Mortal Raised

by Kit Bladegrave

  “There she is,” Mama Lucy said the moment I entered the dining room.

  It had a long table that could fit twenty and was mostly filled already.

  She kissed the top of my head in greeting. “You don’t look like you slept well, dear.”

  “Eh, weird dreams,” I said, finding one of the empty seats.

  “You’ve been having a lot of weird dreams,” she mused. “Anything on your mind?”

  “No, not really,” I lied. I always had things on my mind, like why I kept having these weird sensations that someone else was in my head, or why my dreams went from flying to utter nightmares.

  “Hmm, I’ll make you some tea tonight. Maybe it will help.”

  I thanked her and reached for the plate of waffles and grabbed a few pieces of bacon.

  Mama Lucy hummed as she walked around the table, making sure everyone had enough to eat. Her vibrant purple shawl draped over her shoulders, and her black skirt billowed around her bare feet. She might look frail, but that woman was strong. She was stern with the kids she took care of, but she held her own against anyone who tried to give us crap, or tried to buy out her home.

  We were surrounded by businesses and modernized buildings on all sides, but her home remained. Men in suits stopped by at least once a month trying to threaten her with legal actions to get her to sell the property or at least upgrade it, but she stared them down, and the other kids and I would watch from the windows as they bolted for the street.

  But that wasn’t the best thing about Mama Lucy. She was also a witch.

  None of the younger kids knew that, and I was one of the few older ones who understood what she did, or at least what she believed in. Protective charms hung on all the windows, stars and bells, to ward off dark spirits. Several cabinets were off-limits to the kids, out in the greenhouse, but they were only filled with the herbs she grew, dried, and bottled, herself.

  Most of what she did was for teas and soaps, lotions, and things like that. Natural items she sold at the farmer’s markets, and through the tiny online shop she set up. Most of her orders came by mail, something I always teased her about.

  She offered to show me how to make certain teas to relieve various symptoms a person might have, and even taught me words of protection—if I believed in that sort of thing, she would always tease at the end of our random lessons.

  Whether she was a real witch or not didn’t bother me. She was the only mom I’d known. The only parent I had since Dad died.

  I lost my appetite thinking of him and pushed back from the table to take care of my morning chores in the greenhouse before lessons started for the day. All the kids had chores once they were old enough to help around the house. I liked being in the garden and the greenhouse the most, so Mama Lucy let me take care of her veggies and herbs.

  “These are delicate plants,” she’d told me. “They need love and care, not just water and to be weeded. These plants pick up on a person’s emotions. You must always be aware of yourself when caring for such fragile things.”

  I took her words to heart, and before I entered the greenhouse, tried to leave behind any dark thoughts of the day I lost my dad. When I failed, I turned to the garden instead, hopeful that tugging some weeds out would help ease the pain blooming to life in my chest. I pulled on my work gloves from the fence, grabbed a spade, and went to work. I weeded around the tomato plants and the peppers, moving down the rows of vegetables, but apparently, this wasn’t a good enough distraction. Soon I was lost in the memory of that day.

  The worst day of my life…

  “Katie! Get away from the window!”

  “Daddy, what’s going on?” I asked, standing on my toes to try and look outside.

  He was there and shoved the curtain over the window. “You can’t let them see you! Hurry now! Grab your bag and come with me.”

  I picked up my backpack and held his hand as he tugged me through the house. “Where are we going?” He was scared. I’d never seen him scared before and it terrified me. I heard shouts outside and car doors slamming. “Daddy?”

  “Hush now,” he whispered as we neared the back of the house. He crouched before me. “Do you remember what I told you?”

  I stared fearfully towards the front of our tiny cottage that was meant to be safe out in the middle of the woods. My bottom lip trembled, and tears sprang to my eyes.

  “Katie,” he whispered sternly. “Do you remember?”

