My cheeks grow hot. Is this girl a witch?
“Now you’re wondering if I’m a witch. You used to think your friend was a witch too. The former one, Victoria. I never met her, you know? Why did she give up her luiseach powers anyway? By the way, Mother doesn’t like her either.”
I hug my arms across my chest and shake my head. I need to stop thinking and empty my brain ASAP so this crazy witch-girl will cut it out with the ESP.
“Now you’re telling yourself to stop thinking so I won’t read your thoughts anymore. And did you just call me a crazy witch-girl?”
“Okay, please stop doing that!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Zalea slips her rock samples back in her robe pocket. “I’ve had these abilities since I was little. Mind reading, prophetic visions, dreams. On and off, here and there. Sometimes I can control them, sometimes not.”
I blink, confused. “Since you were little? But I thought—”
“I know. Luiseach aren’t supposed to come into their powers until they’re sixteen. That was true for me too, except for these particular abilities. I’m not sure why. Mother always said it’s because I’m special. Of course she says that about everything I do.” Zalea grins.
“Huh. I can’t read minds, or at least I don’t think so. But when I was at Llevar la Luz over the winter I started having visions like you—real-time visions, snippets of stuff happening right that moment in distant places. Sometimes they get mixed up with my dreams.”
“Same!” Zalea’s face lights up. “Hey, did you know that I was born at Llevar la Luz, just like you?”
“Really?”
When Aidan took me there this past winter it was just him and me and Lucio. Most of the massive compound was full of dust and cobwebs and wistful echoes of its long-ago residents. I like imagining it in its glory days, with hundreds of luiseach living there, working there, raising children there, having babies there.
“I was too young to remember the place, though. Mother and I left when I was only a few months old. But I’ve seen it in visions. It’s very beautiful,” Zalea says.
“Yes, it is. In a creepy, noir sort of way. Did you ever see that old black-and-white movie The Letter with Bette Davis? It’s got the same tropical-gothic vibe. What about your dad? Did he leave with you and your mom?”
“Mother never told me who my father was. I’ve had dreams about him, but I’ve never been able to figure out his name, not even by trying to probe Mother’s memories.”
I gasp. “You probe your mom’s memories?”
“Yes. She hates it when I do that,” Zalea smiles.
“I bet!”
Her smile fades as she tips her head back and stares up at the sky.
“Do you see? Up there?”
I tip my head back too. “See what?”
“The moon.”
“Yes, it’s big and round and pretty. What about it?”
“Do you remember the last full moon?”
I scrunch up my nose to think. There was a full moon recently… wait, was it, like, four or five nights ago? I remember racing downstairs in the wee hours after finding the black tape on Dr. Hoo’s beak, speaking with Aidan on the porch, looking up at the full moon in the predawn sky.
That was on Tuesday morning.
Which is not scientifically possible.
“It was Monday night, Tuesday morning. That has to be a mistake, though. Am I misremembering?” I ask Zalea.
“You’re not misremembering, and it’s not a mistake.”
“Um, okay. What are you saying here?”
“You probably already know about blue moons. A blue moon is two full moons in one month, and it happens once every few years,” Zalea explains. “Two full moons in one week never happens. It’s not part of the natural order. It’s called the Gemini Moon, and according to legend it only occurs when the world is descending into chaos. The only other time it occurred was right before the First War.”
I sit up very straight. Alarm bells are going off in my head. Does this mean a second war is imminent, just like Zalea saw in her vision?
“The First War? What’s that?”
“That’s where this all started. The acrimony between dark and light.”
“Because demons and luiseach used to be best friends and hung out and had sleepovers before?” I joke feebly. “Seriously, though, what is it?”
“By the way, did you know that ‘acrimony’ is another word for the plant agrimony, which has magical powers?” Zalea says dreamily. “Long ago it was mixed with crushed frogs and human blood to treat internal hemorrhaging. It was also a witches’ cure for elfshot, which is when invisible elves shoot you with invisible arrows and cause bodily pain.”
“That’s super-interesting and I’d love to hear more about invisible elf arrows some other time. But right now I need to know about this First War.”
“The First War happened several thousands of years ago. It was very… awful. Devastating. History altering. The original luiseach king and queen were killed. So were two of the three Markon rulers. When the two Markons died, the demon army fled and scattered. The luiseach considered themselves victorious, and the eldest daughter of the king and queen immediately took over.”
Whoa. This is so much new information. “H-how do you know all this?”
“It is in our chronicles. Did your father never mention the chronicles to you?”
“No. My father isn’t the sharing type. He dispenses facts and figures on a strictly need-to-know basis.”
Zalea nods sympathetically. “It’s not easy being a luiseach leader, especially with your father’s lineage… and his burden.”
“What lineage? What burden?” Why am I hearing about all this for the first time? And what’s this about him being a luiseach leader? I thought that since the rift he’s basically been in charge of Victoria, Lucio, and me—and that’s it.
Lights flicker on inside the house. A curtain parts and a face appears in one of the windows.
“Zalea? Are you out there, pet? Why aren’t you in bed?” Aura calls out.
