by T K Eldridge
“Sophia, what the hell?” I asked. She’d been a girlfriend more than once, but her family’s disgust at my mixed bloodline kept us from staying together.
“Sin? Well, fuck.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” I told her. “Do you have any weapons on you?”
I approached, my gun still drawn, a pair of spelled flex cuffs in my other hand.
“Depends on what you call a weapon,” Sophia said, and gave me that smile that still made my pulse race.
“Turn around, hands on the top of your head,” I said as I holstered my weapon.
“Don’t you want my hands free? I remember how much you liked them on your body.”
“Nope. On your head. Besides, I’m married now.”
“Right, to that fae whore that used to work at The Bard and Board. I’d heard that. How’s it feel to go where so many have gone before?”
Anger flared white hot and I reached for one of her wrists to wrench it behind her back. She whirled around to face me as I pulled, and her other hand came at me with something in it – and I didn’t remember hitting the ground.
I woke on my back on a stretcher as I was loaded into an ambulance, Tasha at my side. The sun was rising and the pain of the light in my eyes shoved me back into the darkness once more. It didn’t hurt in the dark, so I decided to stay there for a while. Then that voice started in on me.
“Wake up, warrior. It’s time to wake. Your family worries. Ethan worries.”
“It hurts. I don’t want to,” I thought at the voice.
“It heals. Wake. Ethan needs you awake. Mira needs you awake. Reina needs you awake. Sidonie needs you awake.”
“Are any of them in danger?” I asked the voice.
“All of you are, until the prophecy is fulfilled. WAKE.”
I jerked at the mental shout and slowly opened my eyes. I was in the sick room at Gram’s place and Evelyn Rue, Grams’ friend and a gifted healer, sat in a chair beside the bed.
“About time you woke up, Sinclair Boudreau,” Evelyn said. “You had everyone worried for long enough.”
She held out a cup with a straw and I sipped water that felt like heaven as it slid down my dry throat. “How long?” I managed to ask.
“Five days,” Evelyn said. “What did she hit you with?”
“I don’t know. I saw her hand move and then that was it.”
“Well, whatever it was, it gave you an impressive concussion and a skull fracture – and nearly killed you. If not for that guardian of Ethan’s that tried to shield you, you would be dead right now.”
I sent a mental thought at Biggie – “Thank you, Guardian.”
“You said ‘she’ – is Sophia in custody?”
“Yeah. She was picked up a few hours later. There were enough spell traces to track it back to her. She won’t tell us what the spell was, though.”
“I can get it out of her, but not right now. I am starving.”
“You’re not getting out of this bed for a bit longer. Not until I check you out thoroughly. Then you can get up, with assistance, shower, eat, and go back to bed. You’re not going to be fully mobile for at least another few days, and you’re on medical leave according to the Commander until I give you the all clear. Understood?”
“Yes, Healer Rue. Thank you for your care.” The promise of a shower and food had me on my best behavior.
Chapter Four
Sid
Working with Archivist Oak was an education unto itself. He brought out texts and scrolls that had been prepared in the early days of the written word and showed where various beings of power had been named or mentioned. We worked our way forward and had started to find the places where the names had stopped being mentioned at all when I got the call about Sin being hurt. Grams told me he was healing and that I should stay and keep working, but I couldn’t focus.
Oak understood and said he’d continue to gather texts and data for my return, so I got on a boat and headed back to the farm.
I still lived in the apartment connected to Grams’ place, so I dropped my things, walked through the connecting door, and headed towards the sick room.
“Siddie, wait,” Grams called from the kitchen.
“I need to see him, Grandma.”
“Then look in, but don’t go in, then come back here.”
I did that, and my throat closed up at the sight of Sin on the bed, his face so still, his skin grayish under its normal tan hues. A bandage wrapped his head and one ear, and I gave Evelyn Rue a polite nod before I shut the door quietly and headed back to the kitchen.
Grams gave me a hug as soon as I stepped into the room, then waved me to a seat at the table. “He’s healing, Siddie. Evelyn says he’ll be okay.”
“He doesn’t look okay,” I whispered.
“He was hit with a spelled rock. It almost killed him, but as we’re all well aware, Sinclair James Boudreau has a thick head.”
“While he was nearly being killed, I was being awed by ancient texts. That’s not right.”
Grams’ rough, warm hands cupped my cheeks. “Sidonie Marie, you were doing your part while Sin was doing his. That is very much right. Now, are you hungry? I have chicken pot pie and biscuits.”
“I could eat,” I said. “I forgot to eat lunch and completely missed dinner.”
“Here, eat and I want to hear about what you found,” Grams said as she put a plate in front of me and filled a glass with cold tea.
“Archivist Oak seems to think I’m on to something,” I said between bites. “It seems that over time, the names and focus on the beings of power have been lost.”
“And their way of getting our attention is to scramble the ley lines so our magic goes wonky?”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I said. “Oak seems to think that they’re trying to remind us of where our power truly comes from.”
