Page 33 of The Noldrin Witch

“It would be my pleasure,” Morgaine said, her voice dropping to a dangerously low whisper.

She and Devon exchanged a charged look before the demon continued.

“Then, allow me to make an announcement before the pentagram is drawn.”

“As you wish.”

*****

Elise was introduced to a few more witches before they all joined hands around the pyre. She had learned the name of the spitfire who had offered to take a stroll with Seth. Elsbeth, better known as Beth, turned out to be in wedlock, though this did not appear to restrain her in any meaningful way. Her husband, a troll, was a faithful man who in spite of having already shared a hundred springs with her, didn’t satisfy her appetites completely. In Beth’s words, “any proper witch is always on the lookout.”

Elise took note, and against her better judgment, found her thoughts turning to the duke and to Seth. She was not immune to male charms. The comparison presented itself with little effort: two equally striking specimens, each unreasonably out of reach in their own way. Seth’s allure was also his chief inconvenience. Kurt, for his part, remained just as impossible.

A tug to her hand made her come back to the blazing reality before her. Beth was looking at her with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You can go with him after the fire is out, darling,” the old snappy witch said. “I saw how he was looking at you. Once the fire is out, everyone is on their own.”

Elise did not know whether to laugh or to protest. The witch said no more. Morgaine, who was by her other side, was amused to the marrow. Elise offered a polite smile and waited in silence. Thankfully, it did not take long for the announcement to begin. The fire lowered and then thinned until it transformed into several rings. A surge of heat sent every witch’s hair flying.

Elise and the witches stood between circles of fire, and at the center of it all was Devon with his nephew behind him. It seemed the young demon was indeed here to learn the ropes.

Beth grumbled the moment Seth appeared, the elder witch regarding him with the same enthusiasm one reserves for a pastry behind glass. Morgaine, too, had her eyes on the demons, but it was plain her interest lay with the eldest.

“My beloved wicked ladies,” Devon began. “Your trade is full of the most faithful practitioners of forces beyond your world. Only you can understand the urgency of what I am about to tell you, and only you hold the right answer to the present condition of the mortal realm.”

“On with the compliments!” Beth shouted, startling Elise. “Go on to the favor you mean to ask and be done with it!”

Devon chuckled softly. Then he walked to face Beth, closing the distance to a dangerous gap.

“Excuse me,” Devon said to Elise, as he took Beth’s hand and planted a kiss on the seasoned skin of the witch. “You only become more irresistible with the years, and you know I have always admired that clever tongue of yours…in all its uses.”

The old witch’s eyes shone with excitement, and a small squeal escaped her. The demon, seemingly pleased with the effect of his charms, released Beth’s hand and whispered something in her ear before returning to the center of the circle.

The quick-tongued witch sighed and held Elise’s hand once more.

Elise caught from the corner of her eye Seth shaking his head and Morgaine clearing her throat.

Devon stole a few glances in Morgaine’s direction and then continued with his speech.

“Allow me to be blunt about my agenda this evening,” Devon said, with a wink at Beth. “It concerns the recent war between Bromheim and Falaine. As you all know, magic is tied to the natural world. Century after century, men have found increasingly artful ways to destroy the beauty of what ought to be left untouched. However, mortals will be mortals, and they will do as they do. My peers and I failed to see the dangers of this latest conflict until we began to notice changes in the currents of the barrier between our worlds. I must say, Hell has never felt this cold, and I fear your magic would not remain untouched by this either.”

A ripple of complaint rose. The grumbling among the witches grew too loud to hear what else Devon had to say.

Elise felt lost. The more she heard, the more she understood, but at this rate she was still trying to swallow the fact that these people were centuries old.

“So what do you want from us? Fight the war?” Morgaine chuckled.

The other witches joined in the laughter, though the amusement passed quickly as the expression on Devon’s face made it plain Morgaine had not missed the mark.

Mirel raised her arms in protest. “Son of a b—”

“Ladies!” Devon interrupted. “I’m not here to force you. Do try not to shoot the messenger. What I would give to bring you nothing but pleasant news, the sort you have worked so hard, and so deservedly, to enjoy. I told the others I hadn’t the heart to ask anything of you, yet here I am, performing the tedious duty all the same. I drew the shortest straw, if you care to see it that way.”

“Go tell them to fight the war yourselves!” Morgaine rasped. “You don’t command us. Not anymore.”

Devon lowered his head, his features settling into that same expression that was nearly impossible to ignore. The man had the looks, and the knowledge of how to use them. It was the sort of explosive combination that could carry even the most questionable intentions to completion.

“My beautiful Morgaine, the only witch who ever got away. I would give centuries of life if you’d have me for a night. You know as well as I do that what you ask is impossible. I’d have you reigning over all the land, if I had any say in this realm.”