by Brea Viragh
“Daddy? I heard you rustling around,” a sweet voice called. “I thought you might want a snack.”
Karsia, the youngest child of the Cavaldi line, entered the room with a tray of tea and pastries carried in front of her. The instant she saw Astix, she dropped the tray. Porcelain shattered and pastry cream dotted the floor and draperies.
“Karsia!” Thorvald admonished. “Contain yourself.”
She propelled forward with a squeal of delight and wrapped her arms around the sister she hadn’t seen in twelve years. “Astix, oh my gosh!” Her voice still held a touch of youthful exuberance, high and lovely. She locked her wrists and refused to let go, even when the other woman stiffened. “I’ve missed you so much. You’re here! What are you doing here?”
“Hi, sweetheart.” Startled at how much she’d grown, Astix took in her baby sister. Relishing the feel of the other woman and wondering if anyone would judge her for crying. She sucked the tears back regardless. The last time she’d seen Karsia, the girl had been on the brink of her eleventh birthday. Now, she had to be twenty-three. Almost twenty-four.
Oh goodness, how time passed. Gone were the child-like features and the glow of adolescence. In place of the budding pre-teen was a young woman with dreams of her own. Powers of her own.
Karsia released her with a smile on her face threatening to split her cheeks. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
All three sisters shared the same evidence of their bloodline. It was unmistakable in their classic features and fair European skin tone. Karsia, distinct from the rest, boasted a smattering of charming childlike freckles across the bridge of her nose and forehead. She was beautiful, with a fairness to surpass them all. She was paler, her cheeks luminous with a flush of pleasure and riper than a plum. Unreasonably lovely. Her eyes were bright and alive with willfulness and spirit.
“You must be starving. It’s practically lunch time.” Karsia scurried back to the downed tea tray and began piling broken shards. “I’ll go back in the kitchen and make something else for us. Clumsy fingers. Don’t judge me by this, Astix. And don’t leave. I’ll only be a minute.”
“You really don’t have to,” Astix began, even though her words were ignored. Karsia was already gone.
Astix stared around at her family. Heat tickled the tips of her ears and she glanced down at the floor.
“I know this is hard for you to understand,” Varvara began softly. “I didn’t call you here to make you upset. Or make things harder on you.”
“Make me upset?” Astix repeated the words and they tasted sour. She wiped at her eyes. “Why would I be upset? Summoned on a moment’s notice to a place I’m not welcome. There’s nothing to be upset about.”
“I told you she should leave.” Thorvald shot a pointed look toward his wife.
“I am well aware you don’t want me. I’ve made peace with it, in fact,” Astix said, trying her best not to show emotion. She needed to appear in control. “I have certain protections in place and as long as we stay separated, two things are certain: one, I’m safe, and two, you’re safe. Period.”
“Honey—”
“I know I’m an abomination. I know my gifts shouldn’t exist in a female witch. And I know as long as I stay gone, as long as I stay under the radar, you won’t have to—”
“Astix!” Varvara yelled, startling her daughter’s mouth shut. “This isn’t about your banishment. Not anymore. Don’t you understand? It stopped being about your banishment once your brother disappeared.”
Astix’s eyes snapped to her sister for confirmation. When Aisanna nodded, she felt her mouth go dry and heart convulse. She wanted to puke. “Where is he? What have you done with Zee?”
“Zenon’s safe for now, we’ve been told. We thought you needed to know what’s going on.” When Astix frowned in confusion, Varvara continued with, “Some are saying the veil between this reality and the ancient magicks is thinning. The veil that keeps both worlds separate. The balance between dark and light shifting the closer we get to the eclipse. Others believe the Harbinger witch has been born and will tip the balance.”
“The Harbinger,” Astix repeated. “It’s a silly superstition. There’s no such thing.”
Varvara inhaled and settled herself next to Aisanna. “Not superstition. Born into times of great change and great need, the Harbinger has the potential to restore the veil before balance shifts. Some say the veil will disappear entirely during the lunar eclipse.”
“Why this eclipse? Why now?”
“A lunar eclipse during a vernal equinox is said to hold great power,” Thorvald said. “There hasn’t been one recorded in the last five thousand years. The Claddium believes it’s true, so it is.”
“There are strange things happening, things leading the higher-ups to believe the Harbinger is here. The veil is thinning. This is fact. I’m sure you’ve noticed the omens. The bizarre weather. The blood-red skies. The owls.” Varvara nodded encouragingly.
Astix propped her hands on her hips. “I’ve noticed the world has gone to shit. This is nothing new,” she argued.
“It’s only going to get worse the closer we get to the eclipse. We need your help. You’re the only one who can command enough magic to save our lives.” Aisanna said the last part ruefully.
“Save your lives? Give me a break. Just because you’re seeing omens doesn’t mean you’re going to die.”
“It does when a curse is involved,” Aisanna replied.
“What curse?”
“We’ve been marked.” Varvara held up her wrist, thin skin indented around a vivid red rune. Aisanna held up her own wrist, followed by Thorvald.
Astix sucked in a breath. She heard her mother’s voice in her head, a reprimand from the past. Astix, ladies do not hurl on the Berber.
