Rise of the Night Witch

Chapter 5.7 - Beheaded Horseman

Magic or not, practitioners were squishy mortals. When a gust of wind hit me and the others, we clung against the fence for dear life. Maybe I should've made a potion of gecko hair. That way, not every breeze would blow me away.

Nathan's mojo wasn't going to work on these hellhounds' emotions forever. They'd tear apart if we didn't bring the Book of Samael to the Council now.

Nathan's jacket had been torn by the weather and by the many times he had been blown against the fence. Yet, he was still the strongest and most experienced of us.

Isa caught my broom when Dad threw it out of the car. It was technically illegal for people who weren't mages already to carry staves, as that was the equivalent of forging academic titles. It was not illegal for us, however, to use tools that had the same function as staves but had distinct designs. When we took a broom and craved all the runes usually associated with magic into its wood, no one could complain.

"You aren't serious about this?" Nathan asked.

"You want to fly through the wind alone?" I asked. "You're tired. You had to walk through the storm just to get to the library."

Nathan's knees clattered, and he was forced to rely on his staff as a cane. "If you die, that's on you."

I realized the risk I was taking. I put a lot of faith in the whole emotion-energy sucking my new familiar gave me. If I tired, slipped, or overestimated myself, I was going to fall to my death. The same applied if I sat here and let the Wild Hunt destroy everything.

I held the broom with one hand and held onto the fence with the other. Nathan got to hold the Word of Samael because let's be real, he had better chances of completing the flight if anything went wrong. I was just the backup plan.

There's a thing people don't tell you about riding broomsticks. It hurts in the groin. But it's easier to fly astride than sideways, so I mounted the broom between my legs and kicked off.

It was just like what Darcy had already shown me. My feet left the ground, my body soared into the air, and the blood pounded through my ears.

Nathan flew before me. He gave me breathing room with his wind shadow, but the wind wasn't our only concern.

Once I was in the arch, it was easy to stay in the middle of the lane. I just needed that initial burst of power from people's belief to get started. Nathan's glamour extended far enough to protect me from being seen directly. The thing I did with the girl still gave me life energy, but people couldn't connect it to me, so I was safe from retaliation from other supernaturals.

Flying for the first time was nerve-wracking, especially in a storm with wind speeds of over sixty miles per hour.

The wind blew me a whole block south, closer to Summer Hill Cemetry where Mrs. Turner had been buried.

Nathan flew before me. He gave me breathing room with his wind shadow, but the wind wasn't our only concern.

The Hunt arrived. A ghost tornado including Mrs. Turner's ghost attacked us head-on.

Nathan threw himself into the crossfire. He held a little saltshaker with which he tried to ward them off, but he already exhausted himself through the flight and I wasn't sure if he was strong enough to hold them off all by himself.

I wanted to fly closer and help him, but Nathan glared.

I couldn't help him, as much as I wanted to.

He flew closer and showed me the Book of Samael.

Ghosts crashed into the invisible barrier he had created with his salt shaker and sought to pierce it to come closer to him, me, or the town. He had to hold them off. And while he was doing so, someone needed to transport the book.