Mom stopped suddenly and stood a moment, thinking, I guessed, then muttered spell words. The light ball floating above her hand grew brighter.
A huge coiled snake, the upper third of its body rising up like a charmed cobra, took up most of the space in the center of the floor about ten feet in front of us. The snake was as big around as my rain barrel at home, and solid black except for red and yellow dots on its underbelly. Three human heads—two male and one female—rose from its trunk. Three faces stared at us with eyes that didn’t blink.
For a moment, I stood frozen, trying hard to decide what to do.
One of the male heads, a redhead with a bushy ginger beard, turned to the others. “What have we here, come sneaking into our abode?”
The brown-skinned, black-haired female said, “Thieves, by the look of them.”
The third male head, gray-skinned with white hair flowing down onto the snake body said, “Dinner, by the look of them.”
“Run,” I said and turned.
The snake was there, behind us. I spun and faced forward. The snake was in front.
“It’s an illusion,” I said and stepped forward to walk through and prove it wasn’t there.
The male heads smiled, and the female head laughed, a high, cold sound.
“Come, little thief,” she said, the snake body writhing and stretching upwards to bring the three heads in line with mine. “Come see how much of an illusion we are.”
I halted, stepped back, and reached for the knife on my belt. If it was an illusion, the knife would cut through it. If it wasn’t, at least I’d be armed.
I unsnapped and lifted the sheath cover and took hold of the hilt. If the snake noticed or knew what I was doing, it didn’t show. I drew the knife free slowly and held it close to my body.
A motion slightly behind me caught my attention. I glanced over my shoulder for a better view.
“What are you doing?” I whispered furiously at my grandmother.
“Getting ready to shift,” she said as she pulled off her pants and stood naked in the gloom.
The air around her shimmered and a huge eagle stood where G-ma had been. The eagle took wing, driving straight toward the snake, and slammed into the gray-skinned male’s neck, tearing at the skin. The male screamed. The snake body shook, trying to sling the eagle away.
So, not an illusion.
I gripped my knife firmly and pounced forward. It was hard to focus on my target, the female head, with the snake writhing and the heads swinging from side to side on the stems of their necks. I watched for a moment, looking for the pattern in the movements, found it, and lunged. In the split second before the blade would touch flesh, the knife glowed with a yellow light. Dee had bespelled it, I realized. I should have known he wouldn’t gift me with a weapon and not make it as powerful as he could.
Thanks, Dee.
I made a series of quick swipes around the neck just below the skull. The bespelled knife cut through the snake flesh like a hot wire through soft cheese, but stuttered at the neck bones. Greenish yellow sludge spewed from the wound, splashing onto my skin and clothes. The sludge smelled like a cross between month-old garbage and a dozen rotten eggs. I was definitely throwing out my shirt and jeans when I got home.
I knew what I had to do next, and geared myself up for the grisly task. The snake was still writhing, all three heads still swinging from side to side. I sucked in a breath, waited for the right moment, grabbed hold of the head atop the bleeding neck, and twisted. The head popped off in my hands with a sickening crack of bones. I dropped the head on the ground, struggling to not throw up, and wiped my hands and arms against my clothes, to get the muck off. All it did was smear. There wasn’t much time to worry about it. I swallowed down my revulsion and turned to see what needed doing next.
G-ma, in her eagle form, still had her beak and talons into the gray-skinned male, tearing away big hunks of flesh while he screamed and the snake flailed its now two-headed body wildly from side to side, flinging the thick, greenish-yellow fluid in every direction.
I focused on the other male head, the one with the long white hair. The snake body thrashed so wildly, it was hard to get a bead on the head to slash at the neck.
“Maurice,” Mom called and tossed the light orb down to the rat. She whipped her stick in front of the snake body, hitting it hard enough that I heard the thwack, then grabbed a tight hold on each end and leaned into the writhing snake, holding it if not still, at least stiller. She’s short and had the snake more or less around its middle. I focused again on the stumpy neck and slashed through, turning my head this time to avoid the sickly colored sludge.
