by Brea Viragh
“I adore you too.”
“Ugh, you guys make me sick to my stomach,” Aisanna said.
Astix broke the contact and glared across the room. “Not going to apologize for the benefits I’ve reaped.” The wink was for Leo. Apparently, she was a woman who winked now.
“Yeah, okay. Maybe I can look forward to a little red-hot romance in my life soon.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Sure. Haven’t you heard? I think it’s my turn to be cursed. Nothing like being courted by the spectral embodiment of evil.” Aisanna spoke through the last bite of toast and followed Leo out the door. “Let’s go.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what really happened?” Astix called after them.
“No!”
CHAPTER 4
Another long day of solid work awaited her. Aisanna made it to the shop with hardly a minute to spare, freshly showered and—if not smelling like a rose—at least marginally cleaner. The shower helped. In the light of day, her apartment didn’t look spooky at all. Safe enough she managed to rush through a shower without incident.
The second cup of coffee she got from the shop around the corner worked miracles. They knew her by name there. How sad.
She could almost forget about what happened the night before.
The cold winter air was invigorating and she drew it down into her lungs until her throat stung. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she stared into a cloudless sky the rich blue of a robin’s egg. It was a new day and she intended to make the best of it.
She had enough time to unlock the door and sigh before Elon burst inside with a flurry of activity and color. Today, he’d decided on primary colors: red pants, blue shirt, yellow bow tie. The look shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did.
“There you are,” he called out to her, juggling his car keys and lunchbox.
“Here I am,” she responded semi-sarcastically. “Opening the shop right on time. You know me.” She took a sip of coffee. “Always on time.”
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
Before she uttered a protest, Elon moved behind the glass countertop and gathered her close, wrapping his arms around her slight frame and drawing her against his chest. His lunchbox dug into her hip.
“Do you know how frustrated it made me? To know you were alone and I couldn’t get in touch with you? Call me crazy—”
“You’re crazy.”
“—but I was concerned.”
“I left my phone at home when I went to visit my sister,” Aisanna told him, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “See? I wasn’t alone. I had company.” She pushed away, although it took several tries to get him to release her. His scent overwhelmed her—clean soap and a hint of male sweat.
It wasn’t unpleasant.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” he said softly.
“Come on, Elon, that’s enough.” Aisanna stepped back and took a moment to collect herself. His nearness set her teeth on edge, but not in a bad way. Yikes.
“I get it. I care too much.” He fixed her with a look. “It’s a family trait. Passed down in my DNA. I can’t help it. So sue me.”
Passed down like her magic, but more inconvenient. “Try to help it, will you? You need to stop worrying all the time. The stress will kill you.” She felt like death warmed over and tried not to think about it.
He was standing too close.
Just make it through the day and go from there, she decided. Work your little tush off and the rest will fall into place.
Then Elon flashed her a sweet smile and she forgot what she was thinking. “I’m used to the stress,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Then how about you take the initiative and grab the roses for the Peterman wedding.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be—”
“Elon!”
He held up his hands, side shuffling toward the walk-in refrigerator. Aisanna shook her head and allowed herself a tiny grin. There were too many balls up in the air for her to deal with Elon and his concern. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she hated working alone more than she hated his cheery optimism keeping her attention swayed. Well, hate was a strong word.
Yeah, she had issues. More than she’d thought before.
It didn’t help matters when Johan phoned to say he wouldn’t be in because of some personal business he must attend to. Short-staffed again…and Valentine’s Day looming. Aisanna operated on autopilot and watched the clock. At one point, she glanced up and noted the time. An hour later, she peeked again and only five minutes had gone by. Her head sagged to the desk, eyes closing and a groan beating at her.
“Are you okay?”
She was getting sick of hearing the question. “Yes, I’m fine. You have the flowers done for the library luncheon?”
He shot her a quick salute. “I’m on it.”
“Good. I appreciate it.” She couldn’t help chuckling when he scurried off. Maybe it was the bow tie. It was a pretty snazzy accessory.
She spared another glance at the clock and blew out a breath. After that, she stopped checking the time. It made the work go faster.
Sure, she had enough in the bank to last her the rest of her life. Opening her business hadn’t been out of necessity, but passion. If she wanted to kick up her feet and live a life of leisure, it was well within her means.
Aisanna worked for the principle. For the pleasure.
She worked for her own self-respect, her pride, her sense of accomplishment. A small, local flower boutique may seem like nothing to someone in her parents’ social circle. To her, it was the only thing in her life with meaning. She’d made it herself, from conception to execution. She’d endured the hard times where she thought about giving up and the first few months when everyone told her to give up. Five years passed, and she was now a respected member of the community with a large pool of repeat customers.
Besides, if she closed her doors, who would Elon have to boss him around? It would take the enjoyment out of life for both of them.
Funny, she actually was enjoying herself. Working with him, while frustrating in some ways, did wonders for her foul mood. She forgot about her nightmares and the faceless shadow pushing its way into her car the other night. She forgot that the Claddium still had her brother and they were on a countdown to the eclipse.
