That's what I get for even thinking about love. It's as worthless and harmful as ever. I don't need it. The cursed warrior closed his eyes and followed the link he had with Maili. It had been forged when he had been assigned to her. He quieted his mind and searched along the line. It was bright silver in his thoughts, but as he got to the end, it was enveloped in a thick fog he could not penetrate. A shield. He tried banging his consciousness against it and went over every inch of the dense gray. There was no break. Not even the thinnest crack. If he could not get to her, neither could her mother. He had better go to Betha and report it. He gazed up at the sky longingly. In ten hours, he would be a man again even if it was only for three days. Tremain did not want to waste it groveling at the feet of an undead queen. He sighed and knew if Maili was in serious trouble it would take all his resources as a human to figure out where she was since he could not do anything in his feathered form.
Shit.
His damnation tolled in his ears.
He had to go and face the music. Jumping from the top of the pole, he felt his power spread out before him like a knife cutting through the worlds. His form became nothing more than a shadow as his feathers became darkness itself as thin as air, and he became one with the night. One with the gray so he could slip worlds. As he did, his form changed growing denser. One thing about his curse he did not mind was whenever he went before the queen, he was forced to take human form. At least it was a reprieve from the feathered prison. But it was never a pleasant task bowing before Betha, especially when one had to tell her Maili was missing, and it was his fault, that he did not sense her disappearance. There would be hell to pay.
As Tremain's form solidified into his human shape, he materialized with a learned grace in front of the throne on bended knee. He bowed his head for he feared the queen's wraith. Her appearance chilled his heart just as much as her touch froze his flesh. As a human, before he was cursed, he had heard tales of Banshee, but he had never seen one. He had heard their wailing deep in the forests and on the crossroads in the middle of the night. Even then, they had shivered his soul. Now, kneeling before the queen, his urge was to stand before her erect as a human and to flex his fingers instead of his feathers. However, as he looked at the woman in front of him—if he could call her a woman—he knew there was beauty under the demonic face she wore. Gray skin made her appear like a month's-old corpse. White eyes with only a hint of red iris bored into his brain. Tremain glanced at her ghastly form, and even though she sat on her throne, she had no feet. Her hands were dry, and cracked bone protruded through her flaky skin. A shiver of horror ran through him, but he did not allow his feelings to show. Whatever hell Betha was going to put him in, he only hoped he would have some vague memory of Beatrice. Even if he did not believe in love anymore, he held onto his one slice of happiness.
"Tremain, why are you here instead of watching my daughter?” Betha didn't bother to look at him. She listened to the eerie music filling her court. Tremain followed her gaze. A shadowy figure played a tinkling melody on a piano with keys fashioned out of human finger bones. It reminded him of a melody played by Maili's pet human. Linnea was another reason his brethren taunted him. She could trace her line descended back generations, each filled with magick. She was a dud. Some of his brothers thought Maili felt sorry for her and that was why they were friends. Finally he turned his gaze back to his undead ruler.
"Your Highness. Forgive the intrusion, but I have not abandoned my post without cause."
Betha turned from her entertainment, letting her white gaze burn into his own. Her power sliced through his mind. He grew cold as if the air had been sucked from his body. When he did exhale, his breath came out in a cold fog. “I would hope you have a good explanation. You're on my last nerve. Caleb has pleaded your case with me several times. I have shown you leniency enough. The next time you fuck up, I will wash my hands of you. The council of yours will not have a say. You'll be at the mercy of Morrigain. Is that understood?"
Tremain nodded slowly. He had not realized what a thin line he walked. Nor had he assumed his fearless leader would have spoken to the queen on his behalf. He had thought Caleb had washed his hands of him as well. Even if the council had no say over his fate, he knew going before the goddess who had given him the curse would prove him to be extinguished. Then his soul would descend to an unimaginable hell.
"Yes. I understand completely."
"Good. Now tell me why you're here before I lose my temper with you."
