The Four Horsemen (The Light Series) (7 page)

I
shudder from the feeling in the air.

“Show
yourselves, sisters. He cannot harm you. He is guarded by his love of the sin
eater and his angel bloodline.”

Women
start appearing out of nowhere. The room is full suddenly.

We
all stand there, looking at each other but no one speaks. I feel the nausea in
my stomach from him being too close. His chest and stomach are pressed against
my back. He’s gauging the room to fight our way out. I can almost smell it on
him, not fear but fight.

I
reach back, taking one for the team and hold his hands with my own, “He is
mine.”

They
make faces and whisper amongst themselves.

“Does
it not hurt, sin eater?”

I
nod, “Near-death bad.”

The
older witch with the white hair in the corner nods at me, “You wish us to
handfast, even though you just broke it?”

“We
do.”

“Why?”
she asks and the others nod in agreement.

I
shrug but Wyatt speaks, “I fasted our hands without her knowledge of what it
meant. I forced it. This time I have asked as is your custom, on my knees.”

They
all look disgusted. A dark-haired one points at him, “Typical man. That’s how
many a witch was made a slave in the old days. A handfasted witch cannot use
her magic on her husband, nor can her coven sisters.” She gives us a sickening
smile, “But it wasn’t ever hard to find a sister somewhere to smite his ass
like he deserved.”

They
all cackle. They are more like the witches I expected in the world. Not the
sneaky faces of the earth witches or the deceptive beauty of the nixie. No, the
fire witches are Gothic and slightly haggard in some cases. There is very
little beauty to go round. Instantly, I remember something I once read. The
beauty of a witch shows on the inside and the out. It was on the wall,
somewhere?
Willow’s cottage, in the picture maybe.
I
can see the darkness of them.

One
of the witches, a particularly pretty one, smiles at me, “My sister is the one
who fasted you last time. You saved her life. For that we are grateful, and we
will spell your wishes.”

I
look around at the older ones but they seem satisfied by her words, like she is
in charge.

They
step to the side, making a path for the door on the far side. “There are
wedding clothes in the room there. Go and change. Lila will bring you up to the
hallowed ground.”

Lila
leads the way to the door. She opens it and goes inside. I follow her, feeling
Wyatt hesitate as we cross into the room.

The
door closes. Lila smiles at him, “Nervous we won’t let you out?”

He
gives her his sexy, confident smile. “You can’t hurt me. The dark-haired one
spoke an oath, it’s spelled. I felt it on my skin.”

She
cocks an eyebrow, “Did I mention that I just love that you’re half angel? I
think that’s fantastic.”

He
rolls his eyes, walking past her to the clothes. His are dark jeans and a black
dress shirt. He scowls, “I’m going to freeze up there.”

She
smiles, “
Awwww
muffin. I’m sure we can manage a nice
fire to keep you warm.”

I
laugh and he gives me a look, “What happened to he’s mine?”

I
shrug, “That was funny. I have a sense of humor, you don’t. It’s no biggie.”

She
passes me a long black skirt with layers like a dead bride’s dress and a black
corset shirt. I give her the puppy-dog eyes, “I don’t want to be cold too. It’s
not funny when it’s me suffering.”

She
shakes her head, “The clothes have to be black. If your underwear aren’t black,
you have to take them off.”

Wyatt
gives her a cocky, asshole grin. “I don’t like wearing them anyway.”

She
can’t fight the attraction to him. None of them can. I can’t either. It’s one
thing that he’s stop-traffic hot—it’s completely another that he’s a Van
Helsing, and all things like us are attracted to him. He pulls off the hoodie
and slips on the dress shirt. She turns around as he drops his trousers, with
no regard for either of us. He smells the jeans, “These are clean, right?”

“Of
course. They’re magic.”

He
chuckles, “Well, when was the last wedding?”

She
turns back around as he zips the zipper, “Not too long ago, but he only kept
them on for an hour or so.”

Wyatt’s
face goes still. She laughs. He shakes his head, “Not funny, witch.”

She
shrugs, “Like the sin eater says, you just don’t have a sense of humor, do
you?”

He
steps forward, “I do,
it
just seems the things I think
are funny offend everyone else.”

She
swallows hard. I turn around with the corset over my breasts, “Can someone do
this up?”

Wyatt
touches me, making me
jump
, “Her—can she do it?”

Lila
comes and does the bra and corset over it up. She whispers in my ear, “The
clothes are new. We manifest them for weddings.”

I
smile, “Thanks.”

She
nods, “Let him sweat it out though, huh?”

I
nod.

She
opens a different door on the other side of the room and leaves through it. We
walk up the stairs to a garden. It is dark and dreary. I can feel the wrinkled
nose and disgusted look. When I see the first headstone, I gag.

She
laughs, “Fire witches don’t normally need the help of the dead to seal
something like this, but you two just broke one off. That leaves a stain. If we
didn’t have a full coven and all our ancestors buried beneath us, we wouldn’t
even be able to do it.”

We
walk to where a gathering of women wearing black dresses stand around an old
headstone.

I
have the funniest feeling like I’m not making the right choice. The dead are
there, I can feel them for the first time in ages. The other girls inside of
me, the other versions of me, are gone. They are silent, probably in protest,
but I don’t care. I want to touch him and kiss him and make love to him, like I
never have but I know I can.

Constantine’s
name whispers through my mind, but that’s the only place it is. He is not in my
heart.
He is not my choice
,
he is
theirs
. I do not believe in being able to love two people at once. I am
hardly able to say I love Wyatt. I know I do, but my heart is broken, and I
don’t know why or how to fix it.

We
walk to the women who look almost like a murder of crows instead of a group of
women. They are all draped in black. Mist trails through the graves and circles
the women.

