Cradled

by Christina Bauer

  “If you don’t have magick, then you’re useless to me,” snarled the Spider-Kronos. “Oculus Captain! Prepare!”

  Behind the throne, I noticed how one warrior stood slightly taller than the others: the Oculus Captain. With a series of clicks, all its back antennae deployed, surrounding it in a halo of thin metal arms that ended with the same weapon.

  This Oculus Captain carried throwing daggers.

  The Spider-Kronos rounded on me. “You didn’t think I’d allow hand to hand combat, did you? Not when you know the secret of my warrior’s helms.”

  On reflex, I set my hand on my throat. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t standing here to watch my parents die. The two of them stood side by side, awaiting their end with dignity.

  “Oculus Captain!” cried the Spider-Kronos. “Attack!”

  Daggers flew across the room, landing with precision into the torsos of my parents. Blood bloomed across my mother’s chest. Red droplets fell from my father’s fingertips. They both slumped to the floor, side by side.

  I fell onto my knees. Every muscle in my body quivered with grief. Rowan knelt beside me. Like he had so many times before, my husband whispered in my ear.

  Only this time, the words were ones I didn’t expect.

  “Look at the back doorway,” whispered my husband. “The one we came through.” Then, Rowan spoke in a louder voice. “Let me comfort you, Elea.” In one fluid motion, Rowan flipped me so we were facing each other, my head buried in his shoulder. I risked a peep over his back.

  Kitty and Tank waited in the shadows of the hidden doorway. And beside them stood Myla and Lincoln, their armor torn and bloodied. For her part, Kitty was missing a front leg and one of her gear eyes was gone. Tank stood by her side, waving his thin arms wildly.

  And he glowed bright green.

  My heart leapt, and not just for one reason. Kitty, Tank, Myla, and Lincoln were alive. Somehow, they’d survived the attack at the bridge. Even better, the bird’s eye spell was still working, showing me that Tank could help us somehow. My thoughts raced. I sorted through everything that had happened, my mind settling on one simple question.

  My parents had given up their powers. Where did that magick go?

  All of a sudden, the fact that Tank had a magickal aura made perfect sense. My parents power was somehow stored it inside that little Spinglet. I just needed to get my hands on him.

  A plan formed.

  I slowly rose to face the mechanical spider that now held us all prisoner. “I don’t have much magick in me, but if I give you what I have, will you promise to free Rowan and Jicho?”

  “Of course,” lied the Spider-Kronos.

  I shot a sideways glance to the doorway. My mind reeled. I needed a plausible reason to go over there and get Tank.

  Turns out, Kitty and the others had their own plans.

  For the next few seconds, everything was a blur of action. Myla and Lincoln raced into the chamber, their baculum ignited as long swords. Moving in a kind of battle dance, they swept around the room. Lincoln sliced off the heads of Oculus Warriors. As their helms fell away, the mechanical fighters crumbled in to spare parte.

  Myla leapt atop the Spider-Kronos. Standing on its back, she jammed the firesword straight through the center of the metal animal. The Spider-Kronos collapsed on the floor, dead. Kitty hobbled into the room, spied the lifeless carcass, and smiled.

  Myla sighed. “I do so love killing spiders.”

  While Myla and Lincoln had been battling, Rowan raced over to Jicho and pulled the metal cords off the child. Now he held the boy in his lap, whispering calming words as only Rowan can.

  There was no such happening that I hardly noticed how Tank had toddled up to my side and pulled on my pant leg. When I finally gave him my attention, Tank reached for me like a toddler asking to be picked up.

  And so, I lifted him.

  The moment I touched Tank’s metal casing, energy rocketed through me. Power and light infused every inch of body in a way I’d never experienced before. The top of Tank’s box-like form popped open. Inside lay another moonstone. This one blazed with a familiar sort of power. Violet in hue. Hybrid magick. There was no doubt in my heart. This was my parent’s energy.

