by Kyra Quinn
“Who spawned her?” Remiel asked, as if I were no longer a woman but a monster or disease.
Aster snorted. “How should I know? Spells exist for such questions, but it isn’t easy to trace someone’s lineage from scratch. It requires a fair amount of blood.”
“So you’re a—”
“I assumed you would have inferred the source of my powers by now.” Aster rolled her eyes as Remiel took a step away. “Don’t get all holier-than-thou on me, feathers. Like it or not, my powers saved your ass from becoming a chew toy for demon hounds. Besides, which one of us had our wings ripped out? You have secrets of your own.”
Remiel’s jaw clamped, but he conceded. “I suppose we all do. What do you require for this spell? The sooner we discover who sired her, the sooner we identify what we are up against.”
“I have all I’d need at my home, but what does it matter who her parents are? The laws of the universe are specific about this situation.”
A cold sweat covered my palms. “What laws?”
“Can you do the spell or not?” Remiel snapped, his composure fled.
Aster scowled, but she shot a glimpse in my direction and nodded. “We can try. After all, knowledge is strength. Come with me. Let’s see what we can detect.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Abomination
Aster led us to a small cluster of homes on the outskirts of Carramar. The sun had disappeared from the sky. Oil-gas lamps illuminated the street around us. I listened for the familiar chirp of cicadas, but the bustle of the city overpowered any sound of nature.
I’d expected Aster to live in a quaint bungalow like Remiel. In my head I’d pictured a small stone cottage, something discrete and tucked far away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk. Instead Aster led us to a cozy development of prodigious red brick buildings enclosed behind a heavy iron gate.
Remiel shot a skeptical glance at the rusted gate. “Do your neighbors not mind?”
“Mind what? Me?” Aster placed a hand over her chest and laughed. “I don’t know where you’re from, angel, but not everyone hates magic users. Feyfolk live freely in this city. The human passives in Carramar are happy to pay any price I designate for the spells they seek.”
Heat rose to my cheeks despite knowing Aster’s irritation had little to do with me. I only understood pieces of what she and Remiel discussed, but their distrust for each other was clear. I made a mental note to ask Remiel what a blood mage was as she lifted her hand to the gate.
Aster wrapped her hand around the slender bars and closed her eyes. She whispered something under her breath, her tongue like lightning as I struggled to decipher her words. The gate creaked as the right side swung open like an arm inviting us in.
“Hurry. It doesn’t stay open long.” Aster waved her arms and ushered us in front of her through the gate.
“Is this a coven?” Remiel’s eyes darted around the complex.
“As far as I know, I’m one of the few mages left in Carramar. Most live in covens in Starbright and Redwood. But a talent for magic comes in handy when you’ve lost your key.” Aster’s lips slipped into an easy smile as she gestured towards one of the far buildings. “This way.”
We followed Aster to a building near the back of the complex. I’d never seen houses built so close together. The exterior of each unit appeared nearly identical, the tall and narrow homes connected to each other in a row. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight as I held my breath. I pinned my arms to my body and swept the area for signs of trouble. Demons, angels, or witches, I wanted to be ready for whatever came our way.
“What’s are Feyfolk?” I asked as we approached her door.
Aster chuckled. “It’s a catch-all classification for any non-passive creature. Demons and angels don’t like to be lumped in with the other Feyfolk, but the humans see them all as ‘others.’”
Aster pushed the front door open, the lock surprisingly not engaged. Had Carramar eradicated theft and home invasions? Or was no one bold enough to break into someone like Aster’s house? She waved us inside and slammed the door shut with a smug expression.
The inside of Aster’s home was nothing special, nowhere near as exciting as I’d imagined it. Most of the space sat empty and unused. Dusty white sheets were draped over the furniture. No artwork hung from the white walls, a dull beige carpet beneath our feet. A small kitchen sat off to the right. A winding metal staircase occupied the center of the living area. I swallowed my disappointment as I searched the room for some sign of life, something as magical about the dwelling as Aster herself.
