“Doesn’t matter,” I said. I ran my fingers over the stones making up the rose. The petals radiated out from a central stone. I pushed, and the stone depressed into the surface of the chest. The chest’s lid pivoted over an inch or so. I tried to slide it over farther, but it wouldn’t move. “Give me the light,” I said.
Seth handed the flashlight over without a word. I held it up to the chest, examining every side. There was another tiny rose-mosaic on the back, containing another release—this time a petal. I pushed it and heard a faint click. The lid of the chest lifted under my hand. As I opened it, I saw that we would have had a difficult time prying it open with a crow bar. Two edges of the lid were lined with metal braces that curled up under the reinforced lip of the base. Sliding the lid to the side also slid those hooks away from the lip so they couldn’t hold it closed. The second latch had released something in the chest’s complicated hinge, allowing the top to lift up.
“You did it,” Seth said.
I stared into the chest. Inside, a small vase was covered with an almost chalky green patina, but I could still make out the symbols carved into its surface. The vessel. It was real. It was here. My heart swelled with anticipation. After today, my hopes could be realized. After today, I could become human.
We hid the bronze chest under Seth’s bed, behind a few spare blankets. It would take more than a cursory glance to find it there.
“We should get going,” Seth urged.
“Wait.” I grabbed some pillows and stuffed them under Seth’s covers, repositioning them until they could pass for a sleeping Seth. I’d already done the same in my room upstairs, on the off chance Dad decided to check in on me in the middle of the night. Seth gave me an appraising look, but didn’t say anything.
We bundled the vessel and the ingredients we’d prepared for the ritual into a duffle bag. It was still dark outside, but the birds were starting to sing. Dawn was approaching.
I stopped on the porch, stricken. “If we take my car, Dad will know we’re gone,” I said.
“Only if he looks outside before we get back,” Seth said. I started to protest, but Seth held up a finger. “If we do this right, we’ll be back here by seven—worst case scenario by eight. With any luck, no one will have missed us. We can sneak back into the house and carry on like nothing happened.” Seeing my hesitation, Seth frowned in exasperation. “What? You want to call a cab?”
I shook my head. We moved quickly to my car. But as I opened the driver’s side, Seth put a hand on my arm.
“The spotters,” he said.
“Oh,” I breathed. Goose bumps prickled up along my arms. “I can’t go. They’re watching the roads out of town.”
“You have to go,” Seth said. “Your blood—” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “It has to be fresh.”
I bit my lip and looked at the car. “You drive. I’ll hide in the trunk.” Seth looked like he wanted to argue, but I didn’t give him a chance. I unlocked the trunk and climbed inside. It was a tight fit, and I had to hug my knees.
“You’re sure you’ll be okay in there?” Seth asked. He studied the cramped quarters anxiously, but there wasn’t time to discuss it.
“Just watch out for potholes,” I said, giving him a grim smile.
Seth’s lip twitched in response, but he didn’t look amused. Resigned, he closed the trunk.
For the record: not my favorite way to travel. I could tell Seth was taking it easy. He handled the turns slowly, but I still had to brace my hands against the side of the trunk to avoid knocking my head at each corner. Unable to see where we were going, the drive seemed much longer than I remembered.
When I heard the crunch of gravel under the wheels I let out a breath of relief. We were almost there. Seth slowed even more for the rough climb up the foothills to the mission, but the unpaved road made for a nauseating ride. When the car finally came to a stop, I was squeezing my eyes shut, battling the urge to vomit.
Seth unlocked the trunk and fresh air flooded into my lungs. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered. He reached a hand out to me and I took it, eager to escape the cramped prison. I drew the cold morning air into my lungs, one bracing breath after another, while Seth pulled the heavy duffle bag out of the car. After a minute or so, my nausea subsided. “Did you see any spotters?” I asked.
“Not a one. Maybe they’re farther out.”
“Or maybe they’re watching the road, just looking for girls,” I said.
This thought seemed to make Seth uncomfortable. He glanced back down the road. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The sky to the east was a rosy pink. Dawn wasn’t far away. Seth and I each took one handle of the heavy duffle and hurried to the mission’s doors. They creaked as we pulled them open.
