Betrayal Foretold: Descended of Dragons, Book 3

by Jen Crane

  “It’s a journal, a record-keeping of spells and wards. A recipe book for magic, so to speak.” Abia’s hands shook with excitement as she reached toward the worn, brown cover.

  “Do you think what you’re looking for is there?” I asked. “Do you really think he’d write down something so important?”

  “I don’t know,” Gresham said. “But he tried to destroy the grimoire before he died. As Gaspare and I forced our way into his room, he threw it into the fire and chanted like the devil himself was after him.” Gresham absently rubbed his arms, which had broken into goosebumps as he recalled the memory. “There’s something in there he never wanted found. And likely, there are a great many things he’d prefer left uncovered. That man was evil to his core, and no one knows better than me.”

  “Talbot was always a little dark,” said Abia gently. “He began experimenting with dark magic when we were young. ‘There’s so much raw power left untapped,’ he once told me. Everyone warned him against tinkering with a dark force. He knew the risks, he knew the flames of dark power could engulf him, but once he experienced its unmatched strength, he played with fire anyway. Over the centuries, he became a master. And ever more reclusive and evil.”

  Gresham approached the grimoire slowly. He extended and drew back his hand before he said, “Like a Band-Aid,” and flipped the cover open wide.

  “You act as if you’ve never read it,” Abia sounded amused.

  “I haven’t. I’ve no desire to know more of the evil that man cultivated. I thought to destroy it centuries ago, and many times since. But anything Talbot wanted destroyed must have a purpose.” He set his jaw and nodded. “And here we are.”

  The three of us gathered around the book, me in the middle. Being so near Gresham was unnerving and, I was pleased to discover, unwelcome. I wiggled to gain a little space, and then affixed my attention firmly on the grimoire.

  “How will we know which one it is?” I whispered as Abia flipped through the pages of the soft parchment. “There must be hundreds of entries.”

  “My guess,” Abia said, her lips pursed in concentration, “is it’s this one.” She tapped a page-long entry of symbols and measurements in a language I couldn’t even begin to understand.

  “What makes you think that’s it?” I asked.

  “See this symbol?” She pointed to what resembled a crudely-drawn eight-point star with a circle both inside and around it. “This is the symbol for omni.”

  If Gresham’s sharp intake of breath and labored moan didn’t indicate bad news, then his sudden pacing and ensuing string of curses certainly did.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He looked up and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe the luck. Or lack thereof.

  “Gods, no,” Abia moaned. “I was afraid of something like this.”

  “Will someone tell me what the big deal is?”

  “He’s tied the curse to Malu.”

  “Oh no,” I said, my voice echoing their distraught tones. “Wait. What’s Malu?”

  Chapter 24

  Abia backed away from the text and poured more tea. She shot frequent glances in the book’s direction, as if she couldn’t determine her next course of action. Gresham’s dark hair was a spiky mess from stabbing his fingers through it. The pair’s distress was evident and I didn’t press further. It was clear they were coming to terms with the situation.

  Abia let out a long breath, the faintest of her diving whistle escaping as she exhaled. “Talbot has tied the curse that prevents people from different species from producing children to a dark power. He wove a spell that tied the curse to something that has lurked below the surface of our world since the beginning of time. Malu.”

  “I’ve never heard of that. Is it like the devil I grew up hearing about who makes good people do bad things—a fallen angel who guards a lake of eternal fire and tortures unbaptized children?”

  “What?” Abia asked, aghast.

  “Just repeating what I’ve heard…”

  “Malu draws on the darkness of Thayer, of its people,” Gresham said. “It thrives on malicious intent and violent tendencies. Apparently Talbot found a way to tie a curse to this evil that sucked happiness, love, and the gift of omni children from Thayer.”

  “Is there any way to know if your blood was actually used? Any way to know if that awful memory of yours is related?”

  “There’s a symbol for blood here, and a blurry scratch of something I can’t make out.”

  “Oh. Well, what now?”

