I shook my head. “Loaning it makes you weaker. Why do that when I can just improve my skills with magic I already have? I can do this, Josh. We can do this. Right now it’s hard, which I am sure it was for you when your strength increased.”
“Hmm, where did this confidence come from?” he asked with his trademark half-grin, but fragments of tension still remained as he studied me with cautious eyes.
It was false bravado, and although I wasn’t sure about the magic, I just wasn’t ready to give up so easily.
“But we need to be careful. You already know how most witches feel about were-animals and magic. I just want you to be safe. The lower-level witches have a more difficult time detecting the variations of magic, but the stronger ones are more sensitive and skilled. With circumstances as they are, it’s better not to raise concerns. And you’ve caused enough,” he said.
“Variations?”
“If magic has been performed and I have ever been around that witch, I can tell who performed it.” Josh had once described it as a fingerprint. Each witch had their special imprint that marked their magic. Problem was that if the witch were unknown, then the owner couldn’t be matched. “Were-animals are the same way. If one walks into a room, other were-animals know it’s there, and the same is true with vampires.”
“Well, I am sure the deadly fangs are a big sign as well,” I joked.
He laughed. “That, too.”
Were the circumstances he spoke of in regards to his brother Ethan, the pack’s Beta? I suspected that there was more to him than just being a werewolf, although he continued to deny that there was. Did Josh know?
“Tell me about Marcia,” I said. The Creed was the governing body of the witches. At one time, it was led by the five members, equal partners in dealing with the witches. But over the years, Marcia, the strongest of them, had emerged as the leader and the others had been reduced to just council. Technically, they were supposed to lead as one, but if they were to name someone as a leader, then it would be her.
Last year I had found out I was a Moura Encantada, responsible for protecting the Aufero, a mystical object, and Marcia had it in her possession. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. It had been my mother’s responsibility to protect it, but upon her death, I inherited the obligation, and I’d already failed. Marcia somehow had it, and I was sure she wasn’t going to give up such power anytime soon. I had no idea how I was going to get it. And I had to have it. It was a life or death matter. The last Moura Encantada that allowed her protected object to be taken had been found dead.
“What do you want to know?” he asked casually, wondering, I was sure, about my new interest in her. His smile was missing its usual wayward lilt; it was stiff and forced. The relationship between him and the witches had always been strained by his dual loyalties. He managed it, but it wasn’t without difficulty.
“Before she acquired the Aufero, how did they punish the witches?”
Josh came to his feet and started to slowly walk the area, my attention following his every movement. Josh wasn’t a hard person to keep your eyes on. The deep, alluring blue eyes and defined angles of his features were captivating. “The same as she does now, she takes their magic. I guess the worst thing one could do to an angel is clip their wings,” he said, and the smile vanished quickly as his eyes became heavy with concern.
“But the Aufero can pull the magic from them by sheer will. How did they do it before?”
“They used a spell.”
“Just like that, ‘bam’ and you’re magicless?”
“It’s not that simple. There is usually a hearing and then they decide what level you will be demoted to. Most penalties are short-term. But most witches don’t fare well when such limitations are forced upon them, especially if they’ve lived the majority of their life with the ability. There isn’t anything that can be done about it. Some are punished for just a year, usually for small infractions: practicing in forbidden magic, usually dark arts or necromancy. For some reason, there are many of us that feel the need to practice such a dangerous craft. The Creed punishes a witch if a human is hurt as a result or for practicing what they consider forbidden magic. Recently, the punishments have been stricter for minor infractions that, in the past, only warranted general counseling. Things like spells that were poorly executed and put the witch at risk of being discovered. Just like you all, we want to maintain the same level of anonymity about our existence.”
“And the harshest punishments?”
He made an attempt at a scowl but seemed to lose interest. “Removal of magic completely or punishments to a level five are reserved for witches that perform a rever tempore. Most of the time, the punishment is even more severe.”