He bowed his head, unable to meet her eyes again. Staring at the black onyx floor, he saw it was shot through with veins of green to match the emerald of the décor. Her throne was onyx and her dress a dark oak green. It reminded him of the hue of Beatrice's eyes. He swallowed back a sob as he saw her floating in the pond where he found her body because her mother had felt his love was not good enough for her daughter. He clenched his fist, hardened his heart against what he remembered, and focused on the task at hand. Emotion was something he could not afford. It was a liability just as love was.
"Majesty, it's about your daughter. I was watching her as you ordered. But something—I don't know what happened. She was singing. When I went back to her apartment, she was not there. The place was a shambles—"
Betha stood up. Her dress hung to her knees in tatters covered with cobwebs for a skirt. Her legs ended in wisps right below her knees as if she were standing on strands of smoke. He dared not look at her. A blood-curdling shriek made Tremain wince. It rattled the glass wall panels and nearly split his eardrums. If he covered his ears, it would incur her wraith even more. The music stopped dead. A cold blast froze the court as ice crystals and frost appeared on the floor beneath him and covered his soft leather boot. Her frigid fingers wrapped around his shirt as she yanked him to look at her head on. As he did, all her ivory colored teeth sharpened into a maw like a predator's. Her strength surpassed any he had ever known, even his own. Magick eked from her pores. However, this was her palace so it was here she was the strongest. Even as he looked into the whites of Betha's eyes, her power encompassed him, pressing through him like spikes and searing into his brain. He felt himself shrinking, but he fought her power and retained his human form.
"Where is my daughter?” she growled. “Why did you leave your post when you were told never to let her out of your sight? What were you thinking! Did you just decide your wishes were better suited than my own? I suggest you go back to her apartment and search every dark corner until you find her. Is that clear?"
"Majesty, please. She was with a crowd of people I did not think she was in danger. When I went to check on her the next afternoon—"
"The next afternoon! Tremain, she is my flesh and blood. Don't you ever think? If anything happens to her, I will have your head. I don't care what the Goddess does with you. You will answer to me!” Betha threw him across the room. He landed on his side and slid across the slick marble, hitting the wall on the other side of the throne room. His head knocked the mirror panel hard enough to crack it. It was nearly impossible to kill the Warriors. Only a few certain things could. Stars danced behind his eyes. Tremain cursed himself for coming to tell Betha. He knew this was going to be her reaction. No. I thought the bitch would react worse. Guess I got off easy for now. The druid shook his head. Next time I won't be so lucky. Looking up, he saw Caleb, his fearless leader, offering him a hand. He was the last person he thought he would see. He didn't deserve any help.
"Take it while I'm still in a helpful mood,” Caleb said solemnly.
The cursed Warrior took the outstretched hand letting his leader help him up. Shame rolled through Tremain. He screwed up again all because, deep down, he still fought his destiny. The druid felt he didn't need to follow orders. How did he know something was going to happen to Maili when she was supposed to be meeting with her pet human?
He always knows what is going on with us. No matter if he is with a charge, he still knows. Tremain dusted himself off as he stood and opened his mouth t
o thank Caleb. His leader held up his hand. “Thanks can wait. I suggest you get your ass back to try and find Maili. This time don't screw it up."
Chapter Six
Linnea covered her mouth as she kicked the door closed to her house. Everything in her body ached for soft sheets caressing her. Since the only luxurious thing awaiting her was the bed, she wanted to sink into the cushy mattress and dream her aches away. Everything about the night had been muddled in her tired brain. Once Derrik had seen the ransacked dressing room, he had called the cops. Surprisingly, Boston's finest had shown up a half an hour later. Record timing. Linnea had guessed they didn't want anything getting out which would spook their precious tourist trade. They had kept her there most of the night answering questions. Had she seen anyone? Did she know where Maili was? Had she any idea if her friend had any enemies? Did she have any jealous boyfriends? What was she doing back in the dressing after hours? The questions were endless. She slurred her words, and a yawn punctuated every sentence. The flautist could not keep her answers straight as the events of the night flowed together like music on a page. Finally, she begged for them to let her go home. She had answered their questions at least twice, and she could barely stand up..
