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Water & Flame (Witches of the Elements Series Book 1)
Water & Flame (Witches of the Elements Series Book 1) Read online
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Water & Flame
Witches of the Elements Book 1
Alejandra Vega
P.E. Padilla
Contents
Copyright Page
PEPNews
Dedications
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Thank You!
Newsletter
Also by P.E. Padilla
About the Author: Alejandra Vega
About the Author: P.E. Padilla
This book is a fictional story and as such names, characters, and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, either living or dead, is coincidental.
The reproduction, sale, or distribution of this book without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.
Cover Art by Damonza (https://damonza.com/)
Published by Crimson Cat Publishing
Copyright © 2017 by P.E. Padilla & Alejandra Vega
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-943531-04-2
Dedications
from AV
To Danielle,
You are my greatest motivation and the most important reason for everything I do. I am so proud of you and the woman you are becoming. Te amo mija.
from PEP
To Ale,
It was a privilege and a pleasure working on this project with you. Good luck with your storytelling. I wish you all the best.
.
Chapter 1
The world ended in a wash of white hot light as flame consumed all within sight.
Abigail Henderson jerked upright from where she had been slouching in her chair, her heart pounding so hard she thought someone in the next room could hear it. Footsteps sounded in the hall, urgent, coming quickly to her door. The pounding of a fist preceded her father’s face peering around the door.
“Abbie, what is it? I heard you scream. Are you all right?” Landon Henderson scanned the room with wide eyes as he walked toward her. He took her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Mama,” she said, still trying to slow her galloping heart. “She’s…I…I had a vision.”
Her father cradled her head to his chest, stroking her hair. “Shhhh. Calm down. It was a dream. Your mother is out performing the Spring Rain ritual. She’s fine.”
“But it was so real, Papa. I saw everything, felt everything. It’s like I was there, connected to her. No, like I was her.” She sounded to herself like a child, even though she was nineteen years old. It was so real, though.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Yes. Maybe it would help.”
“Fine, then,” he said, tilting down to kiss her forehead. He took a seat in the wooden ladderback chair he pulled from the corner. “Take a few breaths and then describe it all to me.”
Abigail took two deep breaths and let them out slowly. “It was like I was her, as if I was experiencing everything myself through her body.” She settled into the seat and sat up straighter. Then she began to tell him in detail what she had experienced.
Olivia Henderson drew out the little figurine from her pocket and rubbed it absently with her thumb. It wasn’t a detailed carving, but it was recognizably an angel, wings folded and arms crossed in front of its chest. Her daughter Abigail had carved it from aquamarine. It was Olivia’s most cherished possession. She felt the familiar curves as her thumb traced the rounded edges, worn smoother from the countless times her fingers had passed over it.
A small smile played across Olivia’s doll-like face as she looked upon the pale blue—almost green—stone, tracing the swirls within it with her eyes. At only five foot two inches tall, everything about her looked feminine and fragile, though appearances did not tell truly. The skin of her cheeks stretched as her smile widened at the thought of her daughter and the little figurine she had carved using only water magic almost ten years before.
The smile faded with the memory as Olivia put the angel back in its resting place in her pocket. She had work to do yet. It was no time to get lost in thoughts of other things.
The Spring Rain ritual was important to practicers of water magic, maybe the most important celebration of the year. It was two days before the ancient festival of the world tree, Yggdrasil, and different in many ways.
Most rituals were communal efforts, even to the point of being social events for elemental witches. The rite of Spring Rain was not. It was a solemn event consisting of each member of a coven reflecting in their own way about the beginning of life and the continuity of the great cycle. Two or three privileged witches performed the motions signifying their profound reverence for the great water cycle on behalf of the entire coven. Olivia was one of these, of course, as befitted her office of High Water Caster, the leader of the Guiding Council for her coven.
Olivia’s partner for this year’s ritual arranged the necessary items: a simple abstract carving consisting of sweeps and turns representing the water cycle and two incense urns on a ceremonial woven rug draped across a flat rock. Emma Williams was a short, round woman who resembled a Mrs. Claus doll. Her fleshy cheeks were always one shade of red or another and most often crinkled in a smile. She was like everyone’s grandmother, kind and happy and always wanting to do things for others. Olivia adored Emma and was happy to share this day’s work with her.
