Blood of Time: Book 18 of the Witch Fairy Series

by Bonnie Lamer

  Kallen gives me a half shrug that obviously sends pain shooting up and down his arm. “I did not want to let go,” he murmurs. I love him so much right now that tears form in my eyes. Okay, a few of them are tears of guilt, but the rest are from love.

  “I’ll fix it,” Zyla assures him.

  I open my mouth to tell her I can do it, but she already has magic pulled and is sending it coursing through her father. Admittedly, her touch has a bit more finesse than her brother’s, but not much. Being the good father that he is, though, Kallen barely even grimaces as his daughter’s magic causes his wrist to twist and turn painfully while she stitches the bones back together.

  I, on the other hand, must force back the bile rising in my throat. But I force myself to watch. I want to make certain our daughter is healing him correctly.

  “Remind me to work on healing magic with you two,” I mutter to my children.

  I would reach out a comforting hand for my husband to grasp while he’s in such pain, but that would be a bad idea. I don’t know if my magic would work with Zyla’s or react defensively against it. I don’t want Kallen to be ground zero in a magical turf war.

  Ignoring my comment, Zyla finishes her ministrations. She smiles proudly when Kallen’s wrist is once again sitting normally at the end of his arm. “There, all better.”

  Kallen moves his wrist around and smiles at his daughter. “Yes, it is.” He tries not to sound surprised, but I can see it in his expression.

  Glancing around, Kegan asks, “Where are we?” He and Alita are standing a few feet away checking out our new surroundings.

  For the first time, I take a good look at where we landed. We seem to be in a cavern. One that obviously has occupants considering the walls are lined with lanterns of some sort. I move closer to one to examine its curious glow and discover that neither electricity nor flame is causing it to emit light. It’s magic. A magic I don’t recognize, but one that still feels familiar somehow.

  I turn questioning eyes to Kallen who shrugs. “I am not able to identify it, either.” I can’t help but smile. He’s good at reading my mind.

  “It’s Angelic,” Zyla says, standing on her tip toes to get a better look. She flicks the lantern with her fingers. The magic dances inside the glass.

  Kallen’s brows furrow. “It does not feel like any Angel magic I have come in contact with.”

  Zyla looks over her shoulder and shrugs. “Me either, but it’s definitely Angel magic.”

  How can she be so certain if she’s never been around this type of magic before? “Why do you say that?” I ask. “Do you have a special sense when it comes to identifying different kinds of magic?” Is my daughter a magical blood hound? If so, she got that from her father not me.

  Zyla laughs. “No, I’m not a magical bloodhound.” Crap, I said that out loud. “But, the etchings in the glass are Enochian words and symbols.” I assume it’s the utter confusion on my face that makes her sigh and explain, “The language of the Angels.”

  Okay, I could have done without the added snark in her tone. Cocking my head to the side, I try to keep the snark from my own voice as I respond. “It’s good to see that we’ve made sure your magical education was better than mine when it came to other beings and races. Did you study with the Angels?” I assume they can be around Angels in their true form since they carry my blood.

  Zyla laughs again. “Mom, you’re the one who told me what Enochian meant and made me learn the language.” I was? Huh. Guess I finally got a chance to read a few of those books in Isla’s library over the years. Good for me.

  “What does it say?” Xavion asks. He crowds close to his sister to get a better look at the lantern’s glass.

  Zyla pushes her brother away. “There are like a hundred other lanterns in here,” she grouses.

  Xavion rolls his eyes and moves to the next lantern. “She’s right. It’s Enochian.”

  “Thanks for the confirmation,” Zyla mutters facetiously.

  “Children,” I sigh. “Will one of you please tell us what it says?”

  Xavion glances over his should at me. “You can’t read Enochian yet?”

  I work hard not to roll my eyes. That would set a poor example for my children. Instead, I plaster a patient smile on my face. “I’m afraid not.” But, as soon as this catastrophe is managed, I will definitely be studying up. Man, children are a lot of work, and I haven’t even gotten to the diapers part yet.

  Xavion turns back to the lantern. “It says…nursemaid of the seat.”

  “What?” I ask in disbelief. Did we land in the place where seat holders for awards shows go to die? Seems unlikely.

  Zyla sighs with more drama than I could muster on my best day. “You are such an idiot.”

  “Zyla,” Kallen reprimands in a perfect dad voice. Has he been practicing and didn’t tell me?

  “Sorry, Dad,” Zyla mumbles. I notice she doesn’t apologize to her brother, though. That’s okay. If she knows what the lantern really says, I’ll let it slide this time.

  Apparently, she does. “It says Keepers of the Throne,” Zyla informs us. Okay, that seems more Angelic than nursemaid of the seat, but I still have no idea what it could mean.

  The best thing about my world, and the worst thing, is that I never need to wonder for long in these situations. A loud, synchronized screech bounces off the walls of the cavern. A massive flutter of low flying wings later, we’re all flat on our backs on the ground staring up at our hosts. A wall of defensive magic separates us.

