Everwild (The Healer Series, #1) (7 page)

Declan followed his father out of the door
leaving Willow with Millicent. With a flick of her hands, faded
jeans and a dark green T-shirt appeared. “It’s not exactly stylish,
but you should probably dress casual. We don’t know what to expect.
I’ll show you to the bathroom where you can take a quick shower,”
she started moving away from Willow still holding the clothes in
her hands.

Willow staggered out of the bed, her legs
felt wobbly and unstable, but she kept her balance and followed
Millicent to the bathroom. She left her to shower, and Willow took
a brief moment assess herself. Her dress was ruined. Rips and
strips of fabric hung everywhere, leaving her stomach mostly
exposed. Willow’s cheeks heated with embarrassment as she realized
she had been half naked in front of Declan. Her eyes looked worn
and tired, and her hair was dampened from sweat and covered in dust
and dirt. It stuck out wildly, but still held the curls and natural
spirals. She had dirt on her nose, neck, arms and legs. She looked
like a hot mess.

Willow quickly shrugged out of the dress,
anxious to feel the soothing water against her skin. The shower did
her wonders. Although she was only in for ten minutes, the grim and
grease of the night was washed away in the warm, calming water.

Once dressed, Willow made her way to the main
living room. The Aldridge mansion was huge and elegant. A grand
spiraling staircase led to the upstairs bedrooms, hardwood floors
and intricate furniture filled each room. Everything was put into
place so perfectly and clean it almost looked like nobody lived
here. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and a beautiful
picture was painted on it. It was a mosaic with bursts of color and
pattern, making it seem like you were falling into the ceiling.
Willow grew dizzy just by looking at it, so she continued her way
to the sound of voices in a room off the main hallway.

Willow walked in, and every eye in the room
turned their gaze on her. She only expected the Aldridge family.
What she didn’t expect was the entire Emerald Circle warlocks
gathered in one place. At least thirty people filled the room. Some
warlocks were sitting, and others were standing and conversing
quietly. There were a few witches here as well, standing beside
their husbands or talking to the others around them. The lighting
was dull, and the fireplace burned a green fire that cast a
glowing, eerie light on the faces closest to it.

No one spoke for the longest time. Everyone
was just staring at her, assessing Willow with their judgmental
expressions. She was nervous and was sure that they could hear her
heart beating out of her chest. Willow was only sixteen. Today was
her birthday and she had lost her family, never received her
talisman, almost died, and found out she was a freak in the magical
world. Her future was uncertain, and as she watched the warlocks
before her, their features dark and questioning, Willow knew that
she wasn’t safe. Something was wrong. The somber, angry faces told
her so much more than words could. Trouble was heading her way, and
there was nothing she could do about it.

The green fire heated Willow’s face and dried
her hair as she sat on the floor facing the warlocks around her.
She spotted Declan on the couch across from her. He was wearing a
T-shirt that revealed a tribal tattoo banded around his upper left
arm. Upon further observation, Willow saw that most of the warlocks
had the same symbol marked somewhere on their bodies as well.
Warlocks did not own talismans like witches did, but instead,
marked themselves with a special symbol designating them to their
specific Order. It was very elaborate looking and contained spells
and magic within the ink that allowed the warlocks to strengthen
and control their magic. The symbol acted like a talisman, but they
also drew upon the Circles’ magic as well, which made their magic
far more superior to witches since they could also use the magic of
their companions. The Emerald Circle was the most powerful Order,
which meant each warlock in this room was extremely powerful as an
individual. Emerson did not let just anyone into his Order.

Willow recognized a tall, hefty figure
towards the back of the room. It was Bane, Emerson’s right hand
man. He was a powerful ally, practically matching the great
warlocks’ skill and magic casting ability. Willow remembered
Portia-Anna raving about him and his strength and how she would
gladly accept a marriage proposal from him. Remembering Portia’s
carefree spirit and flamboyancy, sorrow pricked her eyes. She
wished her sisters were here to help her. She longed for them to be
here. She needed them, and for once in her life, they weren’t
there. She had no one to comfort her and even in a room full of
people, she felt all alone.

