by Jayne Faith
Elena and Jen’s eyes were glued on me as they took in what I was saying. When I went silent, they looked at each other. Jen stepped away and began rounding up our group again. Once we were gathered around the kitchen island, she asked me to repeat what I’d said.
There were slow nods and some murmurs of agreement. We talked it over for a few minutes.
“What are we going to do about it?” Jen asked.
I tilted my head. “It?”
She spread her hands in a gesture that took in our group and the women gathered around the coffee table. “So we figure out when and where the mages plan to toss your brother into the abyss. What are we going to do about it?”
I puffed my cheeks out and then blew a slow breath while I shook my head. “I don’t expect you guys to put yourselves in danger. Evan is my responsibility.”
She gave me a challenging look and lifted her chin. “Okay, what’s your plan, then?”
I scratched my forehead. “Uh, I hadn’t figured that out yet.”
“But you thought you’d just swoop in there all alone and grab him?” She lifted an eyebrow at me, clearly skeptical.
I lifted my hands and then let my arms drop to my sides, my shoulders slumping a little. The oracle had warned me that I couldn’t save Evan solo. It was my instinct to go it alone, but I would only get one shot. If following the dragon’s advice upped my odds against the mages, I had to do it.
“Okay. No, you’re actually right,” I said. “I can’t do it alone. But I also don’t want to get all of you killed. I don’t expect the entire coven to pitch in on this one.”
Jen opened her mouth to argue, but Lynnette cut her off, calling to us from the other group.
“Hey ladies, we think we’ve got something,” Lynnette said. She waved us over.
We all crowded around. I recognized Deb’s neat writing on the pages of notes that were spread over the coffee table.
Becky lifted up one of the sheets. At the top, there was a date in block letters—January 31—and underneath a written bullet list. That date was less than a week away.
“We think this is it,” Lynnette said, pointing to Becky’s piece of paper. “It’s the night of the full moon, and this year it’s the Quickening Moon. It usually falls in February, but this year it’s in January. The Quickening Moon is powerful for magic of endings and new beginnings. That date is also smack in the middle of a trine between Neptune, the planet of illusion, and Mars, the planet of power. It’s a rare configuration. Even more overt, there’s also a sextile between Jupiter and Mercury.”
I squinted, trying to recall what little I knew about astrology, but I was coming up short. By the pointed looks being exchanged among the women, though, the astrological events Lynnette described were extremely significant.
She held up a finger. “One more thing. The icing on the cake. There’s a lunar eclipse.” A couple of the witches gasped. “It’s a partial one, but partial eclipses are nearly as powerful as full eclipses.”
Certainty pinged through me like a cold little marble of ice. This had to be the date. Damien would have been able to run calculations on all of this information. Probabilities. Models. The thought that he was using his knowledge against me brought a pang of sadness to my heart. I pushed it away. He was the expert, but his way wasn’t the only way.
“Did you identify anything related to the time that might favor certain areas? Like specific altitudes or things like that?” I asked. It was the sort of thing Damien would try to tease out, too.
Lynnette’s jet-black brows shot up, and she gave a short laugh. “Yes, in fact. The eclipse is most powerful along these longitudes.” She tapped one of the lines toward the bottom of the sheet. Deb had written a row of numbers there.
“Guess where one of those longitudes passes through,” Becky said.
A grim smile had already started to make its way over my lips. “Right here in Idaho.”
Jen and I quickly presented our group’s conclusion.
“Our take was obviously less methodical than yours, and we don’t have the data to back it up the way you do,” I said. I glanced at Elena. “Our task didn’t work that way. We had to use some gut instinct. But I think you just confirmed our best guess.”
Jen let out a raucous, guttural, “Yeah!”
The other witches joined in, clapping and whooping, and I couldn’t hold back a broad grin. When Deb got up and came toward me, I held out my hands in defense.