  They hadn’t given it up.

  They’d hidden it to rebuild the world.

  I scooped out the new moonstone with my right hand. Every inch of my body glowed with violet power. With my enemies gone, I stepped over to the Bezel Wand. My parents lay slumped on the floor beside it. Seeing them, my heart cracked with grief. At last, they’d grown in to people I really wanted to know and yet, they’d been taken away from me. There was only one thing left to do for them, and that was place their magick into the world, just as they had intended.

  The old moonstone pulsed with feeble power. Kronos said he’d all but drained it. Soon Quetum would be fully dead. The Bezel Wand needed a new moonstone, one that would feed the realm with power and life instead of taking it all away.

  And I had magick that could do just that.

  Raising the new moonstone with both hands, I lifted it high above my head, then brought it down on the old moonstone with all my strength. The old gem shattered on impact. The new moonstone snapped right into place. I remembered what Kitty had said about the Bezel Wand. I gripped the top of the stone and pushed down.

  The wand slid into the floor with a soft click.

  Seconds passed.

  Nothing changed.

  Then the top of the new moonstone shone with purple light. More light pulsed through the floor. Brightness shimmered across my parents. It moved over the carcass of the Spider-Kronos, turning his remnants into dust. It rolled across Kitty, and she became whole again. It went over the scrap metal remainders of the Oculus Warriors, and their many parts flew back together in a new forms, becoming clockwork animals of many kinds. My mouth fell open.

  My parent’s magick was healing them all.

  Power spread out down the Bezel Tower, lighting up the structure with violet hues. It then moved out across the realm. Buildings reformed. Towers climbed up to the sky. The outline of the labyrinth shone brightly as well, a winding set of purple lines that connected everything. My heart soared.

  The magick of the new moonstone—my parent’s power—flowed through me in ways I never imagined possible. It shaped my thoughts and sang to my soul. The energy was so beautiful and yet, hidden within it, I couldn’t escape a desperate sense of longing, the hunger to hold and own. The knowledge seeped through me and then, I saw it.

  The desperate moment when they realized what they had done.

  I closed my eyes and all of a sudden, it was like I was back in this control tower, on the very day when my parents had been lured here. They realized their error and desired change, but they couldn’t find the strength to let go of wanting magick. Tank toddled into the room and they came upon an idea.

  Just give up the power.

  Let it leave their bodies.

  So they set their ability inside a new moonstone and placed that gem within Tank. And then, they locked Tank up so that the only person they truly loved and trusted could ever open him up again.

  And that person was me.

  A voice echoed in my consciousness. It was Rowan, calling me back to the control room of today. I let go of the moment with my parents and followed the beloved sound of my husband’s voice. All the while, the feel of my parents’ wanting stayed with me, as did a realization.

  Now, I understood them.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next thing I knew, I was in Rowan’s lap once more, my eyes closed as he rubbed my back in gentle rhythm. The deep rumble of his voice moved through me. “Are you with us again, Elea? After you reset the control tower, you collapsed.”

  I forced my eyes to open, half expecting to see the vision of the past again where my parents placed their power into Tank. Instead, I first focused my husband’s bristled chin. “I’m back, Rowan.”

  He pulled me in for a tighter hug.
“I’m getting very good at healing spells, by the way. You were out for an hour this time.”

  A jolt of alarm moved through me. “Healing spells? Is the baby safe?”

  “She’s fine,” said Rowan. “You’re both fine.”

  “You’re going to call her Rigby,” said a familiar voice. Looking past Rowan, I noticed none other than Jicho standing nearby. He was back to his normal pale self now—no bronze color at all—and he was smiling from ear to ear. I reached toward him, and he quickly stepped up and took my hand.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right.” I said with a sigh. As my thoughts became clearer, I noticed even more familiar faces standing nearby. There were Tank and Kitty, as well as Lincoln and Myla. All of them looked happy and healed. My parents magick certainly did its work well. And beyond them all, the room overflowed with tiny Spinglets of every animal form.

