by Brea Viragh
“You knew what you signed up for when you offered to let us move in.” Aisanna grabbed another bottle from the picnic table behind them and tossed it across the lawn to replace the one Astix had broken. Clearly not sorry.
Astix caught it and set it down on the stone.
Karsia lifted on her tip toes to kiss Morgan’s chin, wiggling her nose at his expression of displeasure. “We’ll pick it up, sweetie pie. I promise. This is purely for demonstration purposes.”
Her kisses must have done the trick, as Morgan melted seconds later into a sweet smile.
“Here, I’ll go next.”
Brock came out the door the exact moment Aisanna whipped a thick stem of pampas grass, leaves razor sharp, across the yard. It split the bottle cleanly in two.
“Holy hell!” Brock stumbled back and knocked into the side of the house, coffee sloshing over the rim of his cup.
All eyes turned in his direction. “Sorry,” Aisanna called, cupping her hands around her mouth unnecessarily. “I know it can be intimidating for a non-magical person. You should have seen Elon’s face when he walked in on us the first time. At least you have a little preparation.”
She couldn’t worry about another human knowing about them. Especially not when she sensed something extra written into Brock’s energy signature. He had Seer blood somewhere in his heritage. Much diluted, but there.
Brock regained his composure, smoothing a hand over his hair and taking a nonchalant sip of coffee. Like he hadn’t witnessed a metaphysical miracle. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. You can conjure plants?”
“We can both use plants to heal.” Aisanna used her nose to gesture to Karsia. “We can send messages using flowers, or, as you see, use our gifts to cause pain if we chose. There are a variety of plants that not only wound, but poison.” The pampas grass in her hand disappeared. “We use our magic mostly for healing. It’s better that way.”
“They brought me back from the dead,” Astix agreed.
“It’s amazing,” Brock said with an easy grin. He came closer and tried to reach for Nasira. She stepped out of the way. “Show me more? I have a feeling I interrupted something important.”
Nasira wished she could disappear as fast as the grass. “This isn’t a damn show and tell day at your kid’s school. This is serious business.”
He found her reaction delightful. “It’s always serious business with you. You want me to go away?”
“Yes. Far away. And fast.”
Instead of doing as she begged, he made himself comfortable, leaning against the picnic table and settling in. He still wore his pajamas. The look completed by a pair of slippers. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Please, don’t let me stop you from whatever you’re doing. You were busy trying to demolish a bottle?”
“Try to block him out. It’s just you. No one else,” Karsia said.
Nasira stifled a growl and focused on the task ahead. Feeling like a pile of worms were crawling around in her stomach. The day wasn’t off to the greatest start, although she wasn’t exactly sure where it started rolling downhill. She had a bad feeling it was about to snowball. Fast.
“And here I thought I was being nice by letting you sleep in,” she muttered, knowing Brock would hear her.
Karsia saw how Nasira stared ahead. “Pull your energy from your core,” she suggested. “Your magic is inside of you. A part of your soul and your genetic makeup. Whatever you have, it will come. I know it will.”
Nasira planted her feet, squaring her shoulders and trying to block out the rest of the world. “I haven’t practiced in my life. I can do a few things when it come to my job but nothing worthwhile. I’m not sure what kind of powers I have, let alone how to harness them to protect myself.”
Aisanna and Astix shared a look. “You never had an Awakening? When you turned fifteen?” the eldest wanted to know.
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“It’s a ceremonial thing young witches and wizards go through on their fifteenth birthday. The first time your body and mind are strong enough to physically manifest your magic. It has little actual meaning outside of the symbolism.”
“No, I guess I didn’t. My mom always just told me our family was different and that we came from a background rich and steeped in history.” She wondered if her mother could be classified as a witch in the same way her sisters were. Or did she fall into a completely separate category? “I guess we’re not a practicing kind of family.”
“Well then, it’s time to put those latent skills to work.” Karsia was unfailingly optimistic. It was enough to make a normal person ill.
“I’m not sure what you think I can do. I’m a complete novice when it comes to the occult. I don’t know my up from my down.”
It will never work.
Nasira focused on the target and tried to dive into the deepest spaces inside of herself, leaving no corner overlooked. What was she looking for, exactly? She wasn’t sure. This was something that didn’t come with a map or a syllabus. There were no hard and fast rules for conjuring. Right?
Whatever she’d managed to do at her veterinary clinic came naturally before she could think about it. Like breathing. She didn’t concentrate on inflating her lungs and expelling the air. Her body just did it. Shouldn’t it be the same with her magic? Someone just tell her what steps to take and she’d gladly do it!
She knew what her patients needed. She knew when a case was hopeless or when she could bring an animal back from the brink. But how would any of this help her explode a bottle?
Answer: it wouldn’t.
She stood for several seconds listening to the heavy boom of silence. “I can’t do this,” she said at last, dropping her hands and scowled at the others. “I’m sorry. I’m not a witch.” She dropped her head so she wouldn’t have to see Brock’s disappointment.
Why do you even try?
“You can take a minute, if you want,” Aisanna suggested. “Don’t try so hard and it will come.”
