice was lead vocal for the ballad.

Grant was a smooth dancer, his moves neither impressive nor offensive. He glided along the floor, pulling me with him effortlessly.

It was too easy for me to fall into his rhythm, to give in to his touch.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, resisting the urge to let my eyes slip closed. Between the dancing, the wine, and the gentle crooning, I was slowly being lulled into sleep.

“You look beautiful this way,” Grant murmured in my ear, adjusting his grip on my back.

“You look so strong and sure in this element. Flowers in your hair, crystals along your throat—you look like a different person.”

“I’m not,” I whispered.

His laugh rumbled through my chest. “I know.” We twirled a few more times before he brought his lips back to my ear.

“It scares me to see you like this,” he admitted in a whisper, “you don’t look real. Even now, dancing with you while you’re this version of yourself feels like a dream.”

I swallowed dryly, my throat becoming itchy as my eyes stung a little. Grant pressed his chin to the top of my head, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of his body so I could forget his words.

I hated him for saying those things, hated him for articulating exactly how I felt—like I was a dreamed-up version of myself, too flimsy to exist in the waking hours.

I could feel each crystal now. I was aware of the flowers in my hair and the old gown that I wore. They all felt like the signs of a disappearing girl—and the beginning of a new woman.

“And if it is a dream?” I whispered back.

Grant pulled back enough for our eyes to meet. “Then I hope I don’t wake up.”

“And if it becomes a nightmare?” I asked.

“I only have one nightmare,” Grant said gruffly, looking over my head as he spoke.

I waited for him to elaborate, but he only took my hand and spun me around, catching my eye and forcing a smile for my benefit. He pulled me close again, his skin warm and flushed.

There was color high in his cheeks too, something I wasn’t accustomed to seeing on his porcelain skin.

Marty finished up her ballad, and everyone clapped and hollered for her. Grant took my hand and wrapped it across my body as I pressed my back to his chest. He whistled and clapped with his free hand.

Marty bowed on the makeshift stage by the window, holding the mic out for the next brave soul. A few witches cheered Eve, urging her to take a shot.

She brushed them off, but I could see the twinkle in her eye. Apparently, my aunt did too because she snatched up the microphone before Eve could get anywhere near it.

Begrudgingly, my aunt chose a rock-and-roll classic that suited her restless rebel soul. She would be a decent singer if she didn’t stop to glare or roll her eyes at the enthusiastic crowd.

Eve snatched me from Grant to dance—which involved a lot of head-banging on her part.

I caught Grant’s eye across the room and pressed my hand against my mouth to keep from laughing. He was surrounded by the older women.

They were fawning over him, offering him food and drink and cheeky smiles. Grant was pressed firmly against the wall, a wry smile on his face as he met my eyes.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and dove back into the conversation he was carrying with the old women.

As the night drew to a close, I began to lose the easiness the night had brought to me. Slowly, the familiar edge of duty and loss began to cut back into my skin.

Tonight may have been fun, but tomorrow would not be.

The witches began to trickle out one by one, yanking on rain jackets and popping umbrellas as they headed out on foot or darted out to taxis.

Eve was the last to leave, kissing my cheek firmly before she pulled on a pink jacket and hurried out into the storm.

Grant hesitated in the hallway, eyes heavy as he turned to me. I moved over to him slowly, taking the hand he had held out for me. He frowned down at our intertwined hands, his eyes moody and drawn.

“Tomorrow it all begins,” he murmured, more to himself than me.

I nodded. “Yes.”

He sucked in a long breath. “I’d better go.”

“He can stay,” my aunt said, appearing in the hallway. She waved a hand, dismissing both Grant’s and my protests.

“He can stay, Morda. I expect you’ll be gone by first light, you may as well save time and leave together. Good night.” She clunked downstairs and shut the door to her bedroom.

I shook slightly as I led Grant upstairs. I showed him the bathroom and then hurried to my room, scrambling to pick up displaced clothes and camera equipment.

I straightened the top of my dresser as best as I could and then turned to the bed, my stomach dropping.

Yes, Grant and I had slept in the same bed before, but that had been his bed—it hadn’t been mine. There was a difference.

I jumped as Grant appeared at the door, his footsteps near silent. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, eyes assessing my room as he hesitated.

I felt stripped bare by his search, my room serving as a physical representation of my identity.

“Come in,” I said, my voice thick.

Grant nodded and entered, sending a thrill through my bones. I moved to my dresser and watched him through the mirror.

He held his hands to himself as he continued his exploration, looking carefully over the prints I had taped to the wall, the trinkets on my shelf.

I reached up and took out my earrings, slipped off my ring, unclasped my necklace. I set the heavy pendant in my jewelry dish and looked up to catch Grant’s gaze through the mirror.

