Page 51 of Familiar of the Witch

He had no authority to bid from the Coven Council; every penny he was bidding was his own hard-earned cash. I hoped he had a plan for recouping it or the guilt of bringing him here would cripple me. I should have known he couldn’t lie under truth runes; he really had been planning on spending an exorbitant amount of money to secure the harkan crystal.

Things seemed to be getting heated until the other man abruptly lowered his paddle and didn’t raise it again. The last bid standing was Bastion’s.

‘Going once,’ French Guy said.

The initial bidder sat down and I battled disbelief. Were we really going to do it, secure the harkan crystal away from the black witches? My heart was pounding. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? Triumph was so close, I could almost taste it. Victory pie would do nicely.

‘Going twice,’ French Guy said, drawing out the tension.

Everyone around the initial bidder turned to him in surprise. I couldn’t see their faces but their reaction suggested shock and maybe even a little aggression. I’d bet my bottom dollar that Bastion was using his coaxing skills on the other buyers and that was why they’d dropped out. That was why their companions were so surprised at their about-turn.

‘Sold!’ The gavel swung down. ‘To the man on the seventh row.’

Someone walked up to French Guy and whispered in his ear. He was hooked up to the sound system so we all heard when the Frenchman started swearing viciously. He cut himself off with effort.

‘It seems,mes amis, that we haveun petitsecurity issue. The vampyrs have phased in and opened the way to the Connection’s little Inspectors. We will be discussing this with the witch responsible for runing the hall.’ His voice was hard, threatening violence.

A witch stood up at the back of the hall, downed a potion and keeled over. She gave some choked gurgles as she clutched her throat that was hidden under the shadows of her cloak. In the silence that had fallen, we all heard her last shuddering breath.

She fell to the floor, dead. French Guy gave a satisfied nod. ‘Bon. Now, it is time for a quick getaway.’ He turned to Bastion and called out in a voice full of faux regret, ‘Sorry, sir, it looks like we’ll be keeping the harkan after all.’

His hands emerged from his cloak and he snapped on some gloves. When he wore adequate protection, he opened the box, reached into it and drew out the red crystal. He handed it reverently to the cloaked man standing next to him.

This man, whom I assumed was the Leader, took the crystal in his gloved hands. The red crystal pulsed and he seemed to be wrestling with it somehow. With a huge grunt of effort, he managed to use the sharp point of theharkan crystal to cut his forearm. The red blood welled and ran down his pale-skinned arm. He’d cut deeply, I suspected more deeply than he’d intended because of the crystal’s lack of acquiescence.

He dipped his gloved finger into his blood and painted it in the air. I had never seen anything like it – the rune hung like it had been painted on parchment. The crystal glowed with a malevolent red light and as it pulsed, five cloaked figures fell to the floor. They were unmoving, and I suspected, dead. Using the harkan came at a steep price. The malicious jewel pulsed again and a portal was ripped into existence. It grew, flickering with flames and evil intent.

I peered through it and recognised the two castles on the other side and the flying beasts behind them. My mouth dropped open. The daemon realm: he’d opened a portal to the daemon realm withonerune, a tonne of power and five deaths. It shouldn’t have been possible, but then he’d painted a rune onair.I was going to have to re-evaluate what was possible and what was not. The knowledge he must have…

‘Quickly!’ French Guy said to the assemblage. ‘Through here. We will use the return gate to get back to the Other realm.’ Without hesitation, the cloaked figures pouredtowards the daemon gate. And that was when the door behind us flew open.

‘Everyone freeze!’ Inspector Elvira of the Connection barked. When no one obeyed her, the IR came into play. The Connection’s wizards used it to hold and seize the nearest witches but the witches outnumbered them and not everyone was fleeing. I watched, sickened, as a black cloud literally tore a detective apart as he screamed. I looked around desperately for a flash of red but, try as I might, I couldn’t see hide nor hair of Frogmatch.

A breath on my ear made ice slide down my spine then a voice next to me murmured, ‘Time to make a swift exit, my daughter.’ The tone was warm, affectionate.

Everything in me froze as I recognised it from my reclaimed memories of my father. This time it wasn’t distorted by a vampyr’s possession, it washisvoice. I whirled around but there was only Bastion by my side. How was my father speaking to me? Was it some sort of audio-astral projection?

‘The Connection won’t differentiate between black and white witches when you’re wearing the cowl,’ my father continued casually. ‘They’ll use deadly force.’ He spoke to Bastion. ‘You have a plan to get her out of here, griffin?’

‘I have my own plan!’ I interrupted hotly.

Asoft laugh. ‘No doubt, Amber. Then use it. Now!’

Much as I hated to obey him, he was right. ‘The walls!’ I called to Bastion.

As we started towards the cream walls, a roar rang out and the whole room shook with the force of it. In the far corner, where black witches were fighting the Connection, a small red figure was starting to grow. The witches around him were shouting frantically, grabbing crystals from their pockets, throwing them around the imp, trying to contain him.

‘Frogmatch!’ I screamed. ‘Run!’

Focused on growing, he paid me no heed. He grew until he was the same size as me and then he kept going. His antlers, cute when tiny, were deadly in full size. He bent his head and rammed them into the nearest black witches. They screamed as he eviscerated them. Then his claws came into play, lashing out and neatly disembowelling the nearest witch.

‘Leader, get the imp!’ one of the witches screamed. A beat later, the red of the harkan crystal crackled out. As it did so, the one who had called out for help also fell to the jewel’s deadly power. A harkan was fuelled by death, but something was stopping the black witches from accessing its power without deadly consequences. Thank theGoddess for small mercies. The red pulse from the jewel struck Frogmatch in the heart and in an instant he was pint sized again. Frogmatch fell to the floor, unmoving.

Bastion dragged me towards the walls. ‘We have to help him!’ I yelled.

‘He’s too far away,’ Bastion said grimly. ‘We have to get you to safety. We’ll come back for him,’ he promised.

The crystals around Frogmatch lit up as he was forcibly contained by the black witches and shoved into a crate. Dammit, Bastion was right. The whole thing was utter chaos: the black witches were fighting tooth and claw, and the Connection were using deadly force back at them. If we tried to save Frogmatch now, we’d be killed in the mêlée.

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