by Sam Cheever
A bright fluff of feathers sprang to life on top of the nearest shelves. “Shiver me timbers! It’s the bawdy lass herself.”
I instantly regretted having returned home long enough before dealing with Margot to put Wicked in my apartment and the sword with its mouthy counterpart back on the shelf. It had been a really long, day? Week? And I was too tired for SB’s antics.
Opening the door to my apartment, I jolted to a stop as an unfamiliar scent, and an awareness of an unknown presence sounded alarm bells in my head.
I stilled, wishing I had Blackbeard’s sword in my hand.
What a good idea!
I jerked my hand backward and the sword rose off the shelves with a clatter, smacking neatly into my palm a moment later.
I felt strangely pleased by my accomplishment until something else smacked into my back amid a spray of brightly hued feathers.
The parrot, who smelled like rum and pineapples, rose into the air in a clatter of feathers and landed crookedly on my shoulder.
I looked at him. “Have you been drinking?”
His beady eyes rolled unnaturally. “It’s a tankard o’ grog for every stout lad, but the lassies must sup tea…hiccup.”
I rolled my eyes.
“It’s about time you got here.”
I jumped straight up in the air, the parrot’s antics having distracted me from my invaded space. SB squawked with surprise, smacking me in the face with a wing as he rose into the air and fell back onto my shoulder, cackling drunkenly.
I lowered the sword with a shaky hand. It was LA. And standing behind her was her very attractive witch. “Hi, LA,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “Deg.”
Despite my less-than-warm greeting, Deg smiled. “Hello, Keeper.”
LA lifted an eyebrow at my inebriated shoulder bling. “I didn’t know you had a parrot.”
“Watch your bleep, lass. The ship is overrun with randy youth and bleepin’ blackguards.”
LA’s other brow lifted.
“This is Sewer Beak,” I told her. “I’m afraid he and the sword are an inseparable pair.” I tugged a bright blue feather from my ear. “Much to my chagrin.”
“We’re running out of time,” Deg said, striding closer. “If you want to save your friend.”
My pulse spiked. “You found something?”
LA nodded. “It’s the kittens.”
I frowned. “What’s the kittens?”
“They’re the artifact,” Deg said, his tone gentle.
Maybe it was my own personal form of resistance, or maybe I was too tired to think straight, but whichever it was, I felt the need to clarify. “The kittens? How is that possible?”
Deg reached into his pocket and pulled out the assortment of collars they’d taken off the rescued cats. “We’ve been focusing on these, thinking they were somehow tied to the artifact or the process of creating the artifact. But they’re not. At least, not directly, they’re simply…” He seemed to be struggling to express what he was thinking.
“Symbols,” LA offered. “Reminders.”
I shook my head, more confused than ever.
“That video you sent us,” Deg said. “Did you notice the glowing symbols on the air in front of each cat?”
“The sigils on their collars?” I asked.
“Not on the collars,” Deg said. “None of the cats were wearing the collars at the time. It’s almost as if the witches put the collars on the cats so they could remember which symbol was which.”
“What are you saying?” I asked, rubbing my weary face. “If they weren’t wearing the collars with the sigils…”
“The sigils are internal to each cat,” LA told me. “They were glowing from inside the kittens’ bodies.”
My knees felt weak. I looked at Deg and he nodded affirmation.
I struggled for calm, my mind trying to figure out exactly what that meant. Finally, I asked, “Where does knowing that get us?”
Deg’s face showed his excitement. He stepped forward, his hands coming up as he talked. “When they’re together, the cats form an illuminory. A magic spell borne of light. That illuminory is your artifact.”
I dropped my butt onto the arm of the nearest chair, suddenly too weary to stand. “You mean we’ve had the artifact all along?”
LA made a face. “Technically, we’ve had it since the kittens were rescued. But not really. Because, you see, that ritual you saw on the video, it wasn’t the ritual to remove an essence. It was an attempt to replace a key element that makes the artifact work.”
My head was starting to hurt. “I’m so confused.”
LA and Deg shared a glance. Finally, LA sat down in a chair opposite me so we’d be at eye level. She reached out and clasped my hands. “Naida, the missing piece is Wicked.”
21
Not Thee
I just stared at them, so shocked I couldn’t speak. It wasn’t the idea that Wicked could be part of the artifact so much as the sheer impossibility that, if he was so very important, the Quillerans weren’t trying harder to get him back.
“I’ve had him almost a year,” I said to my friend.
LA nodded. “I know.”
“Why haven’t they ripped through here like cyclones to drag him back?”
LA looked to Deg for a response.
Deg shrugged. “I’m guessing whoever gave him to you warded him to ensure that he’d have to be given over willingly or something would happen that would negate his usefulness to them. When you refused to give him back to them willingly, they apparently tried to find a solution to the problem.”
“By creating a symbol like the one he carries?” I guessed.
“Exactly.”
The star! I thought back to the silver star emerging from the rubble of the ritual fire on the video. “I wonder if it worked.”
“I’d say not,” LA responded. “Since they’re still trying to get you to give him to them of your own free will.”
