“Why do you assume that I was going to argue with you?” I asked, more than a little upset that Seth cut me off.
“Because that’s what you do, Nai.”
“Ouch.” He might have been right, but that really wasn’t necessary.
“Nai, please take this seriously. I’m obviously aware that there is something besides your split soul that sets you and your brother apart from our previous Guardian and before you ask, no, I don’t know any more than you do why that is. But I can see why you would be tempted to use these unique abilities to do what you may consider more interesting than that which the role of Guardian allows. I just need to impress upon you that in this particular instance, you need to let it go and wait for the Warrior to make a move.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “I don’t want to be cycled anyway. But Seth, seriously, when this is all over. I think we should all sit down and acknowledge that maybe there’s a good reason why Jem and I are different.”
“I can agree to that,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Come on, let’s get back before we‘re missed.
* * *
“Since when are you into antiques?” Jem asked. I swear, sometimes I thought that he felt he would die if he stopped talking. He even managed to get mad at me earlier in the week, like honestly pissed off, but instead of not speaking to me like a normal person, he got over it in about thirty seconds and continued to run his yap.
“Since there isn’t anything else to do around here,” I snapped and went back to searching through the bin of mostly useless junk that some dealer had the audacity to call antiques. There was nothing of value, so I moved on, passing over a barrel of cheap samurai sword replicas.
“Right,” Jem drawled. “It’s not like you could possibly be, oh say… looking for weapons?”
I stopped my search and gave my brother a flat look. “Jem, I have weapons. You saw them. Besides, even if I was looking for weapons, I would go to the surplus store. Fake swords and decorative suits of armor aren’t going to protect us against a rabid toddler, let alone the Discordant.”
“Then what are you doing?”
I rolled my eyes. “Mind your own business, will you? I didn’t ask you to come along.”
By looking for a corpus vessel, I wasn’t really breaking my promise to Seth. In fact, I spent the rest of the week staying as far away from the guidance counselor as possible. Admittedly, I really didn’t expect to find any powerful relics in a tiny antique shop in the middle of nowhere, but I wasn’t going to leave any stone unturned. If I happened upon a real weapon along the way, that would just be a bonus. Stranger things had happened and I had heard several stories of people finding things like valuable artwork in their local Goodwill. Still, the ridiculously named Main Street Vintage Emporium was a total bust. Most of the so-called antiques were cheaply manufactured vases and trinkets that still had the ‘Made in China’ stickers on them.
“Hey, what do you think this is?” Jem asked, holding up one such piece of junk. It was a blue bottle with a wide base and narrow neck, decorated in cheap rhinestones.
“A wine decanter,” I said, reading from the description on the price tag. “A tacky as hell wine decanter at that.” The price had started at $200, but had been crossed out about fifty times and was now marked for five bucks. It still seemed too high.
“I can’t get the top off,” Jem said, struggling with the ugly thing. “I wonder if there’s a genie in here.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Genies are Discordant, Jem,” I reminded him.
“What, really?” He frowned and set the bottle down.
I shook my head and moved on to the next pile of crap. At one point, I got pretty excited, thinking I had found an authentic memento mori locket, but if the picture inside was any indication, the lock of hair, lovingly braided and quilled into the shape of a heart, had come from a cat. I was half-inclined to wonder if a dog would work as a corpus vessel, but I was damned sure that no cat in the history of ever lived a pious and selfless life.
“Well, this was a bust,” I said, turning to Jem, but found that he was no longer following me around. Instead, he was up at the counter, talking to the old woman who was ringing him out.
“Tell me you didn’t actually waste five bucks on that thing,” I said when I saw the top of the ugly decanter sticking out of the plastic shopping bag.
“What? It’s cool!” he said defensively. “And totally mysterious. I still can’t get it open.”
“That’s probably because the stopper was glued on. Sloppily, I might add,” I noted, pointing to the clear blob of epoxy that clung to the rim.
“Whatever. I like it. It’s my mystery bottle.”
“You’re an idiot, Jem.”
“And you’re a bitch, Nai,” he retorted, looking more surprised than I was. “Hey! I did it again!”
“Good for you, moron.” I rolled my eyes, but as soon as we were out of the store, I pulled my notebook out of my purse and logged Jem’s insult. Something was definitely weird. Unfortunately, neither Seth nor Desmond had been lying when they said that they had no idea why we were different.
Knowing when people were lying to me was an interesting skill, but not exactly helpful when the liars still refused to tell me why they were lying. Desmond continued to deny what Seth had already confirmed. Even Jem was holding something back and no amount of bullying or threats of physical harm were making him speak. I tucked my notebook back into my purse and caught movement out of the corner of my eye. About a block away, Desmond and some old lady were deep in conversation with the one person who might actually have insight as to why Jem and I were the way we were.
“Hey, isn’t that Harry from the-” Jem started but I shut him up with a glare.
“Shush! They haven’t seen us. Come on!” I grabbed Jem’s arm and dragged him around the corner and out of view.
“Are you suggesting we should spy on Desmond?” Jem asked.
“Um, duh! How else are we going to find out what’s going on?”
“We could ask.”