  Gresham looked to Abia and then took the lead. “I think—and Ms. Pike, please correct me if you disagree—I think we should proceed under the assumption that it was my blood added to the curse. And since Talbot is dead, mine is that tied to the curse and to,” he swallowed thickly, “to Malu.”

  “I think you’re right, Rowan,” Abia said gently.

  “That’s awful!” I looked to Gresham then to Abia. “Can we…stop it? Is there some way to counteract or null it?”

  “This thing is complicated,” she said. “It’s going to take time to decipher. Once we understand it, then we can try to remove the curse. But it’s not as simple as saying a few words or burning incense. There’s a calculation, a formula. A spell all its own must be created to disable it. That’s why Emelie has been working for so long to no avail.”

  “Don’t you think we should bring her in, now that we have some proof your theory is likely true?”

  She blew breath from puffed cheeks. “I do. Yes, it’s time. We need any advantage we can get, and her expertise can’t be ignored.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Gaspare shot from the same abused chair Gresham had earlier occupied.

  Emelie covered her face and shook her head as the three of us explained Abia’s theory, the grimoire, and Gresham’s childhood memories.

  “Of course,” Emelie said. “Of course. From the moment Abia told me children were once possible for interspecies couples, I have worked to discover the science and the spell behind it. I considered that it was a blood tie, but ruled out the possibility because the curse stood even after Talbot’s death. My gods.” She looked up at him. “Rowan may be the key.” Emelie chewed her lip, her eyes glazing as her mind ran over the implications of this new information.

  “I thought you’d probably like to get started right away,” Abia said.

  “Yes. Let’s meet at my lab first thing tomorrow morning,” Emelie said.

  “Ah. Guys,” I said. “That’s going be a problem. Abia can’t leave Topaz.”

  The thought suddenly struck me that perhaps an answer to Abia’s woes could also be found in Talbot’s grimoire, and I made a mental note to discuss it with her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” said Emelie. “Though honestly, if it’s as you say, a lab is the wrong place for this type of work anyway.”

  “That’s settled,” Abia said. “Tomorrow we set to work here to right the world.”

  When I traced to Abia’s at the appointed time the next morning, she and Emelie stood over the grimoire. Emelie was copying notes from the text and Abia held another large book that was practically disintegrating from age and use.

  “Did I get the time wrong?” I asked the two and sat my coffee mug on the kitchen table.

  “I couldn’t sleep.” Emelie’s blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun and the faintest of shadows formed under her steel gray eyes. “I came at daylight. Luckily, Abia was already up.”

  “We’ve been at it for hours,” Abia said. “Not much closer to an answer for all of our effort.”

  I heard Gaspare and Gresham outside, and within moments, the five of us stood inside Abia’s small home. “The best thing to do, I think, is to jump right in,” Abia said. Gaspare didn’t just get his leadership tendencies from his father, it seemed. Abia barked orders and the rest of us hopped to obey them.

  “Emelie, as you study the grimoire, will you also work on translating it so Stella can understand?”


  Emelie nodded, her killer smile peeking from just beneath her lips.

  “Gaspare, I need you to borrow from Radix’s library that list of books I made on the table. We need them for research.”

  “You don’t think it’ll draw notice that I’m nosing around the school library for old books?”

  “Well, you’re the least conspicuous of all of us! Who would you have go? Everyone thinks you killed Stella. Gresham, I understand, is extremely unpopular from the fallout of that night. Emelie’s a citizen of Pearl and your best-kept secret, and I can’t leave Topaz.”

  “What a bunch of outcasts we are,” Gresham said with a laugh. “Looks like you’re up, G.”

  “I told you not to call me that, Rowan.”

  “Well, you’re no longer my employer. Consequently, I find I no longer give a damn what you tell me.”

  “I’m still the prime minister,” Gaspare grumbled and folded his arms over his chest.

  “Ewan can do it,” I said. “He’d certainly attract the least attention roaming the libraries at Radix.”