  Our less than congenial hosts are less happy about seeing us than we are about seeing them. I guess the next time we decide to visit terrifying, winged creatures with four faces we should call first. Or just not visit them at all. Yeah, I like that idea better.

  Chapter 6

  “Kallen,” I mutter out of the side of my mouth. “What are those?”

  We’ve all pulled magic and are keeping the winged creatures at bay by joining forces. A dangerous prospect considering how much power the kids have. The three aren’t touching each other right now, so we’re able to keep the magic relatively stable. But these creatures are strong. Persistent, too. They keep ramming our magic even though each time they do, the feathers on their wings get singed.

  From our viewpoint on the ground, it’s easy to make out their faces. All four of them since they are coming at us from different Angels. There are five creatures attacking us, and each of them has four distinctly different faces. Only one of the four is human like. The human faces are beautiful, with high cheekbones and strong, square chins. Each has eyes the color of violets, but other than that, they’re not exact replicas. Their hair colors range from light to dark, and they are obviously different genders with some of their features softer around the edges than others.

  The other three faces that each creature wears are those of a lion, what I think is an ox, and an eagle. I can’t be certain about the ox because my knowledge of the bovid family is limited to cattle, buffalo, sheep, and goats, but it seems like a good guess. The bodies of the creatures are huge, probably standing anywhere from twelve to fourteen feet tall. That explains the lofty ceilings in here. When they’re standing on their sharp talons, they wouldn’t want to hit their heads. The creatures are clad in armor that hides most of their shape, so I can’t tell much else about them.

  “I am not certain,” Kallen admits through gritted teeth in response to my question. He’s fighting hard to keep his magic in place.

  “Does it matter?” Kegan gasps. “We should worry less about what they are, and more about how to get them to stop attacking us.”

  He does have a point. If we’re going to do that, we should probably show a little strength. Offense instead of just defense. We should probably start by standing up. Lying on our backs doesn’t exactly scream worthy opponent.

  Pushing myself up despite the line of magic trying to keep me down like I’m mired in quicksand, I eventually make it to my feet and face our attackers. The others follow suit, hel
ping each other when necessary, until we’re standing in a united line. I keep an eye on the kids making sure they don’t join hands. That’s what got us into trouble to begin with. Just to be safe, I put a hand on each of my children’s shoulders and pull one to either side of me. No sense in tempting the impulse control of youth. I ignore the little voice in my head that reminds me of the fact that I still struggle with the concept. The voice needs to understand that I’m trying to set a good example here and just shut up for a minute.

  “Who are you?” I shout over the screeching. I really hope the eagle face isn’t the only one with a voice.

  From my right, strange sounds start coming from my daughter’s mouth. I think they’re words, but I’m not positive. Feeling my questioning stare, Zyla turns to me and whispers, “Uncle Raz taught me how to speak Enochian, not just read it.”

  Oh really. He never offered to teach me that trick. ‘Uncle Raz’ and I are going to have a little chat when we get home. Putting my annoyance aside, I ask Zyla, “What did you say exactly?”

  She shrugs. “The same thing you did. See?” She turns back to the creatures and repeats the sounds she made a moment ago. Like I’m supposed to understand it better this time around. It doesn’t work. But this time she does raise her voice loud enough to be heard over the screeching, which seems to help with her attempts to communicate with the creatures.

  To all our relief, the screeching stops. The eagle faces, which were front and center, shift to the back in a weird twist of the neck that shouldn’t be possible. Are their necks made of ball bearings instead of vertebrae? How can they move like that? Disturbing. Now, the human-like faces are staring at us.

  I’m so caught up in my assessment of the creatures’ necks that it takes me a minute to realize that their stares hold more curiosity than anger now. One of them does the weird neck movement thing again until its lion head is facing forward. A long, wide pink tongue flicks from its mouth and slaps against our wall of magic. It makes a slow progression upward until it finally slithers back into the lion’s mouth. It licked our magic. I can’t believe it just licked our magic. Gross.

  “Tasty,” Xavion chuckles on my left. I elbow him in the side, but I don’t miss the fact that the corner of his father’s mouth is struggling to not move upward. Kegan and the tall Keelan need to cover their laughs with coughs. Even Alita looks as if she wants to laugh.

  “Children,” I warn. “Not the time.” Look at me being the only grown up here.

  “Thank you. It’s about time I’m not the only voice of reason when I’m with those two,” Zyla says with a satisfied glance in the direction of her brother and cousin.

  I can’t help it. I give her a doubtful look. Voice of reason is definitely not her role in their little circle. No matter how much she tries to convince herself otherwise. Now is not the time to lay that little truth on her, though. So, I limit my response to, “Uh huh.”

  Turning back to the creature who licked our magic, I see the lion face is no longer facing forward. The human-like face is back, and it’s conversing in a low voice with the other creatures. Leaning closer to Zyla, I ask, “Can you understand them?”

  With a frustrated grimace, she shakes her head. “I think they’re speaking in a different dialect than the one Uncle Raz taught us.”

