Page 68 of The Spell Caster

I wasn’t like Fern. I wanted to be a spell caster. Even though I hadn’t had a choice, even though I was terrified, I wanted to stand with Costi and make the angels regret trying to kill us. I wanted the raw power I felt surge through me when I boiled them out of the Northern Sea sky. I wanted the Arcaenum to listen to me instead of manipulators like Cedar Grey and my mother.

I wanted to protect my people.

I had been going about this wrong, trying to find someone to help me. This was my life. I was going to figure out my magic myself. And if I couldn’t, well, I’d find a different way. Maybe I could learn to throw down, become a guardian.

I decided then and there, I was not going to sit out another fight hiding in the dark. Come what may, I was joining this war.

Hours later, the sky brightened beyond the window shades.

The attack never came.

***

It was still early, and Fern hadn’t reappeared yet. Costi had texted me once to tell me the status was the same. I could no longer sit still.

Throwing on some clean clothes, I cautiously peeked my head out the door. The movements of the Circle were hushed—just whispers and scurries.

I glanced to the sky nervously, then crept out and hurried to the large indoor cafeteria in the main part of the Circle. It seemed like everyone else had the same thought—the place was packed.

One of the councilors I didn’t know, an elder witch with a bald head and a scraggly white beard, was addressing the crowd from a small platform. “…have been unable to make contact with the Hillsong Circle in Kentucky. We expect refugees from the Saltmarsh, Cypress, and Tidewater Circles to begin arriving today.” The councilor paused, placing a weathered hand over his eyes. “We believe we are the only remaining eastern Circle.”

My heart kicked up a wicked beat as gasps and cries followed the announcement. How could three—maybe four—Circles be attacked in the same night? This was coordination on a massive and devastating scale. An army of angels.

We had to be next. Even if the angels didn’t know where this Circle was, there was no way they’d miss so many witches coming to one place. Those refugees were running straight to their doom.

Our doom.

“We are in touch with the Great Lakes Circles, the Canadian Circles, and farther beyond. They’re on alert now and will send aid as they can. The eastern Circles had no advanced warning. They suffered heavy losses.”

My body turned cold despite the sticky warmness of the crowded cafeteria. No one had really believed the angels would attack again. They’d thought the Northern Sea was a fluke, like the attack in Greece fifteen years ago. It had been long enough that they felt safe. They hadn’t even been watching. Fate, even the Northern Sea’s survival was down to Costi and me sneaking out to meet up at night.

“It is likely we will be attacked,” the councilor said, then held up his hand to stop the panicked chatter. “We need to be prepared. Gather what weapons you can—angels cannot be killed except by spell fire, but decapitating or badly maiming them will incapacitate them.”

Would Costi give me one of his daggers if I ask nicely?

The councilor continued, “Remain alert at all times. Our teams are on rotation now, with spotters watching the skies from the fire towers in the hills. But if you see anything, call the emergency line.”

The councilor stepped down and was immediately surrounded by people clamoring with questions. Feeling grateful to the witches working in the kitchen during this chaos, I joined the line for coffee, filling an extra mug for Fern before hurrying home.

***

Our living room was full of witches, and they all turned to look at me when I entered. My three covenmates looked miserable and exhausted, with frizzy hair and drooping robes from being outside all night. Fern had emerged and was sitting on the couch, looking somber. But taking up most of the space were Costi and three other guardians. They wore full tactical gear—intimidating black armor, with riot helmets and massive swords strapped to their backs.

I felt young and small in front of them.

“Hey,” I said, flushing and feeling awkward. I handed Fern her mug silently and placed mine on the side table.

Sativa gave me an annoyed look, widening her eyes. “As I was saying, Oliver can move over with Datura, and you two can take their room, leaving Salix with me.”

I blinked. Was everyone moving in?

“Fucking fate,” said one of the guardians. “Ewan snores.”

The guardian next to him, presumably Ewan, grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

“I—” Fern started, then cleared her throat. “Can I stay here too? I can sleep on the couch.”

Sativa looked at Oliver and Datura. Datura shrugged.

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