All Spell is Breaking Loose: Lexi Balefire: Matchmaking Witch (Fate Weaver Book 2)

by Welling, ReGina

  "Take all the time you need." I sensed sarcasm lingering behind the seemingly genial response.

  A short battle raged in my head, but desire won out over common sense. I wanted answers more than I wanted the satisfaction of turning her away.

  "Okay, I agree. Just let me go down and tell Terra I'm leaving." An action that was completely unnecessary. I knew Salem had taken my hint and my faerie godmothers had been listening the whole time. It wasn't permission I was seeking or the simple act of courtesy in telling them my plans. I wanted their take on the conversation because if there was one thing a faerie could recognize, it was a lie.

  Sylvana wasn't the only one I'd put in jeopardy today. Sending Salem to drop the mother bomb on my godmothers put his already precarious relationship with them on the fast track to Nowheresville and didn't take me off the naughty list, either. We would both pay the price for this, but I hoped by cluing them in early, the cost would be lower. Maybe a small scale freak-out instead of a full-on apocalypse. Apocalypse being their default, I might have indulged in some wishful thinking.

  After a lifetime of practice, I can smell an irate godmother from fifty paces. Terra takes on the scent of dry leaves; Evian reeks of dead fish and Soleil of brimstone. The degree of scent strengthens in direct proportion to the annoyance level.

  Today, the combined stench squatted at the foot of the stairs like a foul gargoyle waiting to pounce. I followed it through to the kitchen and out into the backyard where the presence of poisonous-looking knee-high toadstools signaled they were at DEF CON 3. Maybe higher. I probably should have mentioned something to them about Sylvana not being dead before she showed up on our doorstep (understatement of the year). Now I owed Salem at least a pound of prime Ahi tuna for handling the situation.

  Silence lay heavy on the air as I walked through the garden located in the lee of the L-shaped addition where the three faeries lived. As much as I love them, my godmothers can be a double handful. The quieter they are, the scarier their reaction. A knock on the sliding door netted me nothing--not a hello or a come in, but I slid it open and went in anyway. A grim-faced Salem met me before I got more than a few steps inside.

  "It's bad. I'm not sure you should be here right now. Go! I'll handle it."

  "Tell them I wasn't keeping secrets, I wasn't even sure she was back until she showed up right when Delta....Oh, the Fiach. I guess I should have said something about her before. I'm in big trouble."

  "If they ever calm down enough to listen to reason, I'll tell them. It's best if you just go, but Lexi, do you trust her to keep you safe?"

  "I trust them to be there if I need help," I nodded to indicate the faeries. "Even if they're furious with me, I know they have my back, and I trust you. She hasn't come close to earning that right. I'd like to hear what she has to say, though, and if she can help me get the bow, it's worth a shot. All my instincts tell me I'm supposed to find that bow. I have to do this, and I know they're not going to be happy. Just remind them it was my idea for the listening spell, okay?"

  Salem rubbed his cheek against mine, and I returned the caress.

  "It's going to cost you at least a gallon of seafood chowder for this. With lobster." Salem got in a parting shot as I headed out the door and into the car with my waiting mother.

  "You growing up in a house full of faeries instead of with me was all your grandmother's fault." Sylvana spun the wheel on a '77 El Dorado. A car so big it practically needed a docking permit to park anywhere. Comfy ride, though.

  My grandmother. There was a topic I'd like to explore.

  "What did she do?" Trying not to arouse suspicion, I scanned the familiar spot as we drove past. For as long as I could remember, my grandmother's stoned body dominated a clearing just far enough from the house that if I leaned left, I could see it from my bedroom window.

  Any witch who killed another suffered the instant punishment of turning to stone. Self-defense, murder, accidental death all ended up the same. One of the reasons I remained a solitary practitioner was the stigma from having a stone-cold wicked witch in my family. My grandmother, Clara, upon killing her own daughter, so the rumors went, suffered the ultimate punishment on the spot.

  You'd believe the rumor, too, if you saw Clara's statue. Wild hair blowing in a magical wind, a fierce expression on a face that could have doubled for my own, arms raised in the act of her final casting. A quick glance was enough to send shivers up your spine. Looking at her longer made the blood run cold with knowing this had been one badass witch.

