Descension

by Burgess, B. C.

  “I don’t want to make history,” Aedan countered. “I just want to take care of Rose and keep our lives to ourselves. This isn’t the world’s business.”

  “True,” Caitrin conceded, “but anyone who knows you will know what an anomaly this is.”

  “Yes, but I’m not worried about them. I’d prefer it if word doesn’t spread beyond our friends and family.”

  “A reasonable request,” Caitrin approved. “I’ll do my part to make it so, but it would seem the Heavens are already smiling on you—a gift mere mortals like me simply cannot match.”

  Aedan smiled at Rhosewen. “Rose and I are very lucky—blessed by the Heavens and loved by our families.”

  Caitrin watched the new bonded mates for a moment then cleared his throat. “Is there a wedding in the stars?”

  “Yes,” Aedan answered. “I asked Rose to marry me last night, and she accepted. You and Morrigan’s blessing would mean the world to us.”

  “Of course you have our blessing,” Caitrin approved, wrapping his arm around Morrigan’s shoulders. “We would be fools to think we could keep a bonded couple apart. We wouldn’t want to try.”

  “Never,” Morrigan agreed, “lest the Goddess Willa smite us down.”

  “The goddess of mercy?” Aedan laughed. “If she didn’t smite the lord of the underworld, she won’t be targeting anyone around here. And thank you for your blessing. We’ll keep it close to our hearts.”

  “Thank you, daddy,” Rhosewen added, hovering from the ground to kiss his cheek.

  Morrigan was beside herself with joy, bouncing in anticipation. “We have a lot to do if we’re going to plan a wedding. We’ll need a dress, flowers, a ring…”

  “I have a ring,” Rhosewen interjected. “He gave it to me last night.”

  She proudly flashed her ring, and Morrigan gasped as she took her wrist, demanding a closer look. “What is this stone?” she asked, twisting Rhosewen’s hand side to side. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Zultanite,” Rhosewen answered, grinning from ear to ear.

  Her parents looked at her face, making sure they’d heard correctly.

  “I know!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t he amazing?” She hovered from the ground and threw her arms around Aedan’s neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. “And he’s mine.”

  ~ * * * ~

  With no reason to delay, the wedding was planned and scheduled within a month; set for the third weekend in July. The vows would be said on the coven’s lawn, and dozens of guests would fly in to witness.

  Rhosewen had taken a leave of absence from work, partly because she hated the thought of being away from Aedan every day, and partly to help with wedding arrangements, but her aid proved unnecessary. With so many witches scrambling to offer help, the bride and groom merely made choices, and they agreed on everything, so decisions were made easily and immediately.

  With their wedding being organized by others, Aedan and Rhosewen concentrated on building their house. Everything in, on and around it was touched by their hands and magic, reflecting their tastes and talent.

  Three days before the wedding, they hung their porch swing, successfully completing their new home. As they stood in the rose garden, admiring their handiwork, Daleen and Serafin arrived, glancing around as they alighted in the middle of the lawn. When they spotted Aedan and Rhosewen, they beamed and flew forward, arms outstretched.

  “I can’t believe it,” Daleen exclaimed, tightly hugging Aedan’s waist. “What are the odds?”

  “On this,” Serafin said, giving Rhosewen a gentle hug, “there are no odds.” He stepped back, taking a moment to scan the happy couple. “The bonded lights look lovely and absolutely right on you guys. The Heavens smile on my son and his bride-to-be.”

  “They bathe us in blessings,” Aedan agreed, taking Daleen and Rhosewen under his arms.

  After a tour of the community, Aedan showed his parents to Caitrin and Morrigan’s guestroom. Then he suggested Daleen view the wedding preparations with Morrigan and Rhosewen while the wizards take a trip to Cannon Beach.

  Thirty minutes later, the three men sat in an uncrowded corner of the café owned by Caitrin’s sister, Cinnia Giles.

  Aedan had led Rhosewen to believe this was a pleasure trip, but it was anything but pleasurable. Ignoring his fresh coffee, he looked to his dad, his jaw and shoulders tense. “Where’s Medea?” he demanded.