She knew the power hidden behind the rune. The one symbol she’d been taught to fear since her first steps.
Death.
Someone had marked her family for a slow demise. With the rune cast, it drained the magic from a witch until there was nothing left. Once that happened…
“Who did this to you?” she wanted to know.
“We’re not sure. Two days ago, we awoke with the marks, our magic declining fast,” Varvara admitted. “Then we caught the remnants of your signature, so loud you might as well have screamed it. Our power gone, yours grown. It didn’t seem possible.”
“You know what happens to a witch when their magic disappears,” Aisanna added.
“The witch dies,” Astix finished, her voice a whisper.
“Without our magic, we’re nothing. Walking countdowns to an end we can’t fight. Can’t control. If the eclipse happens when we have no magic, our mortal bodies will die and our power sucked back across the veil. The end of the line. But you…” Varvara crossed the space and took hold of her middle daughter’s wrist. She pushed the jacket sleeve aside and revealed smooth, unmarked skin. “You’re safe.”
Astix stared at the unblemished skin of her wrist. “What about Zee? You said someone had him. Who? Where is he?”
Thorvald bristled. “Don’t tell her.”
“Hush. The Claddium has Zenon.” Varvara hurried to continue when Astix blanched. “He…exhibited certain…unorthodox signs. Physiological signs.”
Astix struggled to keep standing as her knees trembled and the tops of her thighs felt numb.
“We tried to stop him from going,” Aisanna said softly.
“Going where?”
“He caught wind of a rumor, a way to strengthen the veil so that when the eclipse comes, there would be no leaks. No way for the light and dark to fall out of balance.”
“Sounds perfectly reasonable.”
“We thought so. Until he manifested magic.” Thorvald straightened his spine and watched the fire for a moment before turning to face them. Flames danced around the outline of his shoulders, hands going to his pockets. “A power that didn’t belong to him. Sound familiar?”
Astix opened her mouth to respond, and
then swallowed it. She knew the feeling well. Thunder boomed as she tried to formulate a response. Then the rain came down, hammering against the parlor windows like a creature trying to claw its way inside. Scratching the glass. She took a moment to stare toward the window and wonder if this was a dream.
“Zee doesn’t have power,” she finally said in a voice nearly inaudible above the storm. “He’s a null.”
“That’s why the Claddium took him in for questioning. They thought he might be the Harbinger.”
“Zee? Impossible.”
She couldn’t stay still anymore, pacing back and forth across the rug. Her thoughts spiraled madly. Her tidy life, her future, everything was unraveling fast. And why? Because she’d been stupid enough to use big magic. Absolutely stupid.
One meeting with her family and Astix felt the barricades keeping her safe burst wide open. What remained felt destined to lead her to a horrible place where she was exposed.
“He’s a null,” she repeated. Hanging her head and feeling awkward as hell.
“We don’t even know if he’s been marked.” Aisanna leaned forward and gripped the arm of the couch. “He could die and we have no idea what the Claddium has done with him.”
The door creaked open and a wedge of light from the hallway slid across the room. Karsia returned from the kitchen with a new tray of goodies. She set it down on a table and proceeded to dole out hot tea in delicate cups. A teaspoon of sugar went into every concoction, followed by a splash of milk.
Each person in the room received their drink whether they wanted it or not. “Don’t let me interrupt,” Karsia said. “Go on with your story.”
“You’re surprisingly upbeat for someone marked with a death rune.”
Karsia shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. What do you want me to say? At least you’re here.”
Astix’s spine was tight enough to crack through the vertebrae. “Karsia, I’m not the one you want. I can’t help you. Any of you. I’m the weakness in your magical line.”
“You’re all Zee has. And you’re not weak,” Aisanna admonished. “Your magic is part of you, the same as any of us. We need you.”
Astix wanted to ask them why they needed her now. She wanted to yell, scream, demand they take back every word that had ever been used to hurt her. She wanted to cry, and have her mother hold her, tell her she was loved once more.
She did none of those things.
Thorvald refrained from moving to the liquor cabinet a third time. Instead, he reached inside a pouch located on the table next to him. From there he retrieved the half stub of a cigar and lit it with the flick of a lighter.
She took a giant, shuddering breath, staring at the rune on her father’s naked wrist. Death, yes. Death was here. She could feel the gloom seeping through the cracks in the house, out of the storm, clammy tendrils snaking through the iron fence ready to take them. Whatever had happened to Zee, to the family, was fundamentally off.
Was this related to the bad feeling she’d been having?
Astix cringed from the wrongness of it, and had no doubt that the runes were somehow connected with the explosion last night. To the eyes raking over her in the shadows and the bad omens portending…what?
Aisanna caught her sister’s look. “Will you help?”
The room held its collective breath and waited for her answer. There could only be one to satisfy them. Who were these people, Astix wondered. They were strangers. These were certainly not her parents, the two people in the world who were supposed to love her unconditionally. Parents would never ask such a thing of their child.
Still, she would do anything for her sisters. For her twin brother.
Astix gave a sign of acquiescence with a sharp nod. Tired hands rubbed at her eyes and she dammed her emotions, unable to quiet them.
