Page 87 of Witch's Fate

To live.

Just as the river started to hold steady at its original water line and she thought they might actually have a real chance, the wind began to roar. Clouds swirled overhead, coalescing into a funnel over the river. A dark spot formed on the water, spiraling out and upward until a tornado of water rose to meet the cloud above. In the distance, the High Witches raised their arms and screamed.

The mutant waterspout surged toward them.

“We have this!” a feminine voice yelled. “Keep holding the river back!”

Sofia searched frantically and saw Aurora, Esha at her side. They raced toward the river and splashed in up to their knees. Their familiars followed. Fangs bared and coated in mud, they turned to smoke at the water and hovered by their mistresses. Aurora and Esha raised their hands, black hair and blond whipping in the wind.

A tornado formed in front of them, as big as the waterspout. They directed it toward the oncoming disaster. Wind shrieked and leaves flew through the rain.

Sofia fought a skeleton that went for her throat. She tore its slimy grip from her throat, then blasted him with fire from her wand. She whirled to watch the tornado. Wind and water clashed. The water poured back into the river as the waterspout was torn apart by the soulceress’ tornado.

Hope flared in Sofia’s chest. They were beating back the rising river and the waterspout. If they could hold them off, the High Witches would run out of magical power and the corpses would fade. Then they could kill the witches.

They could win this.

The waterspout flared back to life, bigger than ever. A second joined it. The air roared with the wind as the river surged forward. It broke past Malcolm’s defenses, past Cam’s and Logan’s. Sofia was up to her waist in a second, her chest a moment later.

The High Witches weren’t fading. They were destroying enough of her village that they were reaping the extra power. They’d be fueled until they destroyed them all.

She wanted to scream her despair to the sky, but she couldn’t. That wasn’t her role.

They weren’t going to win. She was going to die. But she wouldn’t go out like a coward who’d abandoned her people.

“To higher ground!” she screamed. “We fight from the roofs!”

She was about to aetherwalk to one of the gently sloping roofs when a great force picked up. Though it was invisible, it squeezed her chest and yanked her off the ground, like an angry child with a doll. The earth dropped away from beneath her and fear roared in her chest. She kicked and clawed, but couldn’t break free as she soared through the air.

Malcolm roared as something squeezed his chest and lifted him into the sky. He thrashed, trying to see what heldhim, but it was futile. He could see nothing but the view below.

The floodwaters devoured the town as the enormous waterspouts overpowered the soulceresses’ tornado. Mytheans had moved the battle from the wharf to the streets, where they fought in waist-deep water.

Whatever carried him dropped him onto the rooftop patio of one of the tallest buildings in town. He crashed to the ground next to Sofia. They scrambled to their feet.

The Salem Coven surrounded them. A quick glance revealed twelve of them. They were soaking wet, hair straggling around their faces and their grins manic. Had they come all the way from Massachusetts to join the battle?

Fuck.

He glanced at Sofia. She stood, bedraggled and wet, but straight and tall with Kitty clutched to her chest.

A witch wearing a green cloak waved her hand at Sofia and said, “You think we’d let you wear the guise of power in our presence?”

Sofia’s Crone form and clothing disappeared, replaced with her normal visage and apparel.

“Didn’t think you’d see us again?” The witch who spoke was the Salem Coven’s High Priestess, if he recalled. She hadn’t shown up that night in Salem until their escape because she’d been away. A crazed light gleamed in her eyes.

“Not particularly.” He glanced over the side of the building. Every bit of help they could hope for was already engaged in a battle for their lives. He swallowed hard and looked back at the witches.

“We owe you one for destroying our Grimoire and half our house. We hadn’t intended to pay you back so soon, butthen we caught wind of this when the villagers were seeking help from outside Bruxa’s Eye. Well, we couldn’t let the opportunity—”

An icy chill formed at Malcolm’s back and dark power prickled along his skin as a voice demanded, “How dare you!”

With dread rising in his chest, he turned to see the thirteen High Witches standing behind him. Malevolent power seethed around them. Their white cloaks were dry despite the rain and they were exponentially stronger than they had been when he’d first met them, no doubt from feeding off all the power caused by the destruction of Bruxa’s Eye.

“They’re our kill!” the High Witch bellowed. Her voice made the roof tremble. “Yet you encroach upon us?”

“We didn’t start this.” The High Priestess’ voice was so dark that it chilled Malcolm’s bones.

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