“No!” I said, laughing as tears of relief sprang to my eyes. “If you hug me right now, I’ll lose it.”
She stuck out her tongue but stayed where she was.
“Thank you,” I said, my gaze sweeping the faces around me. “You all have been amazing.”
“You’ve really gone above and beyond,” Lynnette said, stepping up next to me and drawing the group’s attention. “If any of you need to go, now’s your chance. The rest of us will stay behind to discuss what’s next.”
“Wait,” I said, moving half a step in front of Lynnette. “Before anyone takes off, I have a question. I don’t expect anyone to know the answer, but I’d like to hear your theories.” There I went, using Damien-speak again. “How do you think the mages will compel my brother, the real Evan, into the rip? I mean, it’ll have to look convincing, so they can’t drug him. Do mages have mind control magic? Could they command him like a necromancer drives a zombie?”
“Some sort of verbal magic would be my guess,” Lynnette said after a couple of seconds passed and no one said anything. “Maybe a binding promise combined with a very strong suggestive spell.”
My heart clenched as I imagined my brother’s mind being manipulated by people more powerful by orders of magnitude. The cruelty of it sent a surge of anger through me. I tamped it down. The coven didn’t deserve my wrath. I’d save it for the Steins.
“So it probably won’t be only a matter of trying to physically rescue him,” I said quietly, doing my best to keep my voice even. “I’ll have to break the magic hold the mages will have on his mind.”
The mood in the room sobered quickly.
“Sorry to be such a buzzkill,” I said with a humorless laugh.
The women cast sympathetic looks at me.
“Why don’t we break for fifteen, and anyone who needs to go can do so,” Lynnette suggested.
While everyone was milling around, Becky sidled over to me. She pasted on a pleasant smile and flicked a glance over at Lynnette before speaking.
“We’re still having our regular coven meeting in two days,” she said. “We’re going to be voting. After that, I plan to move very quickly with the records.”
“I might need her, though,” I whispered, trying not to move my mouth much in case Lynnette happened to look our way and decided to attempt lipreading. “She’s got skills with rips and rip magic.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Becky said and then moved away toward the kitchen island.
Keep in it mind? This was my brother’s life. Coven politics, even gross wrongdoing on the part of our leader, were not more important than Evan.
I frowned at Becky’s retreating back but then smoothed my expression before anyone took notice. Seizing a moment to myself, I pulled out Rogan’s phone and checked the email account I’d used to write to Zarella. Maybe he’d have some ideas about how to break Evan away from the mages’ influence.
My pulse thumped when I saw he’d replied. I scanned the short message. He said he’d send someone to speak with me later that night at Rogan’s house. A shiver crawled up my spine when it hit me that Zarella knew where I’d stayed the previous night. He had no reason to turn me in, but still. It meant he had eyes on me. Minor demons, maybe a zombie. I shivered again.
I didn’t bother replying. I’d be there, and he knew it.
Lynnette called us back to order in her usual authoritative fashion, even though this wasn’t an official coven meeting.
“I’m working on a plan for how we might help Ella grab her brother when the tim
e comes,” she said.
My brows lowered in a slight frown. I hadn’t expected her to be so gung-ho about jumping in. Not that I didn’t appreciate her initiative, in a way, but what was her angle? Lynnette always had one. In the past, she’d been willing to put herself in danger to acquire illegal magic or to try to gain fame for herself and the coven.
“It’ll be risky, of course,” she said. “And I don’t have it all detailed out yet, but I’ll be asking for a few of you to volunteer to help. Think about it. There’s no shame in saying no. We all know Ella won’t hold our choices against us.”