  For two weeks they’d been tracking Medea’s movements. She’d turned nomadic, leaving home the same day Aedan had. One week into her solo travels, Serafin received terrifying news.

  Aedan vividly remembered his dad’s phone call.

  “I just got word from south Texas,” Serafin had revealed. “Medea was there yesterday.”

  At first Aedan was relieved to hear Medea was so far away. Three days earlier she’d been spotted twenty miles east of Portland. To hear she was in America’s heartland loosened the knot in his stomach.

  But Serafin had more to say. “She’s searching for the Unforgivables, Aedan.”

  Aedan’s heart had stopped. And forget the knot; his stomach had churned and flipped, its contents licking his swollen throat. “No,” he’d croaked.

  The sadness in Serafin’s voice had revealed far more than his words. “I’m afraid so, son.”

  The Unforgivables—a villainous coalition assembled in 1947 by a ruthless and determined wizard named Agro; the most feared group of magicians to haunt the continent since the 1600’s.

  According to rumors, Agro had been a rebellious teenager defiant of morals and self-control, angered by the boundaries placed on his magic. He felt magicians should reign rather than hide, but the majority of covens, his own included, disagreed, so he left home and began searching out individuals who shared his wicked convictions. He sought out unconventionally strong magicians, those with unusual abilities. Then he did everything in his power to spread his gospel. Naturally charismatic and abnormally conniving, he was good at convincing people his cause was just. And if he truly desired the obedience of someone unwilling to fall for his lies, he would simply force them to join, using torture, blackmail or his ever increasing man power. He pretentiously called his clan the Dark Elite, urging them to abuse their magical power and rush to the aid of evildoers. He soon grew fond of welcoming bonded children into his ranks and made a point to search them out, adding as many to his trophy case as possible. His numbers grew until they were too big to safely evade their enemies, so he split his troops, choosing bonded children to lead the others. They stayed hidden, coming out to wreak havoc and spark rumors of magic among the hexless. Then they’d vanish, not to be seen again until the innocents least expected them. Their unspeakable and murderous acts had earned them the title Unforgivables, and just the name struck fear into peoples’ hearts. Magical families did what they could to protect themselves, which wasn’t much. Their only defense was to avoid giving the Unforgivables a reason to come around. Bonded families in particular heeded this advice.

  Aedan wasn’t able to say anything more than I’ll call you later to Serafin that day. He’d been too queasy. He could have handled Medea, but the Unforgivables were a different story.

  It had been a week since the dreadful phone call, and the only three people aware of the bad news sat in Cinnia’s café, discussing it.

  Expression grim, Serafin answered the question concerning Medea’s whereabouts. “She’s dropped off the radar.”

  “How long?” Aedan asked.

  “Four days. She was last seen outside New Orleans.”

  Aedan dropped his fist to the table, slopping coffee from his mug. “The Unforgivables love New Orleans.”

  “I know,” Serafin whispered, magically cleaning the spill.

  Aedan shook his head, his jaw so tight he could barely speak. “This is bad. So bad.”

  “Yes,” Serafin agreed. “This could be bad.”

  “Let’s look at this rationally,” Caitrin suggested. “The Unforgivables won’t have a use for Medea. She’s average
at best, so they won’t grant her any favors. They could teach her a thing or two, sure, but they’re not going to do her dirty work for her. What we need to worry about is Agro being alerted to our special situation.”

  “Precisely,” Serafin agreed.

  Aedan was lost in thought and didn’t comment, so Caitrin continued. “Agro would love to know you and Rhosewen have bonded, but there’s no reason for him to soar right over. It’s more likely he’ll give it nine or ten months before paying a visit. Everyone knows he doesn’t search out bonded couples… just their children.”

  Aedan shifted, resting his elbows on the table as he buried his face in his hands.

  After a moment of tense silence, Serafin ominously whispered. “What are you not telling us, son? Is Rhosewen pregnant?”

  Aedan leaned back, slowly dragging his fingers down his face. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Caitrin demanded.