Every warlock in the room was covered in ash
and dust. They had participated in the fight, and they looked worn
out and tired, especially since it was well past midnight. Everyone
at the party had come to their manor expecting food, fun, dancing,
and excitement. What they received was chaos, death, betrayal, and
loss.

“Many things were discovered tonight,”
Emerson interrupted Willow’s dismal thoughts. “Hekate has betrayed
all magic casters. She attempted to extract Willow’s life, but
failed, thanks to you, my brethren.” Emerson bowed his head
respectfully to the warlocks, acknowledging their efforts and
bravery. It was what made Emerson a great leader. He was respected
by all, but he seemed to respect them even more and gave them the
praise they deserve. “But tonight,” he continued, “is not a
victory. Hekate is still very much alive and much more powerful
than we could possibly imagine. Over the years, she has accumulated
more than a dozen talismans, extracting and building her magic. She
is a great threat; one that needs eliminating immediately. In our
efforts tonight, we have found out that it will take combined magic
to do this, not just from the Emerald Circle. Hekate is not
undefeatable, though. Her goal unfortunately was focused on Willow,
who is much more than she seems,” Emerson’s eyes flicked to her.
“It turns out that Willow Rose of the Southwick Coven is a
Healer.”

The people in the room who did not know this
information immediately began whispering and looking towards
Willow’s direction with questioning eyes and bewildered
expressions.

“Is this true?” a petite woman asked out
loud.

“How can it be?” another warlock spoke up
disbelieving, “There hasn’t been a Healer in five centuries!”

“You would know, Ludwick,” Declan snorted
from the couch. “Only you were born during the Stone Age.” He
laughed at his joke then yelled when Ludwick slapped him on the
back of his head.

“Let’s find out,” Bane’s gruff voice boomed
in the back of the room. It suddenly grew silent as a grave at his
admission. Declan’s attempt at making the situation lighter had
failed. Bane strode forward until he was in the center of the room,
filling the space and making the room feel small. Bypassing the
table and Emerson’s raised brow, he stopped in front of Willow and
regarded her carefully. Bane’s dark skin glowed from the fire and
cast a shadow across the floor making him seem like a giant. He
unfolded his clenched fist to expose a large gash on his palm. The
wound was still seeping dark blood, and Willow’s stomach heaved
with nausea at the sight. “Heal it,” he commanded. Willow
winced.

“She may not be strong enough,” Millicent
interjected with worry, reaching out to Willow. She was seated next
to Declan on the couch.

Emerson held up a hand to silence her and
then turned to Willow. Crouching down to her level, Emerson held
his unwavering gaze upon her and said softly, “Willow, we do not
mean to be so pressing, and we understand if you feel too weak or
sick to do this. The decision is yours.”

Literally “sick” of people judging her and
thinking she wasn’t good enough, Willow stood to her feet
defiantly. Even though she was a First, she didn’t like being
looked down upon. There was only one way to find out if she was
truly a Healer, perhaps even a way to prove herself in front of
them, even though she had no idea how.

Emerson stood along with her, his expression
carefully hidden as Bane held his hand out to her. Being careful
not to touch the wound, Willow held the back of his hand within
both her palms. Even then her small hands were hidden underneath
Bane’s massive one. Nothing happened. She heard Bane give a huff of
mockery, expecting her to fail,
waiting
for her to fail.

Ignoring him, Willow looked closer at the
wound. She didn’t really know how to begin, but imagined it
closing, the skin coming together to heal, and the blood receding
back into his opened sore. Feeling the familiar tug of her magic,
her hands became warm and a tingling sensation washed over her.
Focusing more on mending the wound, Willow nearly gasped in
surprise when she felt his blood pumping faster, racing towards the
wound, the white blood cells coming to his aide. She felt it,
encouraged it, willing it to speed up the healing process.
Carefully, she coaxed his hand with hers, slowly moving her hands
across his rough skin.

