Arch of Shadows

by C. L. Bush

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Day Six

  CLARA

  “I can’t believe it came to this,” Clara mumbled, pressing her fingers into the ashy ground under her. She looked up to face Xander’s tombstone, and then diverted her eyes back down. “All I wanted was to know what was going on, and now that I know what’s going on, I understand it less.”

  She sighed and glanced at her family’s crypt, at Christina and Helen readying for the spell for more than a day now. They almost felt relieved in the face of certain death; Clara only felt defeated.

  “I keep thinking about what Damen said,” she continued. “How it’s important to have your own dreams and goals and drive... and all I can feel now is envy. I envy them for being able to have exams and proms and fears and goals,” Clara mused, and wiped the tears away with her sleeve. “I envy them for eating pizza, for crying out loud.”

  She sniffed quietly, plucking at the dead grass. The blades of grass didn’t fight her, and fell next to her plainly.

  “Not many people have this chance, you know. To decide what to die for.” Her voice was hoarse with unshed tears as she turned the cuff around her wrist. She hadn’t done anything, but it radiated magic. “Or to even die for something. I guess dying with a purpose beats just dying.”

  She threw away a handful of grass and sighed in annoyance.

  “They all had dreams, you know.” Clara squinted at the tombstone, looking for agreement. “They wanted to become doctors, or artists. They were so happy and young, and they thought they were making the world a better place for us. But instead, here we are. Dead, half-dead, good as dead.”

  A crackling sound behind her drew her attention, silent lightning in the sky illuminating the graveyard. Christina had explained previously that there were no natural storms in the Arch because there was nothing natural about the Arch. Elements were woven into its existence and they could be summoned, but they didn’t exist in their own states and they couldn’t create anything. This lightning was a tear in the fabric of the Arch. It wasn’t a storm.

  It was the light before Armageddon.

  “All that knowledge for nothing,” Clara whispered and looked at the white marble defiantly shining and the elegant letters forming Xander’s name. “We were very stupid, Xander. Very stupid, wanting to be smarter. What did it bring us?”

  “Clara! It’s almost time,” Christina called but Clara didn’t move.

  “Demons are going to sense the surge of power,” Clara explained to the silent stone in a hushed voice. “Helen and Christina are afraid we’re going to die before we manage to die properly. They insisted we stay as far away as possible from the Arch because that’s where they’ll be coming from. I suggested here. With you, and my dad. To finish with people that this whole mess started for me. Besides, it feels right, you know?” she said wistfully, swallowing heavily.

  It was hard to explain, so she didn’t even try. Strings pulled her here to this place. Strings that grew stronger with each passing day in the Arch and Clara almost felt like a puppet - dragged and directed against her will wherever the Universe wanted her.

  “So... They’re going to come for us, all the demons that sniff the magic and manage to pass through, and they’re going to hunt us down. And all we can hope is that we can finish the spell before they reach us, and die properly.”

  Clara’s voice was flat, up until she laughed dryly.

  “What a day, huh? Wish me luck and hope I die properly, Xander. I don’t want to be demon meat,” she added scornfully. “Oh, I got you something.”

  She took her grandfather’s pocket watch out of her backpack and caressed it gently.

  “Don’t say I never gave you anything,” she joked. “Well, except death, you know, but I guess we’re even now.” Clara fell silent for a moment and then sighed. “Besides, they say magical objects can travel between worlds. So, maybe it’ll reach someone. Maybe someone will figure out what happened to me. Maybe someone will tell my mom I didn’t die a stubborn teenager, but a brave Parker. Although I don’t know how much help that’ll do.”

  She sighed again and lowered the watch to the ground, patted it gently and caressed the tombstone.

  “I thought it was easier when you know why you’re doing what you’re doing, but that just robs you of the hope that there’s hope,” Clara admitted and struggled to her feet. “Bye, Xander. I wish we had more time. Maybe we’ll meet wherever I’m going. Save me a seat.”

