Page 81 of Pure Magic
Trina pushes her back with a wave of air magic.
Stunned, Ariana screams for the other demons to attack.
Pointing the wand held in both our hands with the other items clenched together, I pray to Goddess for strength and that we’re doing the right thing. “I love you, Beth.”
“I love you, Adam.”
Our magic flows through our hearts, down our arms, and shoots out of the end of the wand. Bright and pure white, it bursts like an endless cannonball at Ariana. She’s pushed backward into her devil. Other demons are thrust backward.
Jonah touches my shoulder.
Sylvia touches his.
Prudence touches Sara Beth’s shoulder, and Trina touches hers.
On and on, the train continues until every witch still alive feeds the love and magic of the three items clasped in our hands.
The devil screams, and the sounds shakes the earth.
It’s hard to keep our feet, but somehow, we stand together, an unbreakable chain of magic and love.
Maybe that’s the point, magic is love or love is magic.
Either way, the devil is losing his war with this world. He grows smaller until he’s the same size as Ariana, who clutches him like a lover.
Terrified demons run back into their world.
Prudence calls out, “Send them all back.”
“To hell and never to return,” Sara Beth begins.
I take up the spell, “Witches of the light stand firm.”
“Our world. Our magic. Our love is free.”
The entire company of witches calls out as one, “As we will, so mote it be.”
Ariana’s eyes show her shock as she realizes she’s going to be sent to hell with her devil. She pushes on his chest, but it’s too late. As one, they are sucked into the world of darkness.
Magic forces our hands open.
The hart’s antler turns to a fine white dust that swirls up and creates a seal over the demon gate. Hecate’s wheel with two opposing moons shines bright before it and the gate fade, as if it had never been there.
The fae king’s low laugh echoes and then he stands before us.
At the center of the circle, the fire sputters out.
Goddess, in her diaphanous gown blowing in a wind that no one else feels, floats into view and stands beside Midhir.
They bow to each other before Midhir steps forward and bows to Sara Beth and me. “I am in your debt, witches. Should you have need of me, I shall repay what is owed.”
Sara Beth’s smile makes butterflies go wild in my gut.
This woman is everything.
She says, “I accept your thanks, Fae King. I cannot imagine a time where I would ask for your help, and you have already done your part by bringing the hart’s magic to seal the gate.”
Mischief lurks in his eyes, and he chortles as he fades from sight. “You never know when a fair witch may be in need of a handsome fae.”
