Starseeker

by S A McClure

  Iris stood in the middle of the field, her entire body shimmering in white light as she lifted her hands. Her feet rose several inches from the ground and her ebony hair fluttered around her.

  Chiara’s purple flame snuffed out entirely, but so did all the magic wielded by the coven witches. The storm died to but a whisper as the shimmering light formed a sphere around Iris’s body.

  Emma shook her head, recognizing that her sister was giving them time to attack without the use of magic. She pushed to her feet and charged forward, drawing an arrow from her quiver. She didn’t have her bow with her, but the arrowhead would be enough to incapacitate the witches. Plus, she still had one of her daggers.

  Micah brought down one of the witches with a massive blow to the head. His sword wrenched free in a spray of blood. He didn’t wait for the body to fall as he spun around and swiped his sword outward. Two of the witches that had been advancing on him from behind leapt backwards. Their eyes widened as they attempted to use their magic to no avail.

  He smirked at them as he gripped the small hatchet in his belt and flung it at the one closest to him. It landed in her chest with an unpleasant squelch.

  Three down, three to go, Emma realized. At least the odds were a little bit more in their favor.

  Micah favored his right side, and Emma knew the place where’d he been struck was bothering him. She hoped he would be well enough to continue fighting. She needed him here to help her.

  A blur of color drew Emma’s attention. Her jaw dropped as Chiara crashed into one of the witches, knocking them both to the ground. She slammed her fist over and over into the woman’s mouth. Her hand became covered in flecks of blood that dripped down her arm as she continued to drive her fist home.

  The other witch leapt onto her back and tore her from her fallen sister. She raked her nails across Chiara’s face.

  Before the bloodied witch Chiara had been whaling on could rise, Emma leapt forward and straddled her. She drove an arrow straight through the woman’s eye. Her lips opened and closed for a moment and then she stopped moving entirely.

  With a scream, the witch who had been engaged with Chiara plowed into Emma’s back, knocking her to the ground. She drove a small, silver blade into Emma’s side. It glistened with her blood as the witch withdrew it.

  Emma grunted, but didn’t let the pain stop her from gripping the witch’s blade hand and twisting it around so that the dagger pointed at her heart. The witch struggled to regain control of her own weapon. Emma met her eyes. There was anger tinged with fear.

  “You should never have broken the deal struck between Elilda and my sister,” Emma hissed as she shoved upwards. She wasn’t quite strong enough to force the blade into her heart, though.

  “Your sister is a threat to us all,” the witch hissed. “Even you—”

  She was cut off as Chiara kicked the witch in the back, driving the dagger through her heart. It protruded out her back. She slumped forwards and became a deadweight on Emma’s chest.

  Emma lay there, her heart hammering. Based on how relaxed Chiara appeared, she guessed that the sixth and final coven witch had been dealt with. She gave herself a moment to breathe.

  They’d done it. They’d survived.

  Again.

  She really was getting tired to facing all these threats only to run into a new one. All she wanted was for them to be back at the manor house, tending their gardens and living their best lives.

  Well, at the very least, their safest lives.

  Chiara rolled the dead witch off Emma’s body and stuck out a hand to help her up.

  “You fight well,” they said at the same time and then laughed.

  Emma took her hand and yanked herself to her feet. “Are you sure you can’t come with us?”

  She knew it was a long shot. It was obvious Chiara had no interest in going on the quest with them. She didn’t want to let her go, though.

  Chiara sobered. “I’m sorry, but I need to go home.”

  Emma nodded, and they hugged one another.

  “I promise I’ll let you know when I’m safe,” Chiara whispered.

  “And I, you,” Emma responded.

  They separated as Micah joined them. He cradled his side and Emma realized she hadn’t examined her wound yet. Gently, she pressed her hand to the puncture wound. It came back coated in her own blood. She pressed it back on the wound.

  “You’re hurt,” Micah said, reaching out to her. He ran his knuckles along her jaw line.

  “Just a flesh wound,” Emma said.

  She grunted as Chiara yanked her hand away from the injury and pulled away her layers of clothing.

  “You are such a liar,” Chiara hissed. She tugged Emma to the ground, forcing her to lie back.

  “Where’s Iris?” Emma asked, realizing that her sister hadn’t joined them.

  Micah turned towards the field, his eyes widening.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said as he began walking away from them.

  Chiara pulled a flask from her hip and uncorked it with her teeth. Emma cringed as Chiara poured liquid over her wound. Chiara summoned a ball of purple flame that illuminated the night sky as she leaned in closer to the wound to examine it.

  “I think the blade was poisoned,” she whispered, her voice turning to panic.

  Emma lifted her head to examine the wound for herself. She felt cold. And her head swam. She laid her head back down.

  “Is Iris okay?” she whispered. “Tell me she’s fine.”

  She didn’t hear Chiara’s response as she drifted off into sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Iris

  Iris wandered through the halls of a building she’d never been in before. She ran her fingers over the tapestries that lined the walls between doors. The threads used to create the tapestries were thick and vibrant.

  She tried the door handles of the rooms as she passed. Each one was locked.