  “Clever girl,” Abia said. “Of course. Gaspare, acquire the books from Ewan and bring them here.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Gaspare said in a very un-prime minister-y way.

  “And me, Ms. Pike? What can I do?” Gresham asked.

  “Grab those tubes and take samples of your blood for our experiments. Stella, you’ll assist me.”

  Gresham sneered at the tubes, but wisely obeyed. Everyone set to work. Emelie pulled up a chair and began her translation as Abia busied herself about the house looking for tools and inspecting the contents of small, dusty glass bottles. I observed, giddy with the prospect of something important to do.

  The fourth time he growled, Abia jerked off her reading glasses and stared in Gresham’s direction. “Oh, for gods’ sake, Rowan. It’s just a needle. Take it outside. I can’t concentrate with your incessant whining.”

  I snorted loudly, earning me censorious looks from both Abia and Gresham.

  “It’s not as easy as it looks,” he pouted and walked toward the front door.

  The withering look Abia gave his retreating back indicated just how helpless she found him to be. “Stella, you go help him.”

  I followed Gresham outside, where he sat with his arm propped on a table near Abia’s old shed.

  “Here, let me.” I sat on the chair opposite and wrapped the wide rubber band around his bicep as he pushed up the sleeve of his blue shirt. Facing him like that, I was forced into his personal space, leaning toward him to tie the band around his thick arm.

  I felt the same pressure on my brain that I first experienced months ago when meeting Rowan Gresham for the first time. A slight tingling at the edges of my mind, as if he was trying to coerce me into something. I looked up to find him centimeters from my face, his gaze intent on mine, flashing to my lips and back up to my eyes.

  I was warm, too warm, and felt my mind relax, my body moving even closer to his.

  With a shake of my head, I scooted back in my chair and blew out a breath. Gresham straightened, but didn’t look up, suddenly engrossed in the work on his arm.

  “Gresham.” When he didn’t look up at me, I called his name again. “Gresham?”

  He finally met my eyes. His were unrepentant.

  “It can’t be like that between us, Gresham. Not anymore. Not ever.”

  “Are you in love with him?” The question was unexpected, and not one I wanted to answer. I turned away from him and stood up.

  “Are you in love with him?” he repeated. “The wolf?”

  It was not that I didn’t want to be in love. It’s not even that I didn’t think I was. What I wanted was to be absolutely certain. To me, love came with a commitment. Love meant forever. Love was a monogamous and unbreakable bond. If I was in love, I was committing to a partnership, not something to be entered into lightly or said in a moment of passion.

  “I think so,” I whispered and sat back down. “I’m so sorry.”

  I don’t know why I apologized. Maybe it was the look of unguarded anguish that crossed his steely face.

  Gresham looked to the sea for several moments before resuming his unreadable mask.

  A person only wears a mask when they have something to hide, and so I tried to put my feelings into words. He deserved an explanation, some finality. “It’s just…how can I make you understand? Me and Ewan…it feels right. I know he’s the one for me, I just know it in my soul.”

  Gresham closed his blue eyes. My words had hurt him.

  “I understand,” he said after a while. “I don’t want it to be so, but I understand. I had what you have once, and I know there’s no substitute.” His eyes closed again, a weary sadness evident even in his exhale. “Though you were the closest I ever came to replacing it.”

  “I’m so sorry about your wife. I never…you never said you were married.”

  Gresham’s mood darkened, as did the morning sky. He leaned up and made a jerky attempt to tighten the band around his arm, but couldn’t pull it with only one hand and grunted in frustration. I sat and returned to my job, tightening the band and handing him the needle.

  “She died a long time ago. A very long time. But Joelle…was…everything…to me.”

  A gull called overhead and he watched it glide on the breeze before it disappeared.

  “I said I would never remarry. I knew there was no one else for me. But for a moment…for a little while….I thought just maybe I had a chance of knowing that happiness again.”

