Nightsoul

by McKenzie Hunter

  “Yes, but there’s something different. I’m not fond of the people in the Veil. Something seems off.” Maddie’s lips lifted into a tight grim smile. “I’m afraid for you,” she admitted.

  She plopped down on her bed. “I don’t want you to die. Again. It will be like losing a sister. We joke about our parents giving the middle finger to the rules of genealogy, but you are my sister. We should have grown up in the same house, not just really close by.” She attempted a playful eye roll but couldn’t quite pull it off. Her eyes glistened from the tears she blinked back.

  “Madison, my life and all the drama that has unfolded is not your mess to fix.” Guilt was making my breathing difficult and getting air nearly impossible.

  I sat next to her, covering her hand with mine. “I know me telling you to stop worrying won’t do anything to stop you. So, I’ll say this. We’re in this together. Let me share some of your burden. I’m not worried. I have a magically immune pack, gods, a kick-ass fae, and a witch on my side. Magical objects up the wazoo. Something has to work.” The level of confidence in my voice surprised me. But it wasn’t for me; I needed to comfort Madison.

  She laughed. “You have a lot of unearned confidence,” she teased.

  “Hey!” I said. “It’s not unearned. I’ve gotten out of a lot of tight things.”

  I could see the weight lifting from her as she sat up taller, her shoulders relaxed, and a small genuine smile of relief settled on her lips.

  Good, now I can hit her with the Clayton situation.

  When silence fell and she noticed me twirling a lock of hair around my fingers, her eyes narrowed on me.

  “I didn’t come here alone,” I said hurriedly. “We heard noises and rushed up here. I had no idea you’d be here in barely there shorts getting your Beyoncé on.”

  She shrugged. I’d seen her in less, and although this was my first time seeing her dance with such vitality and reckless abandonment, we were well past true embarrassment.

  “Clayton saw you,” I admitted.

  “No big deal. What, he’s never seen a person dance before?”

  That wasn’t just dancing. With those moves you looked like you were ready to headline Coachella.

  “Give me ten minutes. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  I tried to explain the reason for our visit, but she held up her hand to stop me, telling me she’d listen to and read my messages to catch up and then we’d discuss everything when she came downstairs. Stunned by how nonchalant she was, I kept a watchful eye on her as I backed out of her room, waiting for the freakout.

  It was more than ten minutes before Madison emerged, dressed in the most uninspired outfit I’d ever seen her wear and a stark contrast to what she had on before. Khaki pants and a crisp beige shirt buttoned to the very top. Her hair, despite her curly roots, had been straightened. Except for the slight glow on her face that increased each time she glanced in Clayton’s direction, she looked drab.

  Kai, a bound ball of energy, had joined us and was pacing throughout the room, taking a special interest in her bookcase. Clayton had settled on the sofa and was leafing through a book. He looked up from the book, his eyes traveling over Madison from her sensible brown slip-on shoes, her meticulously neat hair, clothes, and professionally stoic expression.

  “I liked the other outfit,” he teased. Madison’s deep copper-colored skin made it difficult to see a blush, but it was there. Pulling her attention from Clayton, she moved it in Kai’s direction, displaying the same curiosity about him as I had.

  “He’ll help you with recalling the information,” Clayton explained.

  Madison frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I can pull your memories,” Kai said.

  Oh, well, it’s worse than I thought.

  Instead of elaborating, Kai gave Madison’s home another considering look. “I like your home, it’s very neat.” Then he shot me a look.

  I’d forgotten, Kai was a neat freak with a tendency to be very vocal about telling people they were messy. My home had to give him neat attacks, assaulting his type-A sensibilities.

  Madison lived by the rule that everything had a place, a belief that could be seen most profoundly in her kitchen. Despite being used frequently, it looked as if it was just for show. The remainder of her house was just as meticulously neat. Everything from the pictures on the walls to the decorative pillows on the chairs were perfectly aligned; even the blanket over the back of the sofa was folded into a perfect square. If things weren’t on the floor, there were only a few dishes in the sink, and my shoes weren’t blocking the pathway, I considered my place clean.