  Finally, off in the distance, standing by the exit doorway, there stood my parents. A weight lifted from my bones. “You’re alive,” I whispered.

  “Yes,” said mother. “The magick healed us, but we aren’t mages any more.”

  Father stood at her side. “Thank you for having the strength to do what we couldn’t. Some beings shouldn’t be tempted with power. I know that now.”

  Kitty sidled up closer. “Your parents have agreed to be our new King and Queen. What do you think of that?”

  I grinned. “I like that idea very much.”

  Jicho leaned in closer. “This whole adventure has been pretty scary, but I still want to learn how to check in gateways. I mean, if I hadn’t predicted all this would happen, then little Rigby wouldn’t have grandparents, now would she?”

  I looked over to Rowan. We shared a smile. “You brother and I agree. We will teach you how to use gateways properly.”

  “Thought so.” Jicho puffed out his chest. “I’m glad you agreed because I already promised Myla and Lincoln that I’d open a gateway for them to their home world.”

  I shook my head. “You planned that speech so you could send them home, didn’t you?”

  “What else?” Jicho rolled his eyes. “I mean, Myla has a tail.”

  Lincoln approached us and offered his hand. “Thank you for everything.”

  Some things need to be done while you’re standing up, and one of them is saying goodbye to Lincoln. I rose and took his hand. “You’re very welcome. Thank you as well.”

  Myla strode up and pulled me into a big hug. She broke the embrace and then looked to Rowan. “Can I take your honey for moment?”

  “Absolutely,” said Rowan.

  Myla pulled me aside, and then spoke in a low voice only I could hear. “Look, before we go, I have to tell you something baby-wise. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yes.” I think.

  “I get your fear about inherent evil and having children. After all, I’m part demon. But, your parents don’t seem inherently bad to me. They made bad choices. There’s a difference. Plus, I can promise you one thing.”

  “What?”

  “If you go into this without faith in yourself and your husband, it will be trouble. Right after I found out I was pregnant, my husband got replaced by a body double. I needed to trust that I knew who he was.”

  My mouth fell open. “A body double? Really?”

  “Tell me about it. My life is total crazy pants chaos, honey. But what’s important is this. I had to trust that I knew myself and my husband. Now, you need to do that too. Have faith in your own strength and the way you love Rowan. Can you do that for me?”

  How I wished I had her optimism. “I can try.”

  “That’s all any of us can do, really.” Myla stepped back and rubbed her hands together. “Now let’s get out of here before my kid eats his weight in snickers bars.”

  As if on cue, Jicho popped his head between us. “So, can I cast all the gateway spells for everyone now?”

  Rowan stepped up to my side and smiled. “What do you think?”

  I scanned the room and all the happy faces. In that moment, I think I understood what Myla was telling me. There was no knowing what the future would hold, but in this moment, I could trust in one thing. I placed Rowan’s hand on my belly and smiled. “Actually, I think it’s time to go home.”

  Rowan positively beamed. “And I couldn’t agree more.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  One Year Later

  I slipped on a long crimson sheath that now served as my formal gown. I’d been working on updating styles for our people. Caster women often wore scraps of leather as formalwear, while Necromancers were encased in virtual shrouds. This long dress was a way of bridging the gap, fashion-wise.

  Across our bedroom, Rowan did what we called our baby-dance. He bobbed from foot to foot while holding little Rigby in his arms. Our girl loved to move. Rigby swiped at his chin; Rowan smiled. “Who’s the best baby in the world? You are, aren’t you?”

  I leaned against the bureau and eyed Rowan from head to foot. “Are you going to the party dressed like that?”

  Rowan bobbed from foot to foot. “Dressed like what?”

  I stifled a smile. “Wearing your old Caster leathers with baby puke on them. This is Rigby’s first official party appearance.”

