by KB Anne
“Do you think Maria is powerful enough to cast such a spell?” Madigan says.
Scott shrugs. “She could be if she was trained by Carman, but she’s still really young. I don’t know a lot about magical training, but it seems that magic grows with time. Gigi and I haven’t spent enough time learning it. Not yet at least.”
Hopeful optimism fills the air around us. It’s the first time Scott solidly believes we’ll get control of our magic. That we can use it for good and not deep-sea diving with tourists.
Madigan kicks dirt into the fire. He’s a man of action. He tires of our long-winded conversations. “Well let’s stop yammering and go get Alaric.”
I like his style. “He’s got a point there. Do we need anything? Axes, pitchforks, that sort of thing?”
“What you need,” Granda says, appearing before us, “is a powerful wizard.”
“And an ancient witch,” Clarissa adds.
I fold back up the map and hand it to Scott. “Surprise, surprise. You’ve known what we were up to all along, haven’t you.”
“Of course,” they say together without a hint of remorse or embarrassment about watching over us.
“We knew you’d find Alaric eventually,” Granda says.
“So, let’s have a go,” Madigan says.
* * *
We take the entrance to the dungeons Clarissa found the night that Alaric went missing. The one far away from Saint Brigit’s Cathedral. The one, come to think of it, much closer to Carman’s cottage than to Granda’s. Even with her gone, she’s still impacting our lives.
As we approach the entrance, Clarissa puts her hands out to stop us. “Wait,” she says, then murmurs something. A small light appears in front of her and shoots into the entrance.
“What’s that for?” Scott whispers.
“That’s to check for any traps that may be waiting for us,” she says.
“Well, are there?” he replies.
The light flies back at us and disappears into Clarissa’s hand. “There do not appear to be. But be cautious. Carman is extremely powerful.”
“Carman is dead,” I say, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I don’t believe it.
“She’s alive and well,” Granda says.
“She’s Maria, isn’t she.” Scott says. “Gigi’s the one who normally makes bad hookup choices. Is it disgusting that I tried to get a piece of Maria?”
Granda pats his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, the mind is under Carman’s control. The body very much belongs to the poor girl she possessed.”
Scott shakes his head. “I don’t think that makes me feel better.”
That’s why I sensed conflict in Maria when we met at Hell’s Gate. The real Maria’s voice kept trying to be heard. She wanted to get out. “Can we expel Carman from her?”
Clarissa takes my hand. “Do not worry about the girl’s spirit. It will only distract you. Amorin and I will attend to that complication.”
“It sounds like more than a complication.”
When Lizzie bought the eyeball necklace from that scary dude at the flea market, her behavior changed, and the stupid eyeball necklace was the cause of it. The spell book definitely didn’t help, but it was the necklace that changed her. Was that Carman’s all-seeing eyeball? That would explain why I wanted nothing to do with it. It would also explain the whole freaky-exorcism-pagan-ritual in the school’s attic that included Kensey getting tortured. When the candles went out, I had swiped the necklace from Lizzie. I broke the connection without even knowing it. And without the spell book, Carman lost all contact with her. I buried that cursed piece of jewelry deep in the woods behind Gram’s house. If I ever return to Vernal Falls, I’ll bind the ground so the freaky eyeball can never be used again.
“If it’s any consolation, the girl allowed Carman entrance. Permission is usually needed for the possession to work,” Clarissa says.
But it’s no consolation at all, because that would mean Lizzie, my dear sweet Lizzie, had allowed Carman to enter her too.
Scott and I walk into the tunnel in front of the others. The idea of someone granting permission for an evil spirit to possess them weighs heavily on both of us. Scott doesn’t know about the Lizzie-Carman possession situation. He’s concerned for the real Maria and wondering what he can do to help her. All amorous feelings about her are gone—he worries for the girl’s soul.