  “The bracelet, never take it off,” I recited, staring at the silver bangle with the gold runes set in it around my upper arm. “Never speak my last name to anyone. Never return to where we’ve stayed before.”

  He nodded.

  The voices grew closer, and he pressed a finger to his lips, holding me close.

  I held his gaze and jumped when they pounded on the front door, but didn’t scream.

  “You go out to the woods,” he whispered on a breath. “You go to your hiding spot, and you stay there until morning. Do you understand?”

  “You’re coming too, right?” I replied, but from the hard look on his face, I knew he wasn’t. “Daddy.”

  “Do as I say and do not use your flashlight.”

  More pounding, followed by angry curses made him stand and shove me towards the back door.

  “Now go! Quickly and do not come back, no matter what you hear!”

  He shoved me out into the night and closed the door behind me as I heard the front one crash open.

  I took off into the darkness, dashing into the trees behind our cottage. Yelling sounded from the house, but I didn’t stop. I rushed through the trees, dodging them as they appeared out of the darkness. Tears streamed down my cheeks, fearful for Daddy, but I did as he said. I ran, and I ran until I found the rope ladder by the large oak. I climbed up quickly and hauled it up after me. I hunkered down in the hollow of branches. We couldn’t build an actual treehouse, no matter how much I begged. Daddy said we had to be able to hide and anyone could find a treehouse.

  I tucked my head against my knees and waited, but for what I didn’t know.

  Silence fell over the woods. It was late fall and cold, but no birds fluttered in the branches, and there wasn’t even a whisper of wind. Just my ragged breathing as I peeked through the branches. I wondered if it was safe to go back even though Daddy said to wait until morning, but I thought of those men yelling. They were going to hurt him, I knew it.

  Just when I found my feet, a bright white light exploded from where our cottage sat. A roar, it was like giant monsters, deafened me. I stared in awe at the light until it hurt my eyes and sank back into the safety of the tree branches. I waited there, shaking and terrified, unable to move.

  I didn’t lift my head again until the sun shone brightly overhead. I threw the rope ladder down and climbed to the ground, falling from it when I was almost to the ground and landed with a thud. Half-asleep and scared the men might still be at the house, I stumbled and staggered over my feet until I reached the cottage, or what remained of it.

  No one was there. No bad men, no Daddy, and no cottage.

  It was a blackened ruin as if it caught fire at some point during the night. I sank to the cold ground and cried and cried…

  I shook my head and stared at the weed I’d mangled while the bad memories filled my mind. I hadn’t seen that night so vividly in a long, long time. After seeing the house ruined, I’d wandered the woods until I found a road and followed it. Somehow, I managed to make it to this town. I’m not sure exactly how many days I spent wandering around until I found myself being stopped by a woman with a brood of kids around her.

  Without my having to say a word, she scooped me up in her arms and took me home. After days of trying to track down my family with no results, since I refused to tell her my last name, she accepted me as another one of her kids.

  I dropped the spade in the dirt and sank back on my butt.

  Mama Lucy still didn’t know my last name, and there were times I nearly forgot it. I repeated it alo
ud now, the sound of it weird even to my ears.

  “Kate Darrah.”

  I said it three times before I felt comfortable in the knowledge of who I was, or at least who I thought I was.

  I tore off my work gloves and stared at the silver bangle in the morning sun. I outgrew it. It didn’t fit on my upper arm anymore. Now it was on my wrist.

  Dad said never to take it off. Never, but why not? He left me that night, left me alone in this world with his rules that got me nowhere. I had no mom and no dad. No family. I had nothing except this bangle.

  He never gave me a reason to keep it on. Never told me why not to take it off. The runes meant nothing to me. Just weird designs I didn’t understand, like the rest of my life before Mama Lucy found me.

  Alone in the garden, I held my breath, and removed the bangle.

  When nothing happened, I let out the breath I held and stared at the cold metal in my hand. The bangle was beautiful, but I didn’t want it. I was a few months away from being eighteen, and when that time came, I wanted to leave Mama Lucy’s house to start over.

