by Ashley McLeo
The ghost approached at a leisurely pace. Evelyn thought she saw the black, iris-less eyes looking her up and down, assessing her. The ghost was ten feet from her when it spoke. Its voice, airy as its form, reverberated off the stones in the room.
“It’s true,” the dark ghost began circling the cross, examining her from all angles. “I feel the power of water, untethered and relentless, flowing through your veins. I can taste the magic of home radiating from you, from the very center of you, begging to burst from your frail human casings. I see the passion in your eyes, through your fear. This time will be different my love. This time we will work together to build a better world. This time we will be together, forever.” The strange ghost came full circle to stand before Evelyn, and suddenly she knew who he was.
Evelyn shuddered as the three black gaping holes in Noro’s face dilated to the size of large, round saucers.
“My Eve has returned to me.”
Thanksgiving
Lily leaned back in her chair. She was stuffed and more relaxed than she’d been in weeks. Thanksgiving dinner had turned out better than expected with only one small mishap involving the gravy. Luckily, Brigit had purchased such an enormous bird that Annika whipped up a second batch with ease. Despite having seen multiple films and photos of a traditional American Thanksgiving, the Irish among them had goggled at the amount of food they’d made once it was all on the table.
“It didn’t seem like so much when I was writing the grocery list,” Brigit’s voice rose into a squeak as they’d sat down to eat among the scent of fresh rolls and cheesy green beans. An hour later there was substantially less food, and everyone looked ready for a huge nap.
“The wine was superb, ladies. Thank you for bringing it all the way from Oregon,” Aoife said, tilting the remainder of her glass at Selma before downing it.
“Agreed. If it wasn’t so bloody hard to find I’d switch out my French wines for Oregon pinot any day,” Mary lamented, the apples of her cheeks tinged a pretty pink.
“I suppose all that’s left is to clean up then? Lily, Sara, and I can do the bulk of it. We didn’t travel today.” Brigit rose from the table.
Lily shot a glance at Sara who stood to help, eyes glued to the floor.
Was I really that harsh? Lily sighed as she rounded the table and picked up plates.
Sara hadn’t come out of their room until the meal was on the table. Even then only at Selma’s asking, as Sara had taken a strong liking to her. She’d been silent most of the meal, speaking only when spoken to, and downing two glasses of wine.
Lily made her way across the sitting room, the only space large enough to fit their extended table, toward the combination kitchen-diner, wondering if she should say anything to Sara to lighten the mood. Her answer came as she rounded the hearth and ran into Brigit, one hand on Sara’s shoulders, the other on a chair next to Sara.
“Set those dishes in the sink and take a seat.” Brigit motioned to the chair, and Lily realized she was having an intervention.
Maybe it’s best this way. At least I don’t have to pluck up the courage to make the first move when we’re trapped in the same bedroom, she thought setting the plates in the farmhouse sink. Admitting she’d behaved badly had never been Lily’s strong suit.
“What’s all this about?” Brigit said, as Lily sat down. “I know you two haven’t been getting along these last couple weeks but not a single word to each other at dinner? Not even ‘pass the gravy’? What else happened that I don’t know about?”
“I said some hurtful things after I found out that Evelyn was going on a vacation with her boy toy this weekend.”
Brigit’s eyes widened, but she remained silent, a cue Lily took to continue.
In for a penny . . . Lily thought hurling herself into a web of thoughts she’d been considering over dinner.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Sara. It wasn’t my intention, and I regret it. I’m just so mad at Evelyn I could explode, and it’s seeping into all my other relationships. I know you want to keep your ties to her open, and I can’t blame you for that. I would've responded better to the weekend away thing if the phone calls between you two weren’t hidden from me. I’ll probably still be a little mad until Evelyn comes back and I can take out my anger in person, but I don’t want to lose you in the meantime. Can we start over? Pretend today, at least, didn’t happen?”