Then I realize why Maria was so familiar to me. She was the girl at Carman’s bonfire. The one who wanted the boy to fall in love with her—the boy who’d tried to fight Scott that night at Hell’s Gate. How could I have been so stupid? I should have sensed something was up. Someone should have told me.
Way to beat around the bush. It wasn’t my place to.
It’s never your place.
A discussion for another time.
Always another time.
Alaric . . .
Fine.
Just so I feel like I’m doing something and to distract myself, I send out feelers of my own to see if there are any remaining remnants of magic in the tunnel. Thankfully, there don’t appear to be. We wander down to the main cavern area together.
Madigan inhales deeply. “There have been new werewolves in here recently. Strange smells that I can’t place.”
I look over at the wall mural of Alaric with Clayone watching over him along with the rest of Clayone’s pack. “Are there any you do recognize?”
He inhales again. “Declan, for sure. Maria, definitely. And some of my other mates, but there are a whole bunch of others I don’t know at all.”
He sounds scared.
I rest my hand on his arm to calm him. “You can go invisible if you want.”
Granda and Clarissa gasp. “He can go invisible?”
Their surprise worries me. They’ve been around a long time. They’ve experienced loads of magic. Especially Clarissa—aka the nineteenth nun of the Druid Sisters of the Gallicenial, aka the Flame Keeper. The reason for their surprise could be as simple as finding a person gifted with invisibility or—and believe me, I hate even going there—there’s another part of a prophecy or a new prophecy that affects us all.
“Do I even want to know?”
“It’s not important now,” Granda says as if reassuring himself as well as us. “But if you must, go invisible.”
With Granda’s permission, Madigan pulls the space around him and disappears. While Clarissa and Granda gawk over his ability, I wander over to Alaric’s image.
“Scott? Can you come here for second?”
Scott stands beside me. “What’s up?”
“Can you lift me up on your shoulders?”
He bends down and I climb onto his back. “Somebody you wanna play chicken with? I can’t say it’s the appropriate time or place.”
I tap the top of his head as he stands up. “No, I just want to look up close. I don’t even have a picture of him.”
The wall shimmers in front of me, but that may be the tears blurring my vision at the sight of Alaric. I reach to press my hand against the wall.
“Gigi, don’t!” Granda and Clarissa shout together, but it’s too late. My hand firmly covers Alaric one second and then disappears along with the rest of me the next.
12
And Down They Go
Scott stands up, brushing leaves and other debris off his pants. “What the hell just happened? Where are we?”
I push myself off the ground. “I don’t know.”
Nervous energy swirls around him. I step away because if he falls into one of his magical episodes, I could be in trouble.
“You’re the one who touched the mural. You’re the one who dropped us into . . .” he looks around, trying to figure out where we are, but the trees, the grass, and the rocks don’t exactly nail down a specific location, except that it’s not in the large cavern with Clarissa, Granda, and Madigan. “What is this? A portal? Did we fall into a portal?”
Before I can answer, before I can even breathe, he launche
s into a tirade.
“That’s exactly what happened. We fell into a portal. But where? How? I’m sure you were doing your magic thing when you were staring up at Alaric’s image. You probably didn’t even know what you were doing when you did it. I let you climb up on my shoulders to get a better view, and when you touched the picture—because you just had to touch it, because that’s who you are—we fell through a portal.”
The air above him begins to circle around. It’s been a while since he created his own personal tornado, but that’s exactly what he’s doing. And since I have no idea where we are or what type of danger we’re in, he needs to get his shit together.
“Scott, calm down. It’s not my fault.”
He looks at me with that skepticism that suggests it is one hundred percent my fault.
“Okay, so maybe it is. Let me just take a second to figure out where we are.”
“Where we are is screwed,” Scott says.
“Not helpful.” I glare at him one more time for good measure before skimming the horizon for clues.
“True. Okay, let me just . . .” he says. I squint my eyes at him, hoping that maybe this time red laser beams shoot out of them. He bats the imaginary lasers away. “All right, I’ll try to calm down. It’s just—you know I’m not really good in situations I don’t have any control over.”