  “I mean, I don’t know,” Aedan snapped, frustrated, worried and unbelievably frightened for Rhosewen’s safety. He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. Then he leaned forward, calmly elaborating. “The night we bonded, before we even knew, Rose and I agreed we wanted a child together, so we didn’t put any protection in place. I know bonded couples don’t need any—that we have to consciously decide to have a baby. I know all that, but I don’t know what to make of our situation. We made the decision, but we made it before we bonded. So does it count? If so, yes, Rose is pregnant. If it doesn’t count, no, she’s not. Unless our first time didn’t count as a bonded experience, in which case our lack of protection could mean she is. After we bonded, we realized the kind of danger our child would face and decided to wait, but we both know there’s a possibility she’s already carrying our baby. So you see,” he quietly finished, “I don’t know.” He covered his face again, trying not to lose his mind. He needed it to get them out of this mess.

  Caitrin and Serafin silently stared at him for a long time. Then Serafin cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, son. I don’t have any advice, because I don’t know either. Have you heard of a similar situation, Caitrin?”

  “No,” Caitrin croaked.

  Shoulders sagging, Aedan slid his hand to his chin, meeting their stares with strained eyes. “If Rose is pregnant, and Medea’s found the Unforgivables, it could mean… it could turn out…” He dropped his head into his palm, his throat too tight to talk.

  “Listen,” Serafin whispered. “We don’t know anything for sure. If it turns out Rhosewen’s pregnant, we’ll take the necessary precautions, but right now you have to pull yourself together. For Rhosewen’s sake if not your own. You’re getting married to your bonded mate Saturday, and that’s something to celebrate. We’ll worry if and when the time comes.”

  “Hear, hear,” Caitrin advocated.

  But Aedan merely nodded. He’d stay strong for his beautiful Rose, but the knots and worry would remain.

  ~ * * * ~

  By Saturday afternoon, the lawn was set for a beautiful wedding. White chairs draped in emerald green satin were spread out in curved rows, facing a large archway comprised of sea blue and emerald green roses bursting from twisting vines of gold. Behind the chairs, sat an enormous round table, most of its surface dedicated to a large reflecting pool, yet it could easily hold enough food to serve over two hundred guests. Tropical fish swam in the pool’s depths, and its bright blue surface rippled when floating rose petals caught the gentle breeze.

  Rhosewen stood in her parents’ living room, getting ready to marry the man of her dreams, her perfect love, her soul mate. She couldn’t wait.

  Morrigan and Daleen fussed over her, but she was serene as she watched Cordelia Kavanagh, her friend and coven member, nurse her baby boy.

  “I can’t believe those dimples,” Rhosewen said, motioning toward the baby. “They’re deeper than his dad’s, and I swear they get cuter every day.”

  “I know,” Cordelia beamed, dipping a forefinger into the tiny yet defined dimple on her baby’s left cheek. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

  “He’s perfect,” Rhosewen confirmed.

  “I still can’t believe how lucky I am,” Cordelia sighed. “First I find my bonded mate, now this. Some people have all the luck.”

  As Rhosewen watched Cordelia nuzzle her baby, she reflected on what she knew of her happily ever after. Cordelia relocated to Rhosewen’s coven two years earlier, after bonding with Kemble, one of their lifelong members. They’d met while visiting a mutual friend in Rome, and it had been love at first sight, so Cordelia happily left her home in Alaska. She and Rhosewen found instant common ground, quickly becoming close friends, and now that they were both bonded, they had even more in common. As Rhosewen reveled in the beautiful miracle of mother and child, she laid a hand over her belly, wondering what other similarities she might soon share with Cordelia.

  Her view was interrupted when Daleen stepped in front of her, zapping a dress onto her body, but Rhosewen ignored the garment and found the baby again. “Thanks for being my go-to girl, Cordelia. You’ve been a big help.” Not even nursing a four-month-old every two hours had kept Cordelia from tending to even the tiniest wedding errands.

  “You’re welcome,” Cordelia returned. “I’m happy I could help. And Kemble’s thrilled to have Aedan around. It’s like you and I when Kemble dragged me home.”

