Page 40 of Wallflower Witch
I hear Patrick, Josh, and Matt shouting at me from a distance, and I claw through an unending darkness toward them, fighting to get back to them. It doesn’t feel like I’m getting any closer, and panic bubbles through me. I reach for my magic, hoping I can bust through whatever stands between us. But… it’s gone. Not even the tiniest grain of it left.
“Please babe. Open your eyes, come on. Don’t leave us.”
I gasp, struggling against the dark, to no avail. Their voices drift farther away, like I’m sinking in quicksand.
“No!” I shout, but it’s hushed the moment it leaves my lips, unable to pierce the gloom around me.
“Morrigan O’Byrne. Witch of Spirit and Earth. Destroyer of curses.”
A new voice echoes in the space—one that takes my mind to rolling Irish hills and leprechauns—and suddenly light overcomes the dark, spilling into a space that looks like the O’Byrne study. A tall woman sits at the desk in a large dress that poofs out around her, a high starched cuff framing her face in brilliant teal fabric. The grimoire is open beside her while she writes in what looks like a diary.
“You’ve done an impressive feat, my dear. Truly a worthy descendant of both the Morrigan and the O’Byrne name.”
“You know who I am?” I ask, my mind spinning from the sudden shift in planes. Ha. I’d read about planes of existence in the grimoire, but I hadn’t understood what they meant until now. Am I dreaming? Am I dead and this is the afterworld? Wherever I am, it’s not the regular world where my men are waiting for me. “Where are we?”
The woman smiles, gesturing to a straight-backed chair across from her. “In your subconscious mind, of course. You latched onto O’Byrne magic with the last of your strength, and so we’re in the study. I always did love this room.” She looks around for a moment, then focuses back on me. “You are very near death, Morrigan. But fear not, you broke the curse cast upon the family. You have saved us all.”
“What? But what about my guys? What happened to them? I can’t die, not without making sure they’re okay!”
The woman stands, walking around the desk to lay a soft hand on my shoulder.A warm flow of soothing magic flows through my body at the contact and a gasp escapes my lips as I finally realize who I’m standing before. The witch who burned that night. My ancestor—the original O’Byrne witch.
“Calm yourself, child. I said you are near death, not that you have died. The O’Byrnes have always had a close relationship with the Spirit element, and though most of us have died out, that power still remains. One day you will learn that you need not fear death, but for today, I will give you a gift in thanks for your sacrifice.
Hands held out to her sides, she takes a deep breath, then closes her eyes as magic builds around us. From out of nowhere, more women join in, holding hands to create a circle around me. Their magic fills the room until it’s almost stifling, and then the woman in front of me speaks.
“I, Adair O’Byrne, offer my spirit to my descendant, Morrigan O’Byrne. May she use it well for the rest of her days.”
As she speaks, I feel a gentle string of magic flow into me, building into a larger ball as each woman in the room does the same, one by one giving me a piece of their magic.
The final lady, Brigit, finishes her offering and they all begin to fade away, but she hangs back for a moment, placing her hand on my cheek. “My daughter. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you growing up. You’ve become such a beautiful young woman, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.” She kisses my forehead, moving back to stand beside Adair.
“Farewell, Morrigan. Return to the world now and live a long, happy life. Wear your heritage proudly, and never forget that we are here if you are ever in need.”
They leave, and I’m once more surrounded by darkness. But this time peace fills me instead of panic. I hear my men calling for me again, and I reach out with my magic to find them. My eyes open to see them all holding me, crying, and begging me to wake up.
I smile, feeling my magic itching to get to work healing them. I release it, and it flows out, dancing in the air around us happily.
“I love you, guys.”
***
“It was looking bad for a while there. Fire was raining down on us from everywhere, birds and vines pecking and scratching and trying to drag us down into the deep, dark depths of the crypt. I thought that was going to be the end for all of us.” Josh is standing a couple steps up on the main staircase in the O'Byrne house, arms waving wildly as he performs his dramatic story for the captive audience below.
“My arms were burning, the ravens fanning the flames right at Matt’s and my faces. Fortunately, I still look handsome with singed hair, so I wasn’t worried, but Matt was running around with his hands flapping, trying to protect that mop on top of his head.” He winks, ignoring Matt’s thunderous look. Matt still hasn’t gotten over the fact that he had to shave a lot of his hair off. “Just as my knees began to give out, this loud caterwauling pulled my attention away from the crypt. And there she was! This… This goddess with long brown hair flowing in the wind, standing against the forces of evil in a sexy little black dress that hugged—Oof!”
Patrick elbows Josh in the ribs, clearing his throat as he nods towards the ghost children who are listening intently to every word. “Keep your weird fantasies to yourself.”
“Fine.” Josh rolls his eyes. “A goddess with long brown hair, sensible jeans, a flannel shirt, and a sensible pair of boots on her feet. Because she’s a badass who knows being dressed appropriately for situations is the best way to go. Anyway, the goddess was standing in the middle of a field full of carnage, this brilliant glow surrounding her. Teal mist danced around her ankles, stretching over the earth as it battled the curse for control of the crypts. For a moment, she had wings bursting out of her shoulders, and then Quoth flew over her head like a bullet, fighting off an entire flock of ravens himself.”
At that, Quoth repeats his part of the fight, flying over Josh’s head as he dives toward the children, banking around them to swoop back onto the banister. A chorus of oohs follows him, and he proudly starts preening his feathers.
“The tables turned. I slashed the ravens and vines with renewed strength, fighting my way toward the goddess. She glowed brighter, almost too bright to look at. Teal mist was everywhere, pulsing across the town. And then…” He pauses, building the suspense as he makes sure his audience is hanging on his every word.
“Morrigan, our gorgeous avenging angel, defeated the curse, crushing the core into a pulp until it could no longer harm humans or ghosts alike. In one mighty shake, she burst the crypts open, releasing all the spirits who were trapped inside.”
The children cheer, and Josh grins, happy with the attention he’s getting.
“I never knew he was that good at creating fiction,” Matt mutters, still pouting a bit, but his lips are curling into a smile.