  “You should have a better bookcase,” Kai said. Madison looked at me and I shrugged. How do you answer that?

  “It’s made of plywood.” That really bothered him.

  “I know. It’s cheap. I needed a bookcase and hadn’t found one I loved enough to shell out the money for.”

  “I can make you one that you’ll love.”

  Again Madison’s eyes flew in my direction like I had the Kai key. I hoped my eyes conveyed “just go with it.”

  For several moments Madison and I engaged in a series of looks, shrugs, and attempts to read each other’s lips.

  “I’d love that. Thank you,” she eventually said. It seemed like a reasonable way to respond.

  “What type of wood do you like?”

  I can answer that. The one that comes from a tree. Nailed it. Is that really something people know?

  “Maple,” she answered.

  I stand corrected. It was the first genuine look of pleasure I’d ever seen on Kai’s face. Usually his expression hovered between suppressed hyperactivity and listlessness. A slow smile eased over his lips, his tawny skin alight and his cherubic features sharpened with interest.

  Call me unimaginative, but should a discussion about wood brighten anyone’s day this much?

  “Why maple?” he inquired, his head slightly canted. Unlike what would have happened if he had asked me, Madison didn’t have the glassy look of someone who wasn’t expecting a quiz about wood.

  “I remember reading it’s easier to stain,” she told him.

  That was a beam. Kai was beaming.

  Clayton caught the change in Kai’s demeanor. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as Kai moved, in an effortless glide, to get closer to Madison.

  My life is in peril and they’re talking about wood? I looked at Clayton, Mr. You-are-a-distraction-to-Mephisto, let me intervene. Where’s the intervention now?

  Instead of stopping Kai, he just kept a careful eye on the interaction.

  “It is, but”—Kai looked around the room—“mahogany, koa, and African padauk are stronger and very fitting for this room.” Exhilaration and interest shone in Kai’s eyes and in his words.

  It’s lumber. That’s what gets you going?

  “Kai.” Clayton redirected him to the more pressing topic.

  Snapping out of his state of lumber intrigue, he gave Clayton a weak smile, which Clayton returned with a fraternal affection. Kai was a bird with clipped wings, prohibited from doing what I suspected he did often in the Veil. This was his alternative.

  As much as I didn’t want to merge the worlds or have anything to do with it, I wanted to get him back to the Veil. An unexpected twinge shot through me. Returning him to the Veil meant the same for Mephisto. I didn’t want to unpack that unexpected feeling.

  “If you remember what you saw, I can recover it,” Kai explained.

  I imagined I held the same look of bewilderment and discomfort as Madison did.

  “He has telepathic abilities. The ability to see what you see,” Clayton said.

  That only added to the confusion and unease. And a little panic. He could read our minds. Everything? How? There were so many questions, but “What?” was the only thing I managed to sputter out.

  I found myself doing a quick inventory of everything I had ever thought in Kai’s presence. It changed everything. I felt invaded and thoroughly
exposed.

  “It’s a spell that I’m more adept at performing than the others. It requires a great deal of concentration and is very difficult to do without participation.”

  “The other person must be actively involved,” Clayton clarified, perhaps still sensing our apprehension.

  “Do you agree?” Kai asked, easing toward Madison.

  She frowned. “Whatever I think about?”

  “Yes, as long as we are linked. If you only think about the book, that’s all I’ll see.” Madison’s eyes swung to Clayton, who, judging from the light in his brown eyes, was pleased by her attention. She yanked her gaze from him with a roll of her eyes and looked at me. We both attempted to ignore him biting his lips to suppress a chuckle.

  The intensity of her frown relaxed once her focus was on me. “Okay,” she said.

  A combination of relief and guilt fell over me; the only reason she’d agreed was for me. For once, I wished she wasn’t the one making the sacrifice. I mouthed a thank you and she simply shrugged as if she was saying that’s what she did.

