Where A Witch Goeth

Chapter Thirty-Two: Jealousy Is Complicated

If I were going to save Evander, I needed as much information from my vision as possible. I grabbed the cloth, pressed it to my eyes again.

My power, my determination, my will, and my craft had never been stronger. Immediately, I was slammed back into the vision. Into pain. Into Liadh.

Evander's death—his life flashing before his own eyes--was causing magical side effects. He was calling out for salvation from his pain. Calling out for release, for Liadh. He was calling out to her through his blood, and she was rising in the me that was watching him. The me present at the execution, the me reviewing my vision and Liadh of my future all collided. Ii  seeing things I hadn't yet experienced, I couldn't have—memories from his past, but memories of my future. 

Evander, young and human, bathing in the springs with me. Making love to me in a cave. Comforting my swollen belly. 

Tavish, being born. Being nursed. Walking and giggling.

Christ, he was so beautiful. He was Van and he was my father, but pure. No black magic. No curse at all. I understood why Van had never made him a vampire, now.

I understood now, why I had never had a vision before, but I had one of this moment. It was future me, past me and present me, there in that place. It was a moment of bizarre conjunction. The hinge of my fate, as well as Evander's.

That was some freaking fucking magic, all right. But I was a witch and he was a vampire, so who knew what the fuck we could really do together, if we tried?

But right now, I had to push Liadh out, and my crazed, agonized self out,  and install myself only in the vision. Liadh was no good to me. The me that was actually present was no good to me. They were powerless, being easily held back by someone. All they wanted was Evander—even if it meant walking into the flames and dying with him. And all I wanted was to figure out how to avert this particular moment in time, so he didn't drive me to a crazed, conjucted state of being both my future self and my past self, thereby being completely useless and unable to save him.

I centered myself. I wrestled my will from Evander's magic. I put Liadh and my crazed self aside for a second and put the present me in the vision. And by doing that, I was able to tear my eyes away from Evander burning, turn my head, and see what was holding me back from going to him.

It was Nick. His arms were horrifically mutated into some bastardized version of werewolf legs, and he was gripping me with his claws. I was struggling ferociously, fighting him to get to Evander, and his grip was tearing my arms to shreds.

I was screaming at Nick to let me go, but I couldn't get free.

"I wouldn't let you go if I could. He's evil and unholy, " Nick said softly in my ear.  "Can you not see he's calling you to die with him?  At least with me, you still have a fighting chance."

I wanted to stop and take a breath and look around me closely, but I couldn't cause that to happen. I kept on struggling against Nick and screaming at him. The vision was the vision, and apparently, I couldn't change what happened in it. But I could try to absorb everything I saw. As we grappled, I focused hard, trying to take in as much information as I could.

At first, I saw nothing new. I only saw what I had seen before—the wolves, the witches, their faces grim in the firelight. The reason I hadn't seen Nick before, of course, was that he had been holding me from behind and I had been mostly focused on the vampires burning. But as the vision progressed, as I continued to struggle with him, I took in some important details.

The rhododendron was no longer blooming and the moon was seventy-five percent full—a perfect waning gibbous.

Those two details might tell me when, with some research.