She turned a magnanimous smile on me, and I couldn’t do anything but force a smile in return. But inside, my stomach gave a twist. I was caught. I knew I needed help to save Evan, but it seemed as if anyone who might aid me had their own motives for getting involved. Zarella and Lynnette were two of the most dangerous people I knew, and yet there I was, depending on them in the most important thing I’d ever done. The oracle had told me that I’d need to turn an adversary into an ally. How about a couple of them? Would I get double points? The thing was, neither Lynnette nor Zarella would ever be true allies. They’d only help me for their own gain, as part of their own schemes. I couldn’t fool myself. They weren’t really on my side. The two of them weren’t going to fulfill the second requirement the dragon had given me.
I touched my temple as a headache began to form across my forehead. What had the oracle said? Loki and I alone weren’t enough. I needed to turn an adversary into an ally. And the rips needed to be closed, and someone would have to die to accomplish that feat.
Lynnette had continued speaking, but when I realized she was doing it mostly to reassert her authority, I partially tuned her out.
“We’ll reconvene for our regular meeting here in two days, since this seems to be a secure place to meet,” she said. She turned her kohl-lined eyes on me. “Will you be able to stay safe and out of sight until then?”
I nodded, but I was suddenly too tired to even form a response or express any more gratitude. What I really wished for was Rogan. He’d have jumped in to help me without a second thought, and with his reaper soul and mage magic, I wouldn’t have had to worry about him getting hurt. A dizzying pang of loss spiraled through me, sudden and severe enough to make my breath hitch in my throat.
Fortunately, the witches were standing, moving around, and gathering their things as they prepared to depart, and no one seemed to notice I’d just emotionally gut-punched myself.
Well, someone noticed. As everyone else chatted or drifted toward the door, Deb came my way.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “Your aura is basically one big sad-face emoji.”
A ghost of a smile passed over my lips. “I just don’t know if I can really depend on anyone,” I whispered, not wanting the others to hear. “Except you, of course.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “The coven genuinely wants to help.”
My eyes flicked to Lynnette and then back to Deb’s sincere blue gaze. Right. Deb still believed Lynnette was one of the good guys.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. I cleared my throat. “It’s just, I don’t want any of them to get hurt. None of them have ever faced mages before. It’s suicidal.”
“Nah,” she said. “Lynnette will come up with something. She’s skilled and incredibly resourceful. She wouldn’t put together a suicide mission.”
Wouldn’t she, though? Sure, Lynnette would look out for herself, but she’d inadvertently gotten a former coven member killed. I couldn’t argue, though. Not at that moment. I’d tried too many times before to get Deb to see the truth about Lynnette. It wasn’t the time to try to take that up again.
I forced another smile.
“Oh, before I forget, I brought you some things,” Deb said. “Some spare clothes and food for Loki.”
She went and got two plastic shopping bags that sat on the floor next to her purse, bending a little awkwardly around her pregnant belly to pick it up. She came back and held out the handles so I could take them.
“There are a few other things for you in there, too,” she said. “Just some essentials.”
I glimpsed a foil packet that probably contained food, as well as a can of honey roasted peanuts, a bottle of my favorite lager from the fridge, a bag of Cheetos, two apples, and what looked like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a zip baggie. There were also a dollar store travel toothbrush and toothpaste, and some other mini toiletry items. I nearly teared up at the sight of these few small comforts.
I couldn’t take that much stuff with me through the in-between, but I didn’t want to remind Deb of that, not after she’d been so thoughtful. I’d grab a bite and change clothes before I left Becky’s and see if she’d let me keep the things there until the coven meeting.
The witches trickled out the door, eventually leaving just me and Becky.
I held up the bags. “Mind if I change clothes and then leave the rest of this stuff here?”
She waved toward one of the doorways. “Not at all. That bedroom has an on-suite bathroom. You’re welcome to use the shower. I’m going to clean up and then head home but take your time. You can even stay here, if you’d like.”
I softened at her generous offer. I shouldn’t have been so quick to get irritated earlier.
“Thank you, that means a lot,” I said. “But I’ve got a place to stay, and I don’t want to run the risk of causing problems for your family. It’s enough that you’re allowing us to meet here.”