  Kai lowered himself to the floor and asked Madison to join him. Once she was seated, Clayton pulled out their copy of Mystic Souls and a notepad from his bag. He opened the book to a page with writing that looked very similar to the spell he’d used on me, but the page was no longer blank. They’d recovered the lost spell.

  Responding to my look of curiosity, he said, “I have a good memory and Kai helped me recover the rest.” Then he quickly returned his attention to Kai and Madison.

  Kai’s voice was low and gentle as he explained the process to Madison. He reminded her that he’d be able to see everything she was thinking. It wasn’t something you had to remind a person of. Tell them once and, believe me, they’re going to remember you’re the person who can read their mind.

  He instructed her to close her eyes. When his hand covered hers, Madison’s eyes snapped back open and looked down at it.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, before saying an invocation that conjured a gust of magic so powerful my breath whooshed out. Madison gasped a ragged breath and her eyes fluttered under her lids. Tensing, Kai’s free hand grasped her unclasped one.

  A sheen of blue illumination covered Kai and expanded outward, reminding me of his wings. He continued to instruct Madison to only think of the pages from Mystic Souls that she couldn’t read.

  It took nearly an hour for Clayton to transcribe the two pages, with Kai taking several breaks to remind Madison that he was able to see everything that she was thinking about. The Cheshire grin on Clayton’s face hadn’t eased since Kai told Madison that Clayton was only there to take notes and interpret and to stop focusing on him. That led to a flushed Madison requesting a break before rushing out of the house for air.

  She returned with more resolve that did nothing to remove Clayton’s resting smirk.

  Clayton had Mystic Souls opened and compared the pages in it with the notes he’d taken. “They’re different.” He scribbled more notes, deciphering the differences in the spells. After several long moments, he turned to me.

  “Are you ready to try it?”

  “Yes,” I rushed out, without a second thought of the pain the similar spell had caused the first time.

  Again, he pulled out the knife and another granite-like slab. He pricked my extended finger and started reciting the spell when the droplet touched the slab.

  When the last words fell from Clayton, I winced in anticipation of the pain, the emergence of my enigmatic raven. But there wasn’t anything. The granite slab was intact, my skin flushed but normal, and the raven remained concealed. It was as if a spell hadn’t been cast. Clayton reviewed his work, did the comparison again, and even performed the spell again, but without success.

  “Is there a way for you to get the other Mystic Souls again?” he asked.

  The only thing I could give him was a noncommittal, disheartened, “Maybe.”

  Too many failures had taken away the last spark of hope and optimism in me. I was going to stay like this until I found the person who had restricted my magic.

  When my thoughts went to the stranger outside my apartment, I used the need to get the Mystic Souls as an excuse to leave. Feeling their eyes boring into me, I turned to give them the most encouraging look I could marshal.

  CHAPTER 19

  The drive through the city hadn’t helped. When I left Madison’s home, I thought I’d set up a meeting with Asher and make arrangements to get access to his copy of Mystic Souls. I wasn’t in any rush. I couldn’t take another demoralizing failure, and the idea of accidentally doing something as cataclysmic as releasing Ian made me want to stay far away from the book.

  Most of the day had dwindled away and I sat in the parking lot of my apartment, contemplating my next move. Calling Maddox seemed like another dead end but I’d do it. I wasn’t sure that he’d be as forthcoming as the witches, especially if Lexi, the witch in the trio, was near. Instead of calling, I sent him a text, asking if we could meet.

  Part of me wanted to be done with the whole situation. To tell the Lunar Marked coven to return the money and give Landon a “suck it up, buttercup” diatribe, return his upfront fee and even the consult fee, and walk away. Preserving my reputation didn’t seem as important as saving my life from my mother.

  But walking away wasn’t going to be that easy. Landon thought I was involved. I might be over it, but he wouldn’t be. And the Lunar Marked coven was a target. It was likely none of us were going to get out of it alive; it was just a matter of how inconspicuous he was going to be about it. The countdown clock was ticking and I wasn’t any closer to finding the AC.