Thorvald took a moment before murmuring, “Thank you.”
She had nothing more to say, and walked out of the house feeling angrier than when she’d arrived. Red-hot rage consumed her until it was all she felt, overshadowing all other feelings. Except one.
Regret.
Varvara stared after her daughter, heart cracking with each step. She waited until Astix was out of earshot before speaking. “We should have told her,” she said softly. “We should have told her everything.”
Thorvald crossed the space to rest a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “What good would it do? Put more and more weight on her shoulders until she snaps. You did the right thing.”
“She deserves to know,” Varvara insisted. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of one hand, the other worrying the strand of pearls around her neck. Strung like chips of the moon and designed to offer protection. “She deserves to know what she is before the eclipse comes. It’s the least we could do after what she’s been through. Oh, Thorvald, our sweet girl…”
“No. Let her do what she needs to do. We’ll try to hold off prying eyes until she figures it out.”
“But the foretelling—”
“The foretelling stands whether she knows or not. Our girl is strong, dear. We have to trust her.”
CHAPTER 4
The black Lincoln town car was a cliché on four wheels. Right down to the polished chrome bumper and heavily tinted windows. There was even a bar in the back, stocked to the gills with expensive bottles of liquor and wine.
It pulled up the curving half-circle drive to the looming gray stone house like the lead in a funeral procession. Even the weather was cooperating with the image.
The Cavaldis. The family was a sort of living legend in the magical community, with a bloodline dating back to the beginnings of magic. And made even more famous by the fluke of their second daughter’s birth.
Which, essentially, the people he worked for had pushed under the rug. Better that than cause a panic.
Leonidas had done his homework. It paid to be prepared in all cases, and this was one for the books. He kept Astix’s folder on his lap for reference though he didn’t need it. He had each line memorized down to the tiniest detail. Strange, to memorize the intricacies of the life of a woman he’d never met. Still, he’d been drawn to the words since the day he found the file on his father’s desk. Pure luck and happenstance had the case landing on his lap years later.
Go figure.
“Stop here,” Leo told the driver when they reached the first set of gardens.
“You don’t want me to pull up?”
He shifted in the seat and did his best to concentrate. “No.”
This was a scouting mission, his boss had told him. Made all the worse because his boss happened to be his father. No working minimum-wage jobs since he was sixteen. He was on the fast track to a cozy seat at the top of the ladder. One where there were no excuses and no easy outs.
Thus, the scouting mission. To see what the Cavaldis knew and how much information they had on the eclipse and the Harbinger witch. The completely nasty business of rogue magic leaking through and infecting their community. It definitely went beyond his pay grade.
With the family’s only son in custody and refusing to speak, Leo was sent out like some kind of enforcer. A hired goon in a trench coat.
He didn’t care for the impression.
It wasn’t him. It was his father’s image of him. Leo had no choice but to go along with the whims and fancies of the Claddium and the man who handed down the orders. Why? Because he was a part of the community. They’d offered him the job. Helped him learn to use his magic. Leo was grateful.
Until they asked him to spy on the Cavaldis.
What could those people possibly know? No more than the Claddium and their extensive research done throughout Europe and the Americas. Leo supposed the elementals on top were worried about the eclipse and wanted to explore any angle that may offer a clearer picture. Rightly so, he mused.
Witches inherited their magic along bloodlines, accessed through genetics and drawn from the source. The ancient magicks. A veil kept the Earth and the ancients separat
ed for good reason. Not everyone had the DNA to handle magic. If the veil disappeared and the balance tipped… Leo shuddered to think what would happen. Wild magic was chaos. It was suffering.
It was something he and the rest of the Claddium could not let happen. Period.
The driver cut the engine and they sat in silence, Leo glancing out the window at the three stories of glass and stone. Power. A lot of power.
It showed here, at their base. Evidence of Thorvald Cavaldi’s family magic was embedded into the stonework and the foundation. He’d chosen wisely in his partner, Leo thought, glancing around at the gardens that appeared to be sleeping. Some thought plant magic was a gentle one. So it could be, in the right hands. But any kind of enchantment could be a weapon if given the opportunity.
The slamming of a door caught his attention. A woman bolting out of the house only to stop short. Turn around to stare at the house. Growl in frustration.
“There she is,” Leo murmured.
“Who, sir?”
“Astix Cavaldi.”
She stood clear across the driveway and yet his eyes were drawn. He didn’t look away. He couldn’t. The moment his gaze locked on her, in an instant he was socked in the gut. There was something about her, the kind of something that made everything else around them fade away until there was nothing left but her. She was the picture, clear and beautiful. Everything else became white noise.
What the hell?
“I’m going to talk to her,” Leo said suddenly.
His driver turned to stare at him over the seat. “You think that’s a good idea, sir? She’s on the watch list. Contact is prohibited.”
Leo hid his smile by ducking his head. “Yeah, I know. And it’s discouraged, Mack, not prohibited.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me. This girl? She is the watch list.”
He opened the door and slid from the back of the town car in one smooth motion. It must be fate, he decided. Her being here when she (A) wasn’t supposed to be, and (B) at the same time he was sent in for an interrogation—er, scouting mission.