“I need a stronger word than idiot,” I grumbled and yanked my brother along behind me. I knew better than to get too close to the bar, since Desmond had all kinds of wards all over the place. Besides, they were walking away. From the direction, I guessed they were headed up to the church. I really wasn’t interested in following them up the hill, so I hoped I was wrong.
“Nai, what are we-”
“Zip it!” I hissed. They had stopped, just outside of downtown in the park that was across from our neighborhood. I ducked behind a large tree and motioned for Jem to do the same.
“How long do you think that would take?” I heard Desmond ask.
“I can’t say for sure if the vessel’s even gonna be available, but the best we can hope for is a week.”
“If that’s the best we can hope for, then it will have to do,” said the old lady, who turned to Desmond. “If the wraith is indeed bound to the broken soul, we have little worry of losing the trail.”
“I’m more worried about the number of lost,” Desmond replied. “There is only so much our Guardians can do.”
“I understand my daughter has been teaching them wards and binding spells. At least, she has been teaching the young man. She says he’s a natural.”
I glared over at Jem, who just shrugged. He hadn’t mentioned the binding spells or this old lady. I wondered who her daughter was. I thought Donna had been the one teaching him, but this lady was old enough to be Donna’s great grandmother.
“A natural at Earth magic?” Desmond asked, looking shocked. “But that’s…”
“I told you them kids were different,” Harry grumbled.
“Regardless, that’s another problem for another day,” I heard Desmond say. Even though I couldn’t see him, I could imagine his sour expression.
“But at the moment it is to our advantage,” the old woman said. “We need not fear for the lost if our Guardians are doing their job, by whatever means necessary. We st
ill have quite a bit to prepare. Harry may have the tools of exorcism lined up, but the coven will need to prepare a spell to keep from further damaging his soul.”
I heard Harry grumble something about the witches before they made plans to meet again later in the week. Jem opened his mouth, but I shushed him, knowing they were not yet out of earshot.
“Desmond’s gone, you can come out now.”
Both Jem and I jumped as we heard Harry’s voice behind us. He let out a sigh and shook his head. “You both have a lot to learn about sneaking up on folks. Well, come on then,” he said, turning to the street.
“Where are we going?” Jem asked. Harry just kind of grunted and nodded toward the church as his answer.
“Oh come on! Do we have to go all the way up there?” I asked. Harry stopped and rounded on me.
“Girly, I am seventy-eight years old and these aren’t even my original hips, yet you don’t see me complaining about a little exercise. I’m offering to let the two of you in on what everyone else thinks you are not ready to hear, however, I am doing so with the stipulation that you quit the constant griping.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but mentally slapped myself for being so dumb. “Fine,” I said with a wide smile as I prepared to leap out of the Cycle. “I’ll meet you up there.”
Less than a minute later, I stood outside the front doors of the church and watched Jem and Harry huff and puff their way up the hill.
“As interesting as that party trick was, you need to be a little more careful with your trails, kiddo,” Harry grunted, giving me the stink eye.
“Trails?”
“Magical energy that gives away your position,” he explained.
“But we’re masked,” I argued. “The Discordant can’t read us. Seth told me that a while ago.”
“Normally, your energy is neutral, but what you just did was outside your allowable measure. Just like when this fellow here casts spells.”
“Huh?” Jem looked terrified. “But Donna said…”
Harry swatted the air and scowled. “I ain’t needin’ to hear what the heathens said. Magical energy can be traced. Even your normal energy can be traced, but because of what you are, you ain’t got an emotional range that the Discordant can lock on. But you still need to be careful. That’s why you are told not to overuse your magic.”
I took out my notebook and wrote that down. Unlike the agents, I couldn’t tell if Harry was telling me the truth or not, but it didn’t sound like he was lying, so I put that information aside to research later.
“So, you know we’re different, but do you have any idea why?” I asked, getting to the main reason we were there.
“I’ve a couple of theories,” he said, ushering us around the back of the church to the small groundskeeper’s cottage next to the rectory. “I understand you were Catholics in your life?”
Jem nodded and I did too. There was no sense in trying to explain my beliefs or doubts at that point.
“Were your parents devout?” he asked.
“No, not really,” I answered, but at the same time, Jem was nodding his head yes. I gave him a questioning look.
“Mom always insisted that we go to church,” he said.
“Yeah, but that was us. She and dad never went,” I countered.
“They didn’t?”
“No, our neighbors always brought us to Sunday school with their kids,” I reminded him.
Jem’s brow scrunched up in thought. “Huh, I guess you’re right. I always assumed they went while we were at class.”
“Dad always said that he learned more about religion by digging into our past and mom hung out with the pagan hippies at the U.U. church.”
“Pagan hippies…” Harry looked back and forth between us. “Yes, that could explain… at least…”
“Explain what?” I asked. I was kind of tired of everyone always talking as if they had only themselves as an audience.
“Your mother may have been a pagan mystic,” he said, spitting the word pagan as if it was dirty.
“You mean like a witch?” Jem asked. “Mom never did any magic or anything.”
