Page 25 of Witch's Fate

But the cost had been too high for her. Faced with the enormous power before her, she couldn’t help but think that maybe being an Oath Breaker wouldn’t have been so bad. Malcolm could do almost anything he wanted. He could wave his hand and make one of the surrounding mountains rise. Hecould bring lightning down upon his enemies, striking them dead. He could mimic almost any supernatural talent with his magic—like creating fire. If he wanted, he was strong enough to battle a god.

She shook herself. There was no point in being jealous, because no oaths meant no love. No close family. She couldn’t live without that. Worse, she might have had to break her vow to protect her village. She’d had to stand her ground—giving up Malcolm and all the power accessible to a warlock.

It’d been the right choice. Theonlychoice. The fact that her life was nearly as cold and lonely as his was beside the point. Protecting her village might take up so much time that she couldn’t have a real life, but it was her sacred duty.

Sofia lowered herself to the ground and leaned against the wall. There wasn’t a stick of furniture in the empty room, but she was happy to just sit here and bathe in the glow of the aether, letting the warmth and power wash over her. Normally the energy from the aether was dark and cold, but a warlock’s power converted it to bright, pure energy.

Kitty climbed onto her lap, purring like a little jet engine. Kitty wasn’t as fierce as some familiars—hence her name—but she more than made up for it in love and support. Familiars increased their mistress’s connection to the aether, giving them power and strength when needed. Kitty was always quick to donate hers. It was one of the reasons that Sofia was such a powerful Bruxa.

She watched Malcolm as he stood before the aether that pulsed and shimmered, performing some kind of magic she didn’t quite understand. Power radiated out from him. Shecould feel it, like an eerie caress against her skin. Only the strongest Mytheans radiated power.

She’d given up a chance to be one of them so she could have a normal life. One in which she could keep her vows and thereby have family, friends, and a husband. Too bad it hadn’t worked out. She should have known that duty would get in the way no matter what. The position of Protector was too important. It took up too much time. Not to mention the fact that she was expected to appear as the Crone whenever she was out and about in Bruxa’s Eye.

It was tradition. Most citizens didn’t even realize that it was her—Sofia Viera—who protected the village. It was the Protector, appearing in the most powerful form a witch could take. A symbol meant to comfort as well as do the dirty work of keeping the village safe.

She remembered begging her mother to allow her to appear as herself when she’d first begun her transition to Protector. Sofia had just gotten old enough to realize she liked the way boys looked at her. Willingly looking like an old Crone? No way.

Her mother had refused. Tradition was vital. The Crone was a symbol of power. Strength. Everything a protector needed to be. But Sofia had been stubborn. On their next mission to retrieve a tribute, Sofia had taken her own form halfway through. They’d been deep in an Egyptian temple, hunting for an ancient magical necklace worn by the Pharaoh Hatshepsut. Magical booby traps that had been held at bay by the power of her Crone form were no longer silent. They’d sprung to life, charms meant to dismember intruders.

She’d almost lost a leg. Her mother had lost a finger.

But it had been her mother’s words that had stuck with her: “Sofia, youwilldie fulfilling your role as Protector, as I will die fulfilling my role and as my mother died before me. It is our fate to serve until our lives are cut short by circumstance. Though other Mytheans may live forever, we will not. Our job is too dangerous. It will kill you. Do not let that moment come early by dropping your guard or the protection that the Crone offers you.”

Sofia had never gone without the Crone form in necessary situations ever again.

The downside of it was that she’d never had a chance to have a normal love life. Malcolm had been her only shot. She’d truly thought they’d be together forever. Not only had she loved him, he’d become her best friend. When he’d abandoned her, she’d felt as if her most vital organs had been torn out. She’d thought losing him would be the worst thing that could happen to her. That it would break her into a million pieces.

How wrong she’d been. Naive. She’d become stronger. Tougher.

Especially after she’d returned to the village from Norway and learned that her mother had died on her last mission to recover a tribute. Sofia had been thrust into the position of Protector. That had toughened her up real quick. Eventually, she’d gotten over him.

She’d taken on the form of a Crone every time she was out in the village. True, she often spiced it up with a Halloween witch’s hat and broom, but even that was no longer funny. She’d had some relationships, though none had lived up to what she’d had with Malcolm. About two centuries ago, she’d just gotten sick of trying. One-nightstands would have been her ideal, but those were impossible in her village since her public image was the Crone and those who knew her without the visage respected her position too much to ever fuck her.

Was that why she’d been so quick to succumb to Malcolm last night? Maybe. She’d prefer to think that she’d been desperate, rather than admit she might still feel something for him. The bastard had kidnapped her.

Power had clearly gone to his head.

She scowled as she watched Malcolm manipulate the aether. As usual, she was in a hell of a bind.

Finally, the aether began to dim. Seconds later, the room was entirely dark. A glow of flame appeared in the middle of the room. Sofia squinted. It hovered over Malcolm’s hand, a magical flashlight. She created one in her own hand, unable to resist drawing his attention.

He turned. “Sofia.”

“Malcolm. What were you doing?” She rose.

“Crafting a charm that can shield my power from Mytheans who might sense it.” He approached her and raised his arm. She saw a wide wristband of beaten metal around his thick wrist. “We’ll need it in Salem. It’ll be best to keep a low profile.”

“All right.” She followed him out of the room and up the stairs into the hall. “That’s your aether room? I didn’t sense any magical shields on it.”

While warlocks could draw a moderate amount of extra power from the aether under normal circumstances, if they wanted a huge burst of it, they needed to have a magically reinforced room built to contain a portal to the aether. Normally, the room had to be built into a place that had anexcess of magical energy, either from a large population of Mytheans or because the place itself was special.

“Yes. I used to have one at the university. It was excellent. So much magic there, it was easy to contain the aether.” He turned to face her. “But I wanted to be on my own. There were too many people at the university. So I practiced. Eventually, I could contain it, so I moved here. There’s a bit more magic in Glencoe than elsewhere, so that helps. But now I’m powerful enough to contain the magic myself.”

She didn’t sense any arrogance in him now, though she wouldn’t be surprised if she had. Controlling a portal to the aether on your own took a huge amount of strength. He was even stronger than she’d realized.

She shivered. His strength, combined with the way he looked at her—like he wanted to devour her—was nerve wracking. If he didn’t want to let her go once this was over, she’d have a damned hard time getting away.

She’d just better hope he kept helping her. And figure out a way to force his hand if he reneged. Or tried to keep her.

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