  I could bury it in the garden. No one would know. The idea sounded good, so I picked up the spade again and set to work digging a hole. The deeper I dug, the wider I grinned, feeling a weight start to lift from my shoulders—until a pain shot through my back and I gasped in pain.

  The tension I woke with this morning was ten times worse, and I grimaced as the sharp pain spread through my shoulder blades and down my arms. But it wasn’t normal pain.

  I felt as if my body was on fire and something… something was moving inside of me, trying to get out. Trying to tear through my skin. I hunched over, alone in the garden, wondering if I was dying when I saw my bangle in the dirt.

  Scrabbling for it, I slid it back over my hand and closed my eyes as the strange sensations instantly vanished. I blinked a few times, clearing away the disbelief of what happened and swore I saw the runes on the bangle glowing before it faded away.

  I stretched my hand and my fingers, admiring the band in the sunlight, but it didn’t glow again, and for those few moments, I doubted my sanity completely. Was I still dreaming?

  “Kate! Mama Lucy says time for lessons,” Mary said from the back door.

  “Coming!” I replied, hearing my voice shake.

  I picked up my gloves and the spade, and returned them to their place, wiping the dirt from my hands on my jeans. I was barely back inside the kitchen when Mama Lucy was there, eyeing me curiously.

  “Kate? Something wrong?”

  “No, no nothing I’m fine. Just something in my eye,” I lied.

  Her brow arched. “They look good to me. Are you sure it doesn’t have to do with how you came to me?”

  I hated when she did that, knew what I was thinking without my saying a word, or giving anything away. I stumbled over my words, and she draped her arm over my shoulders, leading me back outside.

  “But lessons are starting.”

  “They can wait a few moments. That’s the benefit of homeschooling.”

  I heard that line plenty of times before. On days it would snow, she’d let us all be outside to play in it, or when it rained and puddles formed in the backyard. Or any other time the weather was too nice, or too intense to be stuck staring at the pages in a book. She loved nature, and she instilled that same love in every kid she rescued off the streets.

  We wandered outside to the greenhouse, but I stopped at the door.

  “The plants will be fine. You’re with me.”

  “Are you sure?” I fidgeted, remembering that lecture word for word about not rubbing off any negativity on the plants. “I don’t want to kill anything.”

  She laughed, a deep sound that warmed me and made me smile. “Come along, Kate. You could use a good strong cup of tea this morning to chase away those nasty dreams you’ve been having.”

  “I never said my dreams were nasty,” I mumbled as I followed her into the greenhouse.

  It was humid like always, but comfortably so and the air smelled of fresh herbs that tickled my nose and instantly made me feel better. Whatever happened in the garden, it had to all be in my head. Otherwise, it didn’t make sense, and I had enough things in my past that didn’t make sense to have any issues with the present.

  Mama Lucy bustled around picking leaves from various pots and dropping them in the ancient stone bowl. “I wondered how long you would be able to keep them at bay on your own,” she mused, watching me wander towards the crimson roses at the far end of the greenhouse.

  “Keep what at bay?”

  “Memories of whatever happened to you.”

  “Mama Lucy, I—”

  She held up her hand to stop me, a gentle smile on her face. “You don’t need to share with me. They are yours to keep, or yours to speak of when you’re ready, if you ever are.”

  She turned the pestle, smashing down the herbs and mixing them together. I watched transfixed as she took a pot of water and heated it over a tiny Bunsen burner. When it was bubbling, she filled a metal steeper with the herbs, poured the water into a handless mug, and dunked them in.

  “What will it do?” I asked as she handed it to me.

  “Calm your mind and let you put your past behind you.”

  “I’ll forget what happened?” I didn’t want that, did I?

  “No, child. It will merely clear your mind and let you sleep in peace. For weeks now, I’ve noticed a change in you. This will soothe you until you are ready to face whatever haunts you.” She nodded, and I took a sip. “And remember, if you ever wish to speak with me, I’m right here.”