“Well, they can just knock this crap off. I almost blew up the alchemy room when I put the finishing touches on a potion for Evelyn to use on Sin.”
“You’re okay, though, right?” I asked as I reached for one of her hands.
“I’m fine, just irritated,” Grams said with a pat on my hand. “Eat. There’s peach cobbler for dessert.”
After I ate, exhaustion hit and I cleared my dishes before I kissed Grams, peeked in on Sin once more, then headed for my own place. A shower and bed seemed like a brilliant idea to me. I’d skimped on sleep while at the castle because the drive to learn had overtaken me. I didn’t get to deep dive like that very often, and I loved it.
The next morning, I got up, peeked in on Sin, then went for a run. I always did my best thinking while on a run and I needed to get my head clear more than ever. I felt like I was so close to the answer, but missing too many pieces.
My cousin, Micah, was working in the burned area near his cabin. It would take some time and a lot of healing magic to bring the trees back to this space. I waved to him from the trail and he did a ‘come here’ gesture, so I slowed my pace and walked over.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I was wondering how Sin was doing. I’ve picked up extra shifts around the farm to free up Ma to work with Evelyn and get him back on his feet. If anyone can do it, they can.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “He’s healing, or so they say.”
“You know I’m sorry for my part in things, right?”
I sighed. “Yes, Micah. I know you’re sorry. But I almost died and it’s going to take me a while to trust. Keep doing what you can to prove that, and we’ll get there. I’ve got to go.”
“Give Sin my best,” Micah said and turned back to the collection of saplings he had been encouraging to grow with his magic.
“I’ll do that,” I said and jogged back to the trail. I knew I should give Micah more credit. However, after his stepson nearly killed me, and that same stepson had been in on the plot that ended up killing Agnes, a family friend – I just needed time. Trust didn’t come as easily as it once had. Micah
was my cousin, but he had been a baby when his parents died and Grams had raised him and Jolie, her grandchildren, right alongside my mom and aunt, so he was more like an uncle than a cousin. He had been gone most of my life, so it wasn’t like I could pull on the old threads of a prior relationship to make the connection.
I stuttered a step as I realized what I had just thought. The old threads of a prior relationship weren’t there – but maybe the threads of an old relationship were there for witches as a whole, just not currently alive witches. We needed to find those threads, and where they’d been lost.
* * *
It was three days later when I finally felt comfortable with leaving Sin. Mira spent as much time as possible with him, but she had to wrangle two children and their schedules on top of it. I helped watch the kids as much as possible so she could work with Evelyn Rue to heal Sin, but I had my own job and I really wasn’t comfortable with babies. Let’s face it, I never had to be around them much because Sin and I were the youngest in the family. I could change a diaper with the best of them, but until the kid was verbal and interesting, I got bored and frustrated. Mom stepped in and came over with Rohan. She put my baby brother and my niece in the playpen and they entertained each other. She also helped around the house, so I told everyone I’d be at the palace for the next week and to call me if they needed me.
Grandma Maggie had given me my own suite at the palace the last time I was there, saying that now that I’d met Oak, I’d be here a lot more often to work with him, so I should have my own space. The sitting room, separate bedroom, private bath and mini kitchen made working at the palace much more comfortable. I set up my laptop on the table in the sitting room and opened the balcony doors to the fresh air. WiFi and hot-spots didn’t work in the Archivist’s hall, so I had gone down and borrowed a few texts that I swore on my life would not leave the castle, then came up and logged in. I had also found a page scanner used by the archivists at the Smithsonian library, and brought it with me to scan pages of these texts so I could refer back as needed. Technology made this whole process so much easier.
I made myself a cup of coffee and put it on a side table I pulled close so the liquid wasn’t near the rare books. I didn’t want to know what Oak would do to me if I spilled coffee on a book written five hundred years ago or more. I read, made notes, and scanned any page that had anything remotely useful. I took breaks for meals when my stomach growled so loud I thought an animal had snuck into the room – and I slept when my eyes would no longer stay open.
Trips were made down to the archive, books exchanged, and the new materials carried up to the suite and devoured much as the previous sets had been. I felt stiff and achy, so I changed and went for a run around the island, then took a long, hot shower. Dressed in leggings and a comfy sweatshirt, I had just refilled my coffee cup when there was a knock at the door.
“Grandma Maggie, come in,” I said as I opened the door to see my grandmother – and behind her a cart being pushed by one of her staff.
“I noticed your return after your run and decided I wanted to have lunch with you. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. I could use the break,” I told her and went to carefully clear off the table so we could use it.
“Archivist Oak told me you’ve been very prolific and wide-ranging in your selection of materials. Some he had recommended, and some you asked him to pull for you,” Grandma said as she waited for the staffer to set the table and put out the food. When he was done, she smiled. “Thank you, Isen. I’ll call when we’re done.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the man replied with a bow and left the room with the cart.
“Come eat, Sidonie. I had them prepare one of my favorites. I hope you find it to your liking.”