Lila
leads us to the headstone and holds her hand out, “In the middle.”

She
cuts a doorway in the circle of mist with her finger. We step through it. The
dark-haired one smiles, “Hold both hands and look at each other.”

Suddenly,
I see they all have unlit black candles in their hands. I wince, remembering
the pain. The dark-haired one holds her hands like she is holding an orb. She
chants and whispers, and as the magic brews, the flames grow higher on the
candles and a ball of flames grows between her hands. She holds it to the sky;
the winds come, bringing clouds and more darkness. The clouds dance and rub
against each other making a low rumble in the skies. Lightning shoots from the
darkest part, touching the ball of light in her hands.

Wyatt
looks nervous. I feel the dead in the air, sparkling around me, excitedly.

Her
crazed chants and whispers become shouts as the wind picks up, blowing the hood
of her black coat down and letting her hair flow free. In giant black locks, it
swings about, around her pale face as she distorts slightly and slams the ball
of light into our clasped hands. We scream simultaneously. She falls back,
breathless and smiling.

“The
God you love wants this. He has blessed your union himself.”

I
sniffle back the tears and emotions.

She
reaches over, taking two daggers from the girls next to her. She hands
me one and Wyatt one
.

“Put
your blood on the blade, then stab each other in the heart simultaneously.”

I
shake my head but Wyatt presses the blade to my chest. I give him a look. He
rolls his eyes, “It isn’t going to hurt more than the mighty God ball. We can’t
die, Rayne.”

My
hands tremble as I lift the sharp blade to his chest. “It’s a magical blade,
Rayne.” She points, “You’ll want to take the shirts off or it hurts twice as
bad. It drags the fabric through, really awful.”

I
wince but he’s already pulling his shirt off. I turn and let him remove the
corset, leaving me in the huge black skirt and black bra. The wind blows, making
me shiver. His warm touch no longer burns, and I no longer feel sick. I realize
how badly it’s been bugging me. I haven’t felt right since we took it off.

“Do
you have a ring?”

He
shakes his head, “Didn’t know we needed one.”

She
points, “Give me that one.” She points at the ring everyone in his family has.
He thinks for a second; I almost see a hesitation but he pulls it off and drops
it into her hand. He looks nervous without it. She holds it in her hands,
“Stab.”

I
look at him, pointing the blade at his bare chest. I shake my head, “This is a
bad idea.”

His
blue eyes are dark and full of something I can’t quite place. It might be
arrogance, but it could also be trust. I think most of his expressions look the
same on his
face,
they have something to do with being
cocky and sexy. He stabs me slightly, pressing the blade. I wince. He smiles,
“One movement, just a single hard push. You ready?”

I
nod, “Okay.” I take several short breaths. He nods his head, “On three. One.” I
am about to chicken out and run away but my feet won’t move. “Two.” I tense up,
waiting for him to do it. I know I won’t. I can’t stab him. I can’t do this. I
can’t. “Three.” I cry out as he walks into my blade while pushing his into my
heart. I cough blood. He does the same.

Tears
drop from my eyes as the metal sits there, pressed against my still-beating
heart and chest. We are close to one another, only separated by the hilt of the
daggers.

Lila
puts a hand on both our backs and pushes us the rest of the way. When we are
chest to chest I feel something warm. It gets hotter and hotter until it’s
searing my heart, and I am screaming into his chest. His whole body is tensed
over mine. Somehow he manages to move his arms, wrapping them around me. He
kisses the top of my head. I can’t even see him anymore through the tears
flowing from my eyes. I gag again. Lila squeezes her hands in between us and
pries us apart.

I
am sobbing and nearly collapsing, but Wyatt looks strong. He is strong.

Over
his heart my name carves itself, in handwriting. I cry out again, looking down
at where his name is carving over my heart.

Tears
drop from my eyes onto my breasts, trickling over his name. I look at the name,
shaking my head. “H-h-how?”

“The
metal of the blade is the tattoo, it fades unless it you want it to show.”

I
shudder as it finishes. I am about to leap into his arms and make him comfort
me, but the dark-haired witch puts her hand between us, “Put these on.”

There
is a man’s ring and a woman’s ring in her palm. I grab the woman’s but Wyatt
snorts. He takes it and puts it on my wedding finger. I blush, taking gulps of
air now that all the pain is gone.

The
ring is silver and covered in vines. I pick up the fatter one and slide it on
his finger. He smiles, “Worst wedding ever?”

I
laugh, “I have zero doubt that you love me.”

He
nods, “Witchy weddings are not for the faint of heart.”

When
the ring is on his finger, he clasps my hand in his. His eyes bear down on me,
“I will love you until I am no longer even a speck of dust on the wind.”

My
eyes tear up again. I nod, “Me too.”

He
grins, “Always so good with words.”

I
sniffle, “You know.”

He
tilts my face upward and lowers his lips to mine, “I know.”

I
realize then we are standing in a graveyard with only the bottom half of our
clothes on and witches all around us. Is it wrong to kiss? Better question is,
do I care? When his lips meet mine, I do not. It is sweet bliss. He kisses me
once and then pulls away, “Is there somewhere I might take my bride?”

I
think we all know he means that in more than one way, and I’m insulted by one
of them. The witch laughs, “She is pure of heart now because we have blessed.
You cannot take her.”

I
blush, “Oh…
uhm
…no. This isn’t my first time at the
rodeo, if you get my point.” I laugh but she does not. The other witches are
stuck in the flames of their candles. Only the four of us are able to move.

She
rolls her eyes, “I know that. But since the nixie have cleansed you and we have
just now cleansed you, have you committed an original sin?”