by Wendy Owens
“I suppose I am,” Gabe replied reluctantly.
“Then what are you doing here? Do you realize every gun for hire in the Underworld would kill you without a moment’s hesitation?” Kryn asked.
“I do, sir.”
“Then answer me, what are you doing here?”
“Nothing was left for me where I came from, I suppose I’m just trying to figure out what to do now.”
“You picked a hell of a place to do it!” Kryn snapped.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be gone before nightfall. I wouldn’t want the trackers to trace my thoughts here if I were to fall asleep.”
“What? Where in the hell is your helmet?” Kryn asked.
“My what?”
“Boy, what rock have you been under? Didn’t anyone teach you anything where you came from? Clarite you can go, I’ll take it from here, and you can check in on him later. Go and make sure Baylor is all right,” Kryn instructed the young girl.
Sophie moved to one side to ensure the girl did not bump into her invisible body hidden outside the doorway.
She listened, waiting for the man and Gabe’s conversation to come to an end and for them to part so that she could reveal herself. She would beg him to come home, the clerics spells would keep them safe as they slept, and they could pick up where they left off.
Instead, she heard something much worse. At first, the man explained who he was and some survival things Gabe could do to help protect himself, surprisingly some things even new to Sophie. But then the conversation turned, Gabe began talking about Rampart and his experiences. He did not retell the incidents that happened with the fondness Sophie assumed he would. His words were accusatory and full of pain. Before long, it became clear Gabe was not as happy at Rampart as Sophie thought he was.
His words were full of hatred and venom; each story he shared was worse than the last. She was having trouble believing it was even him saying them. He went on about how Michael was a murdered, killing one of his own friends in cold blood. Her heart sank, wondering how he could be capable of viewing Anthony’s death in such a way. Sophie didn’t wait to hear the rest of Gabe’s new found ideas about where he came from. She closed her eyes, wasting no time returning to the spot she had transported from.
Sophie wasn’t sure what to do with the information she had just witnessed. She debated on telling her friends, but that would also mean she would have to reveal that her memories had returned, something she wasn’t ready to do until she sorted her feelings out about Gabe.
She decided she would keep it all to herself, at least for now. Scooping up the spell book, she made her way to the library, returning it from the shelf she had originally retrieved it from. She would continue checking in on Gabe, and if the Gabe she had fallen in love with seemed to resurface, she would ask him to return with her.
Pushing past the cold, stiff branch, Dina paused, attempting to regain her bearings. She had never ventured so far into the woods outside of Rampart. With the demons looming so close, she found herself on edge, waves of anxiety washing over her. Every snapped twig or strange animal cackle had her holding her breath with anticipation. She assumed by now she would have found the witch’s cabin, but not knowing in fact how far within the forest the woman dwelled, she could not be confident.
Students at Rampart were always warned to stay away from the witch, hearing tales of her dark magic and how it can only lead to disaster. For Madame Laveau and casters like her, there was no black or white, good or evil. For her, the line was much more blurry. The grayness which she existed in, gave her the freedom to dabble in any kind of magic she preferred. Magic fueled by the light is far different than dark magic.
Dina remembered her magical defenses class very well and the lessons that were heavily stressed. In class they learned practical things, like how to defend yourself from evil creatures, but they also studied the dark arts and details about the people who practiced them. There were always the curious students who would ask too many questions, causing the professor to continually stress the forbidden nature of the craft for guardians.
When one uses dark magic, there is always a consequence, a price. Just as with good magic, the source of power that fuels the spell has to come from somewhere. With the guardians and their magic, they were given abilities that were a blessing from God, and therefore their magic was divine. There was no such power source able to fuel dark magic. Instead, with each spell, a price is paid; a price that varies based on the intensity of the spell. This can lead to unimaginable powers, but with devastating repercussions.
One story which had stuck with Dina all these years, and haunted her, especially now, was about a timeless romance. A woman had fallen madly in love with a handsome young man. Though she was thirty years his senior, the man was equally in love. For him, age did not matter.
However, as time passed, the woman became obsessed with the gap in their age. She was sure that as she grew older, her handsome young lover would find someone closer to his own age to shower his attentions on. This obsession led her to seek out a spell from a woman in her town who was known to dabble in witchcraft.
Though she was warned that a price would be paid for her youth, the woman insisted she needed the spell. Given a concoction, she was thrilled to think she had found the answer, the fountain of youth. She guzzled the elixir down without a thought and peered into the mirror for hours, waiting for any sign of the sands of time flowing backwards. Much to her disappointment, nothing happened; at least not until she cried herself to sleep, for when she awoke the next day, half her years had disappeared.
