by D. Fischer
Corbin’s eyes peer through the bars. The flame covered torches held by people behind him light his dark hair, but hide his facial features. “Myla,” he whispers. “Myla, what did you do?”
She turns to face him, her eyes wide and glossy with unshed tears. “They saw me. They saw me.”
He blinks, his mouth flapping open and shut, words escaping him. “How?” he growls.
Myla wipes a tear with rough, trembling fingers. “A nest of vampires found me,” she spits the words with raw hatred. “They were attacking the town. Was I to watch everyone die?” Her foot lifts from the ground and she paces once more. Puffs of dry dirt mingle in the open space of the cell, clouding my vision as she stomps.
“Yes,” he snarls. “You were to let them die. They’re humans. What of our girls?”
She lifts her head for a moment, meeting his eyes. “They’re safe. Mother has them.”
Corbin blows out a relieved sigh, tilting his head toward the ground and resting it against the bars. “I’ll free you. We just need a distraction.”
She stops, her hand flying to her chest and her fingers begin fidgeting with the hem of her square neckline. Tears spill down her cheeks and she sniffles. “No. I can’t.”
He looks up at her through his eyelashes. “Why?”
“You can’t expose yourself.”
Corbin’s fist slams against the bars. “Myla, see reason. You can’t escape this marriage by death. You’re mine.”
She pauses in her words, lowering her voice as the citizens begin approaching. Taking a few steps forward she says, “By death do us part, remember?”
Waving her hand in the air, he shimmers before disappearing in a roar of rage. The townspeople, close enough to witness her magic, scream in fright.
*****
My chin is placed in my hand as I rest my elbow against the streak-free counter. The rain continues, leaving perfect oval drops against my shop’s window before gravity slides them to the ground. At least it’s more of a drizzle instead of yesterday’s torrential and sporadic downpour.
Tember is in the breakroom, attempting to make coffee. I hear her mumbling angry words and slamming the coffee pot into the machine. My breath heaves as I sigh, continuing to stare out the window.
I feel like I haven’t slept. Like all I did last night was watch a movie behind closed eyelids. Myla has been quiet, barely stirring or commenting as she normally does.
Tember settled in quickly after borrowing some of my clothes. I woke to find her hand in a box of cereal, munching away on the stool. This is going to take some getting used to. After months of being on my own, having another person around has its benefits but it also has its downfalls. One of us is going to have to pick up more food. Since she isn’t from this realm and has probably never been inside a grocery store, that chore will fall on my shoulders.
I smile as a thought crosses my mind. Maybe I’ll take her with so that next time she eats all the food, I can send her to the store instead.
My smile fades as flashes of the dreams surface once more. They were unsettling, still are, actually. Myla’s memories hold so many secrets and deceit. I’m left with so many questions, questions that I can surely ask her now, but the truth is, I’m terrified to know the answers.
I witnessed her power—both her magic and her dragon. She sent a Fee back to his realm and effortlessly burned vampires until they were nothing but ash. Even then, I don’t know anyone who can challenge a Fee in such a manner, spouse or not. Her power terrifies me on such a level that I’m rethinking of ever tapping into them, of ever making that deal in the first place. My mother was right—she could be my undoing.
Her daughters, the little blond girls that played on the floor, their frightened faces as their mother protected them, those two girls are my ancestors. They’re the beginning of a long line of witches, birthed by the First Born and Fee of the Demon Realm, granddaughters to Kheelan and Erline. What happened to them? How could this knowledge be lost to us?
It begs to reason that Erline kept this a secret. The girls were too young to know who or what their father was. Erline would keep this information hidden, holding the children close to her heart for protection, right?
The thought of having three different Fee bloodlines running through my system is mind-boggling. I feel used and betrayed to have this knowledge lost upon us, like half my ancestral history was a lie. Who did the girls’ think their father was? What did Erline tell them?