  For what seemed like the millionth time, Rhosewen considered how odd it was that her coven now had three bonded couples. A magician usually had to travel to ten or more communities before laying eyes on one, yet here they had three. It seemed unfair to everyone else. Rhosewen wondered—again, not for the first time—if fate had brought them together, if they’d been deemed worthy of the deities’ gazes, touched and guided by them, or if they were simply the luckiest coven in the world.

  Cordelia held her baby out in front of her, cooing soft sentiments. Then she switched him to her other breast. “I’m trying to fill him up before the ceremony,” she said. “I doubt this is what you have in mind for wedding photos.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Rhosewen countered. “It’s amazing, watching your beautiful body nourish your beautiful baby. Anyone lucky enough to see it should count their blessings.”

  “That’s what Kemble says,” Cordelia replied, “but between us girls, I think he’s jealous.”

  “Of you or Quinlan?”

  “Well, I know he would jump at the chance to feed Quinlan, and of course he’d enjoy it, but he would be beyond thrilled to be on a two hour feeding schedule himself, so I’d say it’s a little of both.”

  Rhosewen laughed as Morrigan and Daleen turned her toward the mirror. Then her giggle faded as she scanned her reflection from head to toe.

  Everything about her shimmered—her skin, which seemed to be dusted with prismatic glitter; her loose spirals, which were entwined with delicate strands of silver and laced with tiny, sea blue rosebuds; and her silk chiffon Grecian gown, which had thousands of miniscule aquamarines adorning the plunging neckline and empire waist, as well as filaments of silver woven through its soft, layered skirt and the sheer chiffon loosely covering her cleavage. Even her fingernails and toenails sparkled, flashing the exact same color as the zultanite in her wedding ring. When the gem shone pale green, so did her nails. When the gem faded to pink, so did her nails. The entire ensemble was meticulously thought out and designed around her and Aedan’s preferences, and she felt every bit the woman he deserved.

  “Perfect,” she whispered, smiling at Morrigan and Daleen, who’d spent the past two days making her attire. “You’ve done a beautiful job. Thank you.”

  Their auras pulsed with pride, and not even their flowing tears could stifle their brilliant smiles.

  ~ * * * ~

  At three o’clock, the lawn hummed with quiet chatter, soft piano music, and distant birdsong; and Aedan stood barefoot beneath the large archway, waiting for Rhosewen to make her entrance onto the lawn through Caitrin and Morrigan’s f
ront door.

  His attire was casual—comfortable slacks and a white button-up shirt, which he left untucked. He didn’t care what he wore. He’d marry Rhosewen in nothing but a pair of clown shoes if that’s what she wanted. Concerning his attire, he had one request—that the top button of his shirt lay open to display the rose gold tag Rhosewen had crafted him. Attached to a braided leather chain and engraved with their names and bonding date, it was the only material object he owned that he considered precious.

  He was the epitome of calm, anxious only to see his bride, but that was nothing new. He ached to lay eyes on her every time she stepped away.

  When the door opened, their gazes met, and their bonded lights burst loose, mingling with their elated auras. The brilliant combination swirled along Rhosewen’s glittering skin and twists of long, flowing hair as she gracefully floated forward, urging her mom and dad to keep up.

  As they approached the end of the petal strewn aisle, Rhosewen kissed her parents’ hands then let them go, reaching for Aedan instead. He reached as well, and as their fingertips touched, the luminosity of their bonded lights doubled, enveloping them in a glistening, golden sphere.

  He pulled her close then firmly held her against him through the ceremony, eyes locked and bodies tingling.

  When Aedan grinned and kissed the bride, a hundred white doves swooped through the clearing, dropping heaps of blue and green rose petals, and the guests cheered, shooting colorful spells into the air.

  Aedan and Rhosewen listened to their loved ones, but watched each other, unable to stifle their grins. His fingertips brushed across her pink cheek then picked a petal from her shiny spirals. When he softly blew on the bloom’s silky surface, it burst into sea blue glitter and formed her name.

  Rhosewen’s face and aura lit up. Then she pulled him into another kiss, whispering against his lips. “I love you, Aedan.”

  “You’re my life, Rose,” he whispered back, sweeping her off her feet. “Forever.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, sighing peacefully. “Forever.”