A Sword in the Sun

by Shannon Page

  “I know, and let’s get out of here so I can tell you all about it.”

  We had a quiet, furious debate as we stood on the corner of Euclid and Hearst. “I can’t get a car to come get us if we stay hidden,” I hissed.

  “Every minute we stay in the area is another minute when Dr. A. can find us.”

  “Just walk.”

  “Where?!”

  I huffed out a frustrated breath. “West. Just head down Hearst toward the bay. I want to get farther away than this before we’re uncloaked.”

  He stopped arguing and followed me, thank the Mother. Once we’d passed Sacramento Street, we were both out of breath, but I felt safe enough to let the illusion down a bit. At least we could see each other now, though it was easier through the corners of our eyes than straight ahead. But that meant we could keep walking as we talked.

  “I found everything we’ve been looking for and more,” I started. “It’s far worse than we thought.” I told him what I’d seen, and why I’d been so long. “I had to take a moment,” I said, sadly. “She was my best friend…”

  “I understand,” Sebastian said, his voice gentle. “I had wondered where he had really taken her body, why he’d been so cagey about it.”

  “Further research indeed.” I snorted in anger. “Anyway, I need to get to the Old Country. At once.”

  Sebastian barked out a surprised laugh. “Callie, what?” he added, when he realized I was serious. “We don’t just…go to the Old Country. It takes preparation, days, even weeks—”

  “I don’t care,” I snapped. “And I’m not even sure that’s true.”

  He stopped on the sidewalk and stared at me. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  I stopped, too, and looked at my friend. Of course I trusted him. But that didn’t mean I could tell him what I knew…at least not right now. At least not all of it. “Let’s just say that I’ve been learning that a few things we’ve ‘always known to be true’ aren’t, exactly. Including what I just found in the library basement. But I have to follow this thread to the manufacturer of all those machines, and I have to do it now, before Dr. A. knows we’ve been here. Before he can stop me.”

  “Why the machines? Why now?”

  “You’re not listening,” I said. “He used them to extract essence from witch and warlock bodies—and souls. We know where the essence is. He’s using it, the greedy thieving bastard.”

  “You think he’s sending the souls to the Old Country,” Sebastian breathed.

  “Where else? An entirely hidden country, protected by an entire witchkind population’s worth of wards and shields. Impossible to get to, and in the throes of a terrible civil war.” I stared at the young warlock. He was going paler with every word I said. “Sebastian, what if it’s all a lie? What if it’s a huge clearinghouse for stolen souls and essence harvesting and—oh, I don’t even know what!” I drew a breath. “What if I can find Logan there?”

  He swallowed, just staring back at me. Cars went by on the busy street, humans going about their safe, innocent lives. “Let me know what I can do to help you.”

  Of course he wanted to come with me. Of course he couldn’t. “Same principle as going into the library,” I told him, over drinks and a shot of my homemade strength potion back in my kitchen an hour later. I held a very happy Rosemary in my arms, having retrieved her from a very sad Sirianna. Even Niad had seemed a little wistful at letting the baby go. Would wonders never cease?

  He snorted. “Oh, like I’m going to be able to cover for you as you travel to the Old Country. Callie, please.”

  I shook my head. “No, of course you can’t do that. But you can deflect attention, you can give out misinformation, you can tell people I’m sick, or resting—you can do so many things to slow folks down, at least.” To slow a certain very particular warlock down.

  “What are you going to tell Jeremy?” he asked. “He’s not going to buy a word I say.”

  I frowned, playing with Rosemary’s red hair as I thought. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll tell him…um…I need some time alone, to think, about his wanting a contract…”

  Sebastian just gave me a look.

  “I know, you’re right,” I sighed. “He’ll know I’m not anywhere in the area, and he’ll follow my trail.” I rocked my baby, thinking furiously. I was starting to feel a little more like I could trust the warlock, emotionally; but that would all go out the window if I tried to tell him that his father was an awful lying criminal who was indiscriminately murdering our kind for his own gain. Or whatever he was doing…but it didn’t look good.

  I didn’t see any way to bring Jeremy into this that would end up with him on my side.

  “I don’t know,” I finally said, once more. “I mean, he actually offered to take me to the Old Country, after the baby was born…”

  “I’m sure this isn’t what he meant,” Sebastian pointed out.

  “No. He said like a year or two later. I have to go now.” I sighed again, and got up and went to the fridge, still holding the baby on my hip. “Want some wine?” It was nice to be able to imbibe again, though while I was nursing, I still hadn’t felt like going hog-wild. Oddly, Rosemary seemed to enjoy a glass or two of elderflower of an evening.

  Surely I wasn’t just projecting that. I mean, she was half-witch, at least.

  “Sure,” Sebastian said.

