The Opal Witch

Chapter Thirty-Two: Betrayal

Declan kicked the broken beer bottle and watched it roll toward the pond, stopping when it reached the water's edge. Various pieces of junk and litter covered the sandy area. Leftovers from a weekend party, no doubt. During Leora's time, no one could have come onto the property without the blessings of the Godelieve's, but the wards had faded over the century, and were nothing more than an echo that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He'd not even remembered the pond until this morning. After hours of laying in bed, he'd opted for an early morning stroll to clear his mind. What his mind had forgotten, his body remembered, and his feet led him to the tranquil spot.

Drawing in a calming breath, he counted to three, released it, and repeated. He lifted his arms and watched as the leather cestuses covered his hands, the metal spikes on the knuckles gleaming in the new day's light. Finding his footing, he anchored his magic in the earth, searching for the bits of metal and stone that would aid him in strength and agility.

Within minutes, his body was coated in a light sheen of sweat, and he stopped to pull his shirt over his head. Today was going to be brutal based on how hot it already was, but it didn't bother him as he slipped back into his forms, the motions centering his focus. He'd abandoned his own training in favor of the girls' training, and with everything spiraling out of control, he needed this.

"I always loved watching you train."

His staff snapped to his hand, and he whirled, pressing the end into the speaker's neck. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, the sweat burning and blurring his vision. If he'd just glanced at the woman, he'd have thought it was Sara Elizabeth. She had the same blonde pixie cut, but her eyes were the color of steel, and her face was too round.

"Do I know you?" he asked, knowing he did. There was something about the way she moved, bare feet dancing across the ground, steps so light he wondered how the breeze didn't carry her away. He jerked away in shock. The woman before him was modern and all hard edges, but he could see her now. Just beneath the surface. Golden hair plastered against cheeks reddened from spinning in circles, and a frilly pink dress flaring around her petite frame.

"I see you've figured it out," she crooned.

"Daphne... but how?"

"I'm a witch," she said. "Magic."

"They bound your powers," he said, scrubbing his hand through his damp hair. "Without your magic, your lifespan is that of a normal human's."

Daphne frowned, anger sparking in her gray eyes. They were so much harder, colder than he remembered. She twisted a ring around her finger, and he looked down to see the slight glow around the pearl.

"A water witch? That's unusual for your family. With your gift of foresight, I would've been sure you'd have spirit."

She laughed bitterly. "Probably so. But I never got to find out. The Circle was so distraught they bound all of our powers, and I never even got to choose my channeling stone."

"Then how?"

The scowl morphed into a sinister smile. "You already know the answer to that. I have to admit, I didn't want to. Not at first, and I've only ever taken from girls like my sister. Girls who didn't appreciate the power they'd been given. They didn't deserve it."

Declan stepped back, his hand going to his chest as he struggled to breathe. How was this the same girl who used to sit in the field and make him dandelion crowns? "You're a murderer."

"You say murderer, I say opportunist. It was the only way to have power until I could remove the binding."

Understanding dawned on him. "A binding can only be removed by the one who placed it on you, or-"