Everwish: The Primati Witches Book One

by Amelia Oz

  The tern gave another trill and took flight, orbiting once before gliding into the distance, outlined against the moon-bright sky. Mira, Silvan and I shared a look. She cocked her head in Thomas’ direction and raised a finger to her temple, rolling it like a propeller, the international gesture for bat-shit crazy. Silvan emphatically nodded. I couldn't disagree.

  Thomas was up in a flash; suddenly so close I recognized his soap brand.

  "Come. We don't have much time. He thinks Mira and Silvan are okay and it’s not like I have a choice now." I'd always thought there was something a little off about Thomas. I'd put it down to his being a little eccentric. Right now, I was worried something was clinically wrong with him.

  "Hurry," he yelled and ran back the way we’d come. Mira grinned so wide the moonlight glinted from her gold tooth. Silvan pulled his small pocket knife out and waved it at me. Right. We could probably take him if he tried to murder us.

  Thomas breached the outer circle of stones and took off towards the cliff, the three of us following at a slower pace. He waited with his hand upon the bark of a large hemlock tree.

  "This is going to sound crazy...," he began. Mira gave a snort.

  His body stiffened. "This would have been easier if you'd come alone," he accused. I shrugged and glanced at Mira meaningfully. Behave.

  "I need you to place your hands on this mountain hemlock. You guys, too." He nodded towards my cousins. I blinked when Mira complied without an argument. She was surprisingly turning into my ride-or-die chick, tonight. Silvan stood with hands in his pockets until he saw me also lean into the tree. His sigh carried, though.

  "I can get us through, but it will make things go faster if you could visualize the experience. I've been told you have some power," he said with a grin as he took a position next to me.

  Power...Me? I scanned the area, half expecting a prank camera crew to jump out. If he totally cracked and asked us to sing Kumbaya they would never let me hear the end of this.

  "Keep both hands on the tree. No matter what, don't remove them. It would help if you could hug the trunk a bit. No? Okay." That last was directed to Mira, who I couldn't see.

  The rough bark actually felt good, and I rested my cheek against it, suddenly tired. I was both a dendrophile and a pluviophile—someone who loved rain and trees. They brought me peace in ways I never found in the company of people.

  “Imagine you are melting into the tree. That you are following me, and we are becoming one with the tree..." Mira laughed, forcing my own smile. The night was beyond surreal.

  "... Imagine its resin and bark, the pulse of life within its roots. Imagine our veins as just another root system. Smell the bark, feel its surface as it holds us..."

  Relaxed, I allowed myself to be lulled by the imagery Thomas evoked.

  I focused on the tree and a floating sensation took over, similar to deep meditation. My skin felt stretched and soft, expansive as a marshmallow over flame. The scent of hemlock resin filled my senses.

  A new presence seemed to fill the void, an awareness that was different. Something much bigger than myself. So many sensations it was hard to pinpoint just one. The ruffle of wind, the rich loam of earth, the high bird trill that accompanied my journey.

  "Do you feel that, Sil—" I opened my eyes, but Thomas was gone and Mira’s laughter came from behind me.

  "No freakin’ way," Mira's voice called out.

  Of course, she would refuse to play along. Thomas could probably teach meditation classes—he had mad skills, but it was very late, and this was going nowhere.

  My hands stuck to the tree until, with an odd leaching sensation, I pulled free.

  Turning, my knees weakened and I fell back against the tree. The Neolithic copy of Stonehenge had disappeared. The entire area had disappeared. No more Columbia River.

  We stood in a small grassy field, surrounded by thick forest. The sky had morphed into a canopy of leaves and twisted tree roots that formed a dense canopy overhead. Tiny white lights fluttered like moving stars beneath the dome. They cast a gentle glow onto the clearing where we stood beneath the hemlock’s branches. I turned round and round in amazement, taking in the shades of springtime green. Silvan sat upon tender grass that blanketed the ground in an emerald carpet.

  Mira danced in a circle, her head thrown back and arms outstretched like a child as she ogled the lights and leafy roof above. Thomas watched her with a bemused look on his face. "Huh. That worked," he muttered.

