by Carla Rehse
Helen’s guilt over her prevarication was obvious in her personal musing, but that didn’t stop her from writing down her father’s favorite dark spells. Or using them, apparently.
One phrase I kept finding was Semence de Vie. French for Seed of Life, if I remembered my high school French lessons.
Latin, Spanish, Italian, French, and Greek had been required classes, but over the years, I’d forgotten most of what I’d learned. From what I could decipher from Helen’s writings, she was working with a group of humans calling themselves Seed of Life, a ridiculous name but not any worse than other groups back then.
What didn’t make sense was her claim to have shared magical rites with them as they were non-witches. Demons and angels received their power from Hellfire and Celestial Grace, respectively. The species that could also use magic—such as pixies, brownies, and witches—were supposedly Hellblood tainted, though there were persistent whispered rumors claiming the pixies had a kernel of Grace instead. But humans, the Marked included, can’t perform magic. Even half-witches have difficulty conjuring power. Unless maybe a Shifter could perform magic since they were also Hellblood tainted? I’d never even heard a rumor of that happening, but could that explain where Chase’s cousin had gone? Was he behind Sadie’s kidnapping? No, that made no sense either. A Shifter was no match for an angel. Guardian Angel Cael would’ve ripped him to shreds. And if Shifters could use magic, wouldn’t that be widely known?
“Good grief,” Lawson muttered. “Helen made her cheating boyfriend impotent.”
“And Viagra hadn’t been invented yet,” I said as I scanned the page for more info on the Seed of Life.
Janice slammed her hands on the table. “I found it!”
TWENTY
Paying hard
Janice frowned. “Well, I sort of found it. This spell uses Hellspawn blood to conjure a Bleakness Wraith.”
“Holy Saints!” Lawson said. “You found an actual conjuring spell? What the hell was Mack thinking to keep this here? It should’ve been locked away at the Archives.”
Janice pushed the page she’d been reading to the middle of the table carefully as if it would bite. Though, since I just read a spell on how to remove a person’s bones without skinning them, she might have a point. Helen certainly wasn’t a witch to trifle with.
I blinked hard to combat the grittiness in my eyes. “I still don’t get the endgame. If the witches want to cause trouble, how is it effective to do it in a boundary town? Seraphs, demons, and the Marked might not exactly be on every street corner in every city, but our worldwide population isn’t that small. Why cause problems inside the boundary, knowing it could trigger a lockdown? There are groups of us scattered in many major cities across the globe.”
“Because they needed Heather?” Janice rubbed her forehead. “Once Jack was diagnosed with cancer, she began the process of taking over Gatekeeper duties, which prevents her from leaving the boundary. The last time I saw her was last night when she left for her daily run, so I’m guessing that’s when she was grabbed.” She blinked back tears, then cleared her throat. “Wait, not last night but the night before. Sheesh, I’m not sure what time it is, much less which day.”
I glanced at the sofas where Luna and Chase remained crashed out, though thankfully no longer snoring. “Want me to check Luna’s watch?”
Janice shook her head. “I’m pretending it’s still ten o’clock.”
Lawson picked up his mug, sniffed the cold coffee, then set it down. “You know, we’re assuming Crossing Shadows closed the boundary due to Cael’s murder ’cause that’s what Sebastian said. But the spilling of angel blood isn’t the only thing that triggers the protocol. What if Heather got too close to the border wall for some reason and that’s what caused the lockdown?”
“You think Crossing Shadows did this by mistake? Or went haywire?” My pulse quickened at the thought.
This scenario was akin to an artificial intelligence program going rogue on a spaceship or Mars colony or somewhere. But there’d be no super-buff hero or too skinny heroine finding a special off button or inserting a fancy computer virus to shut it down at the last possible second before annihilation. The boundary spell ran autonomously with no way to turn it off. There was also no brain to reason with or anything corporeal to even speak to. Crossing Shadows had to decide to lift the veil on its own.