  She knew she was in the dreamworld. She could remember the encounter they’d had with the coven witches. She didn’t know if they’d gone rogue, or if Elilda had broken her promise to let them go free. It didn’t matter. Together, she, Emma, Micah, and that strange, new girl had defeated them.

  It had taken all of Iris’s strength to block new spells from being cast. She hadn’t even known she had that ability until she tried it. And it worked.

  No wonder the Silver Skull coven was so afraid of her. If she could block others from even using their magic, she could disrupt the covens’ entire way of living.

  Music wafted from an open doorway at the end of the hall.

  Iris increased her pace, hoping to find a clue as to where she was. She was wary, of course. She didn’t know if she had the strength to face her attackers from before again. Not this quickly, anyway. It had been a small miracle that she had escaped the first time.

  It was better not to tempt fate.

  She needed to be on her guard for traps. The one resembling a spiderweb had been clever. That just meant that Iris needed to be even cleverer.

  She pressed her back against the wall as she approached the open door and peered inside. To her surprise, Grandmother Rel sat at a piano.

  At least, she thought it was Grandmother Rel.

  Gone were her wrinkles and warts. Her once sagging body was tight with youth and her hair flowed in red-gold locks down her back.

  Iris slipped through the doorway, then crept up behind Grandmother Rel and sat down on one of the chaise lounges. She waited for Grandmother to finish her song. Iris imagined herself invisible. She didn’t know if Grandmother Rel had the Dreamwalker ability or not. She’d claimed not to, but she knew better than to trust her word.

  Grandmother Rel played the last notes of the song and then closed the piano lid. She stretched her arms high above her head before rising to her feet and walking towards the set of doors on the other side of the room. Beyond them, Iris could see a garden full of life.

  “You can join me,” Grandmother Rel said, without
looking back, “if you wish.”

  For a moment, Iris thought Grandmother Rel was speaking to her. She almost made her invisibility mask disappear so that they could face one another eye-to-eye.

  But then, Liam’s voice answered. “I would love to take a stroll with you through the garden.”

  He emerged from the shadows. His face was as gaunt as the last time Iris had seen him and, although he wore tight-fitting clothes that accentuated his muscular body, his skin hung from him where mass used to be.

  He took Grandmother Rel’s arm as she guided him out of doors and into sunshine.

  Iris followed at a distance. Although they shouldn’t be able to see her, they would still be able to hear her if she got too close.

  “Have you found our little bird yet?” Grandmother Rel asked Liam as she led him into the shade of a giant willow tree. Iris stilled. Her heart raced as she waited for Liam to respond.

  “No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Myrella. She hasn’t been in the dreamworld.”

  Grandmother Rel laughed. “She must not want to see you.”

  Liam nodded, but said nothing. Iris’s heart ached and all she wanted to do was reveal herself. To run to him and tell him that she was coming. That she would save him.

  All those thoughts dissipated as she watched him tilt his head towards Grandmother Rel and kiss her lightly on the cheek.

  “You know my only thoughts are of you,” he whispered as he trailed kisses over her cheeks, forehead, and towards her ears.

  Grandmother Rel giggled as he nibbled at her earlobe.

  Iris thought she was going to be sick. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She had thought—she had believed—that he was in danger. That Grandmother Rel was hurting him. But here he was, kissing her. Touching her.

  Her cheeks burned as she watched him lead Grandmother Rel to the willow’s trunk. He braced himself against the tree as he pinned Grandmother between them.

  Iris looked away. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t watch this. It was too painful. She turned to leave when a strangled cry broke through the otherwise whimsical sounds of the garden.

  She turned back to see Liam suspended in the air. His arms were stretched high above his head and his feet dangled beneath him. Long, bloody lines formed on his back. Each time a new one appeared, he whimpered.

  Iris bit back her cry of surprise. She still didn’t want Grandmother Rel to know she was there.

  “I know you’ve met with the Valka sisters, you insolent fool,” Grandmother Rel hissed.

  “I swear to you, I haven’t,” he moaned as another line formed on his back.

  Iris didn’t know how Grandmother Rel was whipping him. She just wanted to make it stop. Balling her hands into fists, she imagined breaking the whip that bowed him to Grandmother Rel’s will.

  “What can I do to prove my loyalty to you? Please, just give me a chance,” he begged.

  Grandmother Rel slapped him. He spat blood, his body sagging.

  “Tell me where they are, Liam. Tell me, and all this can be over.”

  Iris held her breath as she waited for him to respond. She didn’t know if he would reveal their location or not. She prayed to the Light he wouldn’t. She just wanted him to know that she had not abandoned him and never would.

  “You want to know where they are?” he asked, tilting his head towards her. “I’ll tell you.”

  Her heart stopped beating. Bile rose up the back of her throat.

  He’d betrayed her.

  Again.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised. Hadn’t he done the same when she’d released him from his curse and turned him human again? Still, that he had asked her to save him, to risk her life for his, and then betrayed her like this, left her feeling numb.

  She released her hold on the lashings. She was too weak to break the spell anyway. Not after what she’d done to the coven witches. She sighed heavily as she closed her eyes and began the process for forcing herself awake.