  She turned and steadily walked toward her grandmother and Christina. The set up they had prepared was too elaborate for her to catch every detail. She recognized some of the symbols and lines, the silver and blood. Clara knew the basics, as both of her companions explained. The goal was to create a magical eruption by casting a double fire spell and fueling it with Helen’s, Christina’s and Clara’s blood. Helen had explained that the spell had been forbidden to be used for centuries - unpredictable, highly destructive and volatile, it was a recipe for death.

  Luckily, it was just what they needed, and they had the perfect untrained, magic rod to generate dangerously amplified power - Clara.

  Helen hesitated a second before quickly approaching her granddaughter and hugging her tightly. “It’s been a great fortune of mine to have been able to meet the amazing woman you have become,” she said stiffly, stepping away but not before Clara saw the tears shimmering in her eyes. She was carefully dressed for the occasion, as if she was expecting a tremendously important visit. Clara caught a silver pin with the Parker’s alder tree next to Helen’s heart, but didn’t say anything regarding it. “I realize this fate might not be what one can hope for, but some deaths are more meaningful than some lives.”

  Clara returned the hug, somewhat awkwardly, but as Helen’s speech ended, her patience dwindled. “Cut the crap, Grandma,” she said, and Helen laughed.

  Christina smiled shyly, just as she had on the photograph where Clara had a chance to see her slim figure for the first time. She looked barely a year older than she did in that picture, but her eyes were tired and craved a long, restful sleep.

  “Are you ready?” Christina asked, and Clara shrugged, taking her place. As Clara stopped to face her companions, Helen approached the candle before them.

  “Duplex ignis,” Helen whispered, and the candle blazed to life in a blue flame, almost purple. Clara allowed herself to get lost in the dancing shades of the candle, its movements calming, bordering on mesmerizing.

  The flame increased gradually, as did the whispers around them – it was the sign to step up the pace. Clara and Christina were to make sure Helen managed to chant the words properly without interruption - such as sudden death.

  As Christina cast a variety of spells Clara couldn’t even catch, Helen picked up the tools and approached her granddaughter. This time, she carried a silver bowl and the Parker dagger, the same one that brought Clara to them. Helen breathed in before gliding the blade over Clara’s forearm in a rare display of insecurity. The blood flowed slowly, although not as slowly as Clara had previously seen Christina’s drip. Helen gathered some in the bowl before continuing to Christina.

  As Christina took the blade in her hand and cut her own fingertips deeply, Clara cast spells at the slithering behind her. She didn’t even turn. Her fear of doing something wrong was gone. However, her fear of whatever was lurking on the other side of the Arch increased. The mere memory of Pandemonium was enough to send chills down Clara’s spine. Her heart pumped wildly as she cast the only spell she knew - Armis Centum. Clara cut a hundred slashes magically and a hundred demons approached them through the woods before she could even catch them with a corner of her eye.

  In the meantime, Helen held the bowl under Christina’s fingertips. The blood flow was substantial but slow. Helen stepped away and Christina wiped her fingertips on her clothes, as she was accustomed, and joined Clara in the spell casting.

  Dividing her attention for a split second, Clara watched her grandmother cutting her own fingertips and colle
cting a spoonful of blood into the bowl. She proceeded to calmly drip the blood mixture into the purple flame and declared, “Sanguis ignis”.

  The flame turned sun-red, and enlarged enough to blur Clara’s vision completely. She saw the approaching figures gradually disappear into the red light. She then locked her gaze onto Christina and her grandmother.

  Unlike the entry into the Arch, this sensation was pain-free, much to Clara’s surprise. For the first time since her birthday, she felt warmth, blood pulsing through her veins. Christina smiled gently, and Helen stoically gazed at her granddaughter, as if she were determined to carve her face into her memory.

  Clara felt adrenaline coursing through her body as the strings pulling her grew stronger and stronger. She stared at her companions, wishing they had a chance to have the life they once dreamed of. She yearned for the same for herself. Light encompassed them slowly. Helen Parker and Christina Wentworth crystallized and disintegrated. As they disappeared into the warmth, Clara’s eyelids struggled to stay open.