  “Too bad Uncle Raz isn’t with us,” I mutter under my breath. “An omniscient Archangel would come in handy right about now.”

  To my surprise, Zyla’s cheeks flush a pretty pink. “He couldn’t follow us.”

  “What?”

  When she doesn’t respond right away, Xavion jumps into the conversation. “The spell we did when we were little. It keeps him from seeing us.”

  I still don’t get it. “Okay, he doesn’t have you in his sight, but what does that have to do with him following us.”

  “If we’re doing something the spell doesn’t think he should know about, like using enough magic to open all the realms at once, it blocks his immediate knowledge of what we’re doing and where we are,” Xavion explains sheepishly. He’s quick to add, “We were practically toddlers at the time. We didn’t know what we were doing.”

  I shake my head. “You two are making the idea of binding your magic seem like a great parenting option at the moment.”

  Zyla stares aghast at me. “You wouldn’t!”

  “No, we would not,” Kallen assures her while giving me side-eye. “Fairies do not bind the magic of their young.”

  That’s true. Only Witches follow the ancient rite so that children in the Cowan realm don’t accidently expose the race. Which is part of the reason why I didn’t know I had magic until my seventeenth birthday.

  I lean around Xavion to scowl at my husband. “But some parents do know the value of a good threat.”

  Kallen considers this a moment. “Good point. I will keep that in mind during future conversations.”

  I can’t help but smile. He’s as new to this as I am, but we’ll work it out as we go along. “Thanks.”

  Now, I proceed to choke on my smile, and my tongue, and a good chunk of my heart, when a voice booms through the cavern and scares the crap out of me. Not to mention causing serious damage to my eardrums. “This is the language in which you prefer to converse.”

  It’s not a question but an observation. A two hundred decibel observation. Still, I feel the need to respond. Prying my teeth apart enough to speak, I grit out, “Yes.”

  The middle creature moves forward and demands, “Lower your magic.”

  I cock my head to the side and give him a good once over before replying, “No.”

  A lion’s roar reverberates through the cavern. It is so deafening that it takes everything I have not to cover my ears. I note with pride that none of the others lift their hands to do so, either. We are a tough bunch. We’ll be a deaf bunch soon since all the lion faces are now roaring, but we’re still tough. And I bet Tabitha knows how to whip up a great pair of hearing aids for everyone if we ever make it home.

  Just when I think the standoff is going to go on forever, the middle creature slumps forward. Something is seriously wrong with it. Its wings are still holding it aloft, but it’s human-like face seems to crumple and age like a date turning into a prune. It’s lion’s roar sputters and cracks like a boy whose voice is changing. Eventually, it sounds more like a tomcat than a lion. For the first time, the ox face makes noise. It lets out a few pitiful brays before falling silent again. The eagle face tries to take over but chokes mid-screech.

  The other creatures take notice. They converge upon the ill one but are not able to catch it before it falls to the cavern floor in a heap. Where it seems to be dying.

  What the hell is going on here? “Drop your magic!” I shout to the others in my group. I need to help this creature.

  Chapter 7

  I whirl around to my family members. “I’m serious. Drop your magic,” I insist again.

  “Xandra…,” Kallen begins. But whatever words he was about to speak jump back down his throat when they see the determination on my face. My wise husband nods and drops his magic.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Kegan mutters as he lets his magic go and indicates to his son that he should do the same. He pulls Alita closer to him on one side and big Keelan on the other. Little Keelan is curled up in his mother’s arms, completely oblivious to the danger we may be in.

  I hope I know what I’m doing, too. I turn to Zyla and Xavion. It takes a motherly glare in the direction of both of my children for them to reluctantly let their magic drop. When the path is finally clear, I turn and rush forward. Right into a wall of feathers.

  “No!” one of the creature roars in our language.

  Pulling up to my full height, I stand my ground. “Get out of my way so I can help your friend,” I roar back.

  The creature seems taken aback for a second. I bet few stand up to them when they’re in full offense mode. The female creature recovers quickly, though. “You cannot help the dead,” she decl
ares. Even though her eyes cloud with sorrow, she stubbornly keeps her wings right where they are. In my path.

  “She’s not dead yet, but she will be if you don’t let me pass,” I grind out. What. The. Hell. First of all, why am I suddenly so certain about the genders of these creatures. Second, why in the world would I insist something so utterly insane. I know nothing of their physical ailments. They could have a thousand different diseases that affect their race that I know nothing about. She could be dying of simple old age for all I know. Yet, here I am insisting that I know better than her comrades what is wrong with her. And stranger still? I believe what I’m saying down to my very core. “She doesn’t need to die,” I insist.

  The creature barring my way gives me a long, hard look. I can feel her violet eyes delving so far into mine that I’m quite certain she sees everything down to the nose hairs on my soul. At least the lion face isn’t licking it. Though, metaphorically, I think it is. The eye delving has turned to magical pressing, and my soul feels like it’s being squished around a bit. Not a comfortable feeling, to say the least. No one should have their soul licked. Metaphorically or not. Ever.