Sara gave Lily a watery smile. “I’d like that.” Her voice was rough from what Lily assumed was a day of crying. “I didn’t like hiding that I was talking to Evelyn from you either. It felt wrong, deceitful even, but you were already so angry at her. I didn’t want to make you madder. As long as you don’t mind that I talk to her, I can forgive everything you said. But I’m not going to hurt one sister to appease the other. That’s not how I want my relationships with my sisters to work.”
There was truth there. Lily knew it. No one at the cottage would intentionally hurt her, and it was time for her to reciprocate that example. To let go of the anger that had simmered beside her sadness since Em’s death and use it for something greater. And how selfish of me to want Sara to not talk to Evelyn! I mean, what kind of person thinks like that? Lily shook her head at her own childishness. “Deal. Talk to her all you want. Evelyn and I will sort out our differences whenever she returns.”
“Aye, there we are. That’s the sisterly love I’d hoped to see my first Thanksgiving. What do you say you two hug it out and then we’ll get to work? I wasn’t kidding about all those dishes,” Brigit said, leaving them to finish their kumbaya moment.
“Thanks for forgiving me so easily. I don’t know how you do it. You’re always so willing to see the best in people,” Lily said, extending her arms for a hug.
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Sara muttered, and Lily’s heart ached for the loveless childhood she knew her sister had experienced.
“At least sharing a bedroom tonight won’t be so awkward now,” Lily said squeezing her sister tight.
Sara squeezed her back.
They split and rose to help Brigit. Constant sounds of merriment floated in from the sitting room and Lily grinned. It was nice to have her family here and the interactions between old and new feel natural. Like her entire life was finally melding together. Almost . . . Lily amended, as an image of Evelyn popped into her mind.
Sara hung back, clearing the mountain of grocery bags and general debris thrown in a haphazard pile near the hearth to maximize space for food prep. Lily rolled up her sleeves and made her way into the kitchen. They cleaned with a renewed sense of peace as laughter and chatter filtered in from the sitting room to weave with Brigit’s low humming, the anthem to their work.
Brigit was drying dishes and Lily was wiping down the last counter when she noticed Sara, standing with her head cocked to the side by the fire, a folded bag in one hand, a piece of paper in the other.
“Alright, Sara?” Brigit asked, noticing Lily’s sudden pause and following her gaze to Sara.
“This fell out of one of the grocery bags I was folding up. It’s for you, Mom, but I don’t recognize the handwriting.” Sara held out an envelope.
Brigit wiped her hands dry on her apron and glanced at the handwriting. “Ah, that looks like Nora’s writing. I’ll bet it’s instructions on how to prepare that sweet potato dish she always raves about after being in the States. She always worries, but we managed without her pretty well,” she said taking the envelope and ripping it open.
Brigit’s hands stilled as she unfolded the paper. “It’s . . . it’s a letter,” she said, brow furrowing in concern, her eyes moving rapidly down the page.
A letter? Why wouldn’t Nora just call? She can’t be so sick she can’t talk on the phone. “What does it say?” Lily asked, her interest piqued.
“Goddess be,” Brigit whispered. The fear in her voice undeniable.
“What’s wrong? Is Nora alright? She said it was only a flu,” Sara asked rushing to catch Brigit as she fell against the counter.
&nbs
p; “The fecking spy. Nora . . . Evelyn . . . she’s in danger.” Brigit seized a handful of hair before swiveling around as if in search of something. She jerked to a stop and covered the length of the room in seconds, grabbed the phone from where it sat on the windowsill and punched in a number.
“The spy? Which one’s in danger? Both?” Lily gasped.
Brigit said nothing. The ringing on the other end was audible from where Lily stood, and Sara and Lily waited with bated breath to see who would pick up. A voice answered. Lily thought she heard the word Locksley Enterprises and then a beep.
Brigit slammed the phone in the cradle. “They have her. They took my daughter.” She swept into the sitting room without another word.
