by Amy Sumida
“Numerous?” Gage transferred his angry gaze to me. “How numerous?”
“I need three or the spell will fade and take me with it,” I whispered. “But it must be love; the magic won't be satisfied with lust.”
“And how many lovers do you have already?” Gage's jaw clenched.
“Two,” I admitted.
“We were in a monogamous relationship when Elaria was struck by the spell,” Torin ground out. “She left my bed to go to one of the two men she's with now.”
“It was the spell.” I sighed deeply. “Damn it, Torin, how many times do I have to apologize to you?”
“For betraying me with a man I considered to be a friend?” Torin asked. “Two-thousand times. No; three-thousand. I don't know, Elaria. Why don't you get on your knees and try it again? You seem to like it there.”
I slapped him—bitch-slapped him.
“I get that this is hard on you,” I said calmly to Torin as he glared at me and his cheek turned red. “I'm sorry that you had to see Gage and me connect. I know it must be painful, and I never wanted to hurt you. But I'm going to die if I don't satisfy the spell, Torin. You don't want to believe it, but I think you know it's true. And you know that I would never have betrayed you if not for this magic.”
“It seems like you have your third already,” Gage said crisply.
“No, she doesn't,” Torin snarled. “You're welcome to her; I want nothing to do with this.” He turned on his heels and left.
“She's telling the truth,” Vivian said to Gage. “The spell needs three lovers to fuel it. I'm sorry that you were lured here to help her, but your feelings are not false. Listen to them, and trust yourself.”
“The spell feeds off your lovers?” Gage asked in horror.
“In a way,” I admitted. “Without the energy that love produces, it will die.”
“And you are bound to it?”
“I am,” I said. “I've tried to free myself, but nothing has worked. It was cast upon me by a dying witch.”
Griffin hissed in distaste.
“I'm so sorry,” I whispered. “I did warn you that I had issues, and I really was going to tell you. I wouldn't have done anything physically intimate with you until I had. That's why I moved away when you tried to kiss me earlier.”
“I understand your motivations,” he said softly. “I would do everything within my power to survive as well—anyone would. Even that fairy who just scorned you so fiercely. It was unfair of him to judge you as he did.”
“But?” I asked.
Vivian eased back into her room and closed the door, giving us some privacy.
“I'm a griffin,” he whispered sorrowfully. “Do you know what that means?”
“You mate forever,” I said in revelation. “And you don't want to risk it on me.”
“It's not a risk.” He shook his head. “You're my mate; the magic has revealed it. But until I bed you, I'm still free. I can find another woman to be with. No other griffin will have me now that you've been located; they wouldn't give up a chance at a true mating. But I could find another woman of a different race to share my life with; one who would be mine alone.”
“I understand,” I said hollowly.
“It will hurt me to walk away from you,” the honesty in Gage's voice was stark. “But I fear that it will hurt me far more if I stay. I'm sorry, Elaria, but you'll need to find another man to love. You're not a griffin, and you're obviously capable of loving more than one man. You will find a new option soon, I'm sure.”
Gage turned and started walking away.
I almost called out to him and begged him to stay. I nearly harped on the possibility of my death to sway him. But my throat closed on the words. I'd done enough damage by showing him something he could never have. Was it fair to lay the responsibility for my death on his shoulders too? No; it wasn't. So, I let him go, and hoped that Destiny had one more soul mate for me up her sleeve.
Chapter Fifteen
I know that I should have gone back to Alexandrite, where the men were anxiously waiting for me. But I had failed them. This wasn't just about me; if I died, it would affect the people I loved. That made the weight heavier, and my shoulders slumped beneath it as I trudged back out to the gardens. I just needed some time to sit and think; to plan a new course of action. Once I had a plan, I could go home to my men.
I wandered into an open patch of grass and sank down onto the cool blades, rolling onto my back to stare up at the stars. The night was brisk, but the cold didn't bother me. I had a fire growing stronger within me every passing day. Soon, I would burn out, but wasn't that better than fading away?
“Or is it the same thing?” I asked the stars. “You died a long time ago, but your light continues to shine. You burn and you fade.”
“Who are you talking to?” Odin asked as he strode up.
I glanced over, too drained to feel any surprise at his presence. “The stars.”
“Ah.” He nodded sagely as he sat beside me and stared up at the sky with me. “Yes; they are tenacious, as all fiery things are. If you live as brilliantly as the stars, your light will continue to shine—long after your death—through the people you've shared it with.”
“I don't think that I've shared my light with enough people,” I said. “Or with enough brilliance.”
“Then you must not let yourself burn out.” He transferred his stare to me. “This is one setback, Elaria. You don't give up the war because of a single skirmish.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I'm just regrouping.”