He didn’t need to say it; we both knew what that punishment was—death.
He considered my look of confusion and explained, “It’s a spell to reverse time”.” “You have to be very strong and very gifted to do it, and still most of the time it fails. But if successful, the witch can go back to a specific time within twenty-four hours. Someone desperate enough to do the spell is usually trying to correct something really bad; consequences usually do not mean much to them at the time, and the risk of losing their magic or death is inconsequential.”
I stared at him with a newfound fascination, my head a whirlwind of thoughts as I imagined the ability to go back in time. Of all the magic we’d done and all the things I had seen and heard, this had to be the most intriguing.
Josh’s gaze stayed on me for a long time, sensing my interest. “You don’t just change your twenty-four hours, Sky—you change everyone’s. That is why it is forbidden. Losing your magic may be your best punishment.” His watched me with concern for a long time. “It is a spell that under no circumstance should be performed. It’s dangerous.”
I got his message loud and clear: Don’t try to learn how to do it and don’t even think about asking me to teach it.
“These are strong witches. I can’t believe they stand idly by while their magic is stripped from them and don’t try to stop them.”
“Some do, but you have one witch going against the five powerful witches that make up the Creed. I am strong, but not stronger than the five of them,” he said.
He took up a spot in front of me. “If you don’t give in willingly, it is stripped from you by force, and it is quite painful, I hear. Of course, there is a penalty for your resistance.” “But it’s not like this is done casually. For such a severe punishment, it must be a unanimous decision.”
I was sure the trial was just a formality and that the witch’s guilt and level of punishment had been established before the so-called trial occurred. His voice hinted at it, although his words didn’t. I’m sure those found guilty rivaled the Creed’s strength. Was there truly a hearing, or was it just a show, a display of false democracy that truly did not exist? Where were the bylaws, a written account of what was deemed punishable by the demotion of your magical skill? But I climbed off my high horse quickly, because the were-animals weren’t any better. Of course, there were laws that we lived by, but some were vague, giving the Alpha far too much power of interpretation.
The uncomfortable silence between us was odd. We dwelled in a place of unrestrained comfort—we understood each other. Josh had always been very intuitive and I suspected he knew I had more inquiries but for some reason resisted pressing the issue.
“I need to get the Aufero,” I admitted.
He simply nodded. “I know. I’ll help you.”
“No. I may have to take it, and you assisting will only make things worse.” It was such a delicate line that he walked by having to split his loyalties between the pack and the witches. I wanted to find the Aufero and take it. The further he was from this situation, the more plausible his deniability.
People in the otherworld didn’t have a problem with segregation. They dealt with each other as little as possible and when they were forced to interact, it was usually in a state of contention, which made Josh�
��s relationship with the Midwest Pack an atypical and very fragile situation. The pack needed Josh and would never do anything to damage the frail tapestry of the situation. If things went badly with Marcia and me, they would want Josh as far from the situation as possible, and my act would be viewed as that of a rogue were-animal, unsanctioned and unauthorized.
Josh’s situation wasn’t any better. As a blood ally to the Midwest Pack and younger brother of their Beta, it would be difficult for him to keep my secret if he deemed it pertinent information for them to know. Our friendship teetered on a fine balance, complicated by our personal obligations to the pack. He was more fettered due to the intrinsic bond he had with his brother.
Josh was strong, although not as skilled as someone of his level should be. His alliance with the were-animals made him a target. I was sure they were just waiting for him to mess up so badly that he would be the next witch in front of them being divested of his power as a penalty for some minor infraction.
I didn’t want anyone involved. “But I do need a favor from you,” I confessed, my eyes dropping to the floor, avoiding his heightened interest.
When I finally glanced up, he flashed a smile and leaned against the sofa, crossing his arms and exposing a new addition to the multitude of art that covered his body. It was a textured tribal tattoo that wrapped around his forearm, covering the scar left when he had been slashed by a claw a few months ago. Even when he was doing the most innocuous of acts, there was always a hint of mischief to him that made you feel like he had an intimate relationship with trouble. “Okay? What do you need?”