The sanctuary was dark, even though the broken window had been replaced with new glass. Seth and I moved into the silence of the place and hesitated. There was a power here; I could feel it. We set the duffle down. Seth walked to the front of the sanctuary. When I didn’t follow him, he turned back.
“Help me with the pews?”
“Right.” I shook my head, trying to dispel the sense of foreboding. I told myself it was the memory of last winter solstice, nothing more. Seth and I dragged several rows of pews toward the back of the sanctuary until the seal was uncovered.
“Ready?” Seth looked at me, eager.
“Ready or not,” I said, “let’s do this.”
Seth returned to the duffel and dragged it closer to the seal. He dug out the vessel, handling it with a grave reverence. I felt a pang of empathy; Seth had as much invested in this ritual as I did. Everything he did now, he did to honor his mother. Seth placed the vessel on the center of the seal. When it connected with the stone, the vessel rang like a bell. The tone was rich, deeper than I would have thought possible from such a small object. Seth glanced back at me. Another rush of goose bumps climbed my arms. Seth walked back to the duffel bag and pulled out a small camping stove.
“Here goes nothing,” he said. He pulled the metal pot we’d pilfered from my kitchen out of the bag and set it on top of the small stove. “Could you hand me the distilled water and the flour?” he asked, lighting the stove. I pulled a thermos and the bag of flour we’d measured earlier out of the bag. The heat from the fire made a nice contrast to the cold stone floor, but didn’t do much to alleviate my unease. Seth poured the water and flour into the pot. “We need to whisk it until the mixture thickens,” Seth said. “Do you mind?”
“No problem,” I said. I searched the bag for the whisk I’d stashed there. By the time I turned back to the pot, the flour was already clumping together. I started whisking the mixture, breaking up the clumps as best I could. I was suddenly aware that Seth was the one with the detailed notes about the ritual. I had no idea how it was meant to be performed, beyond the ingredients we’d collected together. “What’s next?” I asked.
“Salt.” Seth dug in the duffle bag and pulled out a large container of salt. “Salt focuses the power of the ritual. We need to keep it directed at the center of the seal.” He peeled the seal off the spout, then upended the container over the vessel. It took three containers to fill the vessel. Seth leveled the salt off at the rim of the vessel, taking great pains not to spill a single grain. He pulled a good-sized wooden bowl and a wooden stirring spoon out of the duffle.
“Where’d you get that?” I asked. I didn’t recognize it; it wasn’t from our kitchen.
“The mall.” He met my gaze and smiled. He pulled a metal tin out of the duffle and carefully eased the top off. We’d spent hours grinding dried chamisa blossoms into a fine yellow powder. Seth poured the powder into the wooden bowl and I sighed. All that effort, for so little final product. Seth pulled another small package out of the duffle bag. “This was a little harder to find.”
“Your special order?” I asked. I’d known he ordered something, but I hadn’t seen it arrive.
“Yep. Hydrated lime powder.” Seth bit his lip, con
centrating. He measured out half a cup and mixed it into the yellow powder. “Now the tinctures.” He fished the two small tincture vials out of the duffle. Uncorking first one bottle then the next, he added a few drops of each into the powder mixture. He took up the wooden spoon and started folding the mixture together, gently distributing the moisture from the tinctures throughout the bowl. “How’s the flour coming?”
My arm was starting to get tired, so it was a little disconcerting to see there were still several clumps of flower moving through the mixture. “Needs more work,” I said.
Seth gave me an encouraging smile. We worked together in silence for 15 minutes or so, then I sat back.
“I think it’s done,” I said. Seth leaned over my shoulder to look into the pot. The flour mixture was the consistency of a smooth, thick gravy.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now for the magic.” He scooped a spoonful of the powder from his bowl into the flour mixture. A warm yellow spread into the mixture. Seth continued to add powder until the whole pot was full of the vibrant yellow-gold color.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Not bad for our first attempt at an ancient ritual, huh?” Seth grinned, then bent over and turned off the stove. “Now we wait for it to cool.”
