by Juniper Hart
The door crashed open against the walls, the force of his forearms almost unhinging them as he entered the emergency waiting room. The motion dissolved the reverie from his vision as the hustle of the area met his senses. His actions caused everyone to start in surprise, but Toby did not notice the reproving looks as his head turned almost robotically around the vast area, the surreal blend of metallic colors yearning to rest on the face he knew was there.
“Sir, are you all right?” an orderly asked, seeming to sense his mounting frustration. “Do you need assistance? A doctor, maybe?”
“I’m looking for a woman. Auburn hair, illuminating green eyes…”
“I’m sorry, sir, I just came on shift. Is she a patient? Was she admitted?”
Toby did not hear the man’s question. The feeling which had entranced him and led him into the emergency room of the hospital was fading away, like he had missed his opportunity. As if a fog had been lifted from his eyes, he looked around again. There was no hint of the witch with whom he had spent that dreamlike, erotic night.
She had been there, but he had missed her, Toby was sure. His heart raced with the understanding. But she was in Seattle. There was no doubt about that. Despite his seemingly endless searches for this ghost-like woman, she had been right under his nose all along.
The knowledge filled him with a surge of hope, and all the excitement he had known before made perfect sense now. Sierra had been there, probably within spitting distance.
I found her once, he thought. And I’ll find her again.
5
“Mama, I no feel good,” Aurora moaned, and the words filled Sierra with indescribable dread, one which she had come to know too well over the past month.
“I know, sweetheart. Just rest on Mama,” she told the toddler nervously. “Relax. Everything is going to be fine.” She wished her voice echoed any semblance of confidence, but as the words left her lips, she heard the tremor in her tone. Everything will be fine. I just need to figure out how to make it so.
Sierra pulled Aurora’s small frame against her, feeling the heat of her daughter’s body against her, and the witch’s heart began to pound with more intensity. Maybe an Aldwin could help. Maybe she could go to the Council of Seven and see if Lane Aldwin would do something to protect Aurora.
It wasn’t the first time Sierra had entertained the thought, yet once more, she dismissed it. It would still rouse too many questions that she wasn’t prepared to answer.
“Mama, where we going?” Aurora’s tiny voice brought her back to the grim reality at hand.
“Shh, Aurora. Just rest. We will be there soon.” Sierra stroked the child’s unruly red mane, hoping to calm her, but the girl seemed to sense her mother’s unrest.
“Mama, the car makes me feel sick in my tummy.”
“That kid isn’t going to puke, is she?” the driver demanded, turning his head to glower at them. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Can you just watch the road?” Sierra yelled, not intending to swear or scream, but her nerves were far too taut to contain herself.
Stop! she snapped at herself. You’re making matters worse.
Aurora began to cry, and she rocked her tiny daughter against her.
“It’s okay,” she insisted. “I’m sorry Mama raised her voice.”
“She better not puke, or you’re paying the cleaning fee,” the surly driver continued, and it was the final straw for Sierra. There was too much going on, too much stress. The last thing she needed was grief from some idiot driver who didn’t seem to possess an ounce of compassion in his veins.
Sierra inhaled and forced herself to focus. Her eyes bored into the back of the man’s head, and she conjured her energy, forcing his mouth together with her mind, willing him to shut up. His eyes bugged as his lips melded into his cheeks, but he was blissfully silent as she controlled him to watch the road ahead, the panic bright in his eyes, even from where she sat.
And I thought I had lost all my abilities through lack of use, she thought without amusement. This was not the way she wanted to prove herself. She would release him when they arrived where they were going, and not a second before. The notion of hearing his voice again was apt to drive her over the edge. In the meantime, she needed silence to concentrate, not the incessant din of voices distracting her.
“Mama…” Aurora sounded defeated, and Sierra’s heart cracked again.
At this rate, I won’t have any pieces left to pick up.
