by Brea Viragh
“You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“Rather me than you,” she muttered under her breath.
Zelda yelled, her lasso of fire whipping the ground and leaving devastation in their wake. Nasira had a brief moment to wonder if all fire users had her proficiency with the flame. If they could all command such raw power.
She barely had time to push Brock out of the way before the tail end of the blaze sizzled through the skin on her bicep.
She refused to scream. Holy hell, did it hurt! Almost worse than the burn on her hand. Then she saw something that made her blood run cold. Brock bending to his knees, his body tense and his shoulders stiff. Preparing for the tackle.
“Hey, you! Over here!” he yelled to Zelda. “That’s right, over here. Look at me. Not her. Look at me!”
“No!” Nasira opened her mouth to yell but there was no sound. Nothing came out.
Time seemed to freeze around them. Morphing into a slow-motion sequence or something out of a dream. She focused on the beat of her heart. The beating in her ears and the pounding of her feet on the ground.
Her gaze traveled over until she was looking at Zelda’s face, dark eyes glistening with regret as she prepared to bring her lasso down in a final blow.
There was no time.
No time.
Nasira heaved forward between the charging man and the terrifying woman. Her sneakered feet slammed into the ground again and again.
There was no choice.
Intuition took the reins. Tension had her back straightening. She exploded into action, launching herself between them. Head lowered, her foot came down, forcing Brock to stumble to a halt before he hit her with his full weight. She spun on her heel, the fear in her chest stamped down under an exhilarating rise of knowing.
With Brock out of the way, Nasira grounded her feet and power surged up inside of her, from the soles of her feet up and up until her bones grew heavy and her heart and hands so hot she thought she’d been hit.
Throwing out her arms in from of her, she prepared for the worst.
“Nasira, stop! You’ll hurt yourself.” The urgent shout came from the right.
The feeling of knowing was stronger now than it had been before. She glanced up at the sky then shifted her gaze over to the tiny red-haired woman. A cloud of malicious intent hung heavy around her shoulders. Nasira recognized it. She saw the waves of energy between them, separating them. Connecting them as witches.
Something inside of her begged her to use her own energy, shape it into whatever she needed to win this fight. She was grabbing back control. Even with no idea of what would happen next.
“This ends.” Her tone brooked no argument.
The heat inside of her needed somewhere to go. It welled up ready to be let loose. She heard a piercing shriek echo in the forest. Whether from her or Zelda, she wasn’t sure, and didn’t have time to find out. Excitement built within her. This was her gift, the one she’d always suspected was inside of her.
Magic.
Suddenly she stood on a line, with one foot in the human world she knew, one foot in the magical world she was starting to love. When? She wondered. When had she started to love this crazy and terrifying world. And why had it taken her this long to recognize it?
Then something strange happened. As if this entire encounter wasn’t strange enough.
A man popped out of thin air. A man wearing a bright blue shirt and jaunty red suspenders, with dark brown hair and bright eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached down and grabbed a fallen branch from the ground. He hefted it high above his head before swinging it through the air to collide with Zelda’s shoulder.
It knocked the other woman off her feet, her lasso disintegrating in a shower of sparks. He followed the first blow with a second one to make sure she didn’t get up.
Nasira’s palms burned and her insides felt like she’d tried to swallow acid. Her vision blurred until she stared at two men. Two Zeldas lying prone. Fire crackled along her skin and scorched her cheek. Magic with nowhere to go but out.
“Naz!”
Brock’s cry was the last sound she heard before blacking out.
**
Bast stalked toward her wearing a fearsome scowl. “How could you think it was me? How could you?”
Nasira had a hard time focusing on the goddess’s face. It was indistinct and hazy as her vision swept the room, trying to puzzle out where she was. It was the same dark space from her dreams before. Only this time the table was gone. There was no food or candlelight to welcome her. And the goddess she faced was anything but pleased to see her.
Nasira pushed away from the floor with a groan. Even in dreams she felt the pain of her burns, and though her skin was clear of any wound, it ached.
When she flanked up from where she lingered on her hands and knees, Bast stood over her. Her face shadowed. “Answer me.”
“Am I dead?” Nasira’s mouth was numb. There was something about being in the presence of an incredibly powerful being that did strange things to a person. Turned her knees to liquid even now. Or maybe it was the after effects of whatever she’d tried to do to Zelda.
“No, you’re not dead. You’re short circuited.” Bast spoke in short, hard words.
“I don’t understand,” Nasira rasped. “I’ve never used magic before. Is this normal?” She blurted out the first question on her mind.
“No, this is not normal. Then again, you’ve never been normal. It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Bast said.
Nasira nodded too quickly, her movement’s jerky, and studied her goddess. Bast stood with her face inscrutable. Her gaze so jagged Nasira imagined it slicing through her flesh. She had the strangest desire to fidget and forced her hands to curl, to push her to her feet until she stood still with her arms at her sides.
