Esha smiled. “Thanks. Try to sneak out again soon. We can go out.”
“Sure. See you later!”
Without a sound, Ana left and Esha stood alone at the entrance to the gardens.
Now or never. She strode through the wrought-iron archway and caught sight of an illuminated cottage at the back edge of the garden. Night-blooming roses climbed up trellises in front of the stone walls and fireflies lit the way down the path. The Chairman hissed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a bunny scamper off. Esha grinned.
In moments, she was knocking on the wooden door of the cottage. It swung open to reveal a small witch with a marmot riding on her shoulder. Esha resisted rolling her eyes.
“Welcome—come in!” The pink-haired witch’s voice was cheerful.
The warm greeting took Esha aback, but she entered. The brightly lit little cottage was clearly a workspace and not a home. Shelves of books and crystals lined the walls, and a few chairs and tables were scattered about. But otherwise it was empty, save for a dozen witches, who smiled at her when she entered. Esha stared back, uncertain what to do. They’d never acknowledged her before. And they’d certainly never smiled.
“So, what do you need help with?” she asked.
“Um, a binding spell that we can’t do without you. But can I get you something to drink first?”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh my gosh, I love your jacket,” the youngest witch in the room burst out.
Esha glanced down at the short, honey-brown leather jacket. It was a good one. Maybe these witches weren’t so bad, with their compliments and drink offers.
“Thanks,” she said, then turned to the marmot witch. The woman had come a bit too close and flinched when Esha turned to face her. Disgust and fear glinted in her eyes.
Right. So that’s how it was, same as always. Nice on the surface when they needed her, but underneath it all was the usual bullshit.
When she looked more closely at the witches surrounding her, she saw the strain around their eyes that hadn’t at first been evident when she’d walked into the room. Except the complimentary witch. She just looked a little addle-brained. Maybe she didn’t know enough to be afraid of Esha.
“Anyway,” Esha said. “Let’s get started.”
“Okay. Come over here, if you don’t mind,” the marmot witch said.
Esha crossed the wide wooden floorboards to the table in the middle of the room. A slender ceremonial dagger lay on it, along with a few other things.
Esha rubbed her hands together. After the hit of power she’d gotten off Ana, she could do anything. In fact, she’d barely drawn any from these witches since she was basically full up. Jeez, they shouldn’t be so nervous. Like she wanted their piddly power anyway.
“So, what do you need me to do?” Esha asked.
Much of the magic practiced by these and most other witches was a group affair. But she doubted it would be this time, if she’d been called in. A soulceress wasn’t a witch because she didn’t need spells and her power wasn’t innate, but she was similar. Unlike the witches, she was able to work solo only because of the immense amount of power she could borrow from other Mytheans.
She listened as they told her about the prisoner who was locked up and how she would wreak havoc if she were allowed out again.
“So you want me to cast a spell that will keep her locked up forever? That seems pretty harsh. What’d she do?”
“This is the right thing to do,” one of the witches said, terror on her face. “The prisoner is evil like I’ve never seen before. The soulceress who locked her up before was the only one strong enough to do so. She’d have locked her up for longer if she could have.”
Soulceress. Esha wondered who it had been. She’d never met another of her kind before, but she’d always wanted to.
Again, her eye caught the dagger lying on the table. Silver glinted in the light, and realization hit her. They wanted not only her power to bind the witch, but her blood as well. Esha’s head swam. That meant that they wanted her to imprison one of her own kind. Not a witch at all, but a soulceress.
Not only that, blood rituals were a big freaking deal. She would give away some of her ability permanently when she gave her blood for the ritual. It would leave her able to draw less power and manifest less magic.
“Holy shit,” she murmured.
Though some might call a soulceress a witch, what with the magic and all, these bitches knew better. They expected her to lock up her own kind. Forever. And to sacrifice part of herself to do so.
The witches had backed away from her a few feet. Esha was vaguely aware that the Chairman was stalking erratically in circles around her. She swayed a bit as she realized that she might have an opportunity to meet another of her kind. And that the witches had lied to her.