“Please, baby, you need to rest,” she begged the toddler. “We will be with Mama’s friend very soon, but until then, you must close your eyes and be still. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mama.” Aurora sounded less convinced than Sierra felt, and tears of frustration sprang into the older witch’s eyes. She couldn’t even convince her daughter.
“Everything will be fine, sweetheart. I promise,” she murmured, more for her own benefit at that point than Aurora’s. She wondered if she was lying to her daughter, if she had made a mistake leaving the Seattle Children’s Hospital so quickly after arriving.
When she had gotten home, Simone had dropped them at the emergency room of the hospital, opting for that place over the Enchanted hospital fifty miles away. Simone had suggested it not only because of proximity, but because it specialized in kids. After a slight argument, Sierra had relented, her energy depleted. She just didn’t have it in her to fight with anyone.
Simone promised to be back after checking in with Theo.
“I’ve been gone a while, and he’s wondering where I am all the time,” she sighed. “I wish you’d just let me tell him what’s going on—”
“Absolutely not!” Sierra had hissed. Her life was complicated enough without the leader of the bears shifters sniffing around.
Not my proudest moment, connecting with someone like Tobias. I won’t have my shame amplified by the entire Council of Seven knowing about it. Sierra silenced the little voice which told her that she might need them if things got much worse. She would deal with it if it came to that. In the meantime, she would do everything in her power to ensure that Aurora was cared for without them.
But no sooner had Simone left them in the emergency room than Sierra began to have second thoughts. Perhaps it was the mass of mortal children coughing and sneezing around her or the mere scent of suffering which enshrouded her through a highly evolved sixth sense. Maybe it was the simple fact that she knew her daughter’s secret might be exposed if a barrage of tests were ordered.
She knew better than to expose herself as an Enchanted, and as a witch, it had been much easier than for some of her counterparts. But Aurora, well, she was different. Any test would prove that she was something much different than her mother.
Whatever the reason, Sierra could not deny that there was an ominous, heavy feeling weighing upon her shoulders as she sat nervously, cradling Aurora in her arms as they waited in the overcrowded entrance for their names to be called.
No, Sierra decided, gathering the waif-like child and hurrying out to hail a taxi. I am not staying here to wait for trouble, whatever it may be. I should have known better than to come here in the first place. She knew she was being guided by emotion and not logic, her desperation having brought her to the hospital in the first place.
She had no way of knowing how close she had come to seeing Aurora’s father, Tobias, who had appeared mere minutes after she and the girl had driven off. If she had seen him, her feeling of foreboding would have made perfect sense.
Instead, she found herself urging the surly driver to move faster as she contemplated making the trek to the Enchanted hospital instead of back toward dingy South Park.
If this doesn’t work, I’ll take her to Olympia.
But first things first.
Rowan’s iridescent eyes became nimbus clouds of anger when she opened the door.
“I was hoping that my vision was wrong,” she growled, spinning so her flowing robes swooped in a hissing noise across the wood floor. “I could
n’t imagine that you would be so careless as to bring some hybrid spawn to my doorstep.”
“Mama, what’s a hybrid spawn?” Aurora asked, tilting her red curls back to peer at her inquisitively with bloodshot green eyes. Even though she didn’t fully understand the words, it was clear she heard the insult.
“Nothing, baby,” Sierra said quickly, scowling at the priestess. “Go and lie on the settee. Mama wants to talk to her friend for a minute.”
“Sierra, I have—” Rowan started to say, but the younger witch held up her hand and watched her daughter saunter out of earshot toward the velvet couch near the window. Thankfully, Rowan seemed to understand her need for silence, at least until Aurora couldn’t hear them.
“This is highly unusual, almost a breech of the covenant,” Rowan snapped when she was permitted to speak again. “You should never have brought the girl here.”
“You know why I brought her here,” Sierra insisted. “If I’d had another choice, I would have spared both myself and my daughter the abuse. I know you have no interest in having her here.”