  Except for the minor detail of her supposedly dead daughter sitting next to me, very much alive and breathing, so what was up with that? If not Sylvana, then who had my grandmother killed the day I became an orphan?

  "My mother was a miserable old witch. Wicked to the bone and mean as a snake. I worked hard to master every spell, to make her proud, but the harder I tried, the worse she treated me. Nothing I did ever pleased her. She hated my hair and my clothes and my friends. Most of all, she hated your father." Sylvana pounded on the steering wheel. "If you keep dating him, you'll end up with a broken heart," she said in a mimicry of Clara. "My happiness was never as important to her as being right. Probably because she wasn't pretty enough to keep a man of her own. Goddess knows your grandfather dumped her in a hot minute--before I was born."

  I fought to keep from raising a brow at that one. I've read the dozens of love letters from prospective suitors Clara had stashed in her bedroom, and seen enough photos of her to know how attractive she had been. Three peas in a pod didn't even come close to describing the resemblance between us, and I'm no slouch in the looks department. Neither was Sylvana, but I've heard that hatred can be blind.

  "Is she the one who cut your face out of all the photos in the house?"

  "Yep, that was her handiwork." Sylvana shook her head in disgust.

  "Where have you been all this time?" I blurted out of nowhere. The hum of the tires, even in a car this quiet, almost drowned out my voice. This question had burned in me for so long that I wasn't sure I would survive the answer.

  "Hell."

  Did she mean literally or figuratively? I think my reply went something like, ahum.

  "No, really. Your grandmother, in her infinite wisdom, imprisoned me in a nexus on the edge of the underworld."

  The comment sent my body into red alert, my stomach lurched, my heart skipped a beat then raced into a gallop, and my fingertips tingled. Several months ago, the faerie godmothers had teamed up with an earthbound angel to rescue Vaeta and a guardian angel from a nexus on the edge of the underworld. I'd tagged along, and during the excitement, I'd fallen against the shrouded cage rumored to hold a legendary villain known as The Darkest Heart and banged my head. I remembered the sharp pain, the trickle of blood, seeing stars, and the feeling of great energy rushing past me.

  "How did you get out?" I asked even though my gut told me I already knew the answer. I stared straight ahead and braced myself.

  "Time turns back on itself inside a nexus, and it felt like I'd been in that cage for an eternity at times and then at others, only a minute. Mist surrounded my prison walls, so I'm not exactly sure what happened. I heard the sounds of a battle and called out for help, but no one came. When everything went quiet again, I figured I'd lost my chance, and then I was free."

  Maybe it hadn't been me.

  "You didn't see who let you out?"

  "No. The second the walls went down, I blew out of there. I wasn't about to take a chance of being caught again. I hit the edge of the nexus and just kept going. If I'd had enough magic left, I would have closed it behind me to make sure nothing and no one would come along to drag me back, but I was running on fumes by then. Cost me months of time getting back to full strength."

  The impulse to confess my part in her grand escape died on the tip of my tongue. Given a chance, she would have trapped me in that portal without a second thought. More evidence of my wicked heritage. A whisper from my inner voice cautioned against trusting her
with this particular piece of information. For once, I listened.

  Whipping the wheel, Sylvana guided the car into a parallel parking spot under a flickering street light and popped the trunk. Judging by the contents, this witch traveled with a portable sanctum. A medium-sized cauldron squatted in one corner and the rest of the space was crammed with spellcrafting supplies. Carefully sorting through the contents, she selected a few items which she tossed into a black messenger bag and slung over her shoulder.

  "You ever been to the Fringe?" The question drifted back to me as I followed my mother down a dead end alley not too far from my office.

  "What is it? One of those pop-up clubs?" How had I never noticed this alley before? I'd passed this spot thousands of times. Must be magic of some kind.

  The shadow slicing across her face hid half of a shocked expression when she abruptly turned back toward me. "The Fringe. The place where worlds meet."