She waved a hand and scoffed, brushing off my worries. “My dad would have a field day if the authorities tried to bust in here. In fact, he’d probably enjoy it if they did.”
“He’s a lawyer, I take it?”
She arched a brow. “How’d you know?”
I snorted a laugh. “Just a lucky guess.”
I went and used the shower, relishing the heat of the water and just how normal yet somehow also luxurious it felt to bathe, twist my wet hair up into a bun, and put on clean clothes. When I got out, Becky was gone. I poured Loki’s food into a bowl and set it on the floor and ate the sandwich Deb had made for me. It was incredibly tempting to pop open the beer, but I still had a meeting that night and didn’t want anything to dull my senses.
While I was rinsing out Loki’s bowl, I got a text from Deb: I forgot to mention it before I left (dang pregnancy brain!), but you need healing. I can tell you’re depleted again. I will arrange a time for you to pop into Gina’s.
I texted back: I don’t want to get her mixed up in my mess.
Deb’s reply came right away: She can say no if she wants to. I don’t think she will, though.
Okay. Thank you for looking out for me, I responded.
Always.
I tucked my phone away and called Loki over as I ran some water in his empty bowl. We shifted from the realm of the living to limbo land, and I used the water to take us back to Rogan’s for my appointment with the madman.
Chapter 19
I ARRIVED BACK in Rogan’s dark kitchen, with Loki appearing next to me a second or two later. I zipped up my jacket as the chill of the cooler space began to seep through my clothes, suddenly realizing just how comfortable and luxurious the warm, safe downtown penthouse had felt. A quick check of the time on Rogan’s phone showed I had less than ten minutes until the meeting.
I went to the living room window that faced the back yard and peered out into the night. I didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean there weren’t spies lurking nearby. Switching to necro-vision, I reached out to a minor demon I had stationed at the edge of the property, nestled in the boughs of a pine tree. Any other necromancer would sense my little spy, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. I probed into the creature’s brain to check out what it could see. The demon seemed agitated, and I sensed a handful of other minor demons perched in a neighbor’s yard. The way they were lined up, I suspected the creatures were sitting in a row on the fence. Something about the way they were so evenly spaced
out made me suspect they’d been placed there by Zarella, or perhaps one of his associates.
Something larger pinged the edge of my senses, and I automatically angled right to peer at that side of the back yard, even though I knew whatever was coming was still out of sight. As it drew closer, I recognized the feel of it—a zombie. So Zarella was sending one of his proxies, rather than coming to meet me himself. I wasn’t really surprised.
Loki began pacing near the back door, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
“It’s okay, boy,” I whispered. “I’m expecting it.”
The zombie appeared around the corner of the house, presumably having come into the yard using the side gate. A shiver spilled down my spine as I reached for the doorknob. Zombies. Blech.
The creature had stopped at the far end of the cement slab patio, standing unnaturally still as only a zombie could. The distinct smell of sage-scented magic hit me when I got within ten feet of the creature. It took very strong magic to cover the smell, which was violently stomach-turning when completely unmasked. The zombie didn’t look decayed, though. The outer appearance of the zombie’s body was preserved and dressed in jeans, a winter coat over a ski sweater, and sneakers. In the dark the zombie would pass for a living man. From a distance, anyway. Too close, and the smell of the magic would give him away. I had a sudden and absurd flash of curiosity about who picked out the zombie’s outfit and whether the clothes were new or second-hand. How did one decide how to dress a zombie?
I gave myself a mental slap. Focus.
I stopped a good six feet away from the creature. I didn’t need strong whiffs of the zombie-smell the sage was barely covering up. Not to mention that if Zarella happened to lose control of the zombie, it could infect or even kill me if I were caught off guard. There was a good reason why it was illegal to keep zombies animated. Set free or in the hands of an inexperienced necromancer, a zombie could quickly decimate an entire neighborhood.
The creature opened its mouth, and Zarella’s words came out.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asked.