  Thomas smiled at me. A huge grin that recalled the awkward, friendly Thomas who made study flash cards for us and told the same stupid joke about chickens in four languages.

  "Welcome to my grove. Time moves much slower here. I think we might have an hour before we need to go back." He said this matter-of-factly. Because didn't we all have our own magical grove accessible by hugging enormous trees?

  "Right." I pinched the tender skin of my forearm. Ouch.

  Thomas held up a hand, a cautious worry in his eyes.

  "Before you ask, Amanda is not here. She and her family are in hiding."

  I stopped in my tracks. "Hiding? But she left me the note about fake Stonehenge. You were waiting." One step forward and three back. I stomped my foot, infuriated.

  "Amanda asked me to tell you what I could. I'm breaking, like, a million rules right now," he explained defensively. I gritted my teeth. Oh, I was about to break something, all right.

  Silvan approached us and pointed at our twirling cousin.

  “What’s wrong with her?” he asked Thomas.

  Thomas dusted off his hands. "She's just a little punch-drunk from the transfer. It happens to some people the first few times. It'll wear off." Silvan scowled but I got out my phone and took some video footage of her. You never knew when stuff like that came in handy.

  “So, is Amanda in danger?" Silvan asked.

  "Yes—and no." He pushed his hair from his forehead and adjusted his eyeglasses.

  "Stella—trust me—Amanda is more worried about you being in danger. Can you please let me get to what she wants me to tell you?" Annoyed by his tone, I motioned for him to begin spilling his guts.

  "Not here. Follow me." Thomas walked in the opposite direction, and for the first time I noticed a canvas shelter about a hundred yards away. It resembled an African dome tent, its walls illuminated with lamplight from within.

  Mira skipped after him. "This is the shit, Thomas. Do you have a girlfriend?"

  Thomas ignored her even when she continued to pepper him with questions.

  I followed more slowly, inhaling the oxygen-rich air. As they bounded ahead of me, a high-pitched keening sound came from above. The artic tern landed at my feet, cocking his head this way and that as he inspected me. I crouched down and held my palm up at ground level. The bird chirped sharply in admonishment before flying away. As he launched skyward, something fell into my hand. Surprised, I examined a small glass pebble. I turned it over and over before tucking it into my pocket and hurrying to where Thomas held the tent flap. I crossed the threshold and staggered. What had appeared as a simple tent from the outside had transformed into an enormous tower on the inside.

  Wood gleamed from the floors and walls. My feet shuffled in a circle while I gazed upwards in awe. There were too many floors to count, each with an elaborate railing separating the circular floors from the tower's open center. The ground floor held thick wooden tables and chairs reminiscent of a university library.

  Thomas gestured to some chairs. "Please sit. We don't have time to waste." We sank into armchairs as Thomas reached over his head and snapped his fingers. Vines dropped out of thin air, lowering a large whiteboard. Mira shouted an expletive, and I agreed with her. This was beyond odd. I pinched my lips between my fingertips and felt a tacky substance. A terrible thought arose. Sam and I had watched a detective show once where the villain coated drinking glasses with hallucinogenic drugs.

  "Thomas, my hands are still sticky from tou
ching the tree. It could be resin but are you sure we're not drugged right now? I mean, this is pretty strange. If you intend any harm whatsoever, please know that I will kill you—and then Mira's family will line up to skin you. Understand?"

  Thomas crossed his arms. He glanced at Mira who nodded her head vigorously in agreement before she mimicked a gun exploding into her temple. He frowned.

  "Stella, I promise—you are not drugged. The transfer can make some people nutty for a few minutes, but it does not cause you to see things. This place is real. It is mine alone and I promise you will come to no harm here.

  "I want you to know that what I am revealing is bound by the highest secrecy. Never tell a single soul about this. If you do, death will follow." That last was directed towards Mira with an emphasis on "death" that reminded me of the hunchback in the Princess Bride. "Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line."

  Mira smirked as she sat with folded arms, meeting his hard gaze.

  "This is a little too D&D for me—but I won't tell," she affirmed.

