Page 17 of Filthy Little Witch
Tread carefully, it warned, and my thoughts returned to the woman in my safe space.
The time has come when you must fight. You must forsake your rage at what isn’t, and focus on what is. You must channel your anger into faith, and faith into action.
Was this what she meant? Would I need to start fighting now?
I cleared that from my mind and returned to the ritual. It would require all of my focus and mental shields.
Isobel set up the white candles, placing them at the four corners of the circle, while Bridge sprinkled a concoction of herbs in the center. I interspersed my own candles around Isobel’s, calling on my ancestors to help us, calling on the woman from my meditation.
When it was done, I poured a salt circle around us, including our warriors, still unsure about whether it would be able to hold back a demon of this magnitude.
“Don’t step outside it,” I said. “No matter what happens.”
Leander and Caspian had been through this sort of practice before, but Atlas and Wes had only ever gone on their own missions. I didn’t know if they’d ever witnessed the creation of a liminal or understood the severity of the consequences should they take matters into their own hands. We’d need everyone to get through this.
Once the space was cleansed and set up, I stood on one side of the circle and held out my hands for Isobel and Bridge. Our palms connected, and the power of the coven rushed through me, tremendous and overwhelming. I nearly buckled at the knees. Holding firm, I closed my eyes and took deep, steadying breaths, sinking into the weight of my feet on the ground, the magic of the Earth cradling me through this.
“Ancestors, hear us,” Isobel began. “Powers of light, wielders of magic, healers of the bloodline. We call to you now.”
We took turns welcoming the elements and seeking any deities that would assist us with this work. Then we began the summoning chant.
“Demon that was resurrected here, we call to you. Show yourself. Bring yourself forward to us. We summon you. We summon you.”
We repeated the command over and over, and the weight of our combined words rested heavily on my shoulders. The energy shifted around us, darkening, rolling a sick, threatening aura under my skin.
It’s coming.
“We summon you! We summon you!” Our cries grew louder, the magic whipping around us like a hurricane as it raised the hair around my face. The wind picked up, and tendrils of vibrating power twisted around my legs from the earth below.
“Uh…guys,” Atlas said, drawing my eyes open.
The dark sky had turned violent with rolling storm clouds, illuminated in the moon’s soft light. My stomach bottomed out as the trees rustled, the ground rumbling, the air turning electric.
Isobel’s hand tightened around mine, and I took a long, slow breath to steel myself against my nerves. A part of me wanted to run away and let this small town consume itself. To hell with the consequences. But I was better than that, stronger. I’d taken a vow to protect this world against whatever was coming for it.
A smoky pitch cloud broke through the tree line, coalescing into a tall monster at the center of the circle. Its bright red eyes met mine, and it smiled. I bit back my shiver.
“Cursed filthy witch,” it snarled. “Consume.”
I forced my feet to stay still and my hands to hold on to my sisters so I didn’t break the circle. Together, we’d created a bind that the demon couldn’t break, but if we let go of each other, it could attack us…or worse.
“Demon,” Isabel said. “Identify yourself. What is your name?”
It bucked against her command, twisting one way and then the other like her words burned.
“I compel you,” she continued. “What is your name?”
The demon rolled its wispy head along its shoulders and clenched its eyes shut. “I do not answer to you.”
“You are in my realm. You WILL answer to me.” Isobel’s voice grew stern and overbearing. “What are you, demon? What do you want?”
“Chaos,” it said before muttering in an ancient language I couldn’t understand. At first, it rambled in soft whimpers, the words barely audible. Then, as we continued chanting, it grew irate, its voice booming over the rush of wind around us.
“Your name, demon!” Isobel yelled over its rambling.
“Harlots,” Atlas cut in as he held up his pistol and cocked the chamber. “We’ve got trouble.”
More smoke rolled in around us, surrounding us, pushing up against the salt border. They became monstrous human forms as their crimson eyes stared past the warriors, dead set on us.