“You did the best you could,” Bast said suddenly. “You were never trained, as your mother doesn’t qualify as a proper witch. I’ve told you before, you have power, and it’s time you accepted it. Before you kill yourself trying to prove something.” Her words echoed with authority and Nasira felt power slip over her skin in hungry, searching waves. “Another stunt like the one you pulled and nothing will be able to bring you back. Your magic will overpower your soul and you’ll return to the world beyond the veil. You will die, in other words. Do you understand?”
Yes, she should have known better, Nasira realized. She shouldn’t have automatically written off the voice in her head for that of her goddess. It was suicide. There were multiple steps she’d taken on this path that she regretted. The largest of which was acting like a fool instead of herself.
How would she be able to come back form it?
Her mouth went dry. Nasira had never questioned her affinity for animals. Or the way she instinctively knew what they needed or how to calm them down when they were on her table.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m not dealing with this well, am I?” She rocked back until she balanced on her heels, then tried standing. It wasn’t the best idea. Her vision swam and her head weight a thousand pounds. Her body off kilter and unbalanced.
Bast’s expression softened almost unperceptively. “You’re doing the best you can with your limited tools. Not everyone does well withstanding the torrent of power from the world of the ancient magicks. I do not tell you this lightly, but you need to be prepared. It will only get worse the closer we get to the end.”
“The end?” Sticky tendrils of fear fought their way through her abdomen and landed hard in her stomach.
“Yes. It’s coming fast.” The white cat was there, winding around Bast’s feet restlessly. “Don’t stand there and feel sorry for yourself. Don’t doubt that you are special and have much to bring to the table. Acknowledge your gifts, Nasira. Work hard to cultivate them. It’s the only way you will be able to win.”
“You’re saying…there’s a chance.”
“More than a chance, if you do what you need to do instead of feeling sorry
for yourself,” the goddess finished.
A snap of her fingers brought light into the space and Nasira could clearly see woman. Tall and statuesque with a strong, intelligent face. Gone was the raging anger, replaced by only the slightest coloring of agitation, lips full and crimson. Her gown was layer upon layer of shining red silk draped over the curves of her body and synched around the waist with a chain. Hanging from the chain were two rattles, their handles carved from beech wood and the U-shaped upper portion made of bronze.
Nasira turned her attention to her feet and embarrassment rushed over her. “I’m not normally this weepy,” she whispered, wiping her blurry eyes.
“You have gifts. Gifts beyond average human reckoning. It’s written in your blood, my cherished daughter. Tradition followed for generation after generation, even when women fought for their lives and their magic. Stop. Being. Weepy.”
She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “I understand. I’ll do better.”
“Yes, you will. And it gladdens my heart to hear you sound as strong as I know you can be.” Bast’s face softened and she reached out a hand. Nasira took it automatically, their fingers linked together. “You’ve come far and persevered against the pull of the dark. I’ll reward you the best way I can. I’ll help you awaken that part of yourself.”
The white cat lifted its head to stare at them, as if it were curious how the event would proceed.
Nasira wondered if this “gift” would be a double-edged sword. “You’re going to give me magic?”
Bast raised both eyebrows. “No. I’m going give you the key to unlock the door. The rest you’ll have to do yourself.”
“Will it hurt?”
“It depends entirely on you…”
The only thing that mattered, Nasira thought to herself later when her body alit in flames and she wondered if she was really dying this time, was staying strong. She didn’t belong in this in between world. It didn’t matter. She’d built her life around staying true to herself and managed to cultivate a core of steel. If she couldn’t draw on it when it was most needed, then she really was useless. And she’d never found any benefit in the word.
Her cells expanded and contracted, her bones bending and her mind warping. Through it she tried to focus on Bast. On her stern face and full lips and unyielding gaze. This was her protector. The protector of her family dating back to the birth of the gods.
She would prove herself worthy. She was a protector, too. It was time to do her best to protect the people she cared about. If not her sisters, whom she didn’t know well enough to truly love, then for her mother. For her coworkers and her friends in Madison. For Brock.
After an eon of agony, her consciousness returned to her body. Feeling shot through her fingertips and down to her feet. Her hair felt electrified.
She coughed and clutched at her chest, back stiffening. “What did you do to me?”
“I sped up the process. You’re now able to access your inherent nature, if you choose to do so, without killing yourself or others. What you do after this meeting ends is not up to me,” Bast said softly. “It’s up to you to determine what is inside. I can’t give you the answer.”
“How do I know what to do if you won’t give me a hint?” Nasira demanded, her confusion and lingering pain giving way to anger.
Instead of answering, Bast snapped her fingers again. A shadow figure began to take shape beside her. “Figure it out,” she answered. “This is our last meeting, Nasira. After this, the world will be filled with too much uncontrollable magic for me to reach out to you. But know I am with you, always.”
The shadow solidified into the shape of a man. A man with dark hair and hazel eyes. He had a straight nose, wide lips ready to smile, and sharp cheekbones. When he spoke, his voice deep and easy. Nasira felt her body begin to relax. She recognized the cadence and rhythm of it and knew he meant no harm.
“Nasira, hello.”
Bast swept an arm out wide. “Someone has been wanting to speak to you for a long time.”