  "Oh, that Fringe." I tried to sound like I had the least clue what I was talking about. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

  "Follow me and stay close." With that order, Sylvana took a step forward and vanished into the solid brick wall. If the train to Hogwarts was on the other side that wall, I was out of here. Odd place for a portal between worlds, but this wouldn't be the weirdest thing I'd ever done, so I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  Magic shivered across my skin, teased every fine hair to taught attention with a prickling whisper of power. I didn't even realize I'd closed my eyes until they popped open and I faced my mother, silhouetted against a line of flashing bulbs riding past on the canopy of a carousel.

  That the place where my world overlapped with the next was a carnival should have surprised me, but in retrospect, it seemed appropriate. I'd probably fit right in.

  Sylvana led me through the crowded midway where I tried to take in all the sights without seeming overly interested. Some species of supernaturals take great offense to being noticed. Others flat out require it. The trick is knowing one from the other.

  As much as I wanted to linger and explore, Sylvana set a blistering pace that took us diagonally across one corner of the Midway and dumped us into a no man's land of a cart track across a short field.

  Unfamiliar birdsong and the swishing sound of grass brushing against our legs punctuated the silence between us as we trudged down a narrow dirt trail leading into a forest right out of a fairytale nightmare. Gnarled, curse-blasted trees arched high overhead, their branches resembling arthritic fingers against the dusk-laden sky.

  "Don't you think it's time to tell me where you're taking me and what I have to do when we get there?" I hoped talking would lighten the atmosphere and drive back the heebie-jeebies.

  "We're going to case the Mudwitch's house." Again that tone like I should be familiar with her every reference.

  "Okay. Is she dangerous?"

  "You'll be perfectly safe." For some reason, I didn't feel reassured. "She was a friend of your grandmother's."

  "So what am I supposed to do? Just knock on the door and ask her if she's hiding Cupid's bow and if she is, can I have it back? Pretty please."

  "Don't be ridiculous. She'd skin you alive."

  "Literally or figuratively?" My feet slowed to a stop. Just how much danger were we in here?

  "I've got it covered." Sylvana swung the pack off her back and rummaged around until she found a large potion bottle and slugged down half the contents before handing it to me.

  "What is it?" I sniffed cautiously at the rim. The contents of the bottle smelled like smoky vomit.

  "Transparency potion." Sylvana nudged my hand. "Hurry up, we'll have five minutes before it takes effect and then an hour before it wears off."

  I could think of at least fifty things I'd rather do than drink the sludge, but I'd given my word, so I tipped the bottle up and let the contents drain down my throat. It tasted worse than it smelled if that was even possible, and it burned like fire in my belly.

  "At least you didn't hand me an invisibility cloak. Do I want to know what was in that?"

  "Who on earth would enchant a cloak? Too easy to trip over."

  "Guess you didn't keep up on popular literature during your time in the underworld."

  "I'm glad you can find humor in my situation."

  "Sorry." I wasn't, not really.

  While we walked, a full moon rose to spill soft light through barren branches and cast shadows that writhed along the ground like living things.

  "Hurry now. I want to be within spitting distance of the house before that potion takes effect." Sylvana took off at a brisk walk, and I followed behind, an obedient puppy, while the fire in my belly spread slowly throughout my entire body.

  Ahead of me, my mother began to fade around the edges. Don't tell her I said this, but I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. Before she turned completely transparent, she reached into her pack again, pulled out a jar, unscrewed the top, and tossed some powder over me.

  "Perambula."

  Both spells took hold at once. The potion's fire turned to ice in my veins right before the adrenaline kicked in and the top of my head flew off. Okay, it didn't really fly off, but it felt like it could. What a rush. Not only was I invisible, but I could walk through obstacles unimpeded; as evidenced by the rock I would have stubbed a toe on had my shoe not kicked straight through it.

  "Hey, where are you?" For a split second, I panicked. There I was, in the scary woods with an invisible companion. How's that for feeling totally alone? Sylvana didn't answer right away, and the volume on my panic button went right up to eleven.

  "Sorry. I thought you were following me." Her voice came from twenty feet down the track.

  "How am I supposed to follow you when I can't even see you?" Clearly, there were a few holes in her plan.