“I need us to go back to the dark realm. Do you remember that spell?” I mumbled, briefly lifting my eyes to meet his.
The smile vanished, retreating into a worrisome grimace. He found his composure but not before he started to bite at his nail bed. It was his nervous tic—his tell. But he had every right to be apprehensive. It was a caustic reminder of the time he was nearly killed when a witch connected to dark magic tried to kill him in order to steal his magic.
“Yes, I remember the spell and that time quite well,” he said.
“Can we do that again?”
“Why?”
“I think I know where the Aufero is. When we went there the first time, for the Gem of Levage, I saw an orb that fit its description.” I grabbed my purse, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to him.
“I didn’t know it was important until Chris told you about the Aufero.”
He looked at the horrible scribbling on the paper. “And what is this?”
“I don’t have an eidetic memory, but it is pretty good. I tried to draw everything around it so that I could find where it is being kept,” I said. “But it was over two years ago, everything is fuzzy. I just need another look. “
“Okay, I’ll do it for you,” he said, although I knew he would rather be raked over hot coals.
We stood in the middle of the living room. In anticipation of something bad, a scowl overtook his features. Strong magic drifted off him and spiraled around us. His usually cerulean eyes, now a deep indigo, held mine, and he took my hand in his. He clasped my hand firmly, stepping closer and invading my space. I wondered if he could feel my magic the way I felt his. Did it feel odd—wrong somehow? Did he relive that day that Pala had tried to kill him and steal his magic instead of helping him get into the dark realm?
I shivered at the nearly faded images of us straddling this realm and a magical one, where so many elusive objects were hidden with the use of strong magic. He waited a long time before he took out the knife. His eyes were vacant as they wavered, barely able to meet mine. No matter how many times we did it, a knife sliding over my hand was always painful. I winced. The blade slicing into his skin didn’t seem to bother him. But I guess a person who had as much body art as he had was accustomed to a certain level of pain, probably even welcomed it. As he placed his hand in mine, our bond came quickly. As soon as he whispered the final words of the spell, I was yanked into a sea of darkness. I called for Josh but he didn’t answer. This was different than before. No objects revealed themselves as I walked through the caliginous abyss. Breathing was difficult, and I was bathed in the heavy mist that surrounded me. Something was wrong. The dark feel that occupied every inch of the room and the dank coolness that enveloped me were definite signs that I wasn’t welcome.
But the farther I walked, the warmer the air became, and the brighter my path. A new world slowly revealed itself to me. I heard Josh call, but I couldn’t see him. It didn’t look like it did the first time we had visited. Before it was full of things, hidden by the cloak of dark magic, but now there were fewer items. I searched for the Aufero, an orange luminous globe. A shadowy figure moved in the distance, and I lost focus on the reason I was there as I followed it. The slim figure darted in and out of the mist, just a glimpse of him appeared, and then I heard a loud shriek. Like a siren warning me of danger. I quickly changed directions and looked for the Aufero. As though it had waited for me to discover it, the glowing sienna ball pulsing at spastic beats was a beacon that I followed until I was in front of it. Everything revealed itself as if I were looking at a portrait. The dark wood curio that housed it, the odd painting of a woman with her arm outstretched to the sky, her dark dress angled out by the wind, all worked as markers that would ensure I could find it again. The room brightened, giving me every opportunity to identify it if I needed to. A sparrow hung on the wall, and odd cylinder-shaped candles were mounted to the wall, a garnet triple goddess symbol hung over a marble counter. On the tiles of the floor were symbols intricate and different in each space; they would be easy to identify.