  “What do you think Rigby?” She swatted at his chin again and Rowan fake chewed her fingers. “Num num num.”

  I tapped my chin in mock consideration. “You know, I think she likes the Caster leathers.”

  “They smell familiar to her.” Rowan looked up andwinked. “And we both know she’s going to puke again, anyway.”

  “This is true.” I held out my arms. “My turn.”

  Rowan shook his head. He’d been keeping a very accurate baby schedule lately. All in all, my husband had figured out that my turn taking system was ending up with me getting far more snuggle time. He pulled the baby closer to his chest. “I’m not falling for the ten minutes and my turn is over routine any more. I get a full hour now so back off, baby hog.”

  I laughed. “I thought I was being so sneaky, too.”

  “You are, but I’m rather clever as well.” Rowan offered me his elbow. “Shall we?”

  “Let’s.” I wrapped my arm around his and we strolled through Jiwe La Moto. Tonight’s party was the nation’s very first official Celebration of the Baby. Most Caster festivals involved too much mead to be family-friendly, so Rowan and I were trying to expand the repertoire. Also, we discovered that if we invited Necromancers, then Rowan’s mother’s side of the family wouldn’t show up. They were too prejudiced to be seen with them, so they stayed home. It really was the perfect solution to the Zoriah family problem.

  As we stepped outside, the sun was just touching the horizon line. The jungle bristled with life and noise, as did the party clearing. There were families everywhere. And almost everyone was dancing. I counted Kade and Amelia. Quinn and a Necromancer lady friend. And Jicho ruled the center of the dance area, making up his own set of moves that involved lots of wiggling and wagging his eyebrows. And beside Jicho, there danced my parents. My heart warmed at the sight.

  This was mother and father’s first official visit to our realm as regular mortals instead of gods, and they seemed to enjoy playing incognito. We’d been slowly building up our relationship over the last months, and Jicho certainly enjoyed opening gateways for them to visit. Having them here tonight was a good step forward.

  Rowan laced his fingers with mine. “What do you say, my love? Shall we dance?”

  “What will we do with Rigby?” I asked.

  “Why, bring her with us.”

  “Yes.” I grinned form ear to ear. “Let’s.”

  And so, Rowan, Rigby and I stepped off to join the dance, and all felt right in this world.

  —The End—

  Love Elea and Rowan? Start their journey again with CURSED, the book 1 in the Beholder series.

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  Acknowledgements

  Truth time.

  I have a thing about the name Eleanor. Why? There are so many famous and kick-ass Eleanors through history, starting with Eleanor of Aquitaine and Eleanor Roosevelt. Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that Samwise Gamgee named his daughter Elanor the Fair. No one messes with JRRT when it comes to naming.

  So I’ve always wanted to name a character Eleanor.

  Sadly, growing up we had a cleaning lady whose name was Eleanor and who hated my fucking guts. Like, seriously. Not that I blame her. I’m sure I was a little shit a good amount of the time. But anyway, I can’t write the name Eleanor without wanting to add the word judge-y afterwards. And judge-y isn’t an official word yet, so where does that leave me? Naming a character Elea (ah-LAY-ah) and then calling her kid Rigby (as in Eleanor Rigby.) Get it?

  So, there you have it, Misses of Aquitaine and Roosevelt: Another addition to your wonderful naming heritage. I hope I did you a smidgeon of justice. And if you’re reading this, oh Eleanor who kept me out of filth as a child, I’m sorry I said mean shit about your lipstick that one time. Now that I’m an old broad myself, I totally respect the desire to wear bright red, especially when cleaning. In retrospect, think it really worked on you. And I was a little brat anyway.

  The end.

  Sort of.

  Now, I simply must thank the many people who helped me on the adventure of writing this book. First, there is the amazing team at Inscribe Digital. They believed in me and my vision from the start. Thank you, Kelly Peterson, Ana Szaky, Katy Beehler, and Allison Davis. You’re marvels!!!