Thrilled with the transformation and elated to show her beloved, she went to seek him out. Much to her dismay, he was not at any of the places he should have been; concerned he might be ill, she went to his home. There she found the withered body of an elderly man in the bed of her beloved. It quickly became clear that for every year which faded from her, two were added to his life. While she slept, the wrinkles faded from around her eyes, the skin on her neck tightened, and the spots on her hands disappeared. While she slept, her one true love was changing, aging to the point where he passed away from old age. Ravaged by guilt and losing the only chance at happiness she had because she sought answers in dark magic, the woman took her life.
In a way, the cautionary tale kept reminding Dina of Raimie. She feared she might be doing just the same, bringing herself more pain by seeking an answer. But the alternative is unbearable, she thought. An existence without Raimie wasn’t something she could even bring herself to think about. She had given her life to fight for mankind, for the greater good; she tried to assure herself that this meant the price would not be as great. Dina only needed a healing spell, and if Raimie were well, he would be protecting people. That had to justify the use of dark magic.
“Stop right there or I will blow a hole through the back of your head,” a woman’s thick, Cajun-accented voice called out from behind Dina.
She froze. Thinking quickly, she began to raise her hands, open palms into the air. “I’m sorry, I got turned around in these woods, I’m afraid I’m lost.”
“Shut your mouth and turn around very slowly,” the woman demanded.
Dina did as she was told, careful to make sure she made no sudden movements. With the swipe of a hand she could render the woman unconscious, but she thought it would be best to not create any unnecessary signatures of magic with so many demons nearby.
“I didn’t mean any harm, If you’ll just let me be on my—”
“Do you take me for an idiot? Child, I could tell you were a Guardian from a mile away.”
Dina’s stomach sank as she realized she was staring directly at the woman she had been seeking. The daylight had slipped away and the moon now hung in the sky, lighting the witch’s eerie features. Her hair was raven black, matted with large knots and tangles. Her eyes were sunken, almost appearing hollow in the evening light. The witch’s lips were so thin they almost disappeared, and her skin glowed blue it was so pale.
Though her appearance was unsettling, there was something hauntingly beautiful about her, as well.
“Madame Laveau?” Dina said after clearing her throat.
The woman lowered the rifle to her side, placing her free hand on her hip. “Not like this will do any good against one of you.”
“You’re her, aren’t you?” Dina attempted to confirm.
The woman didn’t answer; instead she turned and began walking away from Dina.
“Wait, where are you going?” she asked, giving chase.
“You’re welcome to stay out here, but with all the dark lord’s creatures roaming about, I’m not.”
“So, you know what happened to Rampart?”
“Damn fool I was, some plan that turned out to be.” the woman responded, though Dina felt she was more talking to herself than anyone else.
Dina followed silently until a tiny shack came into view. There was a small door in the front and only one window along a side of the structure.
“What do you mean? If you don’t mind me asking, that is,” Dina finally interjected into the silence.
“Do you think people would want to meddle with some crazy old lady when she has an army of Guardians camped out in her backyard?”
“Wait, I don’t understand. You live here because you want our protection or something?”
“Have I ever asked for protection, child? Not very bright, are ya? Sometimes all you have to have is the appearance of protection for people to let ya be.” The old witch entered her home, not turning around or saying anything else to Dina as she did.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, may I enter?” she asked, standing on the pathetic excuse for a porch.
“You’re a Guardian, seems to me you can do anything you want,” the woman replied, stoking the embers of her fire.
Dina entered cautiously, unsure what to make of the woman’s remarks. “You don’t think a lot of us, do you?”
“Suppose I don’t think about you either way. I don’t really care; I concern myself with my own business. Can’t live as many years as I have if you mess in other folk’s affairs.”
“How old are you?” As Dina asked the question, she wondered if the same don’t ask a woman’s age rule applied to magical beings.
“You sure do ask a lot of questions.” the woman remarked, looking Dina up and down.
“I’m sorry, was that rude?”
“Does it matter?” the woman asked, not bothering to shift her gaze.
“All-righty then,” Dina groaned, rolling her eyes.
“I’m guessing you weren’t lost, care to share why you’re here, or do you just want to keep trying to make small talk?”
“Not much for manners, are you? What makes you think I want something?” Dina asked, still trying to figure out exactly what she was seeking herself.
“So, more small talk then,” the woman replied, taking a seat in a wicker rocking chair. Dina watched her as she rocked to and fro, noting how she seemed like an elderly grandmother in her movements, yet her appearance was young.
“Fine— but I don’t know what you’re looking for. I’m not sure why I’m here myself.”
“People usually don’t seek me out unless they already know what they want from me,” she said, now intensely staring at Dina as she rocked slowly. “They may not want to admit why they seek me, but they know.”
“I suppose,” Dina replied thoughtfully. “Well— I guess I somewhat know. You apparently already know about the attack on Rampart. And— umm— during the attack, someone I care about was injured.”