Zalea rises hastily to her feet. So do I.
“I have to go,” she whispers, leaning her head close to mine. “Mother would not be pleased if she knew I was being so forthcoming with you.”
“But… but…”
Zalea digs into her pocket, pulls out a stone, and hands it to me. “A gift. And don’t worry. We will speak again. Just remember this, though: you have the power to end this new war quickly.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. But it means taking your father’s burden from him. Which will not be a simple matter. Good night, Sunshine.”
She turns and skips to the back door, humming to herself. I glance at the small gray stone in my hand and then up at the Gemini Moon. The moon that appears only when the world is about to descend into chaos.
The war is coming.
And I have the power to end it quickly?
None of this makes any sense, and Zalea seems a little… flighty, otherworldly.
Yet. Something deep inside me, some luiseach hive-mind instinct, is telling me she’s speaking the absolute truth.
Which is exhilarating.
And also flipping terrifying.
CHAPTER 25
What Happened in Prague
On Sunday Aidan sends me a text to cancel our training.
I must take care of a time-sensitive matter. Lucio will be back from Llevar la Luz in the next day or two. In the meantime Helena will be watching out for you.
He’s called away on some time-sensitive matter on the very day I need to ask him a zillion questions? About the First War, about the coming war, about his lineage? And most importantly, this “burden” of his that I have to take on?
We need to talk, Aidan.
Of course. Soon.
When?
No response. Argh.
The day looms before me. Ashley is at a ballet lesson with Madame Gergiev. Mom is working an extra shift at the hospital; the ER has b
een especially busy lately—more and more random attacks—and as a result, the pediatric wing has been admitting a record number of patients. Nolan has a family event, after which he’s planning to go to the library to do more research on pentagrams, wild animals, violent crime rates, and the rest of the subjects on his and Lucio’s long, long list.
I could do some homework. Or watch TV. Or clean my—and now Ashley’s—room. Or reread Mansfield Park, which I’ve been meaning to do for a while.
Or… I could pop down the street and see if I can talk to Zalea some more.
Which is what I decide to do. As I head out I zip up my puffy winter coat and pull on one of my crocheted hats—it’s super-cold outside. I don’t think I need to worry about killer SUVs or wild animals or the like? I’m wearing my magical mystery necklace under my hoodie, Aidan said Helena is “watching out” for me, and I have my luiseach knife in my back pocket as always… so I should be okay, right?
I soon reach the brick house at the end of the cul-de-sac, but it seems like no one is home. The place is quiet, there are no lights on inside, and there are no cars out front. I circle the house and peer inside the windows. I press my ear against the back door and listen.
The door opens suddenly, and I practically fall inside.
Helena stands there, regarding me with an imperious scowl.
“I see you have added trespassing, spying, and breaking and entering to your list of accomplishments.”
“No! I was just, um…” I haul myself upright and smooth my frizzball back into place—as if that makes a difference. “I wanted to see if, um…”
Helena peers over my shoulder. “Are you alone?”
“Um, yes?”
“Since you’re here, you might as well come in.”
“What? Why?”
She doesn’t answer but instead takes me by the wrist and pulls me inside. The next thing I know I’m in somebody’s avocado-green kitchen. With Helena. Alone.
Argh, I should have just stayed home and read Mansfield Park.
I cross my arms over my chest and glance around. This kitchen, the “Bless Our Home” person’s kitchen, is so… normal. Ordinary. Refrigerator covered with grocery lists and photo magnets. Crocheted oven mitts hanging near the stove. Bottles of dried spices lined up on the counter in alphabetical order.
Helena points to a chrome table with a couple of chairs, and I sit down reluctantly. She remains standing, leaning against the counter, studying me.
“It’s time we had a conversation,” she announces.
“About what? Politics, the weather, my favorite movies? Ha ha.” My awkward sense of humor really kicks into gear when I’m super-nervous.
She raises her eyebrows. “About our current situation.”
“By ‘our,’ do you mean—”
“I’m not your enemy. I know you think that I am, but I’m not. What I did sixteen years ago, what I tried to do again at Victoria’s house”—Helena exhales—“it was for the greater good. I trust that you see that. Because some day, sooner than you think, you may have to make difficult choices, extremely difficult choices, for the greater good.”
I flop back in my seat, confused. Is Helena trying to apologize to me? Or simply rationalizing the two—or more?—times she tried to kill me in cold blood?
“These ‘extremely difficult choices,’ do they have something to do with my father?” I ask after a moment.
Helena startles. “What are you talking about, child?”
Child?
I make a fist in the air and start ticking off items, finger by finger. “One. The First War. Two. King Adis and Queen Uiri. Three. Dubu’s brothers. Four. Aidan’s lineage… and his, um, ‘burden’? And what is this about him being a luiseach leader? Thanks to you, he barely has any luiseach to lead!”
Helena stares at me in astonishment.
“Who told you about these things? Surely not Aidan.”
I don’t mention Zalea’s name—I don’t want to get her into trouble.