Bane exhaled a sigh of relief when the wound
closed completely and no longer bled openly. His pain, that he hid
so well, was gone. Willow watched in fascination as new skin
formed, threading together like fabric. The healing process stopped
and Willow let go, somehow knowing that it was finished mending. A
small pink scar was the only evidence of Bane ever being cut so
fiercely. Even the dried blood on his hand had vanished.

Bane stepped back and looked down at Willow
in pure astonishment. Being as cordial as a warlock like Bane could
be, he nodded his head and muttered, “Thanks,” before retreating
back to his earlier spot.

Emerson came to stand beside Willow forcing
attention to turn on him, rather than the gawking, incredulous
stares she was receiving. “Put up barriers around the land now,” he
stated. Several warlocks left the room immediately in a buzz of
activity, Bane following on their heels barking orders. The others
who were left just stared at Willow like she was a freak. She
certainly felt like one. She stared down at her hands in
wonder.

Emerson turned to face her and pulled her
aside to a corner of the room. “Willow,” Emerson said lowering his
voice so only she could hear, “I believe you aren’t safe here.”
Willow’s heart beat furiously in her chest. Somehow, she knew this
too. After her newly discovered powers, she felt jittery, like
someone was after her, in particular, a sadistic psycho witch. “I
also believe that there’s more to this than we know.”

“What do you mean?” she managed to ask though
her throat was dry from nervousness.

“I believe it has something to do with your
talisman. Hekate didn’t have it in her possession tonight. She
doesn’t want you to have it. It’s my opinion that she has hidden it
somewhere…somewhere you would never look…or would want to.”

“I don’t understand,” Willow said, “She was
the only one who could give it to me. She must have it.”

Emerson chuckled slightly. “That, my dear, is
only a rite of passage. As a magical race, we like to make a big
show and ceremony out of receiving a talisman. As you know, it
channels the magic and makes you stronger. Because Hekate is the
most honored of our kind at the present age, it is only fitting for
her to present it to you. But the talisman doesn’t answer to her.
It’s yours alone. Hekate knows what it is, though, but she is not
allowed to keep it on herself or even hold it for long because she
hasn’t extracted it from you. The talisman recognizes its owner,
and even though she desires it, she cannot possess it unless you
die. It was never her intention to give it to you tonight. She has
hidden it to stop you from having it. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Willow said hesitantly, “but I
still don’t know where my talisman could be.”

“For that we must find a Seeker. And I happen
to know the best one in town.”

“Emerson,” Willow said before he could turn
away, “do you mean to tell me that you want me to find my talisman?
Now? What would that do? I mean…my sisters, they’re….they’re…”
Willow choked on her words.

Emerson rested his hand on her shoulder and
looked into her eyes sympathetically. Willow never noticed how gray
his eyes were. Beautiful and dark, they held years of wisdom and
affection. They were so different from Declan or Millicent’s hazel
color; different in an appealing way.

“I know you want to save your sisters. But
attacking Hekate head on without a battle plan right now would be
suicide. In order to save them, you must get stronger as a witch.
Being a Healer is an extraordinary gift.
You
have been given
an extraordinary gift, Willow. But find your talisman first and
then you may be strong enough to save your sisters. Remember, you
are not alone in this. You have the Emerald Circle here and several
others who will support you.”

“Then let’s find this Seeker,” Willow said,
still unsure of herself, her power, and her healing capabilities.
But the idea of finding her talisman tempted her, called to her in
such a way that unanticipated desire coursed through her.

Willow found the room nearly emptied. People
were going home, awaiting orders from Emerson, or setting up a
magical boundary if Hekate came knocking on the door. Willow
doubted Hekate would try to penetrate the defenses of the Emerald
Circle Manor house tonight. The Aldridge’s owned more than ten
acres of land, which had several houses designated for his warlocks
and their families to stay. He cared about the members of his
Order, and protecting them was the number one priority. Willow
found herself admiring the Head Warlock of the Emerald Circle.