If we were lucky, Crossing Shadows would feel safe once we found the kids and end the lockdown. And if we were very, very lucky, the Archangel surrounding us would pause and check things out before lighting our asses up. Should I return to the cemetery and try opening the portal for Old Jack and the elders, like Neveah wanted me to? Though she didn’t explain how opening the Gate also allowed souls to transcend to Heaven. Maybe the Gate I opened was to the otherworlds and not directly to Hell? Then what happens after that?
I was so tired of having a bucketful of unanswered questions.
Lawson held up his hands. “No, no, no. That’s not what I’m saying. The demons, remember? If somehow Crossing Shadows has gone crazy, which is very, very unlikely, it would’ve taken out the demons, not kidnapped the kids. Not that it could do that with no physical body. I was just throwing things out to brainstorm.”
I took a calming, deep breath. “You’re right. Sorry. Too much caffeine. But I still don’t understand the endgame to all of this.”
Lawson and Janice glanced at each other and shrugged.
I had a bad feeling we were going about this wrong, reacting to events without thinking things through for motivation and results. My brain was too tired to put the pieces together. I’d never been that great at puzzles—and don’t even get me started on Sudoku. I was more into action—a soldier, not a general.
Lawson lifted the page he was reading. “Hey, here’s a spell that uses Seraph blood to communicate with a spirit in the otherworld.”
“Seriously?” Janice scoffed. “Like a Ouija board? That’s gotta be fake. No one can talk to a spirit that’s crossed over.”
“I did,” I said softly. “I spoke to Mack, though he seemed to still be on the Plane of the Dead instead of moving onto Heaven.”
Janice shot me an uncomfortable look. “Well, that’s different, you know. The Gatekeeper has special powers. But everyone else? There’s no way to break through to the otherworlds. Or why would the Gatekeeper be so special?”
I pursed my lips. “True. I see your point. Lawson, what exactly does your spell say?”
He settled back in his chair. “Something about if a soul wishes to speak to a departed spirit, sacrifices must be made. I’m paraphrasing due to the rambling nature of the intro. Wow. I swear whoever wrote this must’ve been high as a … oh. Wait. ‘A grieving soul’s pain can transcend the otherworld veil with pain and sacrifice. The essence of a Seraph taken with iron and purified with salt lays the foundation for the spellwork.’ Rambling. Rambling. Rambling. ‘A pitcher of Seraph blood burned over the bones of the damned, supported by the cleansing mist of hallow’s vine and sweet tongue will penetrate the veil during the crest of the high moon.’”
“And that’s the non-rambling part?” I asked.
Lawson shrugged. “Well, it’s not so much rambling as indecipherable handwriting. I’ll keep trying.”
Janice went back to rifling through her pile of papers. I’d found nothing pertinent in mine, so I grabbed a thin journal from the stack by my chair. Before I finished the first page, puzzle pieces locked together in my mind. If I was right, I’d never doubt my mad detective skills again.
“How popular is the bakery?” I asked. “Everyone eat there?”
“You want a chocolate croissant or something?” Janice said. “Huh. Actually, that sounds great.”
Lawson glanced up. “Sure, everyone eats there. Why?”
I stood. “I forgot to give Red Hat his cream and milk.”
The others ignored me as I rummaged through the small fridge. Sebastian had brought a scattershot of groceries, which luckily included small c
artons of milk and cream. After warming the milk in an ancient microwave that sat on an even older microwave stand, I carefully made my way to the basement.
Once I poured the offerings into the bowls the Bwbach had provided, I called out, “Red Hat?”
He peeked around the same box as earlier. “Gatekeeper?”
“I apologize for intruding at such a late hour, but I have brought the hot milk and cold cream.”
“Milky ’shrooms!” one of the other Bwbachs said.
I smiled. “Could I additionally intrude with a question?”
Red Hat stared at the bowls. “If it is quick.”
“Besides Mack Valencia and us tonight, has anyone else read the dark spellwork books?”
“One visitor. He came every seven days since Macario Valencia died, bringing offerings and reading books. As we told you earlier, we would not allow the books to leave this premises, much to his anger. But he stopped visiting weeks ago, leaving us with no milk or cream.”