“Can you see it yet?” she whispered.
I squinted as I tried to identify what she meant. Colors and shapes swirled around my vision, images fading into focus for a brief flash before vanishing again. The harder I tried to concentrate, the more my eyes burned. I rubbed my face and moaned into my hands.
“Sorry, I think I’m sleep deprived. I’ve been seeing things,” I muttered, my face still in my hands to avoid their judgmental stares.
“Excellent,” Aster answered to my surprise. “Your Sight is coming in. Whatever suppression spell they used on you muted your powers for a while, but it’s breaking. You’ll be at full strength in no time.”
“I’m sorry, can we please slow down? I do not understand what any of this means, and I’m sort of terrified at this point.”
Aster laughed as her hand came to rest on my arm. I jerked away, the warmth of her touch unexpected. She flashed me a gentle smile. “Allow me to lift the illusion so you have a place to sit. I’ll try to answer all your questions as best I can, but I cannot promise to have all the answers. To my knowledge, you’re the only one of your kind in existence.”
“I doubt anyone even knew it was possible.” Remiel rubbed his chin, his expression stone. “A Nephilim, sure. But this? This is a crime against nature. No offense.”
I rolled my eyes. “None taken. What little girl doesn’t grow up with aspirations of being a crime against nature?”
Aster paid us no mind. She reached into her cloak and retrieved her stave once more. She raised the pole a few inches above the ground and said, “Aperio quidvis.” The ruby glowed, a warm blush cast over the room. Whispers filled the space, too quiet to understand but too loud to ignore.
The floor beneath my feet spun as the walls around us melted like frost. My stomach churned as acid climbed up my throat. Dizziness blurred my vision. I wanted to yell at Aster, to demand she stop whatever she’d done, but I was too afraid to open my mouth. If I added vomit to her carpet besides all my other offenses for the day, Aster would never speak to me again.
My body jerked, the spinning over as suddenly as it began. I blinked a few times and waited for the spots to clear from my vision. When the surrounding room faded into focus, my jaw fell to my chest.
I did not understand how she’d done it, but I was certain we’d left the small house Aster called home. The new room around us appeared almost double the size despite the furniture and knickknacks. Sleek hardwood floors sat beneath our feet. A small record player stood next to Aster. The faint sound of trumpets and a saxophone echoed off the domed ceiling above us. The most impressive sight, however, was the altar against the back wall of the mezzanine now in the staircase center.
I’d gone with my father to Temple a handful of times as a child, but I’d never seen an altar that compared to Aster’s. The wooden table stood covered with a thick black cloth. A portrait of an open eyeball hung on the wall to the side. A golden bowl sat in the table’s center, five pillar candles positioned around it in the shape of a star. A wooden box was pushed to the back-left corner with a curved hunting knife on top of the lid. The edge of the blade was stained the color of rust. A thick leather-bound book sat open next to the box, a dried flower pressed between the pages.
“Not bad, right?” Aster flashed a smug grin as I examined the room. “Stay here, let me change into something more comfortable.”
Remiel and I watched in silence as
Aster glided across the room and disappeared through a set of beads hung over an open doorway. We exchanged worried looks as we waited for her to return, neither of us sure how to react to the changes in development.
Viktor’s face flashed through my mind as I glanced out the window behind the altar. He’d surely returned to the hostel by now and discovered Remiel and I gone. Was he out of his mind with worry? Relieved at the thought of freedom? How would he react when Remiel told him I was a monster?
Monster. I glanced down at my hands and half expected to find them soaked in blood. A week ago I could say I’d killed nothing but the occasional insect in my bathroom. Had Father known the truth about what he’d chosen to raise? Did taking a life to save my own mean I was as villainous as those hounding me?
Aster returned a moment later, her cloak gone. A tight pair of black and red trousers hugged her legs, Carramar apparently not bound by societal gender norms around fashion. Sleek dark boots were laced up to her knees. She’d draped a loose black tank top over her shoulder. Her hair fell down her back in loose waves. Her figure reminded me of a hummingbird, small but quick and light on her feet.