  Tears fell from my eyes against my will. I sniffed and looked away, trying desperately to dry the betraying things, but it was no use. I let the tears fall hot on my cheeks, mirroring the single one shed by Rowan Gresham.

  Chapter 25

  They’d heard everything. I knew they had. The shocked, raw looks on Abia and Emelie’s faces said as much. I scowled at Abia and shook my head. I did not want to discuss it.

  “Here, let me take those vials,” she said stiffly.

  Gaspare popped into the small kitchen. I yelped and lost my balance, stumbling into the counter. “Aren’t you supposed to do that outside,” I grumbled.

  “Of my mother’s house? When she knows I’m coming?” He shook his head as if I was ridiculous.

  “Did you get them?” Abia rubbed her palms together. “Did he find the books I asked for?”

  “I think so,” he said and hefted the dusty tomes onto the table. “No one’s laid a hand on these in ages. What are you looking for?”

  Abia fingered through the thick pages of a particularly thick book, her face tight with concentration. She didn’t answer. I don’t think she even heard the question.

  Gresham slipped in to join us. Making a conscious effort not to look at someone always has the opposite effect, in my experience. Though there was nothing else I could do, I tried to will his pain away, watching his every move for signs of improvement.

  “How’s it going?” Gaspare asked me and Emelie when it was clear Abia was otherwise engaged.

  “Almost done,” she said. “It’s difficult to translate the exact meanings of some things, especially since they coincide with symbols and drawings. But I think Stella will get the gist once I’m finished.”

  “Thank you for doing it. I want to be a part of this, no matter how small,” I said.

  “Here it is!” Abia yelled triumphantly.

  “What?” we all asked at once.

  She laid the big book back on the table near the grimoire. “See this?” she pointed to a primitive yet malevolent-looking symbol of a melting—or more accurately, dying—heart. “This is the symbol for Malu. The word is even written beneath it. And this drop is obviously blood. I couldn’t reconcile the next symbol, but this guide Gaspare brought had older variations of symbols.”

  She pointed to another image scribbled in beside the original text. “This is ‘son.’ ‘Blood of the son.’”

  A vacuum of sorrow sucked the air from the room. The only sound was
the coarse crashing of waves against the beach and Gresham’s measured breaths. In. Pause. Out. Pause. In. Pause. Out.

  “It’s true,” I whispered and clasped Gresham’s forearm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “At least we know the way forward,” he said stiffly, peeling my fingers from his arm before tracing away.

  “How was your day?” Ewan asked after kissing me like he hadn’t seen me in weeks. We were still making up for lost time, it seemed.

  “I had one hell of a crazy day,” I said when I found my vocal chords. “We’ve begun work on reversing Talbot’s curse. Everyone has a role to play, and it’s going to take us all. We confirmed the curse is probably tied to Gresham’s blood,” I said sadly.

  “Damn. What now?”

  “There are a lot of moving parts with this thing. It’s like a recipe. Abia is working to gather all of the ingredients while the rest of us learn the very difficult techniques required to pull it all together for a finished product. Essentially, we have to re-create the dish—the curse—and then deconstruct it.”

  “What else can I do to help?” Ewan asked. “I have to go to class, but I’m free in the evenings.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything you can do right now. Mostly I just watch the professionals work. But my God, what an experience. If we do this, if we’re successful, Thayer will never be the same.”

  “It could mean the world to so many people. Boone and Timbra, especially.”

  I nodded, lost in thought. Of course, my two friends were at the forefront of my mind during this ordeal. Boone was descended of great dogs; Timbra from a noble line of deer. I didn’t know how Boone’s family felt about the relationship, but Timbra’s family—her father in particular—had been outraged. Most people in Thayer held the belief that if two people couldn’t conceive a child, the relationship was unnatural. But I knew their love to be pure and kind, generous and absolute.

  “How are they, anyway?” It turned my stomach to stone to know they suffered emotional pain because they thought I’d died that night. The fact that Gaspare left me no choice in the matter didn’t make me feel better at all. They hurt, I hurt. It’s what friends do.