It didn’t escape my attention that the cagey being had neglected to name the so-called visitor. “It is terrible that you and your kin were bereft for so long, especially as Guardians of Knowledge. I will bring extra milk over and above our agreement to make up for this affront. By the way, do you … know the name of your visitor?”
“Extra milk?” Red Hat smiled, showing off his brown, broken teeth. “The visitor neglected to offer his name. But we know who he is.”
***
I stumbled to the table with my mind in a whirlwind.
Lawson frowned at me. “You okay?”
I exhaled slowly. “We’ve a huge problem, but first, have either of you eaten or drunk anything from the bakery lately?”
“I’m on keto.” Janice wrinkled her nose. “Though my version allows for wine and pasta every time I’m almost killed.”
Lawson gave me a crooked smile. “I’m watching the carbs as well. What’s going on?”
“The Bakers are the culprits!” I announced like I just figured out who used a candlestick in the library to murder the butler.
“Absolutely not,” Janice scoffed. “There’s no way either of them would or could do something like this. Besides, they’re dead. And not witches, so they can’t use magic. Don’t forget that little wrinkle.”
“Do we know that for sure? On both points?” I argued. “Mr. Baker moved here when we were kids from Australia’s boundary town. But what do we know about his background? And did either of you check under the sheets to identify the bodies? I mean, it must’ve been so chaotic and traumatizing for Alana, Delilah, and the boys, with the blood pouring everywhere. Maybe it was just a ruse? Don’t forget there’s a couple of families here with Marked Blood that are known to have intermarried with witches. The Barrs and Ponces? Not that I’m saying witch blood automatically makes you evil, but everything points to the Bakers. How do we know for sure he doesn’t also have witch blood?”
Lawson, with skepticism dripping from his voice, asked, “What proof do you have?”
“According to Red Hat, Mr. Baker has spent the last twenty-seven years studying these books. He’s the only one who’s been here. Think about it!” I raised my hand, ticking off the second point. “Their son was murdered by vamps. Their only child. They managed to send most of the humans away on an extremely expensive vacation. Plus, we found the spell for the Bleakness Wraith and one that uses Seraph blood to pierce the veil. And I found this.” I tapped the journal in front of me. “It’s a list of herbs to add to food that makes all beings more susceptible to magic. Mrs. Baker has been pushing pastries on everyone since I’ve been here. To poison everyone!”
Lawson leaned back in his chair. “That’s … that’s interesting. Jon Baker was a close friend of Mack’s and visited here often. But what would the death of Nick have to do with any of this?”
“Vengeance against the Marked? Maybe they want Crossing Shadows shut down to pay for their son’s death.”
Revenge was an emotion I understood.
Janice crossed her arms on her chest. “I don’t believe it. It’s all circumstantial nonsense.”
“The Celestial Building is bound to be crawling with demons since the warding is down. It won’t be safe to go and check on … the bodies,” Lawson said.
I grimaced at the reminder that I’d left Mama and the others. Even though we had no other good choice, it still hurt. “We’ll have to use the weapons Mack hid under the floorboards to get in. Then we need to go to the Apothecary and check the stores on hallow’s vine and sweet tongue. Because those are the herbs needed for both spells.”
“Is it worth a fight to just satisfy your curiosity?” Lawson asked quietly, like he used to when he wanted to stand his ground but not quarrel with me.
It was a reasonable question. But something inside me insisted we needed something in the sanctuary. I didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like I’d gone completely squirrelly. “Then let’s go to the Apothecary first and get Grady and Boone to help. There are answers at the sanctuary. I’m sure of it.”
Lawson and Janice exchanged glances.
Janice yawned. “Better than trying to read through any more of this garbage, but can we really bust through the demons to enter the Celestial Building? Nine demons and only five of us?”
Lawson shrugged. “I’d put good money on us.”
“Well, I need a minute to freshen up before we get ourselves killed.” Janice stood, cracked her back, then went to the bathroom.
“You okay?” Lawson asked.