I shook my head, realizing that young Maude was much more formidable than I’d given her credit for. In one magical swoop, she’d ensured Wicked’s safety and all but guaranteed that others wouldn’t share Rustin’s fate, while also creating an almost full-proof protection for herself.
If the Quillerans killed her, they’d never get their artifact back.
“How did you figure this out?” I asked my friends.
They shared a look and then nodded toward the stairs. “It’s easier to show you,” Deg said.
Nodding, LA added, “We want to try to save your friend.”
Mr. Wicked met us at the bottom of the stairs. He meowed a friendly greeting to LA and Deg, and encircled my ankles as I tried to move into the artifact library. “Hello, sweet boy,” I cooed to him, scooping him up and nuzzling his soft fur. Whatever her motives, I couldn’t help thinking how glad I was that Maude Quilleran decided to go against her family and bring him to me.
I turned to LA. “What did you want to show me?”
A chorus of meows filtered through the room, and one by one, the four other kittens from Wicked’s litter emerged from underneath, behind, and inside the artifacts they’d been apparently exploring.
Wicked wriggled in my arms and I lowered him to the floor, where he immediately trotted off to scamper with his brothers and sisters. I turned a surprised look toward LA. “I thought you sent them away.”
“We spread them far and wide. And then, the next morning they were back,” Deg said.
LA nodded. “Turned up in my sanctuary, happy as you please.”
I felt my eyes go wide. “How?”
“We have no idea. The people we entrusted them to said they were there one minute and gone the next.”
We watched the kittens run around and wrestle for a moment. Something warm blossomed inside my chest, and I wondered if the babies would ever find their furever homes. “What if the Quillerans spelled them to always return to them? What kind of life will they have?”
“But they didn’t return to
the witches,” Deg said. “They showed back up at the sanctuary.” He shook his head. “This is something else. I’ve seen it one other time. When an important ritual needed to be completed. The witches who were needed for the sacrament couldn’t leave until it was complete. The magic protects itself.”
“These kittens need to complete a ritual?” I asked the witch.
Deg frowned. “I believe that’s what’s going on here.”
“But which ritual?” I asked.
“Hopefully the one we’re about to perform,” LA said with a bright smile. “I’d really like to get these babies homes where they’ll be loved and appreciated.”
I nodded. “Let’s get to it then. Because, unless my lunar senses are completely off, the waning moon will rise within the hour.”
The circle was set, drawn with salt and anchored by a ring of thick, white candles that flickered in the soft breeze from the overhead fans. As soon as Deg began to create his circle, the kittens stopped playing and wandered over to sprawl inside the ring of salt.
It was as if they knew exactly why they were there.
I eyed Mr. Wicked, my stomach churning with dread. What if joining the ritual changed him? What if it turned him away from me? I wasn’t a witch. I was a special kind of sorceress, with limited powers that were focused almost entirely on managing artifacts.
He’d been meant to be a witch’s familiar. If I’d doubted that before, I no longer did. Deg lit all the candles and Wicked positioned himself in the center of the circle, his litter mates taking their places around him like the spokes of a wheel.
The front door of my shop slammed closed, and I grabbed Blackbeard’s sword, heading toward the front. I barely noticed when SB fluttered down to take his spot on my shoulder.
I didn’t make it very far. Coming through the dividing door, I ran smack into a frantic, red-haired Sprite carrying a donut box.
Sebille was lucky I didn’t skewer her.
“Oh, thank the goddess!” I pulled her into a hug and, just for a beat, she allowed me to show her that small amount of affection.
Then she pulled away with a scowl. “We don’t have time for that.” She shoved the box into my hands. “He was locked up with me in the dungeon.”
Mr. Slimy blinked up at me, his throat expanding and retracting as he gave a typically froggy glare.
“You don’t have much time. Mother’s army dispatched most of the Quillerans, but Jacob escaped.”
I felt the blood leave my face. I’d relaxed knowing the enforcer was literally a bug in a jar, but I’d forgotten about the other most powerful Quilleran. I gave Sebille a look. “We’ll talk later about what exactly you mean by, dispatched.”
I had a moment to worry about Maude. The young witch had nothing to do with her family’s schemes and had, in fact, done everything in her power to stop them. I hoped she hadn’t gotten caught up in the Sprite Queen’s retributive justice.
I hurried over and put the frog in the center of the circle. Slimy hopped around, croaking softly, but he never breached the energy buzzing at the boundaries of the sphere.
I looked at Sebille. “The moon?”
“On the cusp. You have maybe ten minutes.”
I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Deg glanced at Sebille. “Lights?”
Nodding, Sebille looked at me. “Will you be okay? I promised mother I’d come to their new home. There’s a…” She grimaced. “…meeting.”
I smiled, knowing we’d have a lot to talk about later. “We’ve got this. Thanks for bringing Rustin back.”
Sebille nodded and strode quickly to the wall beside the door, flipping the switch and plunging the artifact library into darkness lit only by flickering candlelight. I listened for the front door to close before turning back to the ritual preparations.
Deg stood just outside the circle, arms outstretched and eyes closed as he began to chant. Inside the salt barrier, the kittens went very still, their eyes becoming unfocused and their sleek gray fur darkening to black. At the center of each tiny chest, a shape emerged, glowing silver in the overwhelming darkness of the room.
