Page 2 of Traitor Witch
Opal looks down her feline nose at me but obliges me, hopping from ledge to ledge before finally landing on my shoulders. After a moment, she curls up in her customary spot around my neck like a furry scarf. I check again for witnesses, then hurry out of the alley and into the shady, snowy streets of Coveton.
I can smell the blizzard coming, but I’ll make it back to the temple before the first flakes fall. The fresh sheet of snowwill hide the few tracks I’ve left behind, wiping all trace of me from the alley. The slush from this morning’s snow is already refreezing into ice beneath my feet, making the trek back slower than it should be.
It’s easy to tell when I’m nearly home. The trembling pulse of magic-enhanced music and screams of revelry carry on the air long before the complex comes into view.
Like its Solar counterpart, the Lunar Temple is an imposing sight. But instead of a huge, geometric tower piercing the sky, it’s a one-storey, circular building, surrounded by columns strung with silver and black swathes of cloth. Plants cascade from the roof gardens which crown both the main temple and the sprawling complex of interconnected satellite buildings, contrasting against the white snow that’s our constant companion this far north.
The instant I step over the boundary, the tension leaves my shoulders and my heart sighs out a welcome. Reaching up, I pull my hood down now that I’m safe among my own coven.
This is my home, no matter that I’ve not lived here for almost a year. Opal evidently agrees, because she purrs quietly, leaping from my shoulders towards the kitchens without a word. I watch her go for a second before turning back to the party.
The party tonight is larger than usual; the coven has obviously decided to get a head start on celebrating the winter solstice tomorrow. Scantily clad, highly intoxicated Lunars teeter around, giggling and dancing with their harems. Despite the snow, they wear black scraps of fabric which accentuate their every curve and show off the exotic whirls and lines of their sigil tattoos. They’ve got just enough presence of mind to grin and half bow at me as I pass, but I’m forgotten the instant I’m out of sight.
I scan their faces as I move through the crowd, but Glennawon’t join in until she’s debriefed me. Her men are dotted around, keeping an eye on things for the Mother Lunar. One of them nods at me as I sweep up the three steps into the temple.
Despite the round shape of the building, the central courtyard is a perfect square. Several strong enchantments ensure that the sound of the hedonistic revelry outside never penetrates the doors of the sanctuary, and the sudden transition from party to meditative silence always takes some getting used to.
In the centre of the courtyard, more steps lead down into a shallow pool. It’s lined with a gorgeous mosaic of the Moon in all Her aspects. The lotus flowers bob and glimmer with the Lady’s light, their leaves dipping under each tiny ripple only to surface again seconds later.
It's a peaceful place.
Glenna stands in the centre of the pool, her short, silver dress swirling in a magical wind, her arms raised high to the sky. The High Priestess shines with divine light, making it difficult to look at her directly. Her sigils are the only part of her skin which doesn’t glow under the Moon, and she has more than any witch I’ve ever known. The tattoos run in an unceasing line along her limbs and spine, with extra sigils crammed onto her shoulder blades. As children, we used to say she was so ancient that some of the sigils have been forgotten to time, and even she doesn’t remember their purpose.
Sometimes, I still wonder if that’s true.
We all know how painful each sigil is to receive, and it affords her almost as much respect as her age and position does.
“Mother Lunar.” I drop to one knee.
Glenna finishes her prayer before she turns, the motion makes a strand of her short, dark hair fall into her face. Shetucks it behind her ear, grinning in a way that pulls at the two tiny sigils underneath her eyes.
“Nilsa.” She glides out of the pool, barely making the water ripple with the movement. Her hands pull me up by my shoulders before wrapping me in a familiar embrace. “You got my message, then?”
“It’s done,” I confirm.
“And you’re unharmed?” Her eyes, turned luminous silver by the Goddess on her ascension to High Priestess, scan me for injuries like a hawk.
“I’m fine.” I roll my eyes, because she never changes. “It was a simple job. Everything went according to plan.”
She smiles again and leads the way across the courtyard and down a small corridor, into the adjoining archives.
“Forgive me, I know you’re not supposed to carry out your duties during your fostering, but the Goddess would not have asked me to send her Shadow if it wasn’t important.”
“I needed it,” I sigh. “The temple is home and being a Shadow is my duty. A year away from both is far too long.”
“One day left." Glenna pulls the cord which activates the room’s crystal, sending a warm glow reflecting off thousands of tiny glass envelopes.
The records surround the room in neat little rows, held suspended in mid-air by the magic woven into the temple. The room’s enchantment makes it infinitely large, yet it takes up no more space in the temple than the broom-cupboard beside it.
The records are sorted into sections, organised by the name of the Shadow who made them. As the current Shadow, my section is closest to the door, and despite only having held the position for three years, it’s larger than many of the others who had served for longer. Over a hundred records lined up neatly, bearing my magical signature. I know that worries Glenna, who hums as she lines up my latest envelope.
“At least, after tomorrow night, I’ll be able to send you out knowing you’re a little more durable.” Her words bring back memories of the arguments we had when my first contract came through at age seventeen.
Despite her faith, Glenna thought me too young and perhaps, looking back, I was. I glance at the first record, a smeary drop of blood contained forever in glass. The mission went wrong in just about every possible way. And when I returned, I sobbed in her arms, dripping with blood from my wounds, but more certain than ever that I was doing what I was born to.
"Who knows," she continues. "Perhaps immortality is the key to unlocking the remaining Shadow powers you still struggle with?"
I doubt it, but I don't dare say that.
