The witches receded from Emma’s flaming corpse, covered in blood, and resumed humming and beating their drums as the fire raged in the center of the room. Seth watched in horror as the two women in the center continued dancing around the fire. Emma was dead, by her own hand, bled out on the floor in front of him. Had she brought him here just to witness this?

Emma twitched. Seth jolted as he watched her spasm on the floor, thrashing about, the long cut on her neck ripping open and becoming jagged. She began to rise, the flames from the floating fire leaping to her body until she was the only thing ablaze in the room. The rest of the women prostrated themselves before her. Emma raised her arms overhead, head tilting back. Seth could see through the flames into her neck and he swallowed back bile.

She spoke. Her voice was not her own, it was dark, heavy, suffocating. The words filled the room and vibrated within Seth’s skull. His head wanted to rip apart at the sound of them and he sank back against the wall, clapping his hands over his ears. The sheath of the knife dug into his back, but the thought of drawing it was the furthest thing from his mind.

“IS IT NOT AS I DECREED THAT IT WOULD HAPPEN?”

The hands over his ears did nothing as the voice grew louder and louder in the room.

“SHE IS YOUR VESSEL. HE IS YOUR CHAMPION.”

Seth screwed his eyes shut, pressed his palms as hard as he could into his ears. The painful wasp-sting lanced into both his temples this time, feeling his head with white-hot pain.

“ADAM AND EVE THEY SHALL BE AND I SHALL DELIVER UNTO YOU YOUR CAINE. NOW IS THE TIME OF YOUR BLOOD!”

Seth blacked out.

***

“Seth. Seth. Wake up, Seth.”

Seth’s eyes fluttered open, his head at an odd angle as he had slumped down and to the side along the wall. He felt as if he’d just recovered from a migraine as he sat upright and the blood started rushing to his skull. Two hands gently gripped his shoulders. “Are you alright?” Asked Emma.

Seth’s eyes went wide as he stared up up and down. She knelt in front of him, clothed in all black, medallion on her neck, but no cloak on her body. He eyes were their normal hazel, not shining violet. “You knocked your head pretty hard there.”

“No,” said Seth, steadying his voice. “I blacked out when…”

“I mean after you blacked out.”

Seth closed his mouth, then raised an eyebrow. “So this isn’t going be like some horror movie where you’re all ‘you didn’t see what you think you saw’?”

She shook her head, smiling. Seth scanned her neck, looking for a scar, a wound, anything. There was nothing there, no charring on her skin, no scent of fire in the air. In fact, the community center room was now lit by regular overhead lighting, and he smelt pastries. Seth looked around and saw the women who had been engaged in the ritual earlier all wearing relatively normal clothes and sitting around tables, enjoying scones and fruit. Seth looked back to Emma. “So what did I see?”

“It was my turn to channel and to honor the Goddess with my body as her vessel.”

“You slit your throat.”

“The Goddess returns what is offered threefold.”

Seth placed his hands on he knees and heaved himself to an upright position, still leaning against the wall. “Okay… When did you become a witch?”

“I’ve been worshiping with the coven for a while now. I was initiated on my eighteenth birthday. That was during your disappearance, if you remember.”

Seth bit his tongue. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Why don’t you come sit at the Matrons’ table.”

Seth grimaced. “Didn’t I kill a Matron?”

“Yes, so a seat will be open for you.”

“Right.” Seth came off the wall. The whole scene in place of the ritual disturbed him. The tables were white, plastic, folding affairs—the kind you’d expect to see at at a church luncheon. Scones seemed to be the main food here, as each table had a basket of them, surrounded by several platters of various fruits: strawberries, blueberries, pineapple, grapes, and melon chunks. Seth followed Emma through the several tables to one where five women he guessed to be in their late thirties sat, enjoying their food. Their heads swiveled as one to look at him. The one nearest the empty seat, a curly-haired brunette with those shining violet eyes Emma had possessed earlier, motioned to the seat beside her.

“Please, Seth. Sit with us.”

Emma pulled the seat out for him and Seth sat down. She remained behind him, her hands resting on the back of his chair. He could feel her breath ever so slight upon the top of his head. He swallowed, looking around at the Matrons.

“Emma tells us,” the woman said again, “that you are already used to seeing things like you just saw.”

“Used is a strong word.”

“You’ve at least seen magic aside from that.”

He nodded.

“Good. No need for our Adam to be squeamish.”

“Adam?”

She smiled as she pulled a muffin in half on the plate in front of her and then began to butter it. “Yes, an Adam is a mighty warrior allied with the coven, who in this instance will help us fight the shamans and purge them from this land that is meant to be ours. You are not the first Adam to help this coven, nor will you be the last.”

“Look,” said Seth. “I don’t really know anything about the feud between the two sides. What I do know is that the bears— the shamans, they kidnapped my best friend.”

The Matron raised her eyebrows. “Oh, how absolutely uncivilized of them. My sincerest apologies. Fortunately for you, the moon is gibbous.”

“Why fortunately?”