  Thomas cleared his voice and stood up straight. His eyeglasses were clean for once, revealing green eyes and dark eyebrows.

  "Stella, you’re cursed."

  "Start with a softball, why don't cha." muttered Mira.

  My conversation earlier with Sam still fresh, I froze in my seat. He had mentioned curses, too. What had he said? My parent's accident had been caused by a curse.

  "In fact, the women in your family have been cursed for fifteen generations, originating with Lila, may she rest in splendor."

  Behind him, the whiteboard's surface slowly filled with curling lines and writing. A family tree began to appear, names appearing in flourishes. At the bottom, I watched as the calligraphic handwriting completed a name I recognized as my own.

  I rose and moved closer, unable to help myself. I checked behind the screen yet saw no wires or mechanical devices. Silvan appeared next to me, pointing at the names above my own. Vivian and Lasho. I didn't recognize the others.

  The family tree began with a single name, lovingly rendered in scrolling font. Lila.

  I tried to laugh, but what I was seeing was too bizarre. Can you pinch yourself and feel it in a dream? Maybe I was asleep in the car right this very moment. The family tree disappeared with a wave of Thomas's hand.

  An outline of a palace with spires began to form, its sprawling shape surrounding three tall trees within a walled garden. Their branches rose high, leaves curling. Thomas began to speak, reciting words as if from an invisible teleprompter.

  "Once upon a time the archangel Michael fell in love with a human so kind that he could not resist her grace and loving heart. A daughter, Isabeau, was born of their bond. This was just before the Creator banned such unions.

  "This daughter was beautiful and gentle of spirit...also poor and taken into slavery. The Ottoman empire at that time was geographically vast, with women from Egypt, Greece, Romania and as far as Italy taken as wives and concubines against their will. Michael could do nothing. The Creator made it clear that the heavenly host were forbidden to interfere with the women and men of God. Isabeau grew up unaware of her parentage, vulnerable to the sufferings of all humankind but without the power to help even herself.

  "The daughter's loveliness and exquisite voice brought her much attention, and she was taken as a slave to the Ottoman palace of Sultan Mehmet, intended as a gift. With her gift of song, kind nature and knowledge of languages, Isabeau soon captured the interest of the jaded Sultan, becoming his fifth wife.

  "In those days, the highest position for a woman was to be the mother of the Sultan. She was allowed to manage everyone in the Sultan’s harem. For this reason, the harem, home to wives and concubines, was a place of dark intrigue as the women plotted to have their own son become the eldest and next Sultan.

  “The only males allowed in the harem were the Sultan's children, eunuchs, and the Sultan himself. With hundreds of wives and concubines, many boys were poisoned by jealous women who wanted their own son to become favored. Can you imagine how these sons must have been driven mad with isolation and paranoia? Their mothers tried to protect them from rivals by locking them in opulent rooms with only teachers and a royal taster for company."

  "Throw in a bunch of paints and chocolate and that sounds like Stella's idea of a good time," Mira snickered.

  "It was no laughing matter.” Thomas scowled.

  "Sultan Mehmet came to love Isabeau deeply. Although she was not a first or second wife, nor a Muslim, he allowed her great privileges. He granted her the right to study and learn from foreign teachers alongside his sons. Later, she attended palace meetings by his side, an indulgence his viziers hated, but could not protest without offending the Sultan.

  "Isabeau bore the sultan one son and they named him Abbas, Arabic for the fiercest lion in a pride. A child so precocious he quickly became the light of his father's life and he grew up adored within the harem. He worshiped his older brothers, especially the second oldest son, Murad. Everywhere Murad went, Abbas tried to follow. The Sultan’s love for his wife and son caused great worry for his mother. She felt her influence slipping as he refused to see other wives and turned to Isabeau for counsel.

  "To eliminate the threat to her power, the Sultan's mother decided to poison Abbas with sugared almonds laced with arsenic. You see, the Sultan's mother, titled the Valide Sultan, intended to hold her position for a very long time. Mehmet was frequently on the battlefield and likely to die an early death. She wanted her favorite grandson, the Sultan's eldest son, a spoiled and pampered man easily manipulated, to become the next Sultan. The eldest son had a weak-minded mother, and the Valide Sultan knew she could easily wrest control of the harem from her when the time came. The Valide Sultan chose to act when Mehmet was away, Isabeau was alone and Abbas vulnerable."