“G-ma,” I yelled, to get her attention. “Move.”
The eagle turned its eyes my way, then set the snake-beast loose, flew a short distance away, and landed behind and well-back from Mom and me. I lunged for the gray-skinned neck. G-ma had done most of the work, and my knife did the rest. I twisted the skull and the final head thudded into the dirt.
Yellowish green fluid still geysered from the ragged holes where the heads had been. The snake writhed and shuddered, and then collapsed. Dirt and dust swirled in the air. Mom stumbled forward when the body she’d been leaning into fell, but caught her balance.
I put a hand out to steady her. “Are you all right?”
Her eyes were as big as twin full moons, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d seen and what she’d done. I could hardly believe it myself: Mom, G-ma, me—I wouldn’t have said we had it in us.
“That was some good work, ladies,” G-ma said casually, back in her human form and sliding her T-shirt over her head to finish redressing. “Let’s find that damn chalice and get the hell out of here.”
Maurice held up the light orb to Mom. “The sooner the better. This place sucks.”
“Truer words,” Mom muttered as she crouched down and took the orb.
“My bet is the chalice is near,” I said. “The snake was guarding it.”
I strode off deeper into the cave, more than a little nervous about what we might find. More than amazed at this new side I’d seen of my mother and grandmother, and pretty grossed out at the snake-yuck starting to dry on my skin and clothes. I stopped as a thought struck me.
I looked at Maurice, who had more knowledge of magical lore in his rat brain than any human I knew. “The snake blood. Can it hurt us? Burn our skins or drive us mad, anything like that?”
Maurice shrugged his small shoulders and twitched his ears. “Not that I know of, but that snaky thing was a new one on me. So, once again, let’s get the chalice and get the fuck out of here before we find out.”
Mom stepped up next to me, her orb casting light around us, and we moved forward again. The sides of the cave weren’t so rough now. They seemed more made of glass or plastic, something artificially formed rather than nature made. Niches broke up the smoothness here and there. There wasn’t any mathematical precision to them—they didn’t pierce the earth in regular intervals and weren’t of uniform depth. Some were shallow and others so deep that G-ma’s walking stick didn’t touch the back.
The air was growing stale as we penetrated deeper into the cave. I was glad for the sounds of our breathing and footfalls that broke up the heavy silence. Grateful, too, that I didn’t hear any sounds other than the ones we made. Maybe the snake-thing was the only watchdog here. I hoped so.
“Stop!” Maurice called out.
I halted in mid-step and leaned back a little.
“Rat vision,” he said. “I see better in the dark, beyond the light, than you humans. There’s something glowing up ahead. It’s high up, probably in one of those holes we’ve been seeing in the cave walls.”
“Something dangerous?” Mom said, echoing my own worry.
“Can’t say till we get there and see what it is,” Maurice said. “Just wanted you to know and look for it.”
Chapter 13
We humans nodded and started forward again, moving even more cautiously. After maybe anoth
er five minutes walk, I spied the glow. It was high up on the wall—too high for me to reach. I nudged Mom, who was walking next to me. She followed my gaze to the glowing niche.
G-ma must have spotted it, too. “If you give me a leg up, Oona, I might be able to reach it.”
Something about the glowing niche made my fingers tingle. It was a weird response and I had no idea what it might mean.
“Help me up,” G-ma said.
It wasn’t danger I felt—more like anticipation.
I linked my tingling fingers together to make a step for G-ma. She put one foot on my hands and a hand on my shoulder. When she’d gotten balanced, I raised her up as high as I could. G-ma was tall but thin and light, and I was strong. I lifted her high enough that she could see into the niche.
“It’s deep,” she said, “and whatever is in there is far back. I’m not sure I can reach it.”
“Try,” Mom said.
G-ma shot her a harsh look—one that said ‘Did you think I wouldn’t try?’