I looked at the windows. Judging by the sky outside, the sun had risen. “Seth,” I said. He followed my gaze, and read my concern.
“It’s okay. We’ve got a little time before the sun crests the mountain.” Seth dumped the unneeded powder into the empty bag we’d used to transport the flour. Then he poured the steaming mixture from the pot into the wooden bowl slowly, letting the icy air cool the liquid as he worked. Five minutes later, the mixture was no longer steaming.
“One final ingredient,” Seth said. He met my eyes.
“Right.” I forced myself to smile. “Hand it over.”
“I’d say be careful, but...” Seth pulled a small knife out of the bag, and removed the cardboard sheath he’d taped around the blade. He’d sharpened it last night, while I’d snuck into the Guard’s house for the vessel. He gave it to me, handle first.
I took the knife, suddenly uncomfortable, awkward. “Where should I—?”
“Into the bowl,” Seth said.
I was keenly aware of him watching as I summoned my courage. This was nothing compared to what I’d gone through with Ais. So why was I so afraid?
“Screw it,” I muttered. I held my left hand over the pot and sliced the knife across my palm. It was sharper than I’d expected. Pain shot through my hand as the skin of my palm opened up like a ravine. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a torrent of blood swelled out of the wound. Instinctively, I balled my fist, jerking my hand up. Seth caught my wrist.
“Careful,” he whispered.
“Sorry,” I said. “Reflex. I’m good.” Seth released my hand. I held my hand over the pot, then unclenched my fist slightly. Another wave of pain radiated from the wound, but this time I didn’t move. Blood flowed freely from my hand, staining the golden mixture a ruddy red. I watched it with sick fascination.
“Braedyn, breathe,” Seth said, laying a hand against my shoulder.
I startled, pulling my eyes away from the pot. It felt like I was snapping out of a trance. But Seth wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were fastened on the bowl resting on the floor between us.
“Just a little longer,” he murmured. Then he sucked his breath in sharply. I looked down. The mixture was changing. It had been pure red moments ago, but now it seemed threaded through with metallic swirls. As I watched, the entire mixture took on the sheen of liquid silver, until even the drops of blood spilling from my hand seemed to transform just as they connected with the surface. “There,” Seth breathed. “Hard part’s over.” He handed me a clean white cloth. “You rest. I’ve got it from here.”
Numbly, I wrapped the cloth around my hand. Seth collected the leftover ingredients, empty bottles, and used equipment back into the duffle bag. He moved with focused purpose; no wasted motion, no hesitation.
When he’d finished packing, he picked up the wooden bowl. He walked it with extreme care to the center of the seal. As I watched, he dipped his fingers into the mixture, then laid them against the stone floor. He began to paint a series of symbols onto the seal. Every once in a while he’d stop, look at the vessel, then return to his work. By the time he was done, there was a ring of symbols gleaming darkly on the dusty stone. The bowl was almost entirely empty.
Seth stepped back to admire his work, wiping the silvery stuff off his hand. Then he joined me at the edge of the seal, crouching to look into my face. “How’s the hand?”
But I was still staring at the seal. “Is that it?” I asked.
“Yes,” Seth said, giving me an odd look. “Why?”
“I just— “ I looked at him, worried. “How are we supposed to know if it worked?” Instead of answering, Seth turned to look at the windows. The sky was full blue now. We could see the crest of the mountain, edged in gold, through the sanctuary’s windows.
“Wait for it.” Seth’s eyes locked to the crest with a burning anticipation. For a few breathless moments, we watched the mountaintop. And then the sun rose that essential hair’s breadth farther. Light speared into the sanctuary. “Now... watch.” Seth pointed down.
I let my eyes follow his gesture. The silvery glyphs Seth had painted onto the seal seemed to undulate, as if a mirage were distorting them to my eyes. And then—they receded, like water sucked deep into the cracked face of a desert after a storm. 30 seconds after the sun had touched the seal, none of the marks Seth had painted onto the stone remained.