I grit my teeth. Not only am I the great, great, so-on-and-so-forth granddaughter of Kheelan, I’m also the same to Corbin. The tales we learned as children is anything but the full truth. What would my coven do when they knew most of our history was completely false? Would they continue to hold Erline as a beloved creator? Or would they demand answers like I’m tempted to?
Thinking about that for a moment, I make a choice. I can’t tell them, even if they would spare me a minute to listen. It’s always a good plan to know the entire truth before I spill what I’ve learned. I just hope I’m given the chance to find out.
Scanning the windows once more for a distraction of any kind, my mind continues to wander until my eyes stop in their tracks, focusing on the figure leaning against the brick wall across the street.
He’s coatless and his shirt is soaked from the rain. His thumbs rest inside his pockets. Raindrops drip from his brown hair before they splash to the ground.
I watch him, my head tilting to the side. He seems oddly out of place, but he glances around like a tourist enjoying the city on a bright summer day. He doesn’t shiver from the rain or his soaked clothes, and he seems as though he has no other place to be, besides leaning against a brick wall.
My frown is replaced with shock when his head slowly turns my direction. His eyes latch onto mine and my breath hitches in my throat. “Corbin,” I whisper as I take a few steps back, bumping into a box laying on the floor behind the counter.
Corbin’s head shifts slightly to the right as he considers me, as if he heard me, and his eyebrows pinch together slightly. My feet stop in their tracks and I feel compelled to go to him, to reach out and unfurrow those brows. Why is he here? How did he find me? Does he know who I am?
No, she shouts in my head, taking over my feet and planting them to the ground.
We stare at each other, my breaths slow and even, but loud to my own ears as I drink him in. I’m briefly disgusted by my own actions—by having desires for a distant grandfather.
Corbin shifts his feet, breaking the eye contact and looking back to the ground. The lines on his forehead furrow.
He tilts one more time, a considerate expression, until a bus blocks my view from him as it travels along the road cascading water droplets in fine sheets. The bus moves at a quick rate and by the time it’s gone from my window, so is Corbin.
Tember walks up behind me. “You should consider an easier contraption to make coffee.” She places a mug on the counter. Taking a look at my confused expression, she follows my line of sight out the window. “What is it?”
I take a moment, collecting my thoughts about what this could possibly mean before shaking my head. “There was a guy standing there,” I point, “and he just disappeared.”
She walks to the window and peers down the sidewalks. “Do you know him?”
My eyebrows knit, and I glance at my mug, not seeing it. “Corbin,” I mumble.
Her body freezes and her shoulders bunch before she turns in slow motion on the ball of her heel.
“Corbin,” she says, exaggerating each letter. “Fee of the Demon Realm, Corbin?” I nod. “Do you know him?”
“I just know of him and that he was married to Myla.”
She frowns, her eyebrows pinching together. “What are you talking about?”
I sigh. I was hoping to keep this information to myself until I could work out the purpose of it. If she’s here for my protection, and Corbin is lurking about, it best to at least tell her a little of what I now know. “Myla is showing m
e her memories while I sleep. She and Corbin lived in France in the 1600s. They were married with two daughters.”
Tember scoffs, though it feels forced. I know Angels aren’t one hundred percent honest and forthcoming—it seems like nobody is these days. I’d be interested in learning what she already knows, but I should make a point to keep my distance.
She scratches her cheek. “That’s not what the legends say.”
I narrow my eyes, suspicious of what she’s not telling me. “No. No, it’s not. I think it’s time I have a chat with Erline.”
Tember chews on the inside of her lip, a rare show of anxiety. “How did Corbin find you?”
I shrug while lowering my index finger and touching the tip of the rim on my mug, curiosity fueling my purpose. I watch the steam continue to rise from the brew, and before it has a chance to evaporate, I cup it in my hands like a child capturing a fly.
Bringing my cupped hands to my mouth, I blow inside between the small space of my thumbs. Tember is silent as she watches with interest, her head tilting slightly to the side.