“I’m Vane,” the man said in answer. There went the easy grin. Wrinkles formed around his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve watched you grow into a wonderful young woman. And I promise you, though the statement may come across in the wrong way, the meaning behind it is pure.”
Nasira looked into his eyes and was surprised to see understanding there. No judgement. No explosions of sage life wisdom. She felt the rest of the tension in her shoulders relax. “Vane…Cavaldi.” Another puzzle piece snapping into place.
“Yes. Your ancestor, and someone who is painfully sorry it took him this long to speak.”
“It wasn’t your place,” Bast replied. “She’s been mine since her birth. I’ve only now allowed you to enter my realm.”
“The approaching eclipse has given me enough strength to intervene,” Vane said. “Come, let’s sit.”
At last the table appeared. Bast’s impatient gesture bid them sit. “We haven’t much time, and it is a favor I do to allow you to stay this long in my realm. Reality beckons and your soul and blood know it’s time for you to return to the real world.”
“This seems impossible…” Nasira shook her head and ran a shaky hand over her face. She sucked air and stared at the two of them. “Are you sure I’m not dead?”
“Quite sure,” Vane corrected her. “Sit, please. There is much to discuss.”
CHAPTER 16
“What are we going to do?” Brock suddenly asked.
Nasira was out cold, as she had been for the last fifteen or so minutes. Her eyes twitched beneath closed lids and her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Otherwise, there was no change.
Another few seconds and he would really begin to worry. She can take care of herself, he tried to say. She’s fine. She doesn’t need your help. Still, his heart beat frantically and he couldn’t help worrying her fingers between his. Trailing his hands along the skin of her arms in hopes it would wake her up. H made sure to stay away from the burns on her arm and hand.
The other man settled his gaze on Nasira. “Man, your guess is as good as mine,” he answered. “I don’t even know where I am. And who are you?”
“Brock Lockhart,” he supplied hastily. “Nice to meet you.”
“Elon Fayer. The pleasure is mine, I guess.” Elon shrugged. Looking out of place. “I’m still not sure what’s going on.”
Confusion at the man’s sudden appearance shifted into gratitude. “Tell me about it. You popped out of thin air,” Brock exclaimed. “You want to talk about confusing. Wait. Elon…you’re Aisanna’s boyfriend.”
“Yes, I am! You know the girls?”
The familiar comfort of Brock’s voice helped ease Nasira out of unconsciousness. Her arms twitched and when she opened her eyes, it was as though she saw everything through a pool of water. Her stomach twisting, she brought her hands to her abdomen.
A violent, soundless cry brought both of their attention down. “Naz. There you are. I was worried.” He let out a breath and felt his chest release. “You’re alive.”
“Brock?” she said, her voice hardly more than a croak.
“We’re here.” His gaze ran over her, rolled from head to foot. Not a lascivious sweep, like she’d seen from other men, but an observation to satisfy his curiosity on her wellbeing.
“Who is we?”
He helped her into a seated position, keeping his hands on her spine to steady her. “This is Elon. He’s the one who knocked out your friend.”
Nasira took a huge breath, her entire body shuddering. “She’s not my friend. Someone please tell me what happened. Is she gone?”
“For now.”
“Then I didn’t kill her,” she said.
“Zelda crawled back into whatever hole she came from.” His tone was flat.
Damn.
Nasira tried to sit up and hissed under a crashing swell of dizziness. Would her head ever feel right again?
“Save whatever power you have left,” Brock
cautioned.
“I didn’t know I had enough to knock myself out. Jeez, what did I do?”
“We have to get you back to the house. The girls will know. You think you can walk?”
She blinked to clear her eyes of the tears suddenly burning there. “Did I…did I hurt anyone? Are you okay?”
“Just yourself. It’s going to take a while for you to feel one hundred percent, I’d imagine. The pain won’t let go of you easily.”
“I don’t understand…” Nasira shut her eyes again.
Fingers touched her forehead and the bruise forming from where she’d dropped and smacked against the hard ground.
“Yeah, neither do I.” Brock looped her arm over his shoulder and lifted her to her feet. “But it’s not going to help by sitting here and waiting for the psycho to come back. Or whatever else is coming, because I guarantee this wasn’t a single attack. We’ve got to go back to the house.”
“We still don’t know where we are.” Nasira let Brock haul her out of the clearing, Elon trailing behind them.
Why did her head feel clouded? She stumbled along over rocks and twigs, her fingers tightening on the collar of his shirt to help steady her.
“We’ll find a way,” Brock assured her.
They wandered through a labyrinth of trees until they came to a parking lot and a sign telling them they were inside Petrifying Spring Park. Luckily Brock remembered talking to Morgan about the area and knew they were blocks away from the duplex.
It took a bit more maneuvering to get back. Her bag forgotten, they pushed through the front door. “Honey, we’re home,” Brock called out.
The call came quickly from down the hallway. “In the back.”
Brock shot the two of them a smile. “Smells good in here. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be back. And I hope we didn’t miss lunch.”
“Is your stomach seriously rumbling?” Nasira griped.
“Yes. Who knows how long we’ve been gone. I didn’t get to eat breakfast, if you remember.”
