by Carla Rehse
Mama hadn’t shared much about his personal life except his wife was an outsider and had died fifteen years ago. His expression showed a level of pain that tore through me. Life had been so much easier at sixteen. Wish I had realized it back then. “Luna, any fun stories? Chase?”
Chase twitched. “Um … when my brother and I had our initiation into the Claw Mark Brotherhood we had to chase down a Tatra chamois in the Carpathian Mountains. Not an actual chamois but one of the goat-weres that just pretended to be a chamois. Well, we found one but didn’t realize a werewolf had taken up with her. Imagine my brother’s surprise when the wolf jumped him and bit off his ear! The blood sprayed everyone!” Chase chortled, while Janice carefully set her spaghetti sauce and noodled fork down.
“Um … funny.” Luna scrunched her forehead. “Like the time Linc snuck into the church and borrowed some of his grandfather’s sacred wine and we met up with Heather and Noah and …” She trailed off as she gave Lawson and Janice the side-eye. “Oh. Maybe that’s not a story to tell in front of their parents.”
I snickered at the weird dichotomy of feeling like you’re still one of the cool kids but in reality, being one of the parental figures you used to rebel against. “Man. When did we get old?”
Janice shook her head, sighing.
“Old. So old,” I repeated, then shoved my plate away. How could I be the Gatekeeper when my whole body ached? The words from the Angel Boss rang in my mind. Old. Overweight. Undertrained.
Lawson patted my knee. “You know we believe in you, right? That you can control the Gate and use the power to save the kids? And we’ll help, no matter what.”
I swallowed hard, nearly choking on my wine. He always was attuned to my emotions, more than anyone else. Myself included.
Luna nodded. “Absolutely, Gatekeeper! You can do this.”
Chase gave me ten fingers up—the Shifter gesture for trust and acceptance.
“You will find them,” Janice said. “And I can’t wait to meet your daughter and tell her all about her mother’s teenage years.”
“Saints, save me now,” I moaned.
We laughed, then quickly and quietly finished our meal. Maybe it was the company or the wine or both, but my confidence came back. My momentary weakness was just that—momentary.
After we finished, Janice shooed us from the table. “I’ll clean up while you locate the Brownie … Wow, can’t believe I just said that.”
Figuring it would take longer to argue with them than complete the task, I led the others to the basement door. It took two hands to open it, and the hinges squeaked loudly. Whether from little use or a nifty early warning signal, I couldn’t say. A single lightbulb flickered on the wall, illuminating a set of metal stairs. An earthy, sweet scent floated through the doorway. I’d smelled it before, though I couldn’t place where or what caused it.
“Devil’s mushroom,” Lawson remarked.
Luna craned her head to look over his shoulder. “Isn’t that like super poisonous?”
I nodded. “Extremely deadly to humans and vampires. Not great for Shifters. But it’s a delicacy to any of the fairy species.” And that solved how the Bwbach had survived. It created his or her own mushroom farm. “Let me go first.”
My bad knee reminded me of how much it hated stairs. By the time I reached the earthen ground, I was dreading the walk back up.
The sweet smell turned to a stinky mildewy, dusty stench. Cinderblocks lined the basement walls with mold splotched on it like a Jackson Pollack painting. Along the ceiling every ten feet or so, single lightbulbs burned dimly.
There was just enough illumination to show how chaotic it was down here. Really, a twister couldn’t have caused more mayhem. Cardboard boxes, many splitting apart, slumped in sad six-foot-high columns with papers and journals spilling from them and piling to the ground. If the boxes had been originally arranged in rows, time had changed that. What was left was a rabbit warren of a mess. Weird that the Bwbach kept it like this, since they supposedly were incredibly neat. But there were variations in all species, as I could attest to.
How did I not know that a Bwbach lived in the basement? Mack might’ve died before I left town, but this had been my second home for a decade. Just one more freaking mystery to solve.
Literally and figuratively, I crossed my fingers. “Helpwch gyda'r chwiliad.”
I waited for a few seconds. When I didn’t receive a response, I said it again louder, concentrating hard on my pronunciation.