“That’s no problem for your type. You can just heal them,” the woman snarled as if disgusted by the ease of which Dina’s abilities came to her.
Dina instantly felt her defenses rise, appalled that this stranger, this lesser being who dabbled in dark magic, dared to speak to her in such a way. Guardians were admired and respected throughout the world. “It’s not always that easy, if you must know. I was told he’s too far gone for any of our healing spells or potions to work.”
“A beau is it?” the witch asked with a grin.
“Excuse me?”
“You said he, it’s your beau who death has one hand on.”
“Death does not have a hand on him!” Dina snapped.
“We both know you wouldn’t be here if he weren’t headed to the afterlife,”
Dina paused. There was nothing she could say, the witch was right. Her voice shifted to a plea. “Madame Laveau, can you help?”
“I might be able to be persuaded to.”
“Persuaded?” Dina questioned.
“If I help you, what’s in it for me?”
Suddenly, it became clear exactly what the woman was getting at. “What do you want?”
“What’cha got?” the witch asked, leaning forward.
“I don’t know, not much on me, just some potions and my daggers,” Dina answered, pulling the enchanted heirlooms from the waistband of her pants.
“What good do enchanted weapons do me, child? I can’t use those. What else you got?”
“I really don’t have anything else on me,” Dina insisted, taking a step forward and trying to show the woman she was sincere. “I can bring you something back later. Anything you want, you just name it.”
“You don’t need to leave to give me what I want. You have payment enough right here.”
“I don’t understand— if not my weapons, then what?”
“I’ll take your hair and— I also want to bleed you,” the woman replied matter-of-fact.
“What?” Dina asked puzzled.
“You’re a Guardian. Your blood and hair could make a lot of magic.”
Dina pondered her words, and then decided to make an offer. “I will give you my hair, but I will not let you bleed me. I’ll be too weak to get back to the person I need this spell for if you take my blood, and time is to precious to waste recovering right now.”
The witch considered the proposal, sizing up the girl through squinted eyes. “You need to know, if we strike this deal, there’s no changing your mind. This kind of magic isn’t like your Tinker Bell, fairy dust you’re used to. For dark magic, a price must be paid.”
“Yes, I know, I know. I would be happy to give you my hair in exchange for your help.”
“Very well, you can shave your head while I collect everything you will need to cast the spell.”
“Wait, you’re not going to cast it?”
“Oh, no honey, not even I would mess with a spell this costly.”
“Wait, what do you mean costly? It will take more than my hair?” Dina’s chest began to ache; a dread loomed around her, fearful of what she might be getting herself into.
“Your hair is my price. Dark magic has a way of wanting more than most people are willing to offer. One never knows exactly what will come out of the spell until after.”
“Will it kill me?” Dina asked, fear creeping into her voice.
“Could,” the witch answered in a very matter-of-fact way.
It’s too late to turn back now, you love him. If saving him costs you your own life, so be it. He would do it for you, Dina thought.
“Where’s the razor?” Dina asked with an intense conviction.
“Oh, honey, you don’t really have to shave it, to the ears should be fine. I was just messing with you when I said that. Not a peep from ya though; you must really love whoever this is for!” the witch called out over her shoulders.
“More than you could ever know,” Dina murmured. “My hair is the least of my concerns, but if to the ears will suffice, then that’s what I’ll give you.”
As Dina snipped through her locks of hair, she did her best to not think about what the witch might use the strands for. It was easier to pretend she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Instead, she focused on her beloved and the fact that she would soon be returning him to health. Something in her mind allowed her to accept that such an immense right act justified all of the bad she was doing to achieve the results.
Dina rarely used multiple transportation spells in one day and in doing so, they had begun to take their toll as she struggled to keep her eyes open. In addition to the taxing spells, she now had to walk the several miles back to Iron Gate. Even with the exhaustion, Dina refused to slow down, pushing hard and using what little energy she had left to enhance her traveling speed.
When she finally returned, it was obviously meal time. A make-shift soup kitchen line had been created just outside of the dining area and the masses were gathered, patiently waiting to receive their allotment of sustenance. Dina couldn’t help but grin, her timing was absolutely perfect, she couldn’t have planned it any better had she tried. She would use the busy time around camp as a disguise to sneak past any of her peers that may be looking for her.
She passed by the throngs of people, food the only thought on their minds, without anyone noticing her. Pushing her way through the dense crowd, she broke through to the other side where she was easily able to make her way to the infirmary. Now the hard part, she would need to slip in and retrieve Raimie’s body. Not an easy feat for someone of her stature.
Dina walked into the main room, looking around briefly for anyone she recognized; she noticed Uri was no longer in his cot. Without her friends around, there would be no one to meddle in her plans. Slipping back out into the hall, she quietly entered into the room where Raimie still rested. Dina sighed as she saw him, still in a deep sleep, too deep for her liking.
