by P. C. Cast
I turned to her. “Why?”
She gestured at the leafless, malevolent ruin of a tree and the broken hole in the earth from which Kalona and his Raven Mockers had exploded what seemed like so, so long ago. “I could be wrong, but it seems to me that this mess is a visible lesson in what happens when you screw around with powers that are better left undisturbed.”
My eyes focused on the clawlike black branches that refused to grow leaves. “You have a point.”
“I always have a point. So, are you going to call Old Magick, or what?”
I wished I could choose the or what, but knew I couldn’t. “Does someone have a knife?”
Together Darius and Stark pulled dangerous-looking daggers from Goddess-only-knew where on their well-armed bodies. I held my hand out, palm up, and told Stark, “Cut me.”
He frowned. “How about I cut me and you use my blood?”
“James Stark, I am your High Priestess and your Queen. I said cut me. So cut me.”
He was still frowning, but this time he did as I asked, swiftly slicing a shallow cut across the meaty part of my palm. His dagger was so sharp I didn’t even feel any pain. I fisted my hand, pumping it slightly to encourage my blood to well in my palm.
“Aphrodite and Darius, please stand on my left. Stark, Stevie Rae, and Rephaim, stay here on my right. I’m going to walk to the tree. Let me get a little ahead of you. Don’t do anything as long as I’m still making sense, but if something too weird happens—”
“If weird shit happens I’m going to carry you out of here,” Stark said.
“No,” I said sharply. “Weird is going to happen. It’s Old Magick. Don’t do anything unless I stop communicating with you—or I get pulled into the, uh, tree.” I paused, forcing myself not to shudder as I remembered the last time Old Magick had touched me here … the last time I’d almost lost myself. I met Stark’s worried gaze and my voice softened. “You’ll know if this goes wrong. You’ll feel it. Just don’t do anything unless it goes wrong. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said reluctantly.
“I love you, and I’m sorry this is stressing you out,” I said.
Stark’s shoulders relaxed just a little. “I love you too, Z, and stress is part of a Warrior’s job.”
I tiptoed to kiss him, and then faced the tree. I held my fisted hand up before me, and then drew three deep, even breaths, centering myself. And hesitated.
“Well, hell. I’m not sure who I should call to,” I said.
“You told me you liked the elemental sprites that came to your call on Skye,” Stark said.
“Yeah, but that was different,” I said.
“Not really. Stop worryin’ so much that it’s Old Magick. Think of it in simpler terms. It’s a messed up old tree. So, call to the earth sprites,” Stevie Rae said. “That’s what I’d do.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Earth sprites. That sounds good,” I said nervously.
“And stop being so damn jittery. They’re just elementals. You have an affinity for all the elements. Imagine you’re calling earth to a circle,” Aphrodite said.
“That’s actually a good idea,” I said.
“Of course it is. I’m full of good ideas,” she said, tossing back her mane of blond hair and waggling her perfectly arched brows at me.
“How ’bout I help?” Stevie Rae moved to my side. “I don’t know much about Old Magick, but I am earth. Let’s call together. Like we do when we circle.”
“Okay, that makes sense. Stevie Rae, you start, and I’ll use my blood like I’m lighting an earth candle.”
“Easy-peasy!” Stevie Rae cleared her throat and spoke to the ruined tree. “I am Stevie Rae, Red Vampyre High Priestess to Nyx, who has gifted me with an affinity for earth. With the power the Goddess granted me, I would like to call the ancient sprites of earth.” Then she nodded and took half a step back, allowing me to lead the final call.
I held my hand up again, took a deep breath, and said, “Earth sprites—Old Magick spirits of trees—I am Zoey Redbird, High Priestess in the service of Nyx, and I wield Old Magick. With the ancient power in my blood, I call to you and ask you to appear to me.” Then, like I was tossing a handful of water away from me, I flung my blood onto the gnarled, broken bark.