G-ma wasn’t heavy but still weighed enough that my hands and arms began to ache with the effort of holding her up.
Something moved up my leg and I sucked in a breath.
“Humans,” Maurice hissed as he scrambled past my ear and jumped onto G-ma. She yelped softly in surprise but kept her balance. I craned my neck and saw Maurice disappear inside the niche. Moments later he was back, standing on the lip of the hole.
“It’s the chalice all right. I can’t move it though. Too heavy for me.”
I lowered my arms until G-ma could jump down.
“Okay,” I said. “Come down, Maurice, and I’ll see if I can move it.”
The rat leaped out, soaring toward me. Thank goodness for hockey reflexes—I caught him without dropping him.
“Nice catch,” he said. “The walls are too slick to get purchase. I woulda slid all the way down and landed with a hard thump. I knew you’d catch me.”
“I’m glad your faith wasn’t misplaced.”
“Yeah. Now, get on it, Oona. Get the chalice.”
I set Maurice on the ground. I couldn’t see the chalice to know what it looked like, though. Every other time I’d used the power, I had a mental image of what I wanted to move. I didn’t know if a mental image was needed or not, but it could be. I’d seen the mental image of it in my dad’s mind, but couldn’t count on that for accuracy.
“Maurice, what does it look like?”
“Well, it’s bigger than I am but smaller than a sitting house cat. Made of crystal but not clear. The rainbow swirls through it. It’s rather lovely.”
“Thanks.” I pictured the chalice using Maurice’s description. Crystal meant it might be breakable. I’d have to be gentle with the pull and make sure the cup didn’t fall on the ground and shatter.
I closed my eyes and visualized the chalice raising a little from the floor of the niche and floating gently toward the lip of the hole and then out and down to my waiting hands.
Mom gasped and my eyes flew open. The chalice moved toward my waiting hands like a falling feather. The cup was beautiful—maybe ten inches high with a bowl like a perfect half-oval, a long, thin stem with a bulge in the middle that flared to a base nearly as wide as the bowl. The colors swirling through it made me think of the sorts of colors you see in an oil slick—jewel-toned and ethereal. I felt bad that I’d be taking it in my snake-thing sludge-covered hands.
The chalice landed upright in my cupped palms. I tightened my hands and pulled the chalice to my chest, cradling it there for safety until I was sure I had a firm hold on it.
“Show it to us, Oona,” Maurice said.
I took the stem in one hand and held it out for them to see. G-ma stretched out her hand and traced the Chalice’s shape with a finger.
“Beautiful,” Mom said half under her breath.
“Nice,” Maurice said. He clapped his front paws together. “Now, how do we get home?”
“The same way we got to the darkling lands.” G-ma cast her gaze toward me. “Give your mother the chalice. It’ll fit in her backpack. Then we’ll join hands and get out of this place.”
Mom carefully placed the crystal chalice in her gray canvas backpack. I hoped she had lots of cotton batting and cloth bandages in there, to cushion the chalice’s ride. I don’t know why I thought that. The thing had been recently stolen and hidden in the cave and survived that just fine. No reason to think it wouldn’t survive a quick, magical journey back to our world.
Maurice scampered up my pant leg and settled himself in a pocket for the trip. We joined hands and G-ma pronounced her spell. I braced for the physical effects of the trip home. But nothing happened.
We dropped hands and shifted position—as if that somehow might have a bearing on things—relinked hands and tried again. And didn’t go anywhere.
“Maybe it’s the cave’s magic holding us back,” I said. “Maybe we should try outside.”
The walk back didn’t seem as long as the trek in. When we passed the snake body and three decapitated heads, I shuddered.
Five bulky shadows fell across the land just outside the cave’s entrance as we neared it.
“The Watchers,” G-ma said softly.
I already knew what cast the shadows. I could hear the Watchers in my mind, which was weird because I’d never been able to read non-humans before. I wasn’t reading them, I realized. They were broadcasting to me, purposely letting me—and maybe G-ma, who was also psychic—hear their discussion.