“One would think you’d be used to it by now. You’ve been hanging out with me since birth. I’ve been putting you in situations that are out of your comfort zone for our entire life.”
He nods along with me. “True. That is definitely true. This last month has been especially bizarre. And now this?” The tornado starts to pick up again.
“Still not helpful.”
“Okay, you’re right.” He starts walking around, as if that will help him figure out where we are, but it annoys the crap out of me. Especially when I’m trying to concentrate. He keeps talking anyway, because that is who he is—he can’t help blabbing. “So we’re thinking we fell through a portal. Maybe it’s like the Harry Potter kind of thing. We grab a boot, or in this case Alaric’s ass—don’t think I wasn’t watching—then we get zapped to another place. The question is, where?”
“Thank you, Scott, for stating the obvious. That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out, but it’s impossible with your nonstop yapping.”
He keeps walking like he doesn’t even hear me. He’s deep in thought about how we got here. “Or,” he says, “remember when Mrs. Weasley throws Floo powder on Harry before he enters the fireplace, and he needs to fully think about where he’s going or he’ll wind up Splinched?”
I throw my hands up in the air. I mean, really, what else am I supposed to do? “Again with the Harry Potter references. Is it really necessary? I’m not Splinched. And you, unfortunately, always look like that. Splinching might have been an improvement. And for your information, Splinching only happens when a person doesn’t Apparate correctly. And Floo powder gets thrown into the fireplace, not on Harry. If you’re going to rely on fictionalized magical encounters, at least get them right.”
He nods as he paces around, lost in thought. My jab flies right over his head. He actually reminds me of Newt Scamander in Fantastic Beasts, but no way am I telling him that. It’ll only encourage him more. “Yes, yes, that’s what happened,” he says to himself as he scratches his head. “Yes, exactly.” He blinks and returns to this world—wherever that may be. “Okay, since Voldemort, or in this case Carman, hasn’t revealed I to us yet, let’s assume we fell through a portal. What were you thinking about when you touched Alaric’s ass?”
The ground suddenly becomes fascinating to me. I don’t want to tell him. I really don’t.
“Gigi, whatever you were thinking about could be the key to explaining where we are. Maybe even what dimension we’re in.”
He’s right, but I hate admitting the truth to him because it makes me seem like a horrible, self-absorbed person—even more so than what he probably already thinks I am.
Deep breaths, Gigi. Deep breaths.
“I was thinking about Alaric. About how much I wanted to find him. Then I felt guilty that I didn’t want to find Lizzie with the same intensity. When I touched his image, I was thinking about him again. And then, all of a sudden, I was thinking about how to find him. And then we fell through the portal.”
Scott glances around. The sun’s making its way to the horizon. We’re on a small hill in an open meadow with trees and rocks in the distance. His tornado’s pretty much completely gone, thank the gods.
“Well, we are definitely on another fairy mound. So that portal . . . whoever left it there wanted us to land here, but I don’t think we’re in Newgrange or Kildare. It still seems like Ireland though, but what Ireland? Or where in Ireland?”
“Kildare and Newgrange are not the only places that have fairy mounds, brainiac.” Arguing with him makes me feel more comfortable with my surroundings.
“Who’s not being helpful now?”
“You’ve got a point, but where do you think we are?”
He looks out across the horizon. “If I had to guess. We’re either in a very large seomra de rúin or we’re actually at Gallean’s.”
I follow his gaze. In the distance I can see smoke spiraling out of the chimney of what appears to be a small stone keep. “How can that be? The Shadow Moon isn’t for three days.”
Scott turns to me. “Gigi, we’re reincarnated gods. Nobody actually knows what we’re capable of. The rules that Clarissa, Granda, and even Gallean follow apply to mortals and magical beings. But honestly, we are so much more than that. Clarissa and Granda thought we had to wait until the Shadow Moon, but I think godly powers trump astrology. Or in this case, your godly powers.”