  The cloak of impending destruction of my career was over me. Getting the Supernatural Task Force involved had to be my last resort, I decided as I got out of the car. I wouldn’t get Madison involved unless absolutely necessary. If I’d discovered nothing else today, it was that she needed a reprieve.

  Walking to my apartment, I tried to keep my mind on Landon and the situation, but it kept slipping to the man I’d seen earlier. My gut was telling me he was a player and that maybe… No, it was too ridiculous to even consider. I refused to give life to the words I was thinking. But it didn’t stop the possibility. My father. He could be my father.

  I tried to vanquish the thoughts as if they were a dark spell that needed to be cast out. They persisted. A few feet from my door I was confronted with the earthy scent of magic with hints of meadow and evergreen. I turned to find him. Him. Dark-brown hair with highlights of lighter hues was peppered with silver. I took him in: olive-skinned, oblong face, light eyes, sharp nose, and sharp features that mirrored my own. I squinted at his ears, looking for points, but there weren’t any. I couldn’t tamp down the feeling of familiarity and kinship.

  His tall thin frame moved with the fluid grace of someone trained in martial arts and the confidence of a person who knew he wasn’t likely to be bested. Gentle eyes. So gentle that it was difficult to keep my karambit at the ready and not relax it at my side. His eyes dropped to my weapon, but it was clear he didn’t see it as a threat.

  Why did I feel that way, too? No, this was the part of the movie where the viewers yell, “Run, dumbass.”

  I didn’t run, but I did step back several feet.

  “Peace,” he said, in a voice so melodic it was like a lullaby. It wasn’t an enchantment, just a soft gentle voice.

  “Peace, daughter,” he said, inching closer and closer, still with the same confidence but seemingly reticent for my benefit.

  I swallowed and stayed still, allowing him to approach. My grip tightened around the karambit.

  “I’m not your daughter,” I snapped. I was Gene’s daughter. This man, I didn’t know.

  I was counting the feet as he got closer. Six, five, four, three, two.

  “That’s close enough,” I commanded.

  “Of course.” He kept staring at me, his eyes taking in every inch of my face, then a smile slowly emerged.

  “You
have a lot of features that resemble your mother’s,” he said. His effort to keep his voice warm and welcoming slipped. It was now tight with shades of disappointment and anger.

  That’s what happens when you have a child with someone! They look like both the parents, you psycho-screwing whackadoodle. The question remained, was he not seeing the same person I saw every morning? He and I looked alike. Damn, did my parents look alike and it was some weird narcissistic fetish where they were indirectly having sex with themselves? Eww.

  “Your hair is dark like hers and your smile, very similar.”

  When did he see me smile?

  “How long have you been following me?” My voice was harsh and arctic cold. I didn’t mean it to come out that way, but it did and I wasn’t going to apologize. It was uncomfortable having him take inventory of me.

  “Years. I wanted to make sure you were safe.” The corners of his lips kinked up. “You smile when you have magic. You always smile when you have magic.”

  “You’re the reason I don’t,” I shot back, hoping to get confirmation of our hypothesis.

  He nodded. “It was the only way to protect you.”

  There was no relief to be found in his answer. Clutching my karambit at my side, I waited for the anger that rampaged through me to subside and the irritation to wind down. His eyes remained gentle; I was sure mine were not, narrowed on him as they were. I closed them for a moment to stop the twitching. They snapped open when Ms. Harp’s door opened and she peeked out. Instead of walking in our direction, she went to the mailbox near her door and lingered there, sorting through her mail without managing to look at it. It had to be hard to extend the sorting time of two pieces of mail.

  You’re not even trying to pretend.

  I turned my head and locked eyes with her, and my expression said: The jig is up, woman.

  Using her cane, surprisingly, in one of the patterns I showed her, and moving slowly, I knew I was wrong. She’d mastered the frail elderly voice and was laying it on rather thick with each small, careful step.

  What was she, a drama teacher?