Olivia looked over the smooth surface of Lake Tranquility. It was sacred to her coven of water witches. Power generated in its deep water, and energy accumulated over the decades, even centuries. It was one of the
reasons her ancestors had settled in the area.
The lightening sky cast shadows over the edges of the lake, mirror images of the surrounding trees appearing on the water. Sunrise would come soon.
“It looks like we’re just about ready, Emma,” Olivia said, taking up her place.
“Yes. All set and ready to go.” The older woman looked around as if she had forgotten something. “It feels like the energies are out of balance. It may take more doing than normal to align everything for the ritual.”
Olivia had felt something a little off, too, but her memories had distracted her. She looked around, a foreboding seeping into her. The trees and the thick underbrush surrounding the lake and its meadow could hide just about anything. Shaking her head to dispel the feeling, she began her incantations. She didn’t have time for flights of fancy.
The incantations and motions for this festival were particularly tricky. In fact, she’d only trust a handful of witches to do it effectively. Emma was gifted—and powerful—and it was a joy to meld her own flows with the older witch. Olivia got caught up in the euphoric feeling of the magical energies as they swirled about, pulling power from the water of the lake and flowing through the two women.
Olivia sensed the danger just before projectiles began flying. A group of non-magical humans had surrounded Olivia and Emma, all of them apparently carrying guns. Olivia had picked up on the intent, on the feelings of the enemies’ auras. She immediately stopped her spell and threw up a hardened water shield around her. It was a hasty thing, so it didn’t cover Emma completely but did completely surround Olivia herself.
Emma was a little slower to get her shield up. She grunted as a bullet, or maybe more than one, struck her. Judging by how Emma continued to cast her magic to complete her shield, it did not seem as if it struck her in a vital location. She could still bleed to death, of course, the same as any non-magical human—or “only” as the witches sometimes called them—but Olivia didn’t think they would have time to bleed to death. She sensed other users of magic nearby moving along with the onlies, held in reserve to avoid detection. It seemed to be a well-orchestrated attack.
Olivia was a powerful witch, but even powerful users of elemental magic rarely had the ability to sense other witches. They must have known she possessed that talent—or at least suspected—so they used the onlies first. She felt at least a half dozen magic users nearby, coming closer, though she could not be sure to which element they were attuned or whether they were witches or warlocks. She did know that if she and Emma didn’t escape before all their foes were arrayed against them, they would not survive.
“Emma!” she called. “Are you okay? Where were you shot? How many times?”
“I think,”—the older woman gasped in pain—“I was only hit twice, both in my left arm. I can still fight, though I might have to improvise with some of the hand and arm forms.”
“We need to get out of here,” Olivia said. “There are at least six magic users surrounding us. If they are allowed to get in place, we’re finished.”
“You go, Olivia. I am too old and fat to run fast, but you can get away. I’ll keep them at bay for as long as I can.”
“No.”
“It is better if one of us survives,” Emma said. “Now go. Don’t waste your life. I’ve lived a long time already. You are more important. You must be the one they came for. Go.”
Olivia silently strengthened her shield and searched the surroundings. She saw movement off to her left and made a motion with her hand. A dozen missiles of hardened water rocketed toward where she aimed them. A scream of pain told her that she had hit at least one of the onlies. She grabbed Emma’s arm and started dragging her toward the hole she had just made in the line of her foes.
Olivia was thankful Emma did not choose this time to be stubborn. She moved along while casting magics ahead of them to help clear the way. If they could just move faster, they might escape.
Flame leapt up in front of the pair, a wall of fire ten feet high and twenty feet wide. Peculiarly, it was floating several inches off the grass in the meadow. Why not let it go all the way to the ground?
Their magic-using enemies had entered the fray.
Olivia and Emma stopped, the former trying to decide if they should make their stand where they were or try to push through the obstacle in front of them.
“If we stop now, we’re dead,” Emma said, now pulling on Olivia’s arm to drag her toward the fire. “They’re trying to stall us so they can surround us completely.”
Of course, she was right. The High Water Caster had delayed for a few seconds already. She must get moving or it could prove to be fatal.
Putting all her focus into the shield, expanding it to surrounding Emma as well, Olivia plunged into the fire wall. It was not thick, only a few feet, but the heat was intense. She could feel the air within her bubble heating up, becoming more uncomfortable and causing her to fear that the shield would not be up to the task of protecting her.