Derrik stayed with her all night. The director had given her a ride home and excused her from the show that night. He wanted her to rest. Well that was exactly what she was going to do once she hopped into the shower and then called Maili. Linnea's mind drifted to her best friend as she stepped underneath the scorching shower. Steam filled her bathroom as the shower was on full blast. She stood in a cast iron claw-foot tub that had been with the house ever since her great grandfather had bought it in the mid-1900s. Originally, it had beena three-family house, but her grandfather had put a lot of money into restoring it, making it into a single family home. He had even installed a small elevator for her grandmother. Its installation was the largest and last renovation he had made in the house. She had played on it a lot as a child. As she got older, she understood it was not something she should use after her grandmother had fallen down and broke her hip when she was twelve. Linnea's bedroom was on the second floor along with the den and her music room. The third floor had been converted into ritual space for circles. Once her grandfather died when she was fourteen, her grandmother and the Old Cronies had taken it upon themselves to renovate the rooms and open them up to use as a place where they could walk between the worlds. All of the family secrets were stored up there.
However, her mind was not poised on the magickal books and jars of herbs amassed upstairs. She had to think about Maili and if everything was okay with her. She had been about to tell Linnea something but was cut off. There had been no messages on Linnea's cell phone and none at the house either. A shaky, dark feeling blossomed in her stomach the more she thought on Maili. It was unlike Maili not to call, wondering why Linnea had not shown up at her apartment. Linnea felt bad about that, but there was no way she could go there after being up all night being questioned by the cops. As she lathered her hair with homemade lavender and jasmine shampoo, she wondered what Maili was going to tell her. The look on her friend's face had been shocking. Her friend was never frightened. She was always the epitome of strength and courage. That was one of the attributes Linnea loved about the singer. No matter what happened, she stood up to it a lot better than the flutist ever had. Through her grandmother's death, Linnea tried to be strong. No matter what, though, she had been late to rehearsals. Joshua started watching her ass all the time, waiting for her to screw up. Derrik had understood her pain and had cut her some slack.
Getting out of the shower, Linnea wrapped her hair in a towel and slipped on her kimono robe. Maili had given it to her after she had returned from a trip to Japan. At first, Linnea had been afraid to wear it. It was blood red with a black and gold dragon stitched into the back. After seeing it in her closet, Maili told her to wear it or else. Linnea had protested, saying it was too delicate to wear. Linnea finally agreed to start wearing it after Maili had tackled her and tickled her into submission. From then on, she slipped it on after she toweled off, but to keep her peace of mind, she carefully handwashed it when needed. However, it was so comfortable she was wearing it more and more now. Her friend would be proud.
Dialing Maili's number, Linnea listened to the continous ringing. She hung up and pressed redial. This time the answering machine picked up. “Hey, Ali. If you're there pick up. Come on, girl. I'm sorry about last night, but I'm sure you heard someone broke into your dressing room. Derrik told me to stay home. Maili, you there? Look, I'm going to take a nap and then come over in a few hours. I'm beat from today. I'll see you later."
Linnea hung up. Dread washed over her. Deep down she knew something was wrong. Whatever it was, she couldn't put her finger on it. The feeling she had at the theater had not left her, but her head swam. Once she settled on her feather pillows, the questions floated around in her brain like errant goldfish no matter how much she tried to focus on Maili. Her body forced her into darkness. Each time she opened her eyes to break away from the sandman, she saw the dancing shadows from street lights hitting her fluttering curtains and the lazy headlights of cars moving down her street. To her sleep addled brain, they appeared as the twisted shapes of gremlins coming to wreck havoc on her bedroom. She buried herself under the sheet so the lights would not bother her. She felt hands smoothing her brow and smelled the lemon candies her grandmother sucked on all the time.