Nothing happened for a moment, and I felt my heart sink into my gut. Was I really going to have to fly to Skye and try to pull Sgiach out of her mourning? Could that even be done? Or maybe I should try to talk to the Vampyre High Council—the European one—the one that wasn’t particularly pleased my friends and I had taken over their leadership of North America …
“Uh, Z. Wake up. Someone’s here,” Aphrodite whispered.
I mentally shook myself and stared at the figure emerging from the center of the splintered tree. She was obviously a tree sprite. Tall and graceful, her skin was dark—the color of bark at midnight—but there was nothing rough about it. Instead her skin looked unbelievably soft and smooth—and there was a lot of it visible, because the things she wore that resembled clothing were the delicate fronds of a fern, though the more I looked the more I realized the fern appeared to be applied to her skin, like body paint, or even a tattoo. She blinked at me with large, beautiful dark eyes.
“Hello,” I said. “Thank you for answering my call.”
The sprite tilted her head to the side in a birdlike movement, making her spectacular hair, which was all the colors of autumn leaves, ripple like it moved in a wind that only touched the sprite.
I was trying to figure out how I could coax her to talk to me, when the sprite inhaled deeply, and then her big, dark eyes grew even larger. “Another Redbird? This has been such an interesting night.”
She stepped from the center of the shattered tree, giving it a sorrowful look as she let her hand trail across the broken bark. She didn’t actually float, but her bare feet made no sound and stirred none of the winter-brown grass over which she strode. The sprite halted in front of me, leaned forward, and sniffed at me.
“You are, indeed, a Redbird Girl.”
“How do you know my name?” I blurted.
“I just left others of your blood. A young man and a woman.” The sprite’s musical voice hesitated before continuing. “But they are not in this world. How odd.”
“Wait, are you talking about my brother, Kevin?”
“The Redbird Boy—yes, I believe Kevin is what he is called.”
“Who was the woman? Z, I thought you were, um, dead over there,” whispered Stevie Rae.
The sprite turned her attention to Stevie Rae, who smiled nervously and waved at her, saying, “Hey there! I’m Stevie Rae. Nice to meet ya.”
“I do not know you, though I do feel the strength of your bond with the earth. As a tree sprite, I appreciate that. You may call me Oak.”
“Thank you, Oak.” Stevie Rae bowed respectfully.
Then Oak began sniffing the air again, and as she did so she moved closer to Rephaim, who stood so still I didn’t think he was even breathing.
“What are you? I smell Old Magick in your bones, but it has been changed.”
“I am Rephaim. Son of Kalona. I was a Raven Mocker.”
“So, not human. Not raven. But something changed to meld the two together.”
“Changed by Nyx.” I spoke up, feeling the need to gain some kind of control over the conversation. “Rephaim earned the forgiveness of the Goddess, so she granted him the body of a boy.”
“But only from sunset to sunrise,” Rephaim continued for me. “While the sun is in the sky, I am a raven.”
The sprite continued to stare at Rephaim, sniffing the air around him cautiously. “It is in atonement for dark acts you once committed that the Goddess allows the raven to take your body.”
Rephaim lifted his chin. “Yes. Nyx is just. My past is not something I view with pride.”
“Except for th
e past year,” Stevie Rae said, taking Rephaim’s hand. “He chose Light, and Nyx forgave him.”
“So, Oak, you’re not from this world?” Aphrodite said.
Oak’s head swiveled, owl-like, to peer at Aphrodite. “I do not know you, Prophetess.”
“Yet you call me Prophetess.”
The sprite nodded her head, causing her long, multicolored hair to shimmer around her with a sound like wind sloughing through autumn leaves. “Old Magick easily recognizes a Prophetess of Nyx. There was a time, long past, when we stood beside Nyx’s prophetesses, doing the Goddess’ bidding. Sadly, that time is no more, but we remember,” Oak said cryptically before she glanced at Darius. “I do not know you, either, Warrior.” Then her gaze found Stark. “You, I recognize. The Redbird Boy asked for sanctuary from you and your army—though your Mark was blue, not red.”