  “You will pay for that!” Grandmother Rel shrieked, drawing Iris’s attention.

  Thick, black blood covered Grandmother Rel’s left shoulder and she held one hand to her ear. Her skin fluctuated between youthfulness and old-age as she healed whatever Liam had done to her.

  “I’ll never tell you where to find them, Myrella. Do to me what you, but as long as Iris is safe, it’ll be worth it.”

  Grandmother Rel snarled at him. Her eyes glowed red and she snapped her fingers. Liam’s body instantly went prone and he fell to the ground with a thud. He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink when Grandmother Rel kicked him, hard, in the stomach.

  “You’re still useful to me alive, which is the only reason I’m letting you live,” she hissed. “If I know Iris, she will come for you. You forget that I am the one who raised them. I watched them grow. I nurtured them. Cared for them. And they owe me a debt.”

  She snapped her fingers again and Liam’s body disappeared in a cloud of wispy, black smoke.

  Iris’s blood was like ice in her veins. When she looked at Grandmother Rel, she didn’t see the person who had reared her. All she saw was a monster who only cared about herself.

  Grandmother Rel had never loved them.

  She never would.

  She had only used them to unlock powers she wanted to possess. And she would do anything in her ability to manipulate them into doing what she wanted.

  Iris couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to fully understand that.

  Even when Grandmother Rel had left them for dead in the mountain ravine, there had been a part of her that wanted to believe that it had all been a big mistake. She wanted to believe that the person who had raised them loved them.

  She shook her head. There was no point in reliving the past. There was only the here and now and the future. Iris closed her eyes again and willed herself to wake up.

  Her body began to disintegrate into particles of light. She felt a slight pull at her navel. She knew that if she opened her eyes, she would be awake.

  “You can come out now, Iris,” Grandmother Rel hissed. “I know you’ve been watching.”

  Before Iris had a chance to respond, there was a loud popping noise and her eyes flew open.

  Chapter Twelve

  Emma

  The swaying motion woke Emma. Her eyes fluttered open to find that she was strapped to a person riding a horse. Hazily, she attempted to twist around and punch whoever was holding her, but she found her hands were tied together and then to the saddle’s horn.

  Her mouth was bound as well. She wriggled her jaw from side-to-side, loosening the strap until it slid down her chin and landed around her neck.

  “Let me go!” she hissed as she pulled against her bindings.

  A large hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Shh, Emma, it’s me,” Micah whispered. He pressed closer to her body and said, “If I remove my hand, do you promise not to scream?”

  His breath tickled the sensitive spot behind her ear, and she lifted her shoulder to get him to stop speaking to her.

  She nodded.

  “Okay,” he said.

  He lifted his hand and scooched back in the saddle so that she had a little more room.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’d be better if you untied my hands,” she snapped, still struggling against the bindings.

  “Sorry,” he said. “No can do that this time.”

  She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the tension in his tone.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “How much of the fight against the Silver Skull clan do you remember?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. She honestly couldn’t remember anything about a fight. The last thing she remembered was rushing out of the village with Chiara, Iris, and Micah. A storm had been raging and they were hurrying through the woods.

  “Not much,” she replied.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “This is the fourth time you’ve woke
n up and demanded that we unbind your hands. The first time, you near choked Chiara to death before I was able to pry you off her. Thank goodness Iris was still asleep when that happened. I’m not sure what she would have done if she had seen you trying to murder someone in cold blood.”

  Emma didn’t remember that at all.

  “Where is Iris?” she asked. Her throat ached and she realized that she had probably been snoring. Internally, she groaned at the thought. She hated it when she snored.

  “Chiara rode ahead to find a healer capable enough to extract the poison from your system.” He paused as they rounded a bend in the path, his body tensing.

  Emma recognized that posture. He was worried about attacks, and rightfully so.

  “Iris is collecting herbs to try and stop the spread of the poison to your heart,” Micah continued. “She’s been worried sick about you. She’s only left your side to collect herbs and wander into small villages asking for a skilled healer.”

  “Oh,” Emma mumbled. Her head suddenly felt fuzzy and heavy. She leaned back into his broad, toned chest. His warmth pressed into her, making her feel strangely cozy and safe.

  “We’re not sure what poison the coven witches used, but if I had to guess, they used muldrock berries,” he said. “I have every reason to believe that once we find the right healer, we’ll be able to extract the toxin from your system and heal you.”

  “Symptoms?” Emma asked.

  “Fatigue, mostly.”

  “And?” she prodded. “I feel like that there’s an ‘and’ in there somewhere.”

  “And bleeding. We haven’t been able to make your blood clot. Iris stuffed the wound with a poultice of herbs she said would help stop the bleeding and slow the poison’s progression.”

  “Please don’t make me tear every last shred of information from you like I’m searching for the lone piece of rice in a bed of cotton,” she said. “Just tell me what I need to know about what’s happening to me, Micah. I have a right to know.”

  He sighed and tugged her tighter to his body. “If we can’t find someone who can properly extract the poison from your body, you’ll die. Either blood loss or infection will take you as prisoner and never release you.”