by Brea Viragh
“So…our two worlds occupy the same space but are separated by the veil. Here’s a thought. What if there wasn’t always a veil? What if the wall came later?” Astix paused for a moment before saying, “What if the man and woman succeeded in their mission?”
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with my brand.”
“Darkness,” Karsia said. “She told you she was the veil. Right? If we know her history, we know how to stop her. Whatever she wrote on your skin has something to do with her creation. I know it.”
Astix nodded. “Not half bad, K. It makes sense. I just wonder how they managed such a monumental fucking task. On their own, even if they were witches with the genetic capability to handle the raw magic, they couldn’t have generated enough oomph to become elementals. Not on their own.”
Elementals, Aisanna thought. That’s what Darkness had said as well. Still, she found it hard to believe, her cynicism palpable. “I stopped believing in fairy tales when I was a child.”
“How did she go from a real flesh and blood person to evil incarnate?” Astix murmured. “That’s my question. Did the professor’s papers tell you anything else?”
“Nope. I’ll keep working on finding a translation for the brand.” Karsia clapped her hands on her knees. “It’s connected. I feel it. I think we should find a middle ground before we start choosing sides.” She ticked off the points on her fingers. “We work on the script. Then we find the Harbinger. Then we banish the bitch. At least we have a starting point, which means we can go from there. I think we should look for a better comprehensive translation spell in Dad’s library.”
Astix shook her head. “I’m not going in there. Bad enough I went in to get the research books I did. It’s like a hoarder’s paradise.”
“Let’s make his being a pack rat an advantage,” Karsia insisted. “He doesn’t throw anything away. He must have books and journals we can use.”
It was clear Astix didn’t like the idea. Still, she nodded and rose to her feet. “You’ll need help.”
Aisanna limped behind her sisters as they made their way into Thorvald’s study.
Rich panels of mahogany wood lined the walls on three sides of the room. A feature wall of gold-patterned wallpaper lent visual interest and reflected the light of the sun every afternoon.
Bookshelves held a series of leather-bound books, a few paperbacks, and an assortment of knickknacks to make any collector proud. The scent of freshly imported cigars mixed with the smell of wood from the fireplace, shoe polish, and old books. A thoroughly masculine room.
Karsia ran her hand along the edge of the desk and came up with a finger full of dull grey dust. “Dad actually lives like this?” she commented, surveying the loosely organized chaos, rubbing the dust bunnies on her pants. “How did I not know? This is disgusting.”
“Well, this is what happens when no one else is allowed inside the room.” Aisanna walked to the nearest shelf to survey the titles.
Indeed, her father kept the majority of his important papers hidden in the private confines of his office and would not permit anyone, least of all his family, to enter.
His inner sanctum.
“You two take the desk.”
Astix kicked at a gold-filigreed trash bin filled with crumpled bits of paper and discarded food containers. “I don’t know if I want to start digging. There could be dead rats and other things in there. Candy wrappers from his secret stash. Mummified remains of possums that crept inside.”
“He’s gonna mummify us if he finds out we infiltrated his private lair.”
“You and your imagination,” Aisanna responded, though she felt the same way. “Just get to work.”
CHAPTER 13
Twenty minutes later they had a considerable pile started in the middle of the room and little actual substance. It amazed Aisanna how much crap her father saved. In normal company, he appeared fastidious and prim. The rule of life in the Cavaldi household was to present a stoic outer façade to the world. Never let them see you cry was Thorvald’s motto growing up.
Here, in his study, an opposite picture formed.
It made her reconsider her father’s character more than she wanted. Things were not always what they seemed.
Karsia found a box of nearly empty dark chocolate truffles and tossed one to Aisanna, who popped it in her mouth and chewed. Still tasty and fresh, so not everything in here was ancient. That at least was heartening.
The girls moved through a mass of newspaper clippings detailing his illustrious career as a bank manager, and their mother’s humble beginnings when she’d dabbled in a stage career, which had never amounted to anything due to an unfortunate case of no talent.
There were pieces of artwork from their childhood, and scribbled notes of crayon detailing their love for their parents or grandparents or each other. Thorvald saved each one and not exactly with the care they warranted. Some they found stored in file folders, while others were mashed between books or shoved underneath paperweights.
“What are you girls doing?”
All three jumped, turning around at the sound of their mother’s voice. Varvara leaned against the doorjamb with one hip thrust to the side, her small figure clothed in a white sweater and matching pants. Her black hair was swept to the top of her head in an elegant braid, her lips painted pale pink.
She stared at them with an amused sparkle in her gaze. “You know your father killed the last living thing to enter this room besides himself.”
Karsia rolled her eyes. “Rats don’t count, Mom.”
“Still, I repeat, what are you doing? You better get out before he comes in and sees you. Luckily, I have him bringing bags inside through the back. You’re lucky he wanted to go shopping after breakfast.”
Aisanna swept the book behind her back although the jig was up. “We’re going.”
Varvara crooked her finger. “You. Come here.”
“Me?”
“Don’t play coy, Aisanna.”