  "She's got nothing on our Grandmother. Mahari would gut any one of us for a cigarette," I grumbled. Mira turned and flipped me the bird and I returned the gesture with two hands.

  "Oh, my God.” Thomas flicked his gaze from me to his watch pointedly.

  “Can you children behave, please?” Silvan asked dryly.

  "We don’t have much time. Stop interrupting,” Thomas chided before continuing.

  "It was true that since Isabeau joined their household, Sultan Mehmet was not listening to his mother’s advice. The Valide Sultan feared that Mehmet would change the law and make Abbas, his favorite son, his heir. She refused to allow Isabeau to take that power.

  "Isabeau discovered Abbas with the poisoned dates. The Sultan's physicians were called, yet helpless to save him from the potent poison. Isabeau's tears fell as diamonds, such was her grief. She carried her son's body outside, next to the harem's tiled pool and beneath the stars. She called out in her beautiful voice, begging the heavens to take her life and spare her child. As she was Archangel Michael's daughter, this sacrifice was no small offering. The exchange of her life for his was accepted and the Creator breathed life into the boy.”

  "This is some sad shit," Mira said crudely, arms and ankles crossed. "Please tell me there is a happier ending?" Thomas pretended not to hear. His lips moved as if reciting lines from a script and then he began again.

  "As Isabeau, the only child of Archangel Michael, fell in death, her love and sacrifice affected the heavens. Isabeau’s soul would become an immortal star until she chose to cross over. The thirteen stars of Orion came to collect Isabeau’s earthly body. Twelve daughters and one son made up their constellation. By the grace of their mother, the Goddess Danu, they entered the harem garden in human form through the great Oriental Plane trees. This was a sacred ceremony. As they wrapped Isabeau's body in gossamer sheets and carried her away, Abbas awoke to find his favorite brother Murad home from war and his mother gone. The archangel Michael appeared in human form and spoke words to the brothers before he departed as well.

  "And this is where your story begins, Stella."

  "B
egins?" Mira gave an incredulous hoot. I nodded at Thomas to keep going.

  Chapter 10

  Fire

  Alaric

  ow dare you," Clara hissed. It wasn't her appearance that worried me. With her ponytail, purple t-shirt with—was that a Frankenstein emoji?—and fluffy pants, she looked more like a petulant teenager than the deadly Primati she actually was. I eyed her wrists, rotating at her sides. Sparks flung pink energy daggers from her aura and dripped from her clenched hands. I sighed. This was not going to be a quick conversation.

  "Didn't you get my apology?" I asked, annoyed at the disruption. My hotel suite had the best view, but the sitting area was too small for an angry Clara. If I had to move to another room while repairs were made to this one, it would really put me out.

  She stopped the dangerous motions of her hands and crossed her arms.

  "Do you mean the delivery from Lorraine Schwartz? Do I seem a cliché to you? Rubies and diamonds are so eighties." She tugged on a sparkling earlobe and I noticed her rings. I sighed inwardly. The agent was supposed to have delivered a choice of the rare diamonds or rubies to Clara. She'd apparently decided to keep both.

  "Did you have to break Bromely's neck? It took the last of my dragon yew to mend her vertebrae, and she's still walking around with a cervical collar."

  I imagined Bromely in a medical collar. "Don't you dare smirk about it." Her voice shook with fury. Clara in a rage was both entertaining and lethal. On the other hand, dragon yew was extraordinarily difficult to obtain. The tree only grew in a remote area of the demon plane and was protected by hellcats.

  "Clara, you know I wouldn't seriously injure one of yours. I knew by her aura that she was strong enough to survive, and I made sure it was quick and painless. She required a lesson."

  Clara growled, and I frowned at her overreaction.

  "If I wanted the nosy little witch dead dead, she would not be walking around with a stiff neck," I warned lightly.