Nasira shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, fingers tangling with knots in her curls. “I don’t think taking a minute is going to help. I mean, we have days before the veil tears,” she sputtered. “And here I am standing around? No.”
The sisters shared another long look.
She was starting to hate the way they looked at each other. They were a group. Their own special click. And who was she? She was the nobody who decided to crash their party.
Look at them. They don’t need you. You’re a burden to them. You show up unannounced and expect to fit in?
The voice in her head was unexpectedly harsh. Nasira hated being negative but couldn’t seem to stem the flow. It whispered in her blood, brought it to a boil, and she stared at the bottle. The damn bottle still whole when the others managed to break it easily.
“Try again,” Karsia urged her, voice soft. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“I’m not being hard on myself. I’m trying to focus.” The last word came out as a growl. “It’s. Not. Happening.”
Because it wasn’t meant to. When will you accept it?
Nasira couldn’t claim that everything in her life came easily. Getting her doctorate was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. But she’d pushed through and managed it half a year ahead of schedule. She’d opened her own veterinary clinic. Bought her first house and refurbished it. All of these things had gone on the list and gotten checked off. When she discovered she came from a line of witches and wizards, yes. She went ahead and put magic on her list, fully intending to meet each milestone.
Trying to produce a magical spark in front of her sisters was another animal entirely.
It was a part of her, from what everyone said. It was something she should be able to do. If not easily, then eventually. So what if she hadn’t had an Awakening? Today could be her Awakening. A chance for her to show her magic.
Why wasn’t anything happening? It should be this hard. Harder than trying to p
erform a teeth cleaning on a squirming cat.
You’re a failure.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture the bottle in her mind, skin tingling in anticipation. She tried to build the heat in her belly and send it out through her hands. She needed something. Anything. Otherwise, there was no point.
She was no use to anyone.
It’s better if you leave. They don’t want you here.
There were several more minutes of nothing where she tried to tell herself to stop feeling sorry. To stop feeling like she was put on the spot. Her hands were open, her heart willing, and the walls quickly slamming down around her mind.
“It’s okay. I know this can be difficult.” Morgan purposely kept his tone mellow. His fingertips fell on the top of her head, the contact feeling distinctly big-brother.
Nasira swiveled and broke the contact. A line of sweat slipped along her spine and down her back. “I think I will take that minute.”
They’re laughing at you. Can’t you see? Why do you stay?
Strange emotions flickered through her when she stomped through the back door and up the stairs. Emotions that didn’t feel like her own. Like the madness of the world had seeped in through the cracks in her defense to pollute her insides.
“Nasira? Hey, wait.”
She pushed past him without a glance. Brock caught a whiff of her skin—cinnamon and sweetness—then turned and spared a look at Morgan. “Apparently, I’ve got to put my running shoes on. We’ll be back in a bit. I’m going to follow her.”
He had to jog to catch up with her. Nasira was halfway up the stairs and taking them two at a time. “Whoa there, woman. Where do you think you’re going, hopping mad? You need to slow down; I’m in slippers and I can’t keep up with you.”
“You’re not funny,” she lashed out. “Haven’t I told you already?”
He followed her into their room, holding his hand up in defense. Knowing this was one moment he’d do better to not antagonize her. There was something off-color in her voice. In the way she slapped her dirty clothes into a bag, shoulders hunched, mouth stretched in a grimace.
“Hey, I was only trying to make a joke to lighten the mood.” Brock took the opportunity to changes his pants and shoes. He refused to pack. They’d return the second Nasira calmed down. If he could get her to calm down which, at the moment, seemed to be a pretty big if.
“You look like you’re ready to bite someone’s face off.”
“Unless you want it to be you, then you’ll leave me alone.”
“The whole point of having me here is to keep you from being alone,” he told her with a sigh, slipping his feet into his sneakers.
She didn’t slow, zipping her luggage closed, then swiping the few toiletries she’d unpacked on the nightstand into a new bag with her forearm. “It’s better if I go home. I just…I don’t think I can do this.”
“Come again?”
“I’ve had enough. I’m going out of my mind and none of this is helping me get closer to my father.”
Brock took a breath and tamped down a teasing retort. Careful, he warned. Nothing good came from baiting a wild animal. It was the same with Nasira. “Maybe you missed the conversations where we sat down to discuss an ancient evil about to be unleashed?” he asked. “You need to be here. I don’t understand why you think you should leave.”
“You can stay or go if you want but I need to get out of here.” She turned her back to him.
“Where is the Nasira I know, and what did you do with her? You’re acting crazy! Hold on a minute and think about this.” He grabbed her hand and wasn’t surprised when she shrugged him off.
“This is exactly me. Sorry I didn’t live up to your standards.”
“Naz.”
She pushed past him with her two bags over her shoulder, leaving Brock no choice but to follow along after her and hope. Pray he could get her back. Because if there was any place he knew they needed to be, it was here.
Maybe it was the sight his grandmother talked about, finally kicking in.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said.
“No, coming here was a mistake. I’m doing the logical thing by distancing myself.”
“From what? From whom? Come on, Naz. This is ridiculous.”