  The whispers lingered, familiar, almost chanting, while Clara prepared to let go. She breathed in deeply, one last time.

  “Clara.” The whisper called her name, and she smiled.

  The light swallowed everything, and cold embraced her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Summer Solstice, June

  SAM

  “Zoey, we need your help,” Sam said hurriedly as soon as her mentor opened the front door, still in her pajamas.

  “Sam? What are you doing here?” Zoey frowned, casting a look toward JJ’s parked car. JJ waved while Damen appeared to be sound asleep in the backseat. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you at graduation?”

  “Because our parents are there,” Sam quickly answered, impatiently twirling her ring around her finger. It had no powers now, but she kept it as a reminder. “Zoey, please. We don’t have much time.”

  Zoey threw another glance at the duo in the car before nodding and disappearing behind the closed door. Sam rushed to the car and took the passenger seat. JJ tapped the steering wheel, twisting backward to check up on Damen every now and then.

  “What did she say?” JJ asked.

  Sam glanced to the backseat before quickly responding. “She’s coming with us.”

  JJ’s eyes squinted in doubt. “Did you tell her where we’re going? Or what we’re going to do?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Sam answered nonchalantly, following her mentor with her eyes as she darted across her front yard.

  “What’s going on?” Zoey demanded as soon as she joined them in the car. She watched Damen for a second before lifting her eyes to Sam. “Why is he under a sleeping spell?”

  “He wasn’t cooperating,” Sam started but before she managed to explain, Zoey had already uttered the counter spell. “Just hear me out, Zoey! JJ, start the car.”

  “JJ, don’t start the car,” Zoey demanded while checking Damen’s unfocussed eyes. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on!”

  The yelling cleared the drowsiness, and Damen sat up, filled with rage. “Are you insane?” he thundered as Sam somewhat steadily returned his gaze. “You put a sleeping spell on me!”

  “I did,” Samantha returned coolly. “You weren’t being reasonable.”

  “In which world is this reasonable?” he yelled as Zoey gestured everyone to calm down. “You kidnapped me from our graduation, Sam! Do you even get how wrong this is?”

  “This is more important than graduation.” Samantha’s decisiveness pushed her to be blunt. “So, get your shit together, Damen, it’s time to do what has to be done.”

  “Stop talking like a Bond villain, Sam,” Damen snapped. “Do you realize you’re becoming more like him every day? Putting people under a sleeping spell? Making them do what they don’t even agree with?”

  “Which Bond villain is that?” Zoey asked, trying to defuse the tension.

  “That’s his father,” JJ butted in; his and Zoey’s words disappeared in the screaming match.

  “Bond’s?”

  “Damen’s,” JJ explained.

  Zoey nodded in understanding. “Are we going to find out what you need me for or do you want me to come back once you’re done?”

  Three heads turned toward her.

  “They want us to link,” Damen snapped, exasperated. “These two idiots want us to do a coven linking today, and to try and link Clara into it, as well.”

  Zoey stared at them blankly as shock settled in.

  “You what?” Zoey asked through a whisper, violently shaking her head. “No more yelling. One by one.”

  “These idiots think they can just link, just like that,” Damen cut in first as JJ lowered his head onto the steering wheel. “They think we can get Clara back that way, which is ridiculous!” He spelled out the last words, emphasizing his disagreement, but continued quickly before either Samantha or JJ could utter a word.

  “You’re abusing one of the oldest spells there is,” Damen continued, reciting all that he had kept to himself in the previous months. “You’re abusing a blood spell to just settle your guilt! Well, guess what, Sam? Even if we do the spell, even if we’re linked as a coven, Clara’s still there because of you, and the world’s ending because of you!”