I realized I’d been biting my lip and made myself stop. “This is the absolute worst possible time to mention this, but I need to know. Do you regret … us? When we were kids?”
Heat warmed my face. I hadn’t felt this flustered in thirty years. What the hell was I thinking, bringing this up right now? Why did my brain always do this wandering sidebar crap instead of focusing on the immediate problem at hand?
Lawson leaned back in his chair but didn’t answer. Tears burned my eyes. Saints, my emotions were on such an emotional rollercoaster. Even when I was pregnant, it hadn’t been this bad. Maybe it was more than just exhaustion, grief, and stress. Maybe the Gatekeeper power was doing stuff to me. Changing me.
“Look …” Lawson sighed slowly. “I’ve done some stupid things in my life. Some bad stuff too. Things I don’t want anyone to ever find out. But loving you, that’s as right as breathing. And no one can shame me for that.”
My body flushed hot, then cold. “I—”
“We ready?” Janice asked.
I stared at Lawson, hoping he could tell I didn’t regret anything either. He slightly nodded. Maybe he knew. Or maybe I should tell him.
Lawson let out a shrill whistle that nearly startled me out of my chair. “Yo, Chase! Time to roll.”
Neither Luna nor Chase moved.
“Weird.” My introspection moment broken, I hurried over to Luna with Lawson on my heels. I shook her shoulder. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and backey.”
She didn’t move. I dropped to the ground and checked the pulse in her neck. “She’s breathing but won’t wake up.”
Lawson checked Chase. “Same here.”
Janice gave us a wide-eyed look. “So what? The spell affects more than the elderly? And it affects Shifters? How’s that possible? Our metabolisms are different. And what about us?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it just targets the old and young. Jeez, how Gen X is that? Take out the Boomers, Millennials, and Gen Z, but forget about us.”
“Maybe it’s the pastries we ate? Or didn’t eat? Since the three of us didn’t eat any?” Janice said. “The Bakers catered a Council meeting yesterd—wait, two days ago.”
Lawson touched the top of Chase’s head briefly, then glared. “Whatever the reason, someone’s paying for this.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Paying hard.”
TWENTY-ONE
Pellets and possibilities
Lawson jerked his thumb at the knee-high, three-foot-wide concrete
block Mack used as a coffee table. “You know what we need to do. Even Mack would’ve agreed this is the ‘desperate times’ he always claimed would happen.”
I was too angry about the kids to respond, so I moved to the opposite side of the table. I believed in the law and letting our justice system work. The Celestial Governing Body functioned far more efficiently than any human government with fair and thorough punishments. With that said, I wouldn’t lose sleep if those f-bombing witches never made it to court.
“Ready?” Lawson asked. “On three. One … two … three.”
We shoved the table to the side, much to the displeasure of my lower back. The sucker weighed a ton. A metal track, camouflaged to look like cracks between the wooden floor planks, let us move the block without ripping the flooring. How its heavy ass didn’t crash through to the basement could only be explained by magic.
Where the table had sat, the iron handle to a trapdoor gleamed in the overhead lights. Lawson grunted as he yanked on it. The door hinges groaned from little use and even less oil.
“What’s this?” Janice asked.
“A secret,” I said. “One that would’ve gotten Mack into all sorts of trouble but will hopefully save our bacon now.”
“Ever heard of iron dust?” Lawson knelt by the opening and used his cellphone’s flashlight to peer inside.
“Iron dust!” Janice took several steps backward. “That’s illegal! Like really, really illegal.”
“Yup,” I nodded. “Hence the reason why I called it a secret.”
Iron dust was what it sounded like. Iron pieces ground into a dust and spelled to attack. Lethal when inhaled by humans and Hellspawn alike. And probably not all that great for Seraphs now that I thought about it. It’d been outlawed a couple of centuries ago by the Governing Body since it was considered a mass casualty weapon. Once it was released in the air, it was incredibly hard to clean up, remaining deadly until it was. And once inhaled, none of the Hellspawn, from high demons to Shifters, could recover from it. Wait, except for vamps, since the undead didn’t really breathe.