“I know more than you think, Helena. But I don’t know everything, so you need to fill me in.” I feel less scared and awkward now, more confident.
Helena opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. She looks very tired all of a sudden.
“Yes, I suppose I do need to fill you in.” She sits down in the chair across from me and stares out the window at the view of the side yard with the barbecue grill and the Adirondack chairs where Zalea and I spoke last night. A clock chimes in the living room, just beyond the kitchen. Twelve musical dings—it’s noon. Would the people who lived here be coming home from church right now? Debating pancakes versus omelets for brunch? I’m often haunted by what should be normal in this world and how the darkness has turned all that upside down.
Helena finally turns to face me.
“Adis and Uiri were the first king and queen of the luiseach,” she begins. “Several millennia ago they waged war against the darkness to try to eradicate it. Up until then the idea was to maintain a balance between the two sides. But things got… complicated. And the luiseach leadership decided to eliminate the demons and their minions once and for all. The demons were led by Dubu and his two brothers, Dagon and Drakov. During the war Adis and Uiri managed to kill both brothers, and as a result the army of the darkness fled, abandoned their posts, if you will. Dubu and his remaining soldiers retreated. Unfortunately Adis and Uiri had to sacrifice themselves in order to kill Dagon and Drakov. But their oldest daughter, Laoise, immediately took over the reigns as the new queen of the luiseach, and our side declared victory.” She adds, “Laoise is Aidan’s grandmother and your great-grandmother.”
I gape. “Whoa, what? Seriously? So that means—”
“That you are descended from the first luiseach king and queen, yes. And on my side you are descended from Uiri’s cousin Fatil, who was also royalty.”
“Really?”
“Yes, yes, really. Why do you find this so unbelievable? Have you not noticed you possess special powers? Some of your ancestors had some of those same powers. You seem to have inherited all of them, in combination, and a few additional powers too, probably as a result of your father and I conducting… Anyway, you are unique.”
Is Helena actually paying me a compliment? Or just stating a fact?
Royalty. I can’t even wrap my brain around the concept. It’s like one of those movie moments where the commoner discovers she’s actually a princess. Except the commoner-princess is usually super-happy and excited when she finds out. I don’t feel happy or excited at all, just overwhelmed.
“Who were your parents? And their parents?” I ask.
“We can discuss your matrilineal ancestry later. That is another very long story,” Helena replies. “Getting back to Queen Laoise, your paternal great-grandmother”—my paternal great-grandmother—“she was a magnificent queen. She restored order in the world, which had been torn asunder by the First War. For many, many centuries the demons and dark spirits stayed underground. There were occasional possessions on the earthly plane, but nothing significant. Dubu never resurfaced. Everyone believed him to be dead. Markons, like luiseach, can live very long lives, but they are not immortal.”
“But he wasn’t dead. The other day you told Aidan you knew he was alive. How did you know?”
“Because.” Helena looks me square in the eye. She is her usual terrifying self yet appears strangely vulnerable too. “Many decades ago—a century, in fact—I fell in love with another man while I was married to your father. Aidan and I were… estranged. We had talked about separating. And then I met this man.”
Holy crackers.
“Good golly, who was he?” I ask curiously. I try to imagine Helena in love, the way I love Nolan. Giddy, blushing, butterflies in my stomach, aching to be with him. I totally can’t picture it.
“His name was Andreas. He was kind, brilliant, charming, handsome. And he was absolutely devoted to me.” Helena squirms uncomfortably. “I thought all along he was human. But he wasn’t.
One day he revealed himself to be who he really was. A demon, a Markon…”
My jaw drops.
What is she saying here?
“Dubu?” I practically yell. “You had an affair with Dubu?!”
“Yes. Please keep your voice down… the others could return any minute. The thing is, Markons have an uncanny ability to shape-shift, to assume alternate identities. They are masters at this. Still, when Andreas—Dubu—told me who he really was, I didn’t”—Helena falters—“I found I couldn’t turn him in to the luiseach or try to destroy him, as I probably should have done. I was in love with him. He was in love with me. And unlike your father, I had a more… nuanced attitude toward the darkness. I believed we all possess some dark and some light within us.” She pauses. “In some ways I still believe that.”
My biological mother had an affair with a super-demon. The super-demon.
I thought the royalty thing was a bombshell, but this…
“Eventually I broke off our affair and reconciled with your father,” Helena goes on. “I had no intention of telling Aidan about my relationship with Dubu, but he found out somehow. He went after Dubu—this was in Prague. But before he could get to him, he encountered a demon in a public square. The demon had possessed a university student and was holding a pregnant woman hostage. Aidan came to the rescue and managed to exorcise the demon and destroy it before harm could befall the woman, her unborn child, or the student. Unfortunately that demon turned out to be… he was Dubu’s firstborn son, Selarion.”
Another bombshell.
“Dubu disappeared after that. Vanished completely. Aidan heard from a trusted source that Dubu had perished too… that the grief over the death of his son had weakened him, made him sick, and eventually killed him. But I knew he was still alive.”
The Sacrifice of Sunshine Girl Page 14