I’m not willing to admit that I messed things up for us again, so I settle on distraction. “What about Madigan? We were just making progress with him. What’s going to happen to him now that we’re here? What about Granda and Clarissa? And my tracking spell for Alaric actually worked. What about finding him?”
Scott climbs down the fairy mound toward Gallean’s keep. “They’ll work it out. Maybe Madigan will stay invisible the entire time we’re gone. Or maybe he’ll go live with Granda for a while and keep him company. As for your tracking spell to find Alaric . . .” he glances over my shoulder to make sure I’m coming, “that’s probably what got us here.”
I’m amazed that he’s so relaxed about the entire situation now that he has calmed down and is thinking rationally. I wish some of it would rub off on me. Instead, fear spawns in my gut. I sprint to catch up to him. “The tracking spell led us to the dungeons. Do you think we were cursed? Do you think Carman laid a magical trap for us?”
He elbows me. “Sorta like the trophy in The Goblet of Fire.”
I elbow him back in a not-so-polite response.
“The truth is, Gi, we’re not going to know. But, I don’t think a witch, no matter how powerful or how evil, can create a portal into another dimension. I think you did that. I think you did it because you were thinking about finding Alaric, and I think that you sent us here.”
“But Alaric isn’t in the Shadow Realm. He’s in the Earthly Realm—er, is that what we should call it?”
Scott doesn’t seem to think that this is all that out of the ordinary. “Sure. And maybe he isn’t here, but maybe it’s the only way to find him.”
I elbow him again. He winces, rubbing his side. Pointy elbows have their advantages. “Oh my gods, Scott. Are you going all-knowing-godlike on me? Because if you are, I am going to kick your ass.”
“No, I’m just being practical about it. You know magic. I know magic. But we barely have control over our powers. Maybe you need to learn some special skills in order to find Alaric. Or maybe you’ll discover a special spell in the Shadow Realm that allows you to harness the power to find him.”
“Or protect myself from a pack of angry werewolves at the next full moon because they all think I killed Alaric.”
He waves
his hand in the air, dismissing the notion that I could possibly be in any danger. “I wouldn’t worry about the pack if I were you. That Maria, even if she is Carman, can be dealt with. She doesn’t scare me whatsoever.”
“Easy for you to say. She hasn’t had a vendetta against you for fifteen hundred years.”
“You’ve got a point there. But still, not scary. I’m mean, she did fall for my charms for at least a little while when we were dancing at Hell’s Gate.”
I roll my eyes. “She was acting.”
He pats the top of my head. “No one can act that well. Trust me.”
We pass through a protective wall of energy. Our bodies tingle, but it doesn’t knock us on our asses like the one at Newgrange.
“Gallean must use these to keep out intruders.”
He pokes through the wall we just passed with his finger. “Doesn’t appear to keep out welcomed guests or imprison them either.”
“I’m not sure if we’re welcome.” I’m definitely not feeling the Gallean love, that’s for sure.
“Oh, don’t be a poor sport again just because I found my key much faster than you.”
“It took me hours to find it.”
“Whatever. You survived. Think of it as character building.”
“Speaking of character building, now that you know Maria isn’t some teenage girl you were looking to get a piece of . . .”
He throws up his hands. “Hold up, I wasn’t trying to get into her pants. She was trying to get into mine.”
“You totally were.”
“Well, maybe.”
“I thought you were saving yourself for your swan.”
“From what everybody tells me, I won’t find her until I shed my mortality and return to the Otherworld. I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning to pick up a full-time residency in the Otherworld anytime soon.”
“No, definitely not.”
“Exactly. I’ve got years—maybe decades—before I rejoin my true love. Am I supposed to wait around for her, or am I allowed to have some fun? Being the God of Love, I feel it’s my obligation to have some fun.”