I cocked my head to the side as Aster took her place in front of the altar. Had she always been so beautiful? Or had she cast an enchantment while out of sight? I’d assumed her to be several years older than me based on her wisdom, but as moonlight bathed her skin I reconsidered. She had to be close to my age, perhaps even younger.
Aster gestured to the pillow on the floor next to hers. “Shall we?”
I swallowed the lump of anxiety in my throat and sat, the floor hard against my knees even with the pillow in between. My hands were like ice as I balled them up at my sides, my heart racing. I shot a panicked glance at Remiel, but he focused his eyes on Aster as she reached for the knife on the table.
“I’m sorry to say this will hurt,” she said, her voice empty of remorse. “After the spell, I’ll try to show you how to use your powers to heal the wound.”
My stomach tightened. “Wound? Why are you holding a kni—”
Aster yanked my arm over to her before I could finish the sentence. She pressed the cold tip of her blade against my skin below the elbow and carved a straight line down to my wrist. Thick crimson liquid seeped from the wound and spilled over onto the floor. The gash in my arm burned as if on fire. I screamed as she thrust my arm in front of the bowl in the table’s center and held it there to capture the blood.
“Are you insane?!” I tried to jerk my arm back, but Aster tightened her grip.
“Relax. I am certain you’ll recover. Even if your powers fail, the cut isn’t deep enough to cause any lasting harm.”
“There’s not a less dramatic way to acquire the blood you need?” I clenched my teeth as the pain shot through my arm and up to my shoulder. My vision blurred. A bitter taste flooded my mouth. My body tingled as I imagined wrapping my arms around her throat.
“Not one that will help you access your powers at the same time.” Aster’s eyes sparkled, unaware of how close I was to knocking her teeth out of her skull. “It’s a proverb, kill two sinners with one sword. In your case, tapping into that energy will keep you alive.”
As much sense as her explanation made, the grievous cut in my arm made it difficult to forgive her. One peek inside the bowl made my knees weak. How much blood did she need for her spell? And how much could I stand to lose?
Just when I panicked about the possibility of Aster bleeding me dry, she released my arm and tossed the knife back on the table. She leaned forward and locked eyes with me as she said, “Now, look at the wound and think about what you want it to do. Concentrate on what a strong, healthy arm feels like. Don’t move your eyes or talk. Focus.”
I cradled my arm against my chest. “Is your blasted spell over?”
“Tend to the injury first. We’ll proceed with the spell when that’s addressed. Now focus.”
I winced as I pulled my arm away from my shirt, the pain worse any time I moved. I fixed my eyes on the massive split in the center. The sight of blood pouring from the cut made my stomach churn. What did Aster expect me to do to make it better? The only thing I’d accomplished thus far was destruction.
I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. My chest tightened as I replayed the feeling of Aster’s knife over in my head. Her betrayal stung almost as much as the cut in my arm. If her stupid plan worked, the first thing I would do was punch her. I shoved away the searing pain in my arm and forced myself to focus on what a strong, perfect arm might feel like attached to my shoulder.
A warm tingling sensation spread from my fingertips up to my elbow. Amid the pain, the skin on my arm tingled. I flexed my fingers and wiggled my hand as the heat spread, the gentle warming sensation soon a steady burn. The pain faded to a dull whisper and disappeared. I yelped as the skin in my arm fused together with a wet slurp. My stomach lurched as the muscles contracted, my eyes ready to fall from my skull.
This can’t be real. I slid my hand down my arm, but the skin was smooth to the touch. Not even a scar remained where Aster had sliced me open. A heavy fatigue settled into my body, but my mind raced with questions. What did this new power mean? Would it work in the middle of a battle? How deep of an injury could I heal? And what did the power cost me in exchange?
Aster reached out once more, this time tracing the line with the tip of her finger. When she reached my wrist, she gripped my hand and beamed with pride.