He was sitting on my bed, light hair catching what little light was offered. I watched his eyes trace my outline and shivered.

Rain pelted against my window as I moved toward Grant, sitting on the bed beside him. I looked over my shoulder at him, keeping my eyes low. “Could you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Grant said nothing as he reached out and unclasped the first button along my back, exposing the top of my spine. I shivered as he undid the next clasp, his touch a whisper against my skin.

I pulled out the stargazer petals as he worked slowly, biting down on the tip of my tongue as my hair was freed from its braid.

Wordlessly, Grant moved my braid off my back, brushing it against my shoulder. I inhaled deeply as Grant removed another button, exposing my bare back to him.

He took in a quick breath through his teeth as another button popped free.

“Morda…” he murmured deeply.

I swallowed the nerves on my lips and focused on the fire in my belly. “I can’t get them myself.”

His jaw clenched as he undid the last three buttons and then pushed the fabric off my back and over my shoulders. I sunk my teeth into my lip as he ran his hand down my spine, over my bare hip, lower.

I felt his teeth graze against my neck and arched for him, pressing my head back into his shoulder.

He growled lowly as his fingers grazed my inner thigh, his other hand snaking around my side to graze my breast.

I stifled a moan and moved against him, pressing myself into his chest—feeling the stiff wall of muscle, the hard lines of him.

He kissed up my neck, hand now cupping my breast as he teased my inner thigh.

I called his name huskily, capturing his mouth with mine and biting down on his lip gently. His growl rumbled through me as he touched my center, making me clutch his thigh.

Grant murmured my name against my skin as he built up a rhythm, his other hand exploring the rest of my body. I hissed as heat built up under my skin, behind my eyelids.

I felt him grow stiff under me, the length of him pressing against my back. I moved against him, following the same motion as his hand.

Our breaths hitched and rose together as his finger moved faster inside me, setting me up for release.

Grant’s hand brushed my breast, and I moaned, pressing farther into his body. He called my name, but I barely heard him.

I was being consumed by fire, by lust, by need. I couldn’t keep a thought in my head as we moved, our bodies learning each other as we did.

I gripped his thigh tightly as he sped up. My legs trembled as I arched my back, breath coming hot and fast.

The air caught in my lungs as I reached a climax, my entire body shuddering against Grant as I leaned back into him, pulsing.

I felt his breath on my neck, and then his hand left my breast to cup my jaw. He turned me around, pushing the dress farther down until it pooled around my waist.

I pressed my chest tightly to his as his tongue slipped past my teeth. I pulled away and tugged at the bottom of his shirt, lifting it off over his head.

He grabbed my face as soon as his chest was bare, bringing his lips back to mine. I moved my hips into him, feeling nerves thrum through my body as I felt him stiffen underneath me.

“Morda,” he breathed, his lips catching a moment of freedom.

I made him my prisoner again. My fingers trailed down his chest, over his taut abdominal muscles, to the hard lip of his hip bones. His hand caught mine and brought them back up to his shoulders.

“Morda,” he said again, pulling away. I lifted my heavy lids, desire still coursing through me, thickening my blood.

“Mm?”

“We can’t,” he whispered. I flexed my hips, and he let out a sharp growl that only sparked another fire in me. He reached down and held my hips firmly, stopping all motion.

I let out a long breath. “Why?”

Grant’s jaw was tense, the veins in his neck exposed. “You know why.”

I saw tawny eyes.

Ben.

I rolled off Grant and picked up my dress, pressing it firmly to my chest. I lay down on the far side of the bed and turned to face the wall.

I tried to swallow but couldn’t manage, tried to breathe but couldn’t find air.

Ben. Ben, my other mate. Ben whom I had sanctified my relationship with in front of my mother. Ben who was out there, alone. Ben whom I was going to save tomorrow.

I felt Grant lay down beside me, his breathing gradually slowing. I closed my eyes tightly, feeling tears prick behind my eyelids.

I had been about to make a very serious choice without even pausing to think of the decision.

“I’m sorry, Morda,” Grant mumbled. I felt his hand rest on my hip. “I didn’t want to—I didn’t want you to wake up and remember and feel—didn’t want you to regret—I’m sorry.”

I clenched my teeth and then reached for his hand, clutching it in mine as I turned to face him. He was already gazing down at me, his face drawn and serious.

I looked from his eyes to his lips and felt lust rise up again. My body had no qualms about deciding right now, tonight.

Rain fell heavy against the window, and I used the constant sound to comfort me. “Thank you.” Grant grimaced and squeezed my hand.

He cast his eyes downward after a moment, brows drawing together as he thought. I felt my heart pang for him, felt that pang echo deep inside my chest. “I love you, wolf,” I whispered.

His smile split me in two. “I love you, witch.”