The shapes of the various sigils glowed at the center of each kitten’s chest. Deg and LA had been right. They were the symbols that had been represented on each kitten’s collar.
Wicked stood in the exact center of the space, his body stiff and his gaze reflecting the flickering candlelight surrounding them.
I watched in awe as the fifth sigil appeared in the center of his furry chest. I immediately recognized it as a soul star sigil.
The silvery shape was a star in the center of a circle that was smaller in diameter than the points of the star. Silver flames leaped and danced from the circle, sizzling against the darkness surrounding the kittens.
As I watched in amazement, Wicked’s sigil grew, rose from his chest, and lifted into the air, turning on its side to map the circumference of the circle Deg had drawn. The sigils on the other kittens rose from their chests too, lifting to attach themselves at the points of the star.
Deg’s chanting grew louder, his words coming faster as the soul star began to spin. Each rotation revolved faster than the one that preceded it, until the soul star was spinning so quickly all I could see were the individual sigils, hanging like silvery gifts in midair.
LA gasped, drawing my gaze away from the spinning sigil.
A shape was rising from Mr. Slimy. Hunched and kneeling, Rustin slowly straightened until he stood in the very center of the whirling sigil.
I blinked, looking for Wicked, and found him lying on the floor beside me, sleeping soundly. One by one, the other four kittens left the circle and lay down next to him, falling into a deep sleep.
The kittens were okay. And the spell appeared to be working!
Deg’s voice rose until it boomed through the artifact library, thundering off the walls and pinging over the gathered artifacts.
His hands moved quickly on the air and tiny, gold filaments grew in patterns from his rapidly dancing fingers. The filaments moved toward Rustin, who’d become more substantial, losing some of the ethereal quality I’d grown to recognize.
The witch’s magic found Rustin’s outstretched arms, folded around them like supple gold fabric, and spread over his torso. It rose to snug around his head and dropped to wrap around his feet and legs.
The filaments began to draw him from the circle, moving him inexorably toward the salt barrier.
He turned to me, a delighted smile finally curving his lips.
I smiled in return.
He was almost free!
A foul wind crashed through the space, blowing out several of the candles and ripping the delicate fabric of Deg’s magic.
Rustin flinched, horror filling his eyes, and his gaze locked onto a spot behind Deg that was darker than night.
As I watched, the edges of the impossible blackness ripped away, burned by the orange, blue and gold flames of magic.
The foul, sulfurous stench spun in whirlwinds around us, blowing the salt to break the circle and extinguishing the rest of the ritual candles.
The magical light of the artifacts filtered through the room, the magic deciding it was time to return.
A man stepped from the circle of fire he’d created on the air.
Jacob Quilleran.
“Deg, behind you!” LA screamed.
Deg’s hands lifted as he spun, and a wrist-thick stream of magic burst from them, spearing directly toward Jacob Quilleran.
He threw up his hands and spread a cloak of blue energy between him and Deg’s power, holding it off as LA sent her own burst of energy into the mix.
Jacob stumbled back a few steps, but his magic held. After a moment, he managed to push Deg and LA back, regaining the space he’d lost and then some.
He eyed the kittens, a lust for power filling his cold, handsome face.
I clutched the sword, “Don’t even think about it, Quilleran!” I yelled, my voice booming around the room as the power of the swo
rd filled my veins.
His response was to smile at me, the sight turning my blood to ice. “You’ve interfered with my family one too many times Keeper. I’m here to put an end to your interference and retrieve what’s mine.”
Moving in front of the pile of kittens, I lifted the sword, holding it out in front of me in both hands. “You’re not getting these kittens.”
Roiling blue energy filled both his outstretched palms. “Oh, but I am. And when I’m done with you, I’m going to release my enforcer from the little four-dimensional glamour you put on her and all of your friends will die.”
Yikes! He knew about that?
A screech sounded behind me, followed by the sound of something rolling through the dark.
Jacob wasn’t distracted by the sound. He drew his hand back and threw the energy at me.
Acting strictly on instinct, I lifted the sword and met the bolt with the blade, shattering it into pieces and sending SB into the air in a flurry of feathers and squawking.
The force of the strike ricocheted through me, making my teeth and knees clack together.
Blackbeard’s sword appeared unharmed.
LA flew at Jacob with a long blade, energy pulsing along its glinting edge. She threw herself into the air and did a summersault, landing behind him and slicing upward with the deadly blade.
He jerked sideways and the blade slipped between his arm and his body, then he slammed her in the face with an energy-powered backhand, sending her flying to crash against something that clattered loudly to the concrete floor.
Finding the mirror at my back, I slapped my palm against the glass and yelled, “Sebille!” I prayed she’d hear me and come in time.
Deg had been chanting since Jacob discombobulated his ritual, his fingers dancing rapidly on the air. He’d created an impressive golden web. With a final magical word, he threw it at the other witch before Jacob could react.
The web hit Quilleran and wrapped quickly around him, yanking his arms to his sides and encompassing him in a seemingly unbreakable embrace.