She flipped the sign to closed and happily slipped her arms through the armholes of her jacket. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Ready. Let’s go.”
Keys jingled on her ring as she locked the back door behind them. Elon stood with his hands in his pockets. “Can I please give you a ride? Wherever you want to go.”
Aisanna ducked to hide her grin. “No, thank you. I’m fine. We did good work today for being short-staffed.”
He held his hand up for a high five. “Hell yeah, we did. Hey, maybe we can get dinner together—”
“No.” She swung around in time to see him glance in the opposite direction. “Elon, I’m sorry. Boss.” She pointed to her chest, then his. “Employee. Get it?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
The downcast look on his face was so dramatic, she couldn’t help but laugh. “What? You want a raise?”
“I wouldn’t refuse,” he said, brightening.
“I’ll think about it. You worked hard today.” Before he had a chance to say more, she unlocked her car, sliding into the driver’s seat and shutting the door between them.
She waited until Elon’s taillights merged into traffic before letting out a breath. What was she going to do with that boy? You’d think years of being gently let down in the nicest of ways would dissuade him. Instead, he’d asked her out to dinner again. He would never learn.
The mechanics of her car ground together when she thrust it into gear. She pulled into traffic without checking twice and almost caused a collision with three other vehicles.
She needed to relax. To let go of her worries and the tension keeping her back as
straight as an iron rod.
Aisanna drove onto the freeway. Cars clogged each lane and chugged along, with steam rising from their tailpipes. She merged, careful to keep distance between herself and the horde.
Damn traffic, she mused, pushing frustration aside. At least the flow of congestion moved along quickly. Her foot pressed down on the pedal at a steady clip. At that rate, she would be right on time for dinner with the family. Their fifteen thousand texts during the day said they were looking forward to her company and couldn’t wait to discuss some new theories on the Harbinger.
Great, more shop talk.
A glance in her rearview mirror suddenly had her blood running cold. The shadow sat in the middle of the back seat, its vague outline female and menacing.
The figure lifted its head and Aisanna caught the hint of a smile.
We meet again.
A deafening scream tore out of her lungs. Fear, unmerciful and real, rose to choke her, and her hands rose of their own accord to cover her ears. If luck had been on her side, she would have been on her way to her quiet apartment and a steaming hot cup of tea. Instead, she was frozen solid, strapped down to the front seat of her car, and trying to muster enough wherewithal to stop the car without dying.
The wheel turned sharply to the left on tires that desperately needed balancing. With a boom, her car slammed into the SUV in the next lane.
CHAPTER 5
Aisanna walked through a boreal forest, recognizing cold-weather trees and brush. Sunlight streamed through the branches and illuminated the peeling white barks of ash and birch. Leaves caught the golden brightness and shimmered against a blinding backdrop sky of pure blue. The sun was warm on her face.
She held her breath before exhaling loudly, the frigid winter air pushed from her lungs. She drew summer inside of her in its place.
Logically, she knew this was a dream. It had the vague and ephemeral quality where nothing felt real. The colors were too vivid. The ground too soft beneath her bare feet. The air too warm and soft and perfect.
At least her mind had stilled. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other even when she didn’t know where she was going. Or why she was here.
She didn’t fear the woods. She held out her hand, and the blossoms on a nearby mountain ash bush responded instantaneously. They sprang to life in deep hues of red and rose. The vision reminded her of her mother and grandmother. The proud women of her line.
Every single bush ringing the forest floor burst into full bloom at the snap of her fingers. Although sweet mountain ash had no scent, she manipulated the flowers and lifted a blossom to her nose, drawing in the intoxicating fragrance: a combination of jasmine and honeysuckle.
It felt delicious to use her magic in this place. As natural as each breath she took, as automatic as the blood flowing through her body. She flexed her fingers and watched fern-green sparks dance along her skin.
The wind whispered through pine and spruce, creamy sunlight illuminating the autumn colors.
“You have a talent.”
A stranger spoke, his voice deep and easy. Aisanna remained calm. She recognized the cadence and rhythm of it and knew he meant no harm. The man leaned against the nearest birch tree and gazed at her through hazel eyes. With a straight nose, wide lips, and impressive cheekbones, he was attractive in the conventional sense. His looks average, ambiguous, and able to blend.
“Am I dead?” she asked him, fondling a bud until the flower grew to fit in the palm of her hand.
He shook his head and moved forward to stand beside her. His own fingertips reached out to run along a crimson petal. “No, but your body is in dire need of assistance. I’ve sent someone to your aid; it’s up to you to pull through. If you have the will.”
“She was there,” Aisanna said softly. She glanced back down at the flower and shuddered. “In the backseat of my car.”
Something about the vision made it easy to speak to the man. When she glanced over, he stood less than a foot away. The sun highlighted the tones of his hair, chestnut and mahogany. Kind eyes regarded her with a hint of paternal worry.
He spoke to her in a preternaturally powerful voice. “She’s getting stronger the closer we get to the eclipse. The veil is in tatters. There isn’t enough time to look for answers. You need to fight.”