Slowly, I open my hands like a flowering rosebud in the wake of the sun. There, between my two palms, the steam plays with streams of fire, swirling around each other in a game of twister, making the shape of a ball. My eyes grow wide with wonder and I bend eye level with it.
Tember walks the few feet to me, peering at the contents in my hand. She sticks her hand out and touches the ball. I frown. I know the flames won’t hurt me—every time I touch something hot, it feels no different than touching something cold. I can feel heat and I know the pain should be there, but it never mars my skin or leaves blisters when it should. However, shouldn’t the heat hurt her?
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I ask after a moment of watching her in fascination.
She shakes her head, her brown curls shaking like ribbons. “We don’t feel pain.” Tilting her head to the side, she mumbles her thoughts aloud, “Water. Air. Fire . . ..” She glances around the counters.
“What?” I ask, my voice on the side of hysterical giggles. It’s too much—too much for one day. The memories, Corbin—it’s causing a miniature breakdown inside me and I can feel myself losing it. Add the constant discoveries of Myla’s magic and what I can do with them just adds to this festering ache inside the pit of my stomach.
Nodding to the swirling ball in my hand, she supplies me with the reasoning for her thoughts. “Steam is water and air. The flames—fire.” She steps back, glancing at the floor before her eyebrows unfurrow and a small grin replaces her downturned lips.
I feel Myla stir inside me like she’s privy to what Tember’s about to do.
Tember bends, picking up a tiny stone from the floor between pinched fingers, and faster than I thought possible, she stands. I double blink at her speed, used to her moving at the pace of humans. Perhaps she does that on purpose. Perhaps she’s been trying not to scare me. Once again, I feel like I’m being treated like a child. However, at this very moment, I almost wish I was one. Maybe then the weight of so many things wouldn’t be resting on my tiny, insignificant shoulders.
“Earth,” she says. She glances at the barely visible stone before her eyes shift to the ball swirling in my hands. Looking at the door, she takes the few steps to it before turning the “open” sign to “closed.” Her gait is purposeful as she heads back toward me.
“Come,” she demands. I frown but do as she asks.
Leaving the counter, I walk around the edge, careful to avoid the boxes I just bumped into moments before, and follow her back into my office. She holds the door open for me, the stone still trapped in her fingers, before closing it with a soft click. I stand there, waiting to see what she does next, the ball still in my hands.
“Ready?” she asks.
I clear my throat and shift my weight. “Sure.”
Her eyebrows dip a fraction with concentration, or perhaps concern, and she reaches her hand forward, dropping the stone inside the swirling ball of water, fire, and air.
As soon as the stone hits, it dives straight to the center, hovering there, floating and turning in a circle on its own. For a moment, nothing happens, and I’m relieved. That is, until the ball cackles and grows, seizing the oxygen in my lungs. My head juts back in surprise. I’m pissed that I allowed her to talk me into this with such ease, without knowing what we were doing or the consequences that may follow.
The ball leaves my palms, traveling at a slow pace to just before my altar table. It continues its size adjustment, flattening itself into the shape of a large sphere doorway taller than myself. The contents swirl inside, the fire most dominate, like a vortex. A slight continuous rumble as a distant thunder comes from the doorway.
“What the hell?” I ask, taking a step forward.
A portal, Myla provides me, her voice dipped in anger. If she didn’t want us to do this, why didn’t she stop me like she did when I attempted to go Corbin?
For the first time, I speak to her, “Why didn’t you use this to escape the gallows?”
Tember glances at me, concern crossing her eyebrows. “What?”
I ignore her, waiting for an answer Myla doesn’t return.
“Who are you talking to?” Tember asks, stepping forward.
I glance at her, but keep my mouth shut in a fine line. She blinks twice before looking at the swirling flat sphere in front of us. “Not hell,” she mumbles. “A portal.”
She looks back at me. “You have the ability to manipulate all of Earth’s elements to walk between the realms.”