She’d seen the note, passed around the room to everyone present at least twice, and still Lily couldn’t fathom how it came to be that Nora, Brigit’s best friend since childhood, was the spy.
Nora had been the one to give up Lily’s identity. The one who stayed in the room with the tunnel in Empusa’s Alexandrian mansion. She was responsible for Em’s death. Even worse, Nora felt justified in her decisions. The note Nora had written made that clear. It passed into Lily’s hands once more and she looked down to read it again, hoping to find some semblance of a joke or even that she’d hallucinated the blue swoops and soft lines.
* * *
Dearest Brigit,
You are my oldest and best friend. It is because of our history that writing this letter is not easy. We’ve grown together from young witchlings with no power to speak of into women grown. It is amazing how we have changed. In truth, I’d never expected such power to come from you when we were younger, but you surprised me, in more ways than one. The biggest surprise of all was the birth of your daughters, and how you chose to interpret it. Your decision to hide them away has flabbergasted me from the start though I tried to trust your judgement in the matter. Later, your decision astounded me for other reasons.
Now I know better and I can no longer try and make sense of what isn’t sensible. It is time for me to make my feelings known and with that my place in the battle between our world and the world of our magical ancestors. I’ll admit I didn’t believe in fata for the longest time. Like most witches I thought of them as little more than a myth, but these past few years have opened my eyes. I was approached and shown all that our kind will soon be capable of. How we will grow in power and status under the new regime. We, as witches, will acquire special rankings above the humans and will learn fata magic. From what I’ve heard, once a fata acclimates to Earth, the fata is as powerful as ten strong witches. Though there are not many here yet, they will come and when they do, you will want to have been on the right side of history. You will not want to feel their wrath, dear friend, and I do not want you to. I beg you to change your stance. We are all from the same line, best friends and family. Family shouldn’t fight.
With that news, I want you to know that we have detained your daughter, Evelyn. I've spoken well of her power, how well rounded she is, and while Evelyn is not the most skilled of your daughters, she may have the most raw magic. Water witches are lucky to live on Earth and experience much raw elemental power to pull from. I’m hoping that as a pragmatic businesswoman she will see the benefits a new regime on our planet can bring. The benefits you closed yourself off from. I for one see little that humans have done right with our world and am sure the fata can do better.
I urge your daughters to see the light too. Lily and Sara, if you are reading this, know you may be instrumental in changing the fate of all supernaturals on Earth. Noro (on behalf of Dimia, future King of Earth) is willing to spare your loved ones from any of the lower-ranking tasks they have deemed appropriate for less-fortunate souls. You may keep them as your personal entourage as reward for a job well done. In this way all you love will be cared for. I beg you to join myself, other witches, and creatures who have seen the light as an Acolyte of Hecate, our ancestral home and magical mother. While Evelyn will be of some help, we will need you, too. I sincerely hope I have helped sway you to the side of our ancestors. We will be awaiting your arrival in the city where dreams are made true.
Your friend,
Nora
Acolyte of Hecate, First Order
* * *
Lily looked up from the letter. Brigit was weeping uncontrollably, her sisters gathered round her trying to comfort Brigit, though they didn’t seem much better off. Lily had a few close friends, but none she counted as family, not like Nora was to Brigit. She had no one her age she’d grown up with, went through the toughest of times with, and leaned on through it all.
And that wasn’t even factoring in the fear and guilt Brigit was feeling from Evelyn’s abduction. Her daughter was abducted and her best friend had made it happen, Lily thought watching Brigit’s trembling body.
Her mind swung to Evelyn, taken, held against her will by Noro and his Acolytes. At least Nora’s letter answers one question. Noro is still here. The pit in Lily’s stomach deepened. No matter how mad she was at Evelyn, or how little she trusted her at times, blood recognized blood. Especially when that blood had been abducted by aliens. We must find her.
She tore her eyes from the McKay women and found Rena staring back at her. Hard lines fell deep in the dark skin of Rena’s face and her generous lips pulled tight at their corners. In that moment it would not have surprised Lily if Rena ripped off her shirt to reveal the intricate girdle of an Amazon, one breast bared. She was a warrior queen.