Rowan gawked at her, face contorting into a sneer. “You think this is abuse? What you did is worse. Witches shouldn’t be able to breed with the immortals! When hybrid children are born, they are usually healthy. But, we don’t know what she is yet.”
“That is the least of my concerns,” Sierra retorted. “I need to know what’s wrong with her and how to cure her.”
Rowan’s face softened slightly, but she maintained the mirthless smirk on her porcelain cheeks.
“Why have you come to me?” she asked, even though Sierra was sure she knew exactly why.
“Rowan, I obviously don’t have time to play games. You saw her illness, which means you know a way to combat it. Don’t play coy with me.”
“You disappoint me, Sierra,” Rowan sighed. “For such a renowned thief and bright girl, you should have foreseen this. It’s an abomination that this child was even conceived, and a miracle that she has survived this long. It’s an extremely rare condition, but you must have known there was a risk. It’s called Hybrid Immunity Disorder—HID.”
The words sent chills of terror through Sierra, and she felt her fists clench in defiance at her side.
“She is not an abomination,” she spat. “And she will overcome whatever this illness, this HID is. She’s a child! They get sick all the time!” At least, that was the mantra that Sierra had been feeding herself, as if saying it would make it true. In her gut, though, she knew that this was much worse than daycare woes.
Rowan laughed humorlessly, her clear eyes shifting toward the sofa where Aurora was drifting off, her breathing shallow.
“Not like this, they don’t,” she replied. “This will kill her.”
The sentence had a note of finality to it, but Sierra would not accept the priestess’s words as gospel. There was a solution, a cure. Especially if immortal blood was running through her daughter’s veins.
“No,” she said flatly. “I won’t take that as an answer. I pulled her from the hospital, worried that they would learn about her, but I will take her back if you don’t help me, and it will put all of us at risk.” She was playing with fire, the threat careless and fraught with retribution, but she didn’t care. Her baby’s life was endangered, and she would die protecting Aurora. She didn’t care who she brought down with her.
“Don’t talk out of your ass,” Rowan barked, waving a pale hand dismissively, like Sierra was a pesky fly. “I’m not daunted by your threats. Don’t forget—I’m a Collingwood as much as you are. They say the Aldwins are the most powerful witches, but we know better, don’t we, dear?”
Frustration mounted inside Sierra, and she glared at Rowan angrily.
“Clearly, I made a mistake coming here. You have no idea how to help her.” She moved toward Aurora, but Rowan reached out to touch her, the contact sending a burn through Sierra’s body.
“Don’t be disrespectful, witch,” Rowan hissed warningly. “I didn’t say I don’t know how to help her.”
A combination of relief and suspicion coursed through her as she jerked her arm away from Rowan. Being touched by the priestess bothered her on so many levels.
“Then help her!” Sierra growled. “And stop talking in circles.”
A wan smile touched Rowan’s lips, but it didn’t meet her eyes.
“It won’t be easy, Sierra, and you likely won’t succeed.” Her statement wasn’t meant to incite. She truly didn’t believe that Sierra could do what needed to be done, but the younger witch knew better.
“If there is a way, I will find the means to succeed.” Rowan stared at her pensively for a long moment, and Sierra reached out to her telepathically, but the priestess had blocked her thoughts.
“There have been other hybrids throughout time,” Rowan offered slowly. “In fact, hybrid children are born all the time. However, there are the rare cases when the child becomes something new or gets sick. For example, sometimes when wolves comingle with demons, Wendigos are born. Over the millennia, there have been dozens of new crossbreeds, all unintentional. Although it’s rare, sometimes these children are ingrained with hideous deformities, some visible, others not so much.”
Sierra was growing weary of hearing her toddler being referred to as a freak of nature, but she wisely held her tongue, sensing that Rowan, when all was said and done, might actually provide a solution.