Humans cannot leave the darkling lands. They must be stopped.
Are they human only?
We stood just inside the cave, me in the lead, G-ma and Mom just behind. The light beyond the cave had changed, dimming as the day wound towards an end. One of the stone Watchers slid toward us. It was hard to tell the difference between one Watcher and another, but I was pretty sure this was a new batch that we hadn’t seen before—and which hadn’t seen us.
Nervous energy zinged through me. If they tried to stop us—how could we fight stone? I readied my will in case I need to fling them away, the same as I had the skeletons. I wondered how much each one weighed?
One Watcher slid into the cave and inched close to me, almost like it wanted to catch my smell. I had to force myself not to instinctively lean away. It passed by Mom and then Grandmother. It seemed to have no interest in, maybe no awareness of, Maurice who sat calmly in my pocket. It didn’t seem to have an interest in the chalice in Mom’s backpack.
I scent them, the watcher near us broadcast to the others, still letting me hear. There is magic about.
Fae magic? broadcast another Watcher.
Fae enough, broadcast the one that had examined us.
Let them pass. We will not trouble them.
The Watcher that had entered the cave glided back out and stopped a few feet beyond the cave’s mouth.
My heart pounded. Did they not know we had the chalice, or did they know and not care? Maybe their only job was to ensure that any full humans who found their way into the darkling lands never left again. What they brought in or took out was of no concern to them.
Mother, Grandmother, and I kept our eyes on the stone figures as we cautiously left the cave, emerging into the evening light.
“Let’s go home,” I said softly.
I kept my eyes on the Watchers as G-ma and Mom joined hands with me to make a circle. G-ma intoned her spell. My gaze never left the Watchers until a sudden flash of bright blue light made me shut my eyes. A crack like a sonic boom blasted in my ears.
My eyes flew open at the sound. We stood in my parlor.
Chapter 14
Still standing in the parlor, I pulled out my phone and called Dee, to let him know I was back, safe and sound. He didn’t answer. That was disappointing. I left a voice message and asked him to call when he could.
My mom and grandmother were bustling around my kitchen making tea and sandwiches and blowing off the tension they’d built up while we were in the darkling lands. T
heir voices rolled from the room.
Mom: “I don’t mind saying, I was frightened when the skeletons showed up. On dragons.”
G-ma, giggling slightly: “I about shit my britches.”
Mom, laughing: “The look on your face!”
G-ma: “Our Oona stepped up though, didn’t she?”
Mom, thoughtfully: “She certainly did.”
G-ma, also thoughtfully: “You can’t keep her birthright from her much longer, Katrina. Blood will out. If she doesn’t express the fullness of her magic, it will destroy her. You know what it did to Audrey.”
My skin prickled. Audrey, my great-great-grandmother, was the first Goodlight to show magic. The family story was that she didn’t know how to handle it and it made her sick. So sick she nearly died. G-ma’s words were a heavy warning to my mom. And to me. Don’t suppress your magic.
“I know,” Mom said. “She’s ready now.”
I tsked my tongue against my teeth, thinking—and made up my mind.
Striding into the kitchen, I said, “So why am I ready now, and wasn’t before.”
Mom sucked in a breath. G-ma raised her eyebrows at my mom.
“Ooooo. You’re caught now, Katrina.” G-ma said.
Mom pulled out a chair and sat, then nodded for me to sit as well, which I did.
“Honestly,” Mom said slowly, “I didn’t think you could handle the magic.”
The words stung like a slap in the face.
“Ouch,” I said.
“People deal with psychic abilities in different ways,” Mom said. “Your grandmother had her way and you—you dealt with it by not dealing with it. By pushing away friends who got too close, denying your abilities wherever and however you could, and by hiding away. As a result, you were always emotionally young for your age. Your dad and I thought—well, I thought and he went along with it—that the best thing we could do for you was to not give you the extra pressure of magic on top of everything else, to give you as ordin an upbringing as possible.”
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