“What are we going to do?” Lily asked the mother she’d known all her life.
There was a pause, a moment between them, and only the far off echo of a crow cawing in the woods was able to penetrate it. Lily shivered and Rena exhaled deeply.
“We’re going to find your sister and kill the bastards that took her.”
Burning Blood
The door opened slowly and with a prolonged creak.
Evelyn crouched, hidden at the side of the door, ready to ambush Noro.
All I need is a tiny opening and a good shot, she thought extending her hands out as best she could without ripping open the long gash that ran down her right triceps.
She’d taken the hits for a day, been Noro’s plaything, and attempted the fata magic he forced her to try or face the punishment, but Evelyn didn’t plan on doing it again.
“Good morning, Eve!” Noro called out, his voice jubilant as he floated through the door.
Evelyn pounced.
“Lotu! Dionean!” She forced the body binding spell out of her, followed a heartbeat later by a stunning spell for good measure.
To Evelyn’s horror, the spells rebounded back inside her. Her body stiffened and then collapsed against the wall as her first spell hit and she became a victim of her own magic. Her brows knit together. How am I still standing if my stunning spell rebounded back inside me?
Then a heat surged through her arteries and veins as her blood began to burn inside her.
“Ah! Ahhh!” Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut and wished for nothing other than the blackness of unconsciousness.
“My children told you that would happen and yet, you still thought it prudent to try. Did you think I’d forget to reset the enchantments on this room? I would never forget such a thing,” Noro’s voice simmered with anger.
Evelyn flew twenty feet backwards through the air and slammed against a wall. The naked skin on her back split open, slowly releasing the magic burning in her blood into the air. Her blood cooled and her body loosened, no longer bound or stunned. It figures that injury to myself is the only way to find relief here.
“I love you, Eve, but I will not tolerate this type of disobedience. Do you understand?”
Evelyn sat up and a sharp pain shot from her tailbone to her skull.
Noro was there, inches from her, looking her in the eyes, his navy hue dark and furious. His form was stretched out, making him feet taller than he’d been just the day before, yet still amorphous, as if fata skin was not solid enough to confi
ne a fata’s insides to a shape.
A stray rock found its way into her hand and Evelyn swiped at Noro. Her expression faltered when the fata flowed out of the way of her loaded hand, like a water balloon that hit the ground but would not break.
Noro retaliated, his airy limb hardening in an instant to the match the texture of stone.
Her jaw cracked and Evelyn screamed.
Noro, not wasting a minute and uncaring of her injury, levitated her to the cross she’d hung upon hours before.
Glass, Copper, and Hysteria
The crowds at JFK International Airport parted before the witches rushing through the terminal as if engineered by magic. It had been two excruciating days since the witches’ Thanksgiving celebration ended in the worst way possible. Unable to reach Evelyn or her parents and beg access to the Locksley’s jet, the McKays, Rena, Annika, and Selma were at the scheduling whims of international airlines, a conglomerate so large and complicated even magic was little help. To make things more difficult, Brigit—who’d become short and emotional with anyone who crossed her—insisted they all fly together. Only Fiona stayed behind to look after two of her terminally ill clients until another witch could make the journey to their remote village and act as healer in her stead.
“I would have bet everything I owned that Nora was a trustworthy, steadfast friend. But I was wrong and I refuse to give the Acolytes of Hecate any way to weaken our position further. An Acolyte could be anywhere, waiting to pounce when one of us strays. We stick together,” Brigit decreed when Aoife dared to suggest that Brigit go ahead with Mary and Gwenn to scout out the New York scene.
Lily, for one, was relieved that Brigit had put her foot down. She felt safer traveling in a larger group, though none were sitting next to each other on the flight. The situation suited Lily, allowing her time alone to think without the insecurity of being completely alone. And she had a lot to think about.