I started back, trying to follow Josh’s voice, which had become louder with each step. A figure moved so quickly to my distant right it was just a blur. As my eyes adjusted to the quick movements, I recognized it. Ethan, or someone that looked so like him he could pass as his double. The moment I was close enough to identify him he disappeared. When I turned to find Josh, Ethan’s double stood in front of me. He had all his features except his skin, which here was bronze, his eyes vacant and gold. Our skin nearly touched. He was just about to touch me when I remembered Josh’s instructions two years ago when we were in the dark realm and encountered a bronze man similar to the one standing in front of me. “Don’t touch him, and if you ever see someone like him outside this realm: run.”
And that is exactly what I did. Before he could touch me, I ran through the space, draped in darkness, calling Josh. I screamed, but my words were captured in the darkness, as we remained in unyielding silence. The fog increased, making it hard to see anything. The smell of sulfur and fire bloomed in the air. Breathing was difficult and my vision was compromised as my eyes started to tear up. I heard a strange gurgle and ran toward the sound. Josh’s hand was wrapped around his own throat, trying hard to pry an invisible strangler off him. Just as I whispered the words to release us, something sharp sliced into my side.
Lying on the floor next to Josh, I panted softly as the remnants of strong magic lingered. My side ached.
“I hope you got what you needed, because we are never doing that again,” he finally said, sitting up.
I continued to lie on the floor thinking about everything I’d seen in there and trying to make sense of it. Josh hovered over me. “Are you okay?
I nodded, but I wasn’t. My side was throbbing.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, rearing back on his heels to get a better look.
I followed his gaze and found my shirt was sodden with blood. He jumped up and went to the bathroom and came back with a towel and bandages. Before I could object, he lifted my shirt and starting cleaning away the blood. My skin gaped open from an incision that was just deep enough to need bandaging. “It will be okay by tomorrow,” I said, but he lingered just a little too close.
Personal space was a concept that Josh often ignored. He glanced down and smiled. “All better,” he said.
But it wasn’t all bett
er. The longer I was away from the dark realm the more distant it seemed. I winced when I sat up to grab a piece of paper and pen off the coffee table and started scribbling down the patterns and shapes I had seen and everything I could remember about the dark realm and the Aufero, while Josh just looked over my shoulder. I wished we could have grabbed it then, but the dark realm just allowed you to see things, never touch. Which made the bronze man and whoever stabbed me even scarier. How did they survive in such a place? Why did they stab me? They weren’t trying to kill me, maybe not even hurt me. Was it their way of pushing me out? If that was their plan, they succeeded, because I was glad to be out of that place and didn’t have any intentions of going back.
I wasn’t an artist, but a person could look at my picture and definitely find what was drawn on it. But I couldn’t seem to get the image of the man that looked like Ethan out of my head.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I wanted to tell him I had seen Ethan. I should have but it sounded crazy when I said it, and in my head I could only imagine what it would sound like out loud.
“Nothing.”
“Did you get what you needed?”
And so much more. I simply nodded my head.
He brushed the damp hair from my face. “You’re burning up. Are you really okay?”
No, I wasn’t okay, but I wasn’t hurt. I felt different, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “What is Ethan?” I blurted.
His face scrunched, giving me the look I suspected you would give one descending into madness. “What do you mean?”
I was positive Josh knew that there was more to Ethan than met the eye. Josh was more inquisitive in the past, but now he seemed to be in a place of acceptance. “He’s a werewolf, like you, Skylar.”
That was the problem. Ethan was more like me than he would admit. I wasn’t just a wolf. I was death masquerading as a werewolf. I didn’t survive my birth as a result of a vampire trying to turn my mother and me in utero. The conflicting changes were too hard for my body to handle, and like any other person would, I died. In an effort to save my life, my mother transferred a spirit shade from her to me and gave up her life in the process. I’m alive because I host a spirit shade named Maya. Because of my unusual birth and death, I could and would never be just a werewolf.
Midnight Shadows (Sky Brooks World: Ethan Book 3) Page 37