“As I said, most hybrids are fine, but you just never know what the outcome will be,” the high priestess continued, and Sierra noted that she glanced ruefully at the sleeping girl before continuing, an uncharacteristic look of shame crossing her face. “Children such as yours cannot withstand the fight within their own bodies, and they succumb to their fates. We are not talking about two immortal donors within her, either—she’s got mortal blood running through her. That has to lessen her chances of survival.”
Bile wet the insides of Sierra’s mouth. She forced it down.
“But not all of them… die,” she insisted, the word sticking to the roof of her mouth. “You said most are fine.”
“Yes,” Rowan drawled hesitatingly. “Not when they are suffering from HID though. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. Some have overcome naturally, but most of the survivors have received the Shroud of Protection.” Sierra waited, her pulse quickening as she listened. “There is a spell which only a high priestess can perform…”
“Well, do it!” Sierra yelled furiously when Rowan trailed off. Aurora stirred from her half-sleeping position. Sierra chewed on her lower lip so hard, she tasted blood. They were wasting time, and her nerves were about to crack. Rowan gave her a scathing look.
“It’s obviously not that simple, Sierra,” she snapped. “And you would know that if you let me finish.” Sierra wished Rowan would get on with it. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from speaking out of turn again. “The spell is ever changing and lives in real time through the Chasm of Purity.”
Oh no…
“I can see by the look on your face that you know what it is,” Rowan commented, and Sierra nodded miserably. “There are only three copies in the known world, each owned by the wealthiest collectors. It is a living entity, one which is updated second to second as the world adapts.”
“And I suppose asking one to borrow it is out of the question,” Sierra murmured, biting on her lower lip again. She was sure her mouth was soaked in blood, but she didn’t care. The wheels in her head were turning with Rowan’s announcement.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Rowan replied in her enigmatic way, turning away slightly so that Sierra couldn’t read her expression. “I have borrowed the book in the past.”
“Then borrow it again!” Sierra screamed, her cheeks staining red with annoyance. Rowan was toying with her, and she had no patience for such a game that day, not when Aurora grew sicker by the minute. The illness had started so mysteriously, after all. The child had gone from a playful, happy child to apathetic and lethargic almost overnight.
> It had been a month, and it seemed to Sierra and Simone, who came almost every day, that Aurora was becoming weaker. Her breathing was irregular, her skin almost opaque. She slept for twenty hours a day and ate very little.
Then the coughing had begun, a terrifying crackling in her small lungs which caused Sierra to lie awake with her, worried that each breath she took might be her last. No spells had worked, nor had the modern medicine that Sierra had stolen after extensive Google searches. There had been nothing she could do but pray to the gods and hope they intervened.
But the gods didn’t listen to the hopes of poor thieves from the seedy parts of Seattle. They had other things to busy themselves with.
“No, I will not ask to borrow the book again,” Rowan said. Sierra gaped at her, hands curling into fists at her side. For a moment, she was worried she was about to lose complete control and punch Rowan.
“Why the hell not?” she snarled.
Rowan spun back, her coral sashes becoming ribbons along her lithe body, blue eyes fixated on Sierra. “Because I don’t want to borrow the book, Sierra. I want to own it.”
Sierra stared at the priestess, unspeaking. What Rowan was asking was impossible, a true death wish. She’s expecting me to steal from the super rich, to bypass security systems, and get out unscathed with a priceless book that is thousands of years old. A theft like that was suicide.
Stealing the Chasm of Purity was… Sierra couldn’t even imagine what would become of her if she was caught attempting such a feat. The only beings she could imagine with the Chasm would be Enchanted beings, and who knew what she might be up against if challenged? A demon? A Lycan? Sierra shuddered to think about it.
“You’re insane,” she told Rowan conversationally. “Why the hell would you want it? If you can borrow it at will—”
“I don’t want to grovel when I want something!” Rowan snapped. “I shouldn’t have to! I am a direct descendant of the original Collingwood coven. I bow down to no one.”