“You are from the Other World!” Stark said. “You know Kevin Redbird there, right? But who’s the other Redbird woman?” Stark turned to me. “Could your sister have been Marked in the Other World without Kevin knowing about it?”
I started to open my mouth, but Oak’s voice interrupted.
“So many questions, but I have been offered no payment.” Oak turned her head and gazed somberly at the broken tree from which she’d materialized. “And I have been called forth through a place that has been tainted by Darkness and destruction.”
“I’m responsible for your call. I apologize. I do have questions to ask you, but I also have your payment.” I opened my hand, showing Oak the bloody wound that still wept there.
Oak sniffed delicately at my palm. She licked her bow-shaped lips—reminding me weirdly of how I look whenever it’s psaghetti madness night in the dining hall. But then she surprised me by turning her attention from my blood to meet my gaze.
“You offer an acceptable payment, but I would rather have something else.”
“What payment do you want?” I felt the urge to hold my breath as I waited for her response.
Oak turned her head to look over her shoulder at the ruined tree. “The payment I want for the information you seek is that you cleanse the abomination that happened here and restore this place to balance.”
I blinked in surprise, but said, “I can do that.”
Her head swiveled back to me and her voice turned rhythmic, like she was reciting a beautiful poem.
“I accept the payment of balance restored to this tree
High Priestess—you have promised this to me
I agree to give information to you
I agree to speak only that which is true
Ask then, Girl Redbird
But listen well, so that my words are truly heard
And if you renege on payment promised today
Know that there are other ways to pay and pay and pay …”
Oak didn’t toss blood into the air or make any other kind of dramatic flourish, but the instant she was done speaking the binding spell, the air around her shimmered like someone had blown glitter across the schoolyard. I tried not to think about the other ways Old Magick could make me pay and asked my first question.
“Do you know my brother, Kevin?”
“I do. He is much like you.”
“So, you’re from another world?”
“To the ancient fey all worlds are one. We pay little attention to the veils that separate them.”
“The other Redbird woman you mentioned. Can you tell me who she is?”
“Yes, Redbird Girl. She is a Wise Woman—one of your blood. She is exquisite. I did so enjoy her medicine bags. They were not powerful payment for our services, but they were tasty.”
“She’s talkin’ ’bout Grandma Redbird!” Stevie Rae said.
I nodded in agreement. “She’s also talking about medicine bags—plural. Oak, the Wise Woman you’re talking about must be my grandma. Are she and Kevin wielding Old Magick in that Other World?”
“The Wise Woman did not wield Old Magick, though out of respect for her ancient blood, I would answer if she called and needed my assistance. It was the Redbird Boy. He required our aid.” Oak’s dark eyes flicked to Stark. “He needed protection against a Warrior much like yours.”
“Kevin must be working with the Resistance,” Stark said.
“Where were Kevin and my grandma when they used Old Magick?” I asked.
“On a ridge not far from here. That is where their people gather and hide from those who hunt them.”
“That’s it. Other Kevin joined the Resistance,” Darius said.
“And you really didn’t see me anywhere?” Aphrodite asked the sprite.
Oak gazed at her. “No. You were not one of the Redbird Boy’s people.”
“Well, shit,” Aphrodite said.
“Why does that make such a difference?” Rephaim asked Aphrodite.
Stevie Rae answered for her. “Because Aphrodite is the reason red fledglings and red vampyres in our world can choose to maintain their humanity. Without her, we’d all be monsters like poor Other Jack used to be.”
What Stevie Rae said nudged my memory, and I suddenly had another question for the sprite. “Oak, you really are formed from Old Magick, right?”
It almost seemed that the sprite struggled against laughter. “Of course, Redbird Girl. What else would I be?”
“Well, I don’t know, but I’m confused. I thought Old Magick didn’t take sides in the struggle between Light and Darkness. Yet here you are, telling me you protected my brother and his people against the Red Army, and the payment you want is for me to basically cleanse the Darkness from this tree. That sounds like you’re taking sides—not that I mind. I’m glad you’re choosing Light. I just wonder why.”