“May I recommend that you do what I do when I feel that I've failed?”
“Please.”
“Lean on your magic,” he said. “It's not just a path to power, but also a support for you. When I'm upset, I come out here like you have, except I lay my hands on the earth and reconnect with the power within it.”
He did as he described; laying his palms to the ground and closing his eye. Odin looked blissful for a moment, and then he sighed. He opened his eye again and smiled down at me.
“You try it.”
“You think I should sing?” I asked.
“Something comforting to you.” He nodded. “People sing when they're sad, Elaria. They made a whole genre for it. But music can do so much more for you if you let it.”
I thought about it as I sat up. My iPod was stuffed into my bra, but I didn't think I needed it. A nice a capella would work. But what would comfort me? What could make this anxious ache disappear?
Then it just flowed out of me. The rolling sweetness of Laurel's “Into the Hills” lifted my magic in my chest and then eased it through my song. It sounded sorrowful, like the lament that had lodged itself in my heart. The words described a woman who was afraid to be alone, saying and doing whatever it took to keep her man beside her. But there was also a blazing realization in the music; that in the end, it doesn't matter—the most glorious feeling is not found in another person, but in yourself. My voice lifted with the strength of that knowledge, carrying through the quiet night like a battle cry. I saw it then; the beauty that was there already, and there was so much of it that I could barely go on living. So, what did death matter?
The lyrics filled me with their comfort, the magic giving them the power to transform. But this time, I only wanted to change myself. I took the message to heart and let it lift the sadness away from me. As I sang, I felt the heaviness lighten. You can run through life pursuing something—be it love, or glory, or even more life—but that's not what we were born for. True living is simply basking in the beauty around us; appreciating that we are all in this together, whether or not we connect physically with each other. We run, on and on, chasing and hiding, until our breath and our strength fail us, and then we cast ourselves down in exhaustion, only to find that life has no end, and everything we were pursuing is already inside us.
My voice faded as the freedom of the song settled within me. The magic echoed out around me like the light of those fading stars. But th
ere was no sorrow in the fade anymore. I knew that everything goes on; hadn't it already been proven to me? If I died in two months, I would live again. Energy cannot be destroyed, and neither can love. I would find a way back.
I looked over to Odin and saw him staring at me strangely. No, not at me exactly; my throat.
“Odin?”
“Elaria, there's something inside your neck,” Odin whispered.
“What?” My hand flew to my throat; fear returning like the cut of a knife—quick and painless at first, then stinging wickedly once your mind catches up.
“When you sang just now, I saw glimmers of magic beneath your skin.” His hand lifted and brushed mine aside gently. “I focused harder and was able to see a sliver of something pulsing with energy.”
“A sliver?” I frowned. “I don't even know—”
“Shh,” Odin chided me as he prodded at my neck. “I can feel it now. It's connected to the earth, so my magic recognizes it.” He lowered his face so that he was inches away from me. “Elaria, I think it's a piece of stone.”
“Stone?” I asked in shock.
Odin drew back and continued to stare at my neck thoughtfully. Then he nodded and stood. He reached out a hand down to help me up.
“Come with me, Elaria,” he said. “It's time for my magic to help you.”
Chapter Sixteen
On the way to Odin's rooms, we ran into my parents.
“What the hell is going on?” My father demanded as he intercepted us. “Tell me this instant, Elaria!”
“Dad, you know about the Rooster Spell,” I started, but Odin cut me off.
“It has adjusted to its new mistress,” Odin explained for me. “But it still has to function as it was originally created. The Rooster Spell was made to feed on several sirens, and it processed that energy in a symbiotic way with its host. Thomas became stronger because he housed the spell, and the spell thrived because Thomas fed it sirens.”
“Yes, we know this,” my mother's eyes were wide and worried. “I know it intimately, but what has it to do with my daughter?”
“She only has two lovers for it to feed on,” Odin said grimly.
“I promised it three when I first bargained with it,” I continued. “It agreed because it knew that three was the minimum it needed to survive. But I haven't delivered.”
“You need another lover,” my father whispered.
“Yes, 'lover' being the keyword,” Odin added. “Elaria has altered the spell from its vengeful, lust-based energy into something softer, but this has made things more difficult.”
“You need to love them,” my mother said in revelation.
“And they need to love me.” I nodded. “I can't just choose someone to sleep with.”
“And if you don't find someone?” My mother asked.
“It will die, and me with it,” I said gently.
“By the flame,” my father swore softly. “I've killed my daughter; my only child.”
“I'm not dead yet, Dad,” I said firmly. “Tonight was only my first attempt to find someone.”
“Vivian!” Dad swore. “She cast a love spell for you, didn't she?”