And then they were through into blessedly cool air, and a clear path opened to the forest ahead. Oak, elm, and linden trees intermingled and provided an ideal place to hide. If they could just get into the cover of those trees, her foes would not be able to surround them as easily.
Emma went down.
It wasn’t a bullet—though those were flying around them and bouncing off their shields—but something simpler. The older witch had struck her foot on an exposed root and tripped, losing her grip on Olivia’s hand. She hit the ground hard, her focus on her spells shattering. Her shield winked out.
Olivia watched in horror as Emma burst into flames. Her scream echoed in the morning air and silenced when several bullets struck her.
So quickly.
Olivia pushed the last of her strength into her shield and ran for all she was worth. She might still make her escape. If her shield held, she might yet get away.
She made it another ten steps.
Out of the trees in front of her, four figures stepped into her path. One was an older woman, brown hair with a few streaks of gray and eyes ablaze with the mystic energies she held. Olivia knew this would be her last stand. She shifted her shield so it was stronger in front of her and prepared to make a desperate gamble.
The water witch reached into her pocket and held the angel figurine tightly, drawing strength from its presence, thinking of her daughter. She took a deep breath and attacked.
Water swirled around her, pulled from the misty morning air as well as the lake a few dozen yards away. It took on the hardness of steel and formed a maelstrom of hurricane force, spinning, whirling, obscuring the view of her. With a sharp exhalation, she threw her power out, expanding the circle like an explosion. The results were devastating. But were they enough?
Her magically propelled projectiles tore through the onlies around her, shredding their bodies beyond recognition. The fire witches and warlocks fared a little better, but not by much. The weaker had their own shields—thrown up hastily when they realized she was attacking—torn and defeated, hardened water missiles punching through not only the armor but their bodies as well. Only three of her foes survived the onslaught.
Three too many. She slumped, her energy waning. That attack had taken all her strength.
One of the three, a tall, muscular woman, burst into living flame. Olivia blinked, not believing her eyes. The flame came toward her, movements a mixture between a person and a flickering fire. Olivia poured what little strength she had left into a shield and rebuffed her foe, pushing her back toward her companions. The fire thing dug her feet in and started toward Olivia again. This time the water witch would not be able to hold it back.
At a motion from a dark-haired woman, the flame backed up and stood silently at the other’s side.
“It was a valiant effort,” the woman—obviously their leader—said. “You nearly made it. But not quite.” She made a series of complex gestures with her hands, and Olivia felt as if a great weight pressed down on her. She lost
her hold on the magic, too exhausted to fight any longer.
Olivia looked into the woman’s dark eyes, fixing the face of her murderer firmly in her mind.
“Why?”
“Because it’s time to clean out the useless, to make way for those with the power to control this world,” the woman said calmly. “We can’t have weak spirits like you cooperating with other elements and undermining our plans. You will be a problem no longer.”
As the woman and the other of her two companions prepared their final, fatal spells, Olivia concentrated the last of her energies not on breaking the bonds holding her, but on casting her mind out to her children. Encapsulating the visions of her harrowing battle into a pocket of magical energy, she sent it out to them, hoping they were sensitive enough, powerful enough, to receive it. It was the best she could do. A small smile played across her face as she thought of them. She clutched the angel figurine.
An intense flash of flame and heat washed over Olivia Henderson, and the water witch was no more.
Chapter 2
Landon Henderson stared at his daughter as she wept. He shook his head and blinked, snapping out of his daze. “It’s fine, Abbie. It’s a nightmare, nothing more. We’ll all laugh about this when your mother gets home.” The details of the vision disturbed him more than he could let her know. Please, Olivia, he thought, please be safe.
Abbie nodded as she wept into his chest.
A few hours later, Abbie and her father were sitting in the dining room, talking over tea when Sophia Hill came in. She was one of the witches on the Guiding Council for the coven, an old friend of the family who spent more time at the Henderson estate, Aqua Terra, than at her own home thirty miles away.
Her blue eyes were rimmed with red and her hair was windblown, not at all in character for the woman. “There has been…an accident.”
“An accident?” Landon said. “What do you mean an accident?”
“Olivia…and Emma…” Sophia broke down in tears. “They are gone. Dead. They were attacked.”