There was absolutely no way out of the situation. Aisanna hung her head and moved toward her mother. Chastised. With the other girls waiting behind her, trying not to look like they were snooping, she began, “Look, I know this is about the other night.”
“I told you to take care of the problem,” Varvara hissed, her voice low and her tone an odd mixture of compassion and frustration. “First, let me say I told you so. Working that closely with humans is bound to cause trouble. Do you understand now?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Second, I’m going to assume you’ve taken care of the problem. One way or another. I don’t need to tell you it will be trouble for us if this man opens his mouth.”
“I’ve taken care of it. He won’t say a word. He’s kind and caring,” Aisanna said deliberately. “A decent man.”
“Is he your…” The word seemed to stick in her throat. “Boyfriend? Are you and—”
“Elon.”
“Are you and Elon involved?”
“Mom, no! I’m just trying to tell you he’s a good man. And if you try to turn him in to the Claddium, I’ll—” She didn’t have a plausible threat or a thought beyond warning her mother to drop the subject.
“If, for some reason, there is something going on between the two of you…you’ll need to end it. You need to cut things off with this man before you drag him any further down the merry primrose path.”
Even though Aisanna knew her mother was right, she resented the statement. “That is awfully closed-minded of you.”
Varvara shook her head. “It has nothing to do with being closed-minded. Which I’m not, by the way. I’m trying to give you a good piece of advice. The same one my mother gave me. You need to break things off with your human before it gets too serious. There are too many balls up in the air to involve him. And even if there weren’t, I would still warn you to back away.”
“I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you,” Aisanna said through clenched teeth, “but there’s nothing goin
g on. I swear it.”
“I’m not questioning you. You’re an adult. I’m simply saying that to continue with him is to curse him. Darkness is not rising, sweetheart, it’s here. And you’re a witch. A powerful witch.”
“Being with me is not a curse.” Why was she this willing to defend her involvement? Things with Elon were casual. A one-time deal. Right?
Right.
“That’s not what I said.” Varvara sighed and reached out to run her hand down her daughter’s cheek. “Just end it. Before it comes back on him. Once we figure a way out of this mess, once Darkness is defeated permanently, then what you do with him is your business.” It was clear she thought little of the idea. “You can have all the mad human sex you want, until you can’t walk.”
“God, you’re lewd.”
“I want your head in the game. Your sisters and brother need your head in the game. Because if she takes one of them, then there is little we can do except pray. And I’ve never been the praying type.”
Aisanna straightened her back. “Fine. I understand.”
Varvara wasn’t often surprised, and she didn’t care for it. Which was probably why surprises didn’t happen often around her. The force of feeling she’d seen in Aisanna’s eyes was more intense, more intimate than she’d expected. Especially considering her arrangement with Israel James.
She should have been prepared for it. She knew love could take many twists and turns. Each action caused an equal reaction. Fate was not something that could be denied, and even now, believing in fate, she couldn’t imagine Elon Fayer being chosen for her daughter.
What in the goddess’s name could she do to make this right? Aisanna was bound to a human. Bound when she needed her power to defeat the chaos ahead.
Instead of another warning, or an argument, Varvara grasped her oldest daughter’s shoulders and squeezed lovingly. Then she addressed them all. “Now, girls. If you’re looking for information, you know better than this.” Varvara scowled and looked around at the mess. “It’s a needle in a haystack and now you have cleanup to deal with.”
Astix raised her eyebrow. “And you have a better idea?”
Varvara smiled, beckoning for them to follow her. “I may. You should know better than to think there’s anything valuable in here. We keep the good stuff locked up.” She bent forward, hands on hips, and when she spoke, it was business. “We don’t say a word of this to your father. He’s been upset about the little…interruption…on Imbolc. I had to promise to take him antique shopping to calm down. If you would come with me, please.”
Seeing nothing better to do, and leaving the clutter in place, they followed her upstairs. Aisanna ignored Karsia’s helping hand though she moved slowly.
Varvara turned to make sure her girls were behind her. She stretched her shoulders, taking the stairs two at a time in her excitement. “I’m sure you know your father throws nothing out. I let him have the office to do what he pleases as long as he keeps the rest of the house neat and tidy. It’s my only requirement.”
“You mean your housekeeper keeps the house tidy.” Astix could not help the jab at her mother.
Varvara scowled. “You hush. I’m not ashamed to hire help. In any case, the important papers and spells require special attention. Certainly not the half-assed ministrations of Thorvald Cavaldi.”
She came to a halt at the dead end of the hallway. Bedrooms stood behind closed doors on either side.
“I think this house may be too big for you, Mother. You’re getting lost.” Astix put her hands on her hips and looked longingly back the way they came, anxious.
Instead of answering, Varvara pressed her hand to the wall panel and pushed down hard. After several clicks, a tumbler turned and the entire piece of wood swung out on hidden hinges.
“This has wards from both your grandmothers set in place,” she told them. “Anything important is kept here instead of in a safe. It’s…safer.”
“Pun-ier is what I think you meant to say.”