She quirked a brow. “Do you always talk in riddles?”
He chuckled. “No, not really. I wish I could help you more. This is the best I can do without actively intervening. I’m not strong enough to step in yet, even for you. I can, however, show you the past.” He reached out until his fingertips grazed the sides of her head. “Watch. And learn.”
Stars exploded in white-hot supernovas inside her mind. She raced through time and saw the planets being born. Worlds upon worlds, different dimensions existing at the same time. Gravity reached out and took her down, the elements bending around her.
Then she focused on Earth and saw it take shape with the ability to sustain life. She saw the first humans evolving from the disorder. Those first few became many, and tribes migrated across the land masses. Then came the first with the genetic potential to wield magic. Magic, woven into the fabric of their world with tendrils stretching from the second reality imposed on top of it, separated by a thin layer of gas and ice. There was no veil then.
Those first witches and wizards were out of control, their powers ebbing and flowing like great oceans, and those without the strength to regulate their new gifts returned to the void. Magic was different then. It was light and life and crazed agony. Wars were fought over it. Children were born with identical powers of their parents, only to die within seconds of their Awakenings, unable to physically handle their magic. Leaders rose, generals among thieves, and chaos gave way to terrible times. The Dark Age.
One such leader knew something had to be done to control the flow between the two realms. To still the raging river of wild magic into something more manageable. He would not let his pride sway him from the task. He would not follow the commands of his peers, his elders telling him to accept the world as it was. He wanted a wall to separate the lands until there was no direct passage toward the ancient magicks. No way in and no way out.
He wanted his people to stop dying.
A man of flawless stealth and skill, he forged through legend and mythology to find the source of the balance. This man searched through the farthest reaches of his universe. And then he found a way.
Aisanna tried to see him and found she could only see through his eyes. He watched a thousand lights spin into a singularity. A stone. A massive stone made of the purest white and darkest black. A stone with the ability to provide a solution…at a price.
The man looked harder for an answer, unwilling to accept those consequences even if it meant success in his quest. He knew what the stone promised, just as he knew what he would lose to touch it. Though he looked harder, he saw nothing. And his wife saw only power. She turned to the stone and offered up her life, along with his. A choice she didn’t realize would be her undoing.
Then they were both lost.
Plummeting back to the present, Aisanna lost her grip on the flower and knew her time was fleeting. In this dream world of perpetual light, she felt no strain on her body. Already reality called her back. Harsh sounds interjected like a cacophony, the honking of horns and blare of a siren.
“What’s happening? What did I just see?”
The stranger’s eyes met hers, and pain spread through Aisanna when the two worlds blurred. “They got to you in time. You’re going back. Lucky for you, witches are pretty hard to kill. It will take a lot to recover from this, but I have faith. You will.”
She reached out to touch the man, her anchor to a world of goodness and peace. “Can’t I stay here?” she asked, her voice soft and distant.
Reality beckoned her until she saw only the hint of his smile left behind. “It’s not your time.”
Her world exploded in agony as she woke on a stretcher, blood drippi
ng down her face in long cherry-colored lines.
“She’s awake. Tighten the neck brace and get her in the ambulance.”
“Where am I?” she croaked out, though she may have spoken only in her mind.
The no-nonsense, thickset woman on the first responder team handled her business effectively and with forceful command. “I said to get her in the ambulance! I’ve radioed the hospital. We’ll be there in ten.”
They loaded Aisanna with efficiency, strapping her down with her limbs braced and straight, into the waiting hull of an intensely lit emergency vehicle. She wavered in and out of consciousness, aware of needles poking into her skin and drawing blood, people moving around her in a buzz of activity.
They made it to the hospital and brought her inside with little fanfare. Somewhere along the line, Aisanna gave up the fight. Oblivion drew her down into a comfortable embrace and she appreciatively stayed there.
It may have been hours or days. When she finally opened her eyes, pain met her. Greeted her like an old friend and she wished she could have stayed under a little bit longer.
“Oh, thank God! My baby! Aisanna Grace, what on earth happened to you?”
Varvara Renata Cavaldi lunged forward to embrace her daughter, jostling every bone in her body in the process. Her heart jerked painfully and Aisanna tried to respond, to tell her mother she was in agony. No sound emerged. Her head swam and the muscles of her neck contracted.
“Mom, let up. Let her up!” Tiny hands pulled the woman aside and Aisanna drew in a labored breath. “She’s been through a lot. She doesn’t need you trying to smother her.”
The light, sweet sound of her youngest sister’s voice was a balm.
The last thing Aisanna remembered was the hum of hospital machines and the drone of hundreds of voices. Thousands of smells like bleach and full-strength cleaners. When she opened her eyes now, when the fuzz lifted, she recognized the familiar walls of her childhood bedroom.
“The doctors were worried. We’ve been up with you since we insisted they bring you home.” Varvara clutched at Aisanna’s hand and situated herself on the edge of the mattress. A sob hitched in her throat. “We’re here, sweetheart. We’re here.”