“But she was kind of a hippie weirdo,” I reminded him. “Remember how she used to flip out when I moved her quartz crystals around? And remember Aunt Gia? She wasn’t even our real aunt.”
Suddenly Jem’s eyes went wide. “Aunt Gia! That was the woman in my dream. Or vision, or whatever. She said mom was her student.”
“You had a vision?” Harry asked, sitting up straighter.
“It was more like an out of body experience. I saw mom talking to someone in the woods behind our house. She was saying that something had happened to her baby. Someone did something… Oh!” Jem broke off. “That was us! When our soul was split. She was trying to prevent it.”
Harry’s lip twitched. “As I thought. But who, if not your mother, was trying to split your soul?”
“Wait, what?” I jumped up. “Pete said that souls split all the time because people fall to Chaos.”
“All the time is something of an exaggeration and as I see it, there was no soul deficit at the time of your birth. Someone was trying to use the two of you to create a living portal.”
“A what?” Jem and I asked at once.
“A living doorway through which the Discordant could easily pass from their realm into ours.”
“That’s kind of gross!” Jem winced.
“Nothin’ like that Alien movie,” Harry said, shaking his head at Jem. “The idea is that one of you would bind the soul of the other, leaving a neutral shell that the possession spectrum Discordant, like our wraith here, could use to freely move into our realm without messy entanglements.” He narrowed his gaze and looked at us. “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say Nai was supposed to bind your soul, Jem.”
A shudder passed through me as I was reminded of all the times our father told me that he expected more from me than Jem. If he only knew how creepy that really was.
Jem gasped. “Um… that can’t happen though, right? I mean, well, we’re not alive anymore and mom stopped it. Right?”
“Oh for god’s sake, really, Jem,” I huffed, not even caring about my blasphemy as he shrunk away from me. “I’ve got better things to do with my time than turn you into some kind of Discordant party bus.”
“I can’t much be sure what your mother did, or even if it worked if it was pagan magic,” Harry said with a shrug. “But yep, I’m guessing you two dying before you came of age was likely an unintended bonus for the side of Order.”
“Oh good,” Jem sighed, visibly relieved, but still pretty shaken.
“So what does that mean for me?” I asked.
“I don’t follow.” Harry frowned.
“Jem can cast spells and astral project and do a bunch of new age crap because mom might have been a witch, sure. That makes sense. Hell, that even explains why your holy water hates him. But what about me? I can’t do witch magic, but I can do everything a Warrior can. I’m pretty sure our father wasn’t a Warrior because Seth said the dead can’t create life.”
“No, but I don’t think that’s it at all,” Harry said, regarding me with keen interest. Too keen, if you asked me. “In fact… No, this is beyond even what I am willing to believe.”
“What? You can’t just say something like that and not explain yourself!”
“Calm down, missy! I ain’t as young as I used to be and I need a moment to gather my thoughts. Now,” he huffed out a deep breath. “Forget about your Guardian skills. Forget all about the Warrior skills you seem to enjoy so much. Put all of that aside and look at me. Concentrate on my emotional state. What do you see?”
“What do I see?” I asked. “What am I supposed to… Oh… OH!” I sat up straight as I noticed not just Harry’s odd mix of excitement and apprehension, but also Jem’s fascinated confusion. No wonder Seth looked at me so oddly when I felt the quiet of the riverside retreat the other day. “I have… all the abilities?”
“So it
would seem.”
“That’s totally not fair,” Jem huffed.
“Whatever, witch boy,” I smirked. I had to admit, I felt all kinds of smug. It was all I could do not to run outside and yell to the whole town to bow down before me.
“It’s neither fair nor unfair,” Harry said to Jem. “Whoever split your soul was thorough.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means that whoever intended for you to bind your brother’s soul and open the portal went to great lengths to ensure that you would not be stopped by reason, conscience, or a higher power. I’m sorry child, but had you lived, you would have been the prophesized antichrist.”
“But we didn’t live,” I noted.
“No, you didn’t,” he said, raising his eyes so that I could see the fear in them. “But I’m not sure if that didn’t make things worse.”
Chapter 10
The Philosopher’s Tomb
“Desmond, come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
“I didn’t think you were that type of psychic, Madame Rose,” I teased lightly as I entered the sunlit cottage.
“Harold called me, if you must know,” she replied, moving to the cupboard to retrieve two glasses, filling them from the ever-present pitcher of lemon sun tea that sat on the counter. “And of course Donna briefed me on your unconventional Guardian situation. So the only question is whether you are here to pick my brains about demon possessions or raising teenagers.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if there is much of a difference,” I muttered, earning me a chuckle. “As problematic as our Guardians have been, I’m actually here about demons,” I explained, taking the offered glass with a smile and a thank you. “Rather, I’m here to discuss a different theory on our possessed man. I was wondering if you might know of any mystics in the Ozarks, specifically near the Oklahoma-Missouri boarder.”
“I can’t say that I do, but I’ve heard stories about the region,” she said, shaking her head. “I take it that is where old what’s his name went missing?”
“Gary Marsden,” I supplied, “and yes, he was hiking, quite possibly looking for his next great archeological find.”
Rise of the Discordant: The Complete Five Book Series Page 30