  "Follow the trail, you can't miss the place. Trust me."

  Trust me. I say that to my clients all the time. Hearing the phrase come out of my mother's mouth made me feel just a little closer to her and slightly annoyed for some reason.

  "And when we get there, what are we supposed to do?"

  "We aren't going to do anything, you're going to walk through the wall and see if you pick up anything."

  "Me? Why me?"

  "Because you're the one who should have a biological affinity for her father's tools." Her voice drifted back from ahead of me.

  "Oh. What are you going to be doing?"

  "I'm the rear guard. Enough chatter, we're getting close."

  Just ahead a moss-roofed cottage rose up from forest floor as though it had grown there. Mud daubed in all the cracks between twisted branches let flickering pinpricks of candlelight shine through in a few spots. Unforgiving cold stole over my limbs and turned my guts to ice.

  "Exactly how mean is this witch?" I whispered.

  "You'll be fine. Now go, and remember to get out before the potion wears off." The or else hung in the air, unspoken but clearly implied.

  Heart in my throat, I made for the nearest wall and began by thrusting a single hand through the wood and mud. The wall felt cold where my hand passed through, as though the house were the ghost and I the solid entity. Thankful Sylvana couldn't see the terror on my face, I stuck my head through next, just to get the lay of the land. Old Muddy wasn't shopping at Ikea, that's for certain.

  The entire place was kitted out like a Victorian parlor. Gilt glittered around a fireplace I estimated at three times larger than what should have fit in the room given the outside dimensions. A long-haired white cat sprawled across an oval-backed Louis XVI armchair while just about the cutest little old lady I'd ever seen knitted away on its twin. Hair that matched the cat's in hue and fluffy texture haloed pink cheeks tracked with gentle reminders of her advanced age. How dangerous could this old granny be?

  Shoulders followed head and soon the rest of me was birthed inside the Mudwitch's house. With no useful instructions for the next part of this mission, I stood in the center of the room and sent out my Spidey sense
s to see If I could feel anything remotely Cupid-like. As if that was even a thing.

  Five minutes stretched to ten and then to fifteen. The potion would wear off soon. There was nothing here, or if there was, I was going to be useless in finding it, because I couldn't feel the bow. I turned to leave the way I had come in when a quiet question slapped me in the back of the head.

  "Did you find what you were looking for, my dear?" The voice did not go with her looks. It creaked out of her like a rusty hinge on an old barn door and turned my legs to noodles. "It would have been more polite to knock on the door. Now come into the light and let me get a good look at you."

  I felt Sylvana's spell run off me like water and turned to face the Mudwitch.

  Dead black eyes burned in that gentle face, and I got the same feeling I'd had the time the faeries took me to the zoo, and I had gazed into the eyes of a python. Totally creeped out.

  "Sylvana Balefire. Back to cause more trouble, I assume."

  "No. I'm not. Sylvana, I mean. I'm Lexi, her daughter, and I don't want to cause any trouble." I also didn't want to pee my pants, but I wasn't ruling it out. "I'm sorry for sneaking in here; it's just my mother thought you might have...that my grandmother might have sent something to you to keep for me." Mentioning the bow was probably a bad idea since, as far I could tell, it wasn't here.

  Lightning flashed in her eyes.

  Fight or flight kicked in, and I chose flight. Tossing another sorry over my shoulder, I made a dash for the door. The spell hit me in the back before I managed three steps. Tendril-like branches shot up through the floor to coil around my legs and effectively cut off all chance of escape.

  "Not so fast, Dearie. If you're in cahoots with Sylvana, that's enough for me." Cahoots? Was I in cahoots? Who says that anymore? "Tell me the truth about why you showed up on my doorstep this fine night."

  Words tumbled from my lips no matter how hard I tried to stop them.

  "The Bow of Destiny? Here? Ridiculous. If Clara hid that bow, you're going to have to try a lot harder than this to find it, and even if you do, she'll have put up safeguards to keep Sylvana from touching it. Safer for you all around if I keep you here with me. You look like a sturdy one; I could use a little help around the place. These old bones aren't as spry as they used to be."