  One-handed, I poured two glasses, then glanced over at the table.

  Petrana, from her corner, said, “I can carry those over, Mistress Callie. You go sit down.”

  I startled a bit—I’d almost forgotten she was there. “Thanks, Petrana.”

  “In fact I could have poured them in the first place,” she pointed out. Her voice still had very little affect, though I could almost believe I heard—humor? Affection?

  “You take such good care of me,” I said to my golem, as she brought the wine to the table.

  “That’s what I’m for,” she said.

  Sebastian and I clinked glasses and sipped. We sat silently for a few minutes, both of us worrying through the problem. Or at least I was; maybe he was pondering the nature of golems.

  “You can’t tell Jeremy where you’re going, or why,” he finally said.

  Duh, I didn’t say. I just nodded.

  “But I don’t think we should dismiss entirely your first idea—that you need a little space,” he went on. He raised a hand to stop me from protesting. “Wait, hear me out. Set it up as a trust thing. Of course he can find you if he really means to. But Callie, you’re clever. Tell him you need to do this, and he needs to not try and follow you. Set a date when you’ll be back, or at least when you’ll be in contact. Make it emotionally important. If you can rely on him to honor your request for space and privacy…maybe you could promise to consider his suit. To give him an answer.”

  “But I can’t sign a contract with him,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “Lots of reasons. I don’t want to talk about it right now, but trust me, I have my reasons.”

  Sebastian just gazed back at me. “Callie, contracts are infinitely flexible. I know you still have feelings for Raymond—it’s obvious that you do—but that doesn’t mean you can’t make some kind of a formal arrangement with Jeremy. You can put any conditions or terms in the contract you want—the sky’s the limit. You can make it for a year; you can write in a dispensation for other lovers—for both of you, or just for you if you like; you can specify separate dwellings. Anything you want.”

  “How romantic.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, you of all witches know that contracts aren’t about romance.”

  I supposed I had to admit that.

  “Just think about it,” he went on. “Pack the deal with absolutely everything you might need to make it work, and set it to be as temporary as possible. Knowing Jeremy even the little that I do, he’ll agree to anything, and imagine that his suave sexy lovely awesomeness will overcome your hesitation, and that he’ll end up with everything he
wanted all along.”

  I burst out laughing. “Oh, Blessed Mother,” I said, after a minute, wiping my eyes and taking another sip of wine. “You sure have him pegged.”

  Sebastian smiled at me. “Give me some credit. I do know warlocks.”

  Time was of the essence. The longer I dawdled, the more chance I had of someone—Gregorio, Leonora, Jeremy, even my parents—clueing in to my intentions. I had to get moving, and fast.

  Sebastian’s advice, however cynical, proved spot-on. After he left, I invited Jeremy over for a serious talk. It went eerily like my friend had predicted; I could almost watch the gears moving in Jeremy’s mind as he pretended to seriously consider the absurd demands I made. Once I kissed him goodbye, I felt quite confident that he felt quite confident that all his efforts at being a charming, stable, patient, attentive suitor to an impetuous, indecisive, immature witch were going to bear the fruit that he wanted.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to him at the doorway, still cradled in his arms. Behind us, in the front parlor, Rosemary snoozed in Petrana’s capable grasp. “I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

  “It is entirely my pleasure,” he purred, looking down at me, his earnest green eyes radiating love and understanding. “And I do so look forward to resuming these productive talks when you return from your retreat.”

  “Two weeks,” I said, giving what I hoped was a relaxed smile.

  “I shall count the minutes.” He leaned down and kissed me again, then released me, but not before he took my hand and kissed it as well—both back and front.

  Oh, those Old Country manners.

  I stifled the thought and hoped my smile wasn’t freezing on my face.

  At last, he turned and left.

  “All right,” I said, rushing into the front parlor. “Petrana, let’s get a move on.”

  “Yes, Mistress Callie.”

  My golem had gotten a lot better at packing. Also, we were bringing a lot less stuff. I knew it was ley line travel, multiple ley lines at that, and uncertain ones. The longest underwater lines I’d ever taken were from San Francisco to Berkeley and back. Those were done in a moment; I could do it holding my breath.

  The Atlantic Ocean was going to be another story.

  But that was far ahead of us. We still had a continent to get across before we even reached the ocean. I’d been half-tempted to look into airline travel—what if that was a myth too?—but Sebastian had assured me that I could do permanent damage to the balance of my magical nature if I abruptly changed pressure and altitude that way, without weeks of preparation—spellwork and practice. And even then, it was no guarantee that I’d emerge unscathed.

  “Who knew, when our forefathers and mothers were selecting for magical resonance, that they were selecting out so many useful traits?” he had mused.

  “Like fertility?” I’d asked.