“It’s a tiny miracle tucked into your bosom. It’ll take you a while to be proficient, but you’ll be able to do that for others as well.”
“Wonderful.” My voice lacked enthusiasm as I continued to examine my forearm. “If I don’t end up demon chow, I’ll spend my days feeding the poor and healing the sick. Father would be proud.”
“Speaking of fathers,” Remiel interrupted, “how about that spell?”
Aster’s hand locked onto her hip as she rolled her eyes. “We’re getting to it. It’s not every day a girl uses her powers for the first time. I think it’s important enough to deserve recognition.”
“So is figuring out where she came from. Do your dark magic so we can take our leave, mage.”
Aster cocked her head, her eyes narrow. “You have a serious problem with my kind, don’t you? Why? What have any of us ever done to you that could compare to your own brothers tearing the feathers from your back?”
Remiel’s face tightened. “Come, Lili. We’re leaving.”
“I’ll be damned if we are. I did not let her slice my arm open for nothing. Stay here and wait while we find the answers we came here for, okay?”
Remiel folded his arms over his chest, his jaw clenched. Good. I didn’t give a damn if he wanted to sit or stand or dance around the room in circles. I needed him to shut his fat mouth long enough for us to figure out as much as we could about where I came from.
A small part of me hoped her spell might tell her she’d been mistaken about my identity. Even after hours to digest the news and proof of my abilities, I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t feel like a demon, or any eviler than I’d been before. I didn’t feel especially angelic either, but that alarmed me less. Aster could keep her strange talents. For the first time in my life, a husband sounded more appealing than demonic lineage.
Aster shot Remiel one last nasty glare before turning her attention back to the altar. She muttered something about ungrateful angels under her breath as she struck a match. The match gave a little hiss as the tip ignited, a tiny flame dancing up and down the stick. Aster shielded the baby spark with a cupped hand as she lowered it to each of the five candles. She shook the flame out with a flick of her wrist and tossed the match onto the floor behind her.
Next, she opened the small wooden box and reached inside. Aster pulled out a handful of dried herbs and tossed them into the bowl like a mad chef at work on a new stew. She reached back into the box and retrieved a polished stone, tossing it into the bowl with a loud clink. She raised her hands above the bowl and clos
ed her eyes, a jumble of foreign words flying from her tongue.
The blood in the bowl bubbled as Aster continued to chant. My stomach tightened as I stepped away. I shot a glance at the door before remembering I had no idea where her spell had taken us. A bitter taste flooded my mouth as the bowl gurgled.
“Revel to me the camphelem’s identity,” Aster rasped into the bowl. She leaned closer to the table, her face inches from the pool of blood. She gripped the table as she stared into the dish. The bowl rattled and clanked against the table. My breath caught in my chest. When she lifted her head, she avoided my eyes. “It’s worse than I expected.”
Remiel rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured as much. Who are they? Have they already been executed for this crime?”
Aster shook her head. “Both still very much alive from what I could decipher. I think you might know the father by name. Samael?”
The name meant nothing to me, but Remiel’s face drained of color. “You’re sure?”
“Blood magic doesn’t leave room for error.”
Remiel cocked his head. “The mother?”
“Stop!” I stomped my foot against the floor as heat rushed through my body. Remiel and Aster went still. “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here. Stop throwing around names that mean nothing. Explain what this means, or I’ll leave.”
I had no plans for where I’d go if I left, but I didn’t care. They’d treated me like an ignorant child for long enough. My blood boiled as my eyes flickered between Aster and the door. If either of them raised the slightest objection, I’d walk away and use my newfound powers to protect myself. I didn’t have energy left to entertain their petty drama. I had to force the angels and demons off my back before I ended up dead like Father and William.
Aster’s face softened. “You’re right. My apologies. I had no intentions of being rude. Your father is an Archangel named Samael. Remiel might tell you more about him. I rarely rub elbows with the holy rollers much.”