“You might think I’m acting crazy, but it’s like my insides have turned to fire. I need to move. I need to go before I lose my sanity.”
“Guess I’m following you out, then.” He spared a look at his own luggage, kicked to the corner with his clothes put away in the nearest dresser. He’d assumed they would stay for a while. Figure things out before they ran off.
He shook his head and left everything where it was. Hoping they would be back. Hoping he could convince her to change her mind. Whatever was going on up there, he needed to figure it out, and fast.
CHAPTER 14
“Sir? I have new information for you.”
Orestes stifled a sigh, hating the interruption. Unfortunately, it was the downside of being at work. There were always interruptions. Better he be at his office, his personal sanctum, than have to deal with his wife’s endless droning about their missing son when he was at home. He was beginning to hate the sound of her voice.
“Unless you’re going to tell me the Cavaldi girl is waiting outside my office door, then I don’t want to hear it.” He stared down at the papers on his desk, refusing to look up at the intrusion. Whatever Kelsi wanted, it was unimportant. “Now. And is there any news?”
Kelsi stayed in the doorway and Orestes didn’t need to physically see her to picture her in his mind. Shoulders bent, head hung, fingers tugging at her shirt. “We know she was living in Indiana. She runs a small veterinary clinic there to much success.”
His pen zipped across the nearest paper, his signature a flourish. “Her magic?”
“S-she appears to have none.”
“I think we both know that’s not true. Where is she now?” His assistant hesitated. “Girl. Now.” Orestes snapped his fingers. “Where is she?”
“She’s…close.”
Not the answer he wanted. “Close? I haven’t fired you yet today, have I? Tell me the truth, Kelsi, or get out and don’t come back. You’ll make a nice addition to the Vault.”
“She’s in Chicago,” the girl finally said.
“Oh.” Orestes set the pen down and at last lifted his gaze. Yes, there she was, exactly the way he’d pictured. Timid and weak and bordering on useless. “Oh my. This is perfect. Absolutely perfect!” Finally, things were looking up.
Kelsi looked uncertain how to best respond. There was clearly more
He tightened his jaw, keeping his excitement on a short leash. “Anything else?”
“There’s more. It’s the…the, ah, mental dominant. You wanted me to alert you?”
He felt the first stirrings of a smile light across his face. “Tell me you found her and brought her in.”
Kelsi stared at the floor and worried a tile with the toe of her shoe. “She’s waiting in the lobby for you. But she didn’t want to come willingly. S-she’s a little beat up.”
Beat up? “My goodness, girl. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“It wasn’t me, sir. It was the team you dispatched to collect the witch. They had rather explicit instructions from you to take her by force?”
“I didn’t want to leave anything up to chance. I need the mental dominant here, at my side. The loss of our last one was quite unpleasant and I’ve keenly felt the loss. Finding this newest one was a silver lining. I needed her immediately.”
“Our last one? Sir?”
Orestes cleared his throat, remember how his assistant had only been brought into his confidence after the loss of Herodotos. He didn’t feel like going into the story. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe it’s any of your business. Bring her up to me.” He pushed the paperwork aside and at last permitted himself a smile.
Kelsi opened her mouth to speak but Orestes flashed her a silencing glare. It lasted only
an instant, his blue eyes sending a clear message. Don’t ask questions. Just do as you’re told.
At last she inclined her head and swiveled out the door, disappearing with hardly a whisper.
Three floors down and one more below the earth for good measure, three men were penned together like cattle. There were wards drawn on the floor, ceiling, and walls of the pen, every surface made from industrial strength plastic. The wards and runes were designed to keep magic at bay inside of the room.
Each breath felt like being stuck inside a wet bag with nothing on the outside.
It was the end of the line for errant witches and wizards. Those who could not control themselves or those who displeased the Claddium higher ups.
Leo Voltaire struggled with the heavy feeling of the air the first few days of his imprisonment. He thought it was days, at least. There was no way of telling time in the Vault. Not having his magic felt like he’d had a limb amputated against his will. He reached for it and found nothing. Now he understood why the Vault was their kind’s equivalent of a maximum-security prison. A wizard trapped below for too long would go insane.
He was hazy on the details of his capture. He’d been on his way to the cabin he and Astix shared, a cabin they’d taken great pains to hide, using spells to virtually wipe it off the map. Somewhere along the line he’d been ambushed by his former coworkers, those loyal to his father and prepared to do whatever the great Earth Elemental demanded.
They’d taken him by surprise the moment he parked the car, using a dampening spell to hide the sound of their footsteps. Leo remembered a sharp pain to the back of his neck and nothing. Nothing until he woke tied to a chair in preparation for Orestes and his monologue.
“Zee?” he asked.
“I’m awake, Leo.”
“Today’s the day we’re getting out of here.” He flexed his fingers, blood flowing freely. There was a tingle behind his eyes. He tried to think of it as a good sign.
Zenon Cavaldi, the only son of the Cavaldi line and a magical null, shifted in his cell and, although Leo couldn’t see his face, he had an idea of what it would look like. A male version of Astix, complete with lifted eyebrow and hint of scorn. They were twins, after all.