Without warning, a powerful tugging sensation pulled me toward the seal. I let out a ragged gasp. Seth didn’t seem to hear me. It worked. The thought seemed to release something inside me. My head felt light, almost giddy.
“Does that answer your question?” Seth asked. Fierce satisfaction burned in his eyes. “Thank you, Braedyn. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
I stood, feeling shaky. Seth cupped a hand under my elbow, steadying me. I gave him a weak smile. “We make a good team.”
Seth grinned back at me. “I think we can even make it back before seven.”
“Then let’s not waste time celebrating.” I moved toward the seal.
“Wait. What are you doing?” Seth asked, catching my hand.
“We have to get the vessel back before the Guard notices it’s missing,” I said.
“No,” Seth said, alarmed. “We can’t move it. The ritual isn’t finished until moonlight falls on the seal, remember? We don’t know what moving the vessel might do, and we can’t risk disrupting the ritual.”
I looked back at the small bronze vase. If anyone noticed it was missing... Then an idea bloomed in my head. “The chest,” I said. “We can return that.”
“Yes. Good.” Seth picked up the duffle bag and tossed it over his shoulder. “Let’s get moving.” I followed Seth toward the mission’s doors, glancing back at the vessel one last time.
Moonrise couldn’t come soon enough.
Once we were back inside the town limits, Seth pulled over and let me out of the trunk. I drove the rest of the way home. Neither Seth nor I felt much like talking. We both knew we weren’t home safe until we’d made it back undetected. I killed the engine half a block away from my house and coasted down the gentle slope of our road. I pulled to a stop at the curb where I’d parked my car yesterday. Seth and I traded an anxious glance, then got out of the car. We left the duffle in the back of the car—we’d deal with that later; trying to take it in now would make sneaking inside that much harder. We were starting up the path to the front door when I saw Dad through the dining room window. He was in the kitchen, probably making coffee.
“Get back,” I hissed, pulling Seth behind a massive oak tree.
“Any ideas?” he asked.
“We can’t go in the front door.”
“I figured that much.” Seth gave me a pained look.
&nbs
p; “I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Come closer.”
Seth looked at me, questions springing into his eyes. Impatient, I pulled him close. His breath caught. I felt a stab of irritation, but I’d deal with his crush later. First things first; we had to get inside before Dad realized we were gone. I concentrated on my Lilitu wings, drawing on their power. The familiar ripping sensation spread down my back. Wings both intangible and somehow present unfurled behind me. I arched my back and felt the wings respond, stretching to their very tips. I’d never extended them fully before; the feeling took my breath away. I felt—strong wasn’t the right word. Invulnerable. Seth was watching me, intrigued.
This wasn’t the moment to lose focus. I willed the wings to curve around me, like the folds of a living cloak. Seth choked out a startled breath; from his perspective, I’d just vanished into thin air.
“Hold still,” I murmured. I willed the cloak to expand slightly, including Seth under its protection. He breathed out in amazement when he saw me standing before him again. “There. We’re hidden.” I couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice.
Seth looked uncertain. “You think we can walk through the front door without your dad noticing?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But we’re not going in the front door. Follow me.”
We walked together to the back of my house. I kept Seth cloaked from both Dad and anyone at the Guard’s house who might be watching. We reached the backyard without incident. Seth crouched beneath the window to the guest room while I reached up and tried to open the window.
“I think it’s locked,” Seth said. He looked worried.
I crouched beside him, thinking. “Okay. I’m going to climb into my room. I’ll open your window from inside. Just give me a few minutes to throw Dad off the scent.”
“Okay.” He backed partway into a hedge. It might be scratchy, but it kept him neatly screened from view.
I retreated back to the trellis leading up to my bedroom window. I picked my way gingerly through the thorns of the climbing rose up to the second floor. My window was closed but not latched. I slid it open with my palm, then eased myself inside, taking care not to fall to the floor. I pulled the pillows out from under my covers, throwing the sheets back as if I’d just gotten out of bed. I dug through my closet for a fresh shirt, pulled it on, then headed downstairs.
Incubus (The Daughters Of Lilith) Page 25