Paper rustled, but I couldn’t see what caused it. I prayed hard it wasn’t mice. Not that they scared me, but damn, the damage they could’ve caused all this paper.
“Anything?” Lawson called from the top of the stairs.
I cleared my throat. “Helpwch gyda’r chwiliad!”
Papers rustled again. A box fell, forcing me to jump back to avoid getting clunked by it. The rustling sound grew louder, and I realized it was from several different directions. The back of my neck crawled. Bwbach were solitary beings.
“Gatekeeper.”
NINETEEN
Negotiating like a boss … sort of
The hair on my arms stood up. “I apologize, but I can’t see who has spoken.”
Politeness never hurt. The dagger in my boot was another matter. I had found it wrapped in a bedazzled sheath, stuffed in my bag. I’d have to thank Sebastian for that later.
The closest row of boxes to me swayed, then a small, wizened face, wearing a red Santa Claus-style hat, peeked around the bottom box. “You are the Gatekeeper?”
“Yes,” I said. “My name is Everly Popa. Mack Valencia was my friend. He said you might be willing to help me.”
Paper crinkled farther inside the room. “Macario Valencia is long dead,” a different voice hissed.
Another Bwbach? Weird. Really, really weird. “I spoke with him in the otherworld, on the Plane of the Dead. He said he was a friend of the Bwbach and taught me the phrase.”
“Friend.”
“Good friend.”
“Miss him.”
Unless I had completely lost my mind—granted, it was always a possibility—there were four or five Bwbach down here. Holy Smokes. A congregation like that was rarer than a politician telling the complete truth. Could that be why it was so messy down here, a rabbit warren built to hide them? Bwbach were a small people, around the size of a human toddler, and would be able to easily hide in this mess without even using their innate magic.
“Is there …” My mind blanked on the Welsh language; it’d been so many years since Mack gave me lessons. “Um. Is there a speaker? A leader among you?”
Red Hat ducked his head. “I will speak for my kin but will share no true names. There’s too much magic flowing in the air to chance an attack against us.”
“Would it be permissible for me to refer to you as Red Hat?” I waited for his—her?—affirmation. “Magic is the reason why I am here. Dangerous magic. A witch has stolen the children of the Marked and murdered a Seraph. I need help looking for information on spellworks.”
“Witch.”
“Spellworkers!”
Red Hat glanced over his shoulder. “My kin and I have no love for spellworkers. They have hunted us for centuries to grind our bones into powder for their noxious potions.”
I slowly removed my dagger from my boot. “I pledge to protect you and your brethren with my lifeblood, as well as the lifeblood of the Hunters on the stairs. We pledge to pursue the witches and end them, restoring the magical balance in this boundary town.”
“You would pledge before asking your favor?” Red Hat asked, sounding incredulous.
I nodded. “Our protection comes with no strings. If you decline to help, we will still protect you.” Remembering Mack’s suggestion. “But if you do choose to help, I will offer cold cream and hot milk once a week for a year.”
“Cream!”
“Milky ’shrooms!”
Red Hat smiled, showing off broken, brown teeth. “What is your true
favor, before I agree?”
True favor? The back of my neck tingled. I had thought I was handling the negotiations well, but now I worried I was getting in over my head. Although fairies were notorious pact cheaters, Bwbach didn’t have the same reputation. Instead, they demanded complete honesty, in a black-and-white worldview. They weren’t big on nuances. I had to frame my request properly. Too broad and it wouldn’t help; too narrow and we’d miss something.
“Careful, Everly,” Lawson stage whispered.
I made a sweeping gesture with my arms. “Mack Valencia was an avid collector of the arcane. I ask you to locate anything in this basement that pertains to dark spellworks.” I hoped that was general enough to cover everything without having to read through Gloria’s Good Witch Book of Spells on Garden Weevils, or something like that.
Red Hat grunted. “Go through everything down here on dark spellworks? For weekly cream and milk?”
The mold was making my nose itch, but I forced myself not to scratch it. “Yes. For weekly cream and milk for one year. Our protection has no strings.”
“Set the size of the offering,” Lawson stage whispered again.