  Samantha’s fair face colored red while Damen gasped for breath. The guilt, the shame, the anger. It had all been there, right under the surface, hidden from those who mattered most and only known by JJ because of his empathic skills. But now, now that Damen had said what everyone had been thinking for months, Sam could no longer hide. She fought to keep the words out of her mouth, the spell that would hurt him as much as he had hurt her then. She fought to control herself and prove that she had learned something in all those months. That she wasn’t just some angry out of control magical teenager.

  “Let’s not assign blame,” Zoey said softly as JJ’s head fell onto the car horn helplessly. “JJ, could you please lift your head? The horn’s going to attract the attention of the whole neighborhood. If the screaming hasn’t attracted it yet, that is.”

  JJ complied, lifting his head and shaking it hopelessly.

  “It’s of no use, Zoey,” JJ said finally. “Neither of them will listen. I tried to tell you, Sam. Damen doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want the coven link and you can’t cast the spell if all the participants aren’t open to it.”

  “Damn right, I don’t want it,” Damen agreed defensively. “And even if I had considered it before, I’m not going to do it now!”

  “Damen, please. Just a second,” Zoey soothed, and he fell back onto his seat. “Sam. What makes you think this can work? What’s your endgame here?”

  “Our current connection to Clara is fading.” Sam sighed. “We can make it stronger if we link as a coven. That might not bring her back right away, but we’ll know if she’s alive or not, which gives her a chance. It’s the solstice, which means the barrier between the worlds is thinner and it might be easier to reach her on the other side. Also, because of the solstice, there’s magic basically everywhere, which means we’ll have more power to cast the spell.”

  “The thinner the barrier between the worlds, the greater the danger,” Zoey cited, and Sam nodded in agreement. “Also, three isn’t enough to link the coven.”

  “We know,” JJ and Sam said in unison as Damen shook his head. “We have... a plan.”

  “I’m all ears,” Zoey retorted simply. “You know you can’t link me, right? It’s not a game of dodgeball. You don’t get to pick your teammates from a line.”

  “We’re aware,” Samantha said seriously. “We want to harness Xander’s remains.”

  “No, no,” Damen interrupted violently. “You want to harness Xander’s remains.”

  “It makes sense,” Sam continued, her voice strong and solemn. “He was supposed to be a part of this coven. We grew up together. And this way his death isn’t for nothing.”

  Zoey remained silent for a while, observing the kids around her,
one by one. Damen was still dazed from the sleeping spell, and he kept struggling to open the car doors, which JJ kept locked. JJ was pale-green, obviously sleep deprived and spiritless. Samantha, on the other hand, was calm, focused and self-assured. She radiated confidence like she hadn’t in a long time, and although her improvement and patience during her trainings were refreshing, Zoey couldn’t put a finger on what quite made the change. Until now.

  “How long have you had your magic back?” Zoey asked. Damen scoffed while Sam looked only barely embarrassed. “When did Cathy lift it?”

  “She didn’t,” Sam admitted, casting an eye to the ring on her finger. It was nothing but a ring right now, but at the same time, it was more. The ring now was a symbol, a representation. The antique emerald didn’t bother her anymore; it was a reminder to be her honest self in the face of limitations. And the silver? Blood is silver, and silver binds. It was the binds chosen for ourselves that are defining, not the ones imposed. “The ring isn’t a magical object. It wasn’t made with magic. It was just assigned a magical role for a while. It was a representation.”

  “Still, only the original spellcaster would be able to remove it.” Zoey frowned as JJ blushed.

  “We didn’t remove it. JJ just helped me misplace the spell,” Samantha explained, taking out her overstocked keychain and presenting a rubbery toy ring she had saved for more than a decade.

  “Glad to know my kindergarten presents are useful in your charade.” Damen’s words rang bitter.

  Zoey seemed reluctantly impressed. “How long have you had the spell misplaced?”

  “About a month,” Samantha admitted.

  Zoey nodded. “So, you’ve managed to control your usage of magic to the lowest amount possible? You purposefully dosed it in front of me and Cathy? Damen, did you know?”