I close my eyes. “It’s not my magic. It’s Myla’s.”
She laughs, her head tilting back so her face is level with the ceiling. It startles me for a moment and I wonder if she’s losing her mind just as I feel like I am.
Tember rarely shows emotions. After her fit of humorless giggles, she looks back at me. “You may be two different people,” she cocks her head, “well, two different beings, but her magic is yours. You’re in the driver seat.” She crosses her arms, lifting an eyebrow. “At least for now.”
My body freezes. Does she know? No, she couldn’t. This is my internal struggle, and I have yet to voice what is actually happening. I allow my body to relax, mirror her movements, and cross my own arms. “For now?”
Her eyes narrow, pausing in her response. “Yes.”
Sighing, I drop my arms back to my side and turn back to the portal. Eventually, I’ll tell her how right she is, but not yet. I would like to figure out what the heck is going on myself, before I start voicing my concerns and knowledge to other people. Besides, it’s a burden I’m supposed to be enduring myself, not bringing others into.
“Where do you think this leads?” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer right away, but I hear her shuffle her feet. “Anywhere you wish. Even realms.”
I take a step forward, but I’m halted to go beyond that, and not by my own body and mind. Myla stopped my movements. I try to mask my fright, knowing this will sound alarm bells and drive home Tember’s previously voiced thoughts.
Myla does have control over me, more than Tember realizes, and possibly more than I even realize. She’s probably frightened I’ll go to Corbin. Without him being in my presence, I don’t feel that pull. Mild curiosity is what drove me forward, but I doubt she’ll allow that chance again.
Taking a step back, I adjust my shirt, busying my shaking fingers. “Best not to explore just yet.”
Lifting my arm, or rather, Myla lifts my arm, my hand stretches upward, parallel with the vortex portal. In a slow small circle, she waves my hand and the portal fizzles out with a pop.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KATRIANE DUPONT
EARTH REALM
The beeping from the grocery store registers ring against my ears, a headache forming underneath my entire scalp. Each time they scan an item, it’s a fight not to cringe as I examine the fruit.
Grocery stores calm me. The smell, the normality—it eases my anxiety.
I used
to work in a grocery store to earn extra cash. My coven never allowed me to buy style of clothes of my choice, so in order to wear what I wanted, I had to buy it on my own.
Working as a clerk was my first job, and it was one I enjoyed. Being around normal people, feeling like I wasn’t so different than the average person, gave me a sense of belonging, which is something that comes in short supply these days.
Everywhere I look, there’s a new discovery, a new unwanted adventure. I’d give anything to be normal right now, even if that meant working as a grocery store cashier for the rest of my life.
Placing some plums into a bag, I look over at Tember. She’s holding an orange under the light, twisting it within her fingers with the look of concentration squinting her eyes.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a smile forming.
“How do you get the food out of this ball?” she whispers.
A plump, gray-haired woman passing behind her sucks her lips between her teeth, desperately trying not to laugh as she pushes her cart down the aisle.
“It’s called an orange.” I take the fruit from her, snap a plastic bag from its holder, and place it inside. “You peel it first.”
Tember frowns, watching as I set it inside the cart. “Food named after a color . . .” She glances at the rest of the fruit, grabbing a peach in a swift motion. “Is this an orange as well?”
My tongue flicks out before scraping my top lip with my teeth. Closing my eyes briefly, I turn from her, choosing to ignore the question and pushing the cart to the rows of neatly stacked vegetables.
She continues, “Are all your foods named after colors or are the colors named after your foods?” She stops as soon she sees rows of shelves containing green vegetables. “I void my last question.” She picks up a stock of broccoli before frowning and taking a sniff. “You eat trees?”
My head goes limp and I laugh under my breath. Snatching the broccoli from her grasps, I set it in the cart before grabbing a few more items. “I will teach you our ways.” She opens her mouth to say something else, but I cut her off with a finger. “At home.” I look at her pointedly.