“I’ll ignore that. Any information you are looking for would be here. I keep the bank records, insurance papers, you name it. Birth certificates, marriage certificate—” She paused, drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Her hands rose, fingers dancing in a complicated rhythm in the air. “The wards draw their power from my blood and soul. Passed down from generation to generation.”
A green hue, so rich and dusky it was almost blue, raced from her fingertips along her arms until it engulfed her entire upper half. The spell dissipated within seconds and the final tumbler clicked into place. The wall itself opened with a sigh of dry, musty air.
Varvara opened her eyes, controlled power evident in every line of her body. “Go ahead. Take a look.”
The square alcove was about the size of a full-length cheval mirror, with alternating elbow-deep shelves. Most were packed with neatly organized file folders and small metal boxes. There were dried herbs. Crystals charged and ready to work.
Varvara thrust her arm toward one shelf, and when she withdrew it her dainty hand clutched a large dusty tome. She drew in a breath and blew to uncover a title printed in careful calligraphy.
“The Cavaldi Birthright…for your perusal. If you can read the writing.” She ran a painted fingertip along the words and faded title. “I’ve never been able to. It contains spells older than any of us can remember.”
“Dating back to, say, the Dark Ages?” Karsia asked hopefully.
Varvara shrugged. “I don’t know. There are some in here in a language I’m not sure exists anymore. Here, take it.”
Aisanna held out her hands to receive the book, cradling it like a newborn child. “Where did you get this?”
“Your grandmother, my mother-in-law. She entrusted it to me for safekeeping when her health took a turn for the worse. I’ve never read it, mind you, but it tracks the witches and wizards of the Cavaldi line. Whatever it is you girls are looking for, it could be there. It’s worth a shot.”
The book surprised Aisanna with its heft. She brought it close and hugged it tight against her chest. Scents of ink, dust, and age assaulted her and she drew them in. Yes, this could hold the answers. Something about it spoke to her and she felt a tingling along her scalp line.
Varvara studied her girls carefully. “What exactly do you hope to find, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Aisanna answered for them. “We’ll let you know when we find it.”
Varvara nodded, then proceeded to reinstate the protective wards.
“Let’s go downstairs to the solarium. We won’t be disturbed there.” As they walked, Astix drew on her magic, activating the gems and minerals buried deep in the foundation of the old home. The kind of old power any male of the line should be able to access. At this point, Astix was the only one besides her father with that ability. A female with stone magic was unheard of, unnatural, unpardonable. And it was what got Astix banished immediately after her Awakening.
A purple haze glowed for a moment before disappearing. She sighed and nodded. “It’s good.”
They pushed through a set of double doors into a large, open room made of glass. The tile floor was scuffed in spots, and there were sections where tropical plants grew despite the cold of winter. Their voices echoed.
“Are you sure you can read that thing?” Astix wanted to know, grabbing a cushion from the settee and setting it down in the middle of the floor. She sat on it, crossed her legs, and stared at her sisters.
“I’ve done some research,” Karsia said. She grabbed a chair and dragged it close. “Between the three of us, I think we can muddle through anything.”
“We need answers. You know, I have a feeling about Darkness. When she speaks to us, do you notice anything odd about what she says?” Aisanna knew her question was vague at best.
“Everything,” Astix answered. “She’s targeting us without a concrete reason.”
Karsia shook her head. “Something else. Bigger.”
Aisanna set the book on a table and
flipped haphazardly through the pages in hopes something would stick out for her. She handled the worn parchment delicately. Mice apparently had already had plenty of opportunities to nibble over the years. Page corners disappeared under their ministrations, while worms chewed holes alongside them. In some places, the words were so worn away they were nothing but smudges of black ink on the page.
“Hey, don’t look like that. You can handle this.” Astix stood up and placed her hand on Aisanna’s shoulder. “You’re…I don’t know. Unbreakable.”
“Just because I can handle it doesn’t mean I want to. Let’s table that conversation and finish this bitch.”
CHAPTER 14
The spellbook stared at Aisanna from where she’d placed it on a pedestal-style table in the solarium. Darkness must be stopped, but her gut was telling her it would take more power than they had combined to do it. A translation spell was a bad idea. Probably. Most likely. It was also the only good one she’d had.
The worst part? Her sisters weren’t competent in the art of casting. Karsia specialized in healing, while Astix’s specialty was physical magic. Conjuring. Aisanna would have to do most of the work herself. It didn’t sound fun. Not one bit.
It was the only solution she had to an ever-growing problem.
It could work, she tried to convince herself. If they could translate the script and maybe find a way to bind Darkness before the veil frayed on the night of the eclipse, then they might be able to restore balance. Find Zee. Put this whole mess behind them and start living life the way they were meant to live it, instead of walking around in constant confusion and fear.
Aisanna flipped to a new page and petals were revealed, dried husks of lavender, sage, petunia, and rose. They were brittle. Frozen in time. She quickly moved to the next page for fear of breaking them, or the oils of her hands destroying any old magic hidden in those old blooms.
The skin on her scalp twitched. She wasn’t used to not having a concrete plan, wasn’t used to feeling her way blindly along an unfamiliar path with an uncertain future in front of her and the weight of everything on her shoulders pushing her farther down by the minute.