We took our seats, I waited until she sat first, then she started to uncover dishes and pass them my way. There was a salad of spring greens, tiny tomatoes, bits of a soft cheese, and olives, followed by a creamy seafood chowder and small puff pastries filled with spiced meat. Dessert was a mixed berry ice cream topped with chocolate syrup. While we ate, we talked, and I filled her in on my theories.
“It sounds like you are trying to follow the path of the Creators,” Grandma said.
“What is that?” I asked.
“The Path of the Creators is, these days, an archaic religious exercise. Much like the old pilgrimages made by other faiths, the Path is a set of teachings bound to spells that one would do to bring them closer to the magi, elders, creators, whatever name you wanted to give them. Basically, the first witches that started the first families and were responsible for creating the shifter race and giving the mythics full sentience.”
“I don’t understand. Mythics weren’t sentient before?”
“Well, they were – I mean even the most basic of creatures are self-aware – but they weren’t all capable of interacting at the same level as fae or humans. Dragons, for example, were very self aware – and very selfish, predatory, destructive creatures. When they were turned into shifting beings, they changed dramatically. The human appearing side brought intellect, empathy, and so on into the mix.”
“Forgive me, Grandma, but that sounds really elitist of you. Bees are not a shifting creature, yet they have a very complex society, language, and hierarchy, for an example. They are sentient, intelligent, and have been shown to have a protective and caring behavior towards their queen and the members of their hive. Yet, by your definition, because they do not shift into a human appearance, you don’t consider them sentient.”
“Don’t nitpick with me, Sidonie Marie. You understand what I’m saying. Kraken are still far from empathetic beings, but they do have a human appearance and are considered sentient. Dolphins and porpoises prefer their non-human forms, yet show more empathy, humor and compassion than most humans. However, overall when it comes to beings that were given the option of a human form of those considered of the mythic species, many were because of the witches. The elementals, like sylphs, nymphs, draiads, salamanders, dragons, selkies, and merfolk were brought into the mythic species by the fae. They are all fae creatures, and have been representatives of the various elements since time began, but when the witches created shifters, the fae felt they needed their allies to have the same advantages – and that’s where mythics came into play.”
“But kraken are not considered elemental, are they? Or griffins?”
“No, they’re not elemental beings, but they are of the elements. Kraken are of water, of course – and griffins are of the air element. It wasn’t a case of the fae going ‘poof, you’re a shifter’ – it was a matter of evolution over time. When the fae created the pocket realm, they left most of the mythics behind, but of course the core elementals came, and those they found…useful.”
“You mean, those they had enslaved, like the griffins.”
“A horrible practice, that. I’m glad it’s no longer the way of things,” Grandma said.
“They still remember, though,” I said. “Grizzel Leonidas is a family friend and spoke about the enslavement when he came to SPD to tell us he and his aerie were back in Belle Cove.”
“I had heard more mythics were returning to the area. The hope is that it will help stabilize the ley lines?”
“That’s what they said. I don’t think that it will work, however. My research says nothing about having a certain number of beings from the various species in the area to quiet the disruptions.”
“What does it say?”
“That the Creators are angry we’re not giving them their due and so they disrupt the lines when they can reach through to try and remind us they’re still around.”
“But they’re not still around, are they?” Grandma asked.
“Not in this realm, they’re not. I’ve found references to where they used to reside, and research shows there is nothing resembling a god-like presence in any of these places. Whatever used to live there, is gone.”
“So you think they are in a separate realm, like we were, and can r
each through on the solstices or when a certain number of believers are gathered together?”
“That’s my working theory at the moment. I’m still gathering information, though. So much of it is translations from archaic languages or flowery poetry or supposed prophecies.”
“And so much of that was kept purposely vague to give the Oracle job security,” Grandma said.
I had to laugh. “Hey, women did what they had to do, even back then, to have some power, right?”
“Right. Unfortunately, a lot of that hasn’t changed with the times. Although, I am loving the fact I can wear slacks and not be considered a whore. Riding a horse in skirts and petticoats sucked.”
We laughed at that and we enjoyed the rest of our lunch while I showed her some of the passages I had scanned.
“We should do this with the whole archive,” Grandma said. “I think I’ll get a team together to do that.”
“You’ll need computers and these scanners like the Smithsonian uses. They don’t damage fragile documents and the light captures the images without burning the ink. I can give you the specs I got from the museum, and I’d suggest training some of your older residents in document handling. They’ll be the ones most comfortable with the archive materials and getting them some technical experience will only help them be more adept with smart phones and computers in their daily lives.”
“That’s a really good idea. We should work on that – after you figure out this puzzle, hmm?”
“Yeah, one thing at a time, or my head’s gonna explode.”
Grandma laughed and squeezed my hand. “I’m so glad I’m here with you, Siddie. And I’m so glad to hear Sinclair is back at his home and on modified duty at work.”
“Yeah, he’s fussing because he hates desk work, but he still has to be careful. Another concussion and it could really cause permanent damage or death. They’re calling it a traumatic brain injury and taking every precaution right now.”