I wanted to face-palm. Duh. Black-and-white with no nuance. “Do you possess the bowls in which I can place the offering?”
Two beat-up enamelware bowls sailed over the row of boxes. They floated to my feet. Both looked very old and were about the size of my medium mixing bowls.
I said, “These bowls are acceptable as the dishes to place the weekly milk and cream for one year.”
“Addewid wedi’i selio. We accept—with one caveat,” Red Hat said. “None of the books or materials we provide you must leave this premises. We have been left as Guardians of Knowledge, and this we take seriously.”
Guardian of Knowledge? It couldn’t be a coincidence that Mack called himself a guardian and Sebastian seemed less than pleased by it. “I accept your conditions. Thank you,” I said with a smile. “Once you and your kin have located the material, please place them by the stairs so we may bring it upstairs to read. And, uh, if you find anything on the Gate or Gatekeepers, I’d give an extra bowl of cream for that.”
Red Hat bowed his head, then disappeared from sight. I’d never seen the entire basement, so I wasn’t sure how far back it went. Which, I assumed, was the reason why I never knew they were here. Crossing Shadows, the place where secret-keeping was the favorite pastime.
The Bwbach apparently decided to begin their search at the far end of the room, as paper rustling and whistling sounded from that area. Besides knowing Bwbach had the ability to move faster than the human eye could see (think the flapping wings of a hummingbird), I had no idea how they were searching.
The Fae, and their cousins the Bwbach and other hearth spirits, kept their magical abilities a closely guarded secret. I respected that.
Luna darted down the stairs to grab the bowls. “Do you want me to bring the books to you?”
“I’ll help!” Chase called down.
Figuratively gritting my teeth in anticipation of a painful climb back to the living area, I said, “Absolutely.”
Within minutes, I was back upstairs, at the dining room table, holding a very full plastic glass of wine. Janice was a heavy pourer. I had finally found something I really liked about her.
Sipping the last of her wine, she asked. “What exactly are we looking for?”
Lawson cracked open a bottle of water. “Anything that can explain what’s happened. Like the death of the elders and what that has to do with our kids.”
“And the murder of an angel,” I pointed out. “The blood of a Seraph, three children of the original Marked. That leaves a Hellspawn to complete the trifecta.”
“You mean a dead demon?” Janice’s eyes widened. Couldn’t blame her as there’d literally be Hell to pay if a demon died.
Chase jogged in, holding five thick hardback books. He placed them on the table next to Lawson. “What about a Shifter, with our Hellspawn-tainted blood? Andris, my cousin, has been missing since the town meeting earlier. I have not found his scent.”
Lawson frowned. “Andris? He’s here as a Hunter trainee, but his admiration for the demons is well known. Could he be at their stronghold? Using the crisis to join them?”
Chase looked at his feet. “I don’t wish to speak badly of my family, but yes, perhaps it is possible. But it would be a major violation of the Claw Mark Brotherhood’s rules. He could be sentenced to death for that.”
Luna entered the room, holding a chin-high pile of loose papers. She started to sneeze, so Chase hurried to relieve her of the paperwork. After depositing the dusty papers on the table, he followed Luna to the basement.
Lawson passed out the books and papers as if we were playing Go Fish. Like the old days before we found more interesting games to play. I straightened my stack of papers, thinking hard.
The Claw Mark was an ancient Shifter organization and governed their members with an iron claw—pun intended. I didn’t know Andris. But though I’d been out of the loop for two decades, I couldn’t imagine the Claw’s reputation deteriorating to a point where a member would openly flaunt their rules. If I remembered right, aligning with the demons over a Claw member would earn the offender an old-fashioned “drawn and quartering and offal eating,” with the Celestial Governing Body looking the other way. So, it was entirely possible the witch nabbed Andris, adding a deeper and darker wrinkle to the mystery.
Chase and Luna trotted in with more books and loose papers. Lawson distributed them, Janice opened a new bottle of wine, and I cracked open a book. Then immediately wished I had my own bottle of wine. The journal was very old, with faded, loopy cursive handwriting instead of type. Cursing my age, I had to hustle to my bag to get my pair of readers.