"Night, Grammie,” she mumbled, hardly aware she did.
"Night.” The whisper came to her through the tunnel of sleep. This was the first time she had heard the comforting voice since her grandmother had died a year ago. It did not register as she slipped into the well of sleep and did not come up for air until hours later.
* * * *
Linnea opened her eyes as the warmth of the sun trailed along her cheek like the fingers of a sleepy lover. She wished that were the case. There had been many times she yearned to wake up to someone. Her heart was tired of being alone. The last date she had was six months ago. Even then, it hadn't ended up back in bed. It had concluded with a curt smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. Her date had wanted to go all the way, but she sensed he was a sleezeball. Light brown hair, fake tanned skin, slight wrinkles around his blue eyes, and perfect white teeth. He was country club or opera material. Why he slummed with her was beyond Linnea. She figured he thought he was going to get an easy lay. She had met him one night after a show. Even after the one outing, she kept spotting him in the audience and realized then he had dated her to try and get an invite to meet Maili. Everyone wanted to meet Maili.
Once upon a time, she had been jealous of her best friend's beauty and charms. Back in college, when they first met, Maili got all the attention from the boys and upperclassmen. Linnea had always been a wallflower. Whenever a guy approached her, she became dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. Once she realized Maili didn't rely on her beauty to make her way in the world, Linnea saw through the perfect exterior and they became best friends, especially after Linnea learned about her friend's mother. She hadn't even come to her own daughter's graduation. Maili might have seen her mother seven or eight times through high school. It was hard to believe because Linnea had been so close to her grandmother, who came to everything even if it was a talent show or a concert in which she played one solo. Her grandmother had never complained. All they had was each other. Linnea didn't understand how anyone's family could be so cold. Then again, she wasn't from a normalfamily. It wasn't everyday one met a real life witch who had a coven and whose high priestess descended from a long line of powerful witches.
Linnea stared at the crystals lining her bedroom window. They shot rainbows around the room from the sun hitting them. Purple amethyst points, clear quartz crystals, blue tiger's eye that could be green or black depending on the way it was held, rose quartz, orange tourmaline, and a number of other varieties she had memorized the names and properties for. Her grandmother taught her how to apply
crystals to the body. They were laid over charkas to help heal certain ailments. Or they could be used to help plants grow. She admired her grandmother because she was a crafty witch. The books upstairs brimmed with more knowledge than even she knew. Her grandmother possessed great power. She could hold a stone in her hand feeling its life force, the energy stored in it. Each stone had a certain vibration, almost like a musical note. Linnea had understood that. Whenever she tried to see or feel the vibrations of the crystals, nothing happened. Her grandmother told her not to worry. There were late bloomers in the family. When the time was right, her power would spark. Nothing had happened until now, ten years later.
Staring at the myriad of colors, her mind wandered from Maili to the hum she heard coming from her window. At first, she thought she had left her radio on low, or a bumblebee had landed and its wings were vibrating on the sill. She narrowed her focus seeing the panes of glass were vibrating. Piquing her interest, she walked over to the glass just to be sure her eyes were not playing tricks on her. Slowly, she reached out her hand and poked one of the stones. They were actually shaking as if being disturbed by a heavy truck rolling down the street. When she picked one up, it quaked in her hand. She listened closely. The hum off of the quartz rung like fine crystal. As she held it, its energy pulsated up her arm in small zings. It was cool, and the center of her palm tingled. She held it up to the light examining it. As she did, she saw a faint aura around the crystal like it was emanating a heat wave. She passed her finger through the energy field and felt it zap her finger tip. Tears came to her eyes. All of the things her grandmother had told her about were finally starting to happen to her.
A Conspiracy of Ravens: A Raven Saga Book 1 Page 4