“You are partially correct, Redbird Girl. Old Magick does not choose sides as we see the many layers that make up Light and Darkness, and we understand deeply that no one is completely good, nor completely evil. I granted your brother sanctuary because I accepted his payment, not because I sided with him against Darkness. As to this tree—elemental sprites are not neutral when an abomination is committed against nature. And this tree—this place of elemental power—has indeed been desecrated, which is an abomination against nature. It must be set to right.”
“That’s understandable, Z,” Stark said. “She sounds a lot like Sgiach did when we first got to her island. She wouldn’t leave the island to fight Darkness, but when it trespassed on her island, she fought against it.”
“Ah, Queen Sgiach. We are saddened by the loss of her Warrior.”
“You know her!” I said.
“Yes. For centuries.”
“How is she?”
“In deep mourning.” And then Oak closed her mouth, making it clear she was done speaking about Queen Sgiach, the Great Taker of Heads.
“Okay, so, how’s my brother doing in the Other World?” I asked.
“His wound heals. We have granted his people sanctuary on the ridge. He wields Old Magick well.”
“His wound?” My question came out as a squeak.
“It heals,” Oak repeated, like she thought I might be slow.
I wanted to ask more about Kevin getting hurt, but Aphrodite snagged my wrist and spoke urgently to me. “Kevin is wielding Old Magick. That’s what you felt.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Z,” she looked exasperated. “Remember what it’s like to wield Old Magick.”
And I realized what Aphrodite was saying. Kevin was in trouble, and he probably didn’t know it.
“Oak, can you get a message to Kevin for me?”
“Your payment was for information. Not for messaging.”
I looked down at my hand. The wound had begun to clot, but I knew I could dig it open again with my fingernails. “Blood. I’ll pay you with my blood to take a message to my brother.”
“No, Priest
ess. You misjudge me. I am not your messenger. I have no allegiance to you at all. You offered a payment for information. I gave you that information. Now you must complete what you owe me. Do that, then perhaps ask me for another task. Just be sure the payment you offer is enticing …” And without a sound, Oak turned her back on us, and in a poof of fog she disappeared into the middle of the fallen tree.
11
Other Kevin
Rainwater dripped down the curved rock ceiling of the cave and pooled into mud and sludge around Kevin’s feet. He wiped his sleeve across his face and sneezed violently.
“I think I prefer the ice to this drizzly, foggy crap. Much more of this and it’ll be an early Oklahoma spring and the trifecta of natural pains in the ass that go with it: rain-wrapped tornados, ragweed, and ticks,” Kevin muttered to himself.
“Hey, chin up! It could be way worse. Hell, it would be way worse if you hadn’t come along. At least we’re safe, warm, and relatively dry here.”
Kevin smiled wryly at the short but powerfully built vampyre who seemed to materialize suddenly beside him. “Dude, could you be less soundless? Your creeping isn’t good for my nerves.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your nerves, sweet Kevin. But Dragon shouldn’t tease you by creeping around like a sprite.” The lovely woman with the veil of long, silver-streaked blond hair touched Kevin’s shoulder gently, though the warmth of her look was for Dragon and Dragon alone. “Especially with the number of sprites we have around here. They could get jealous.”
Dragon Lankford held up his hands in surrender. “Anastasia, my love, do not let it be said that I disparaged the sprites.” He paused and then asked Kevin, “How are they?”
“The sprites?” Kevin said, wiping more rainwater from his face as he turned from the mouth of the much larger, much improved cave.
“Yes, the sprites. You remember them, right?”
“Oh, Bryan, leave the boy alone. They’re his sprites. Of course he remembers them. We all remember them, and we’re thankful for them.” Anastasia Lankford admonished her mate, though she did so as she slid her arm around his waist intimately and rested her head briefly on his shoulder, which Kevin thought totally took the sting from her words. After all, what guy wouldn’t take a scolding from the beautiful priestess if she were also resting her smooth cheek on his shoulder?