“One can only be turned into one of their kind on the night of a full moon. Which I more than assume is their intent if they are resorting to coercion to secure your alliance.” She took a bit of the muffin and closed her eyes in culinary ecstasy.

“Well, I want to rescue my friend.”

“If you ally with us,” spoke the next Matron over, a blond like Emma, also with those shining violet eyes—like all the Matrons had, Seth now noticed. “I can assure you we will rescue your friend when we destroy the shamans.”

“Look, I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you fight bears. I’m not that strong.” Seth held his hands up in a shrugging gesture. “I don’t know magic. I just heal kind of fast.”

“You are the child of the spirits the Goddess sent to us. I’m sure there is more to yourself than you know. An Adam does not find his coven on accident.”

“There’s not.”

“Hm. How disappointing. Still, you can clearly fight better than you give yourself credit for. That seat is a testament to that.”

Seth moved in discomfort. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t. Matron Morana was to begin her journey to distant realms this Yule. Before her time is far better than after her time. You merely complicated her journey. Think of it as showing up to the airport with no tickets. You’ll have to wait a bit to purchase them, but you can still get where you want to go. All you were was a very efficient Uber driver.”

Seth made a wincing smile. “Glad to help.”

“Here, have a scone.” She reached into the basket and set one in front of Seth. He caught a whiff of cinnamon.

“Well, the muffins earlier weren’t poisoned, so…” He grabbed the knife next to his plate and cut the pastry in half before reaching for the butter. The Matrons all laughed at his comment.

“Oh, we have another one who’s watched Snow White too many times,” said the Matron directly across from him. She looked the oldest of the bunch, maybe forty, but still with very few lines on her face, framed by ringlets of raven-black hair.

Seth spread the butter across the muffin, watching it melt easily and spread into the pastry. “Do you blame me?”

“No,” she said, still laughing. “It’s just always entertaining watching someone who knows nothing of witches.”

“So enlighten me,” he said, looking up and meeting her gaze. He faltered for a moment as the intensity of her eyes pushed into him. The void inside retreated. Hard. He forced himself not to swallow. “Do you practice pact-magic, or source-magic?”

“Those are some pretty scientific words,” she said, her laugh transmuting into a smirk. “But no, we practice both. Our pact, as it were, is with the Goddess. But, if you know those words, then I’m sure you’ve heard we drink the blood of newborns for our powers. We don’t. We follow the Path of the Fey, and our source is the local ley lines. Or, rather, line. And… That is the source of our contention with the shamans.” She continued staring into his eyes, probing for something. The void further retreated at her sight. “Have you heard the term ‘hedge witch’?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing there’s a specific meaning, though.”

“There is. A ‘hedge’ is simply a claimed source that we block off from all other users. It brings great power to us and great honor to the Goddess to do so.”

“Alright, and the ley line…?”

“The blue flame you saw is its primary font. The shamans claim it belongs to them, but they are willing to share it. However, their… presence… taints the ley line. It makes it sick. Weaker. If they’re allowed to continue like this, the line will eventually divert. Possibly to catastrophic effect. We have been negotiating with them for a decade to move on. They’re nomads anyway. But they’re stubborn, and I have long suspected our desire cements their stubbornness.”

She folded her hands. “To further misfortune, we are a matched set of power. As much as it pains me to admit, they are strong spellweavers. Our powers are roughly an even match. Though we might have an edge in raw ability, we are not shifters. If they were to get us into a brawl— if they got within reach of us, I’m afraid the tide would rapidly turn in their favor.”

“And I’m supposed to balance the scale?”

She nodded. “You’ve beaten one of them, even if he was only half-shifted at the time.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“We can easily provide you the tools you need to finish the job. And even if you are simply acting as a buffer against their onslaught… That in and of itself is enough to allow us to win the battle.”

“Yeah, I still can’t fight a bear. I’m not Superman. I’m just stronger than average.”

“The Goddess would not have called you Adam if that were true.”

Seth paused, thinking. The full words of the entity that had possessed Emma came to him. “And what about the rest of it? Eve and Caine?”

She smiled. “There is always an Eve where there is an Adam. He is the warrior, and she is the perfect vessel of the goddess. They come together in union to produce a child of the Goddess.”

“Wait. Wait one second.” Seth shook his head. “English, please.”

“You’re going to put a baby into her, and it will be a strong child who will do great things in the name of the Goddess.”

Seth shook his head and made a repeated cutting motion at his neck. “Uh, I think I’m going to… No.” He twisted to look back at Emma. She beamed at him. He looked back to the Matrons. “I’m not having a kid.”

“This is not a prophecy, Seth. This is simply a law of the universe. Adam and Eve shall always produce Caine.”

He pressed his lips together. “How about we just rescue my friend, and deal with that bit later?”

She smiled. “Of course.”

Seth took a bite of the scone. Delicious. Emma’s hand rested on his shoulder. Concerning. Seth needed Hunter-33 to get here. This was not the alliance he needed—he sensed more danger here than he did help.