“I asked her to.” I nodded. “But Gage can't accept being one of three lovers. He refused me. So, I need to find someone else.”
“Torin!” My mother exclaimed. “Won't he help? He still loves you. He surely doesn't want you to die.”
“Torin is the reason Gage left.” I sighed. “He revealed everything to Gage before I did.”
“Damn him!” My father swore. “Does he want to kill you?”
“He was hurt.” I shook my head. “He had to watch Gage and me together. That must have been torture to his already wounded heart and pride.”
“That's no excuse for fucking up your chance of saving yourself,” my father snarled.
“No; it isn't,” I agreed. “But love makes you do foolish things.”
“You still love him,” my mom said softly. “Even after that?”
“I will always love Torin.” I shrugged. “I know him too well to ever hate him. He's a good man; he's just in pain, and like any wounded animal, he's lashing out blindly.”
“But now we have something else to investigate,” Odin interrupted. “I think the relic has left something behind in Elaria.”
“The relic?” The rest of us asked as one.
My hand went to my throat again. “You said you thought there was a piece of stone in my throat, but what you meant was a piece of gemstone, didn't you?”
“Yes,” Odin admitted. “We know that the witch relic left you with an increased amount of power, but what we didn't consider was the possibility that it left you that power in a physical way.”
“Wouldn't I have noticed a sliver of stone burrowing into my skin?” I rubbed at the hollow of my throat, and felt it: a thin, hard line, maybe an eighth-an-inch long. “I feel it! Shit; there is something there.”
“There was a lot of magic rushing through you in that final battle,” Odin mused. “You wouldn't have noticed something that small pierce your skin, especially if the relic numbed the area first.”
“Numbed the area?” My mother huffed and fluffed her wings. “It was a necklace, not a doctor.”
“It was a hell of a lot more than a necklace, Mom,” I said softly. “Numbing me to implant a sliver of gemstone is the least of what it could do.”
“You have a part of the relic inside you,” my father whispered in awe. “You have become the relic.”
“Whoa now.” I waved my dad down. “Let's not get carried away.”
“We don't know anything for certain yet.” Odin held up his hand as well. “Let's get Elaria to my workshop so I can take a closer look.”
“Thank you, Odin.” My father held his hand out to the elder.
“Of course, Robert.” Odin shook Dad's hand. “Your daughter is important to me too.”
“I don't care about the jewel in her throat,” my mom cried. “I just want you to save her. Robert, you save our daughter! I don't care what kind of magic it takes; whatever you have to do, you do it! Damn all the gods; I will not lose her!”
I gaped at my mom. She had always been firmly against black magic; to hear her not only give my dad permission but also encouragement, to use whatever kind of magic he had to, was shocking, to say the least.
“We will, my love,” Dad said gently as he hugged Mom close. “We'll figure it out. But this jewel may help more than I can.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“I'm going to be all right, Mom,” I added. “Either way, I've lived a long life. I'm content with whatever ending is coming for me.”
“A long life?” My mother shrieked. “You're not even half a century! You're a baby still—my baby—and I won't let you die.”
“We won't let her die, Kalliope,” Odin vowed, “I promise. You have the backing of the Coven, and the Coven never fails.”
Mom calmed and nodded, and then we all headed into Odin's chambers. He led us through his rooms, and then down a stairwell, into the earth. Odin's workshop was a cave like Vivian's, but it was more spartan. Spell ingredients, in matching jars, were lined up with military precision on wooden shelves. There were no oddities hanging willy-nilly or plush carpets to add comfort. The furniture was heavy and functional. Everything was tidy and put away in its place. Odin's circle was even different; bordered in large stones carved with runes, though the power trickling over from it felt just as strong as Vivian's had.
Odin led me to a simple, wood chair and had me sit. As my parents waited anxiously, Odin opened a drawer and revealed tools laid out in OCD rows. He selected a crystal wand and returned to lay it on the empty tabletop beside me. Then he went to search his library. It took him a few tries to find the spell he was looking for, but when he did, he tapped the page triumphantly.
“This will do it,” he said as he laid the book beside the wand.
Odin picked up the wand, placed the point into the hollow of my throat, and began to
chant. He closed his eye as the wand began to glow, but the rest of us kept our eyes wide open. My parents watched intently as the glow seeped into my skin and collected within that sliver of gemstone. I could see the glow, but not much more than that; mainly, I felt the energy coalesce. It brightened, and I was able to see the magic flow back up the wand and into Odin. He inhaled sharply and opened his eye suddenly.
“Of course,” Odin said with a smile.
He collected the book and put it back on its shelf before gently placing the wand in its drawer.
“Odin!” My dad growled.