When I returned to the table, with the blasted things slipping to the end of my nose, Janice sighed. “Yeah, I’m gonna need my cheaters too.”
Lawson grunted and reached into the backpack near his chair. “Got mine right here. Ev, since you’re up, mind making a pot of coffee?”
The three of us, with reading glasses perched on our noses, which made me feel older than dirt, settled in for a long night of reading. We quickly decided on an orderly system as the kids kept bringing up more and more material. Everything on the table was what we were currently working on, the discards got piled by the cot—giving us a much-needed reason to stand and move around—while the to-be-read pile was stacked around the table. It wasn’t a perfect system but the best we could think of.
After around four hours of running back and forth, Luna brought in her smallest armful of books. She stared at the mounds of books on the floor surrounding the table. “Chase has the last one. Need us to help read, Gatekeeper?”
She looked exhausted, as did Chase as he shuffled in, carrying a humungous leather-bound book. They might be young, but they’d made over fifty trips up and down stairs. I, on the other hand, was buzzing on my fourth or tenth cup of coffee, so I waved my hand. “Nah, why don’t y’all take a nap, then relieve us in a couple of hours?”
Janice groaned. “The only relieving I need is the bathroom. Too much coffee!”
Lawson glanced up from the pages he was perusing but didn’t say anything. None of us had found anything that remotely pertained to our situation. We might be middle-aged and not used to pulling all-nighters anymore, but our kids were on the line. I didn’t have to ask to know the three of us weren’t sleeping tonight.
Luna and Chase quickly accepted the offer to nap, and soon Chase’s quiet snores blended in with the sound of turning pages.
While trying to decipher the spelling in a two-hundred-year-old diary, my eyes grew heavy. I jerked awake, startling Lawson to his feet.
He scrubbed his head. “Ugh. Remember the time in sophomore year when we had finals, but Mack had us tracking that ghoul?”
I smiled. “I remember. Forty-eight hours of no sleep, one package of Skittles apiece, and we still aced the Algebra test.”
; Janice leaned back in her chair to crack her back. “The two of you had obnoxious levels of energy back then. Couldn’t stand it. Glad to see the playing field has leveled.”
Lawson bent down to pick up the last book Chase brought up. “What I would give for just half the endurance I had back then.”
With my dirty-bird mind, I couldn’t help thinking of his “endurance,” but the adult in me stopped an NSFW comment from escaping my mouth.
Lawson dropped the huge tome onto the table with a loud and dusty thud. “This thing is huge.” He tried to lift the leather cover, but it didn’t budge. “And um, locked, apparently.”
“What? How?” I reached over and touched the cover. Light sparked over it, and a golden Chi-Rho symbol like the apothecaries wore appeared on the cover. With a squeaky click, the cover fluttered open. “Whoa!”
Janice yawned. “Guess the Gatekeeper mojo is good for something.”
Inside the cover, unbound pages sat willy-nilly, like homework stuck in a lazy kid’s Trapper Keeper. “Can you read these?” I asked. Getting stuck reading another stack of handwritten pages would require another cup of coffee. And possibly new eyeballs. It might be time to wake up the Sleeping Twins. Though, something about these pages kept drawing my attention.
“Yep,” Lawson said. He handed me a third of the stack. “Maybe we should concentrate on these?”
I gave Janice the papers. “They smell kinda weird. Like moldy dirt or something.”
Janice frowned but kept her mouth shut. I concentrated on my pile.
Within seconds, I knew we were finally on the right track. Helen, an herbalist in 1910, had written these pages in a sort of diary-slash-grimoire thing. She’d lied to the Apothecary Guild to gain admittance, concealing the fact her father had been a witch. A dark witch. With her mother a member of a minor branch of the Russo family, it would’ve been easy enough to cover up her parentage. An age-old issue with the Marked needing to practice exogamy. At least Helen knew who her father was. I still had no clue. Though if the General Assembly weren’t so supremacist about the Marked, the secrets and shame wouldn’t be needed. We certainly aren’t that damn special.