  I sighed as the warm tea slid down my throat and within seconds, did calm my racing thoughts. “I don’t think you’d believe me,” I whispered.

  Just as quietly, I heard Mama Lucy reply, “You would be surprised what I know.”

  We stayed in the greenhouse until the tea was gone. She tended to the herbs I hadn’t been able to, and when I felt ready to face the day, we headed back inside.

  Everyone was at the table, ready for their lessons, talking or reading as they waited. When they saw Mama Lucy, they grinned, and I took my seat near the head of the table.

  “Alright, kiddies,” she said with a bright grin, “today we get to learn about the stars.”

  I settled into my advanced work, letting her lesson of the stars and constellations keep me grounded in this moment in time.

  I was safe here with Mama Lucy, had been over nearly ten years.

  I would be safe for another ten if I wished.

  Chapter Two

  Craig

  The security guard grunted, and I gently rested his head on the desk, careful not to make too much noise. I stared at the array of monitors before me and tapped in a few keys to create a loop in the system.

  I scoffed again at my family’s reluctance to learn all they could about humans and their technology instead of always relying on their magic to do the work for them.

  Once the loop was in place, I had ten minutes to get into the exhibit, snatch what I came for, and get out again before the guard woke up.

  The alarms were dismantled, and I was fairly certain there was no other staff on duty tonight. I watched the museum for two weeks, checking everyone’s comings and goings so there would be no surprises.

  I hated surprises. That I knew was the demon side of me. My human half was more prone to showing emotion and giving in to my doubts about every plan I came up with. The curse I was stuck with for being Craig, the bastard son of Raghnall, Demon King.

  The clan hated me from the moment I was born, saw me as weak and needing to be cast out, but Raghnall tried to raise me as his own and bring me up as he would any true-born demon son.

  Too bad I was the only son ever born to Raghnall, which only made my situation that much more perilous.

  But my human half always slowed me down and nearly killed me in my earlier years. I had to learn to adapt, to use my head more than my brawn, which I don’t have anyway.

  I
taught himself magic that was forbidden for demons to know, and I found better ways of fighting.

  Well, I wouldn’t call them fighting methods really. I cheated, constantly, and I was damned good at it.

  I smirked as I pulled the black mask over my face and crept from the security office into the depths of the museum. Exhibits of artifacts surrounded me, paintings and sculptures, but I wasn’t here for art. There was only one item I wanted from this museum, and it was in the exhibit near the back of the first floor.

  My head remained on a constant swivel as I moved from one room to the next, keeping a close eye on the time. Eight minutes left. I picked up the pace and rounded the corner to finally come face to face with what I was after.

  “Hello, beautiful,” I whispered.

  The room was filled with weapons from across the globe and various eras. Humans assumed they were created by them, but the sword that was currently the star of the exhibit had not been crafted by any human hand.

  Executioner.

  That was the name of the long sword with its obsidian encrusted handle and rubies embedded in the hilt. The metal was darker than iron and much heavier, but a demon could easily hold such a blade without difficulty.

  Centuries ago it was lost during one of the many great wars between demons and the other races. I spent the last year tracking it down for a buyer who was willing to pay me in more than just gold for finding it.

  I didn’t care about wealth. The buyer claimed to have an item that would lead me to my true prize, the only item that could aid me in the fight to come.

  With only six minutes left of the loop for the security tapes, I hurried about my work, lifting off the glass case and removing the powerful relic of my kin.

  I grunted as I hefted it over my shoulder and sensed the power running through it. Only a full-blood demon would benefit from it; for me, it was merely a means to an end. With the sword in hand, I exited the museum through the bay doors, the same way I entered earlier, with two minutes to spare.

  Removing my mask, I sucked in a breath of fresh night air, chilly from being up in the mountains, and grinned at the sword.