Page 64 of Which Witch Is Wicked?
Tierra
Tiffinie Helmer
1
"Do not fear death, my daughter
In time all will be made known.
Stay close to your sisters and the earth; for she will reveal her powerful secrets.
by earth, air, fire, and sea..."
Tierra woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed as the whispers of the dead floated around her. She choked back the scream crawling up her throat and tried to fight the vestiges of the nightmare. Grief and depression threatened to smother her and tears seared the back of her eyes. Battling the need to cry, she embraced her surroundings with relief.
She was alone in the daylight. No ghosts weaved through mist, twisting around sentinel Standing Stones and morphing into the Four Horsemen, brandishing apocalyptic weapons, the arrow, sword, scales, and Death, silent and still, holding the scythe, a macabre extension of his hands.
Could her mother be trapped in the Standing Stones on Siren's Cry, her soul held prisoner by the Four Horsemen? Or had that been her mother speaking to her, offering up much needed advice and wisdom?
Get a grip, Tierra.
It was just her imagination on hyper drive because she'd been pierced by Conquest's arrow and died for a time in the stones herself. The same place her mother had died.
That made more sense, and didn't tap into the yearning for a mother she never knew. A mother she could use more than ever right now as she was going to be one herself. Lately her dreams were wicked and wild with no rhyme or reason. Somehow her memories, fears, and desires had combined with last night's midnight zombie raid and produced one hell of a nightmare.
No more ice cream before bed.
Zombies?
Had that really happened? She wished it had been a dream that she could wonder at and hopefully shake off. But it was too real,too visceral. She'd hurt...them—whatevertheywere—had a hand in killing those…thosethings. You couldn't really hurt or kill something that was already dead. Could you?
But Aerin. Aerin had done something. Something forbidden. Just how bad remained to be seen.
Jinx jumped onto the four-poster queen-size bed, with its handmade crazy quilt of silks and satins, and swiped at Tierra with a black paw. Not a concerned how-are-you-doing paw. More like a get-your-ass-out-of-bed-there-is-shit-to-do paw. Her familiar's eerie all-too-knowing green eyes glowed with judgment in the late morning.
Goddess, she was tired. So very tired. All she wanted was to sleep and to keep some food down. From all she'd read—with making potions and trying to figure out a way to stop the looming Apocalypse limiting her time—her symptoms were normal for the first trimester. Pulling an all-nighter to fight a horde of zombies, not so normal.
The black cat wasn't the only one upset about Tierra's condition. She wasn't too happy about it herself. It didn't seem fair that she'd remained a virgin all this time, waiting for that one romantic true love, and when she finally threw caution into the wind and slept with someone, she got knocked up. Being an earth witch, she should have figured she'd be extra fertile and taken precautions. But still. She'd slept with Death. How in any universe would he have a part in creating life? His job was to take it.
She didn't even know what she was pregnant with. Chances were good it wouldn't be a normal baby boy or girl. Not with a scythe-swinging immortal father and an elemental earth witch for a mother.
She reclined against the pillows and covered her abdomen with a protective hand. While part of her shared her sisters' fear that she carried a demon spawn or the Antichrist, the other part was already fiercely protective, and she knew she'd lay down her soul for the fluttering new life inside her.
Jinx gave a screechy, drawn-out meow that raised the hairs on the back of Tierra's neck.
"Fine, I'm getting up." She tossed back the covers and climbed out of the bed, feeling aches and pains from the fight of the night before. Muscles she hadn't used in a while protested with a vengeance. Swinging a shovel at zombies instead of using it to dig in the earth put a strain on the arms and shoulders. Some of her homemade tiger's balm would be called for today.
Gingerly stretching, Tierra ventured to the turret bay window and looked out over her damaged gardens. They needed help after last night.
She gave into the yawn that cracked her jaw and caught the steady stare of beady black eyes watching her from the branch of a hemlock tree.
Clever harbinger to stay just outside the protective perimeter of the wards.
Killian Bane, the Fourth Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the Grim Reaper, the Great Destroyer, Death himself, in his raven form, watching her.
Bastard never seemed far anymore.
She hadn't talked to him since the night she'd died, but she'd felt his black eyes burning a hole through her at odd times of the day and night. They'd probably have to talk at some point, as they were having a child together.