  “That too.”

  “They made these decisions in the age of sea travel,” I’d pointed out, though he knew the history as well as I did. “I’m sure nobody imagined humans would invent steel tubes that soared through the air.”

  Now I focused on getting the essentials together, mostly for Rose. Anything I needed, I could probably pick up while we were there.

  And, with any luck, we’d be back sooner than I’d allowed for.

  The very last thing I did was prepare a few near-identical messages to send through the æther as we were leaving. Following the lines of the story I’d told Jeremy, I spoke of the difficult birth, the emotionally laden process of adjusting to becoming a mother—enjoyable though that had been thus far—and my growing awareness of my need to examine everything I wanted from life, from my career and relationships and housing arrangements—and even my distress over Gracie’s rebellion (and what that said about me as a teacher and, presumably, the most important adult presence in her life)—on top of the recent loss of my best friend—all of which had led to my need to step away from everything here in San Francisco for a little while. I needed to sit with all these dramatic changes in my life and process what they meant for me going forward. I hoped that everyone who loved and cared about me would understand my need for space and privacy during this time…and I assured them that I would be in touch within two weeks at the most, but please respect my request and not try to find me before then.

  I sent versions of this message to everyone who could possibly have an interest in knowing my whereabouts. Then I gathered up my satchel, my golem, my familiar, and my baby, and we hopped the fattest ley line due east.

  — CHAPTER FOURTEEN —

  The initial travel was easy, almost boring. We took major lines and rode them for great distances, making it across California nearly to the Nevada border in less than two hours. Unfortunately, it was nearly dinnertime by now; I was hungry, and Rose was going to need to eat soon too.

  I didn’t know how lengthy ley travel would impact a newborn, and sadly, there was no one I could ask. But there was no way I was going to leave my child.

  We emerged in a little town in the mountains just outside of Lake Tahoe, so small that it didn’t even have a witchkind community—I could tell by the condition of the portal. It wasn’t just unguarded; it had an unowned, unloved look about it. Like a gas station bathroom.

  “Ugh,” I said, taking a few steps down the quiet street. Rose shifted in my arms, murmuring quietly and rolling her eyes around, taking in the sudden brightness. Elnor sneezed; Petrana stood stolidly by. Somehow my golem was now carrying the satchel. I didn’t remember handing it over, but ley line travel can be disorienting sometimes.

  Elnor finished her sneezing fit and began sniffing around. The air was thin and bitterly cold. We were at a high elevation, and winter clearly came earlier here than it did in San Francisco. Recent snowfall dusted the ground. I’d seen snow before, of course. Mostly in pictures, but I understood the concept.

  I shivered, wishing I’d worn a heavier jacket. The Old Country, nestled in high peaks in Eastern Europe, would be at least this cold. Maybe I could buy a coat here.

  First stop, though, was a café I could see just down the street, its warm lights beckoning me. “Come on, gang,” I said, and a few minutes later we were seated at a cozy table. They only had Lipton tea, but it was hot and the waitress brought it right away, so I was soon restored.

  Petrana sat across from me. I’d laid a light glamour over her appearance, so that she looked even more convincingly human, and also—and more importantly—really, really uninteresting. It was a modification of the inattention spell: your eyes weren’t exactly repelled, they just…slid away, looking for something catchier to focus on. Like the cracked linoleum floor, or the stained Formica table.

  Elnor hid between my feet, and Rosemary was strapped to my chest in her little carrier. I’d modified it to be just the harness part, removing the seat elements; too bulky to travel with. The waitress had offered to bring a booster chair, but Rose was too tiny for that. “What a precious girl!” the waitress sang, grinning down at her.

  I smiled back. “She’s the sweetest.”

  I ordered a French dip with fries, a tuna sandwich, and a refill of the tea. When the food came, the waitress seemed confused for a moment before setting the hot sandwich in front of me and the tuna before Petrana. “Thanks!” I said, giving her another big smile and telling her everything looked great. Elnor was already poking at my legs, as if I was going to forget who the tuna was actually for.

  The French dip was terrific—crisp bread, salty dip, succulent meat. Elnor poked me again. “Settle down, cat,” I muttered at her. “If we get kicked out of here, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

  Eventually, with some mundane sleight-of-hand and another mild deflection spell, I managed to get a portion of the sandwich down onto the floor, quieting my cat down. If anyone in the bustling café noticed that the “woman” across from me never ate or drank anything, they didn’t bother me about it.

  I had the waitress box up the other half of the tun
a sandwich as I paid the bill. “We’re on the road, traveling east,” I told her, “but we need a decent place to crash for the night. Can you recommend a good motel in town?”

  “The Blue Bell just up the street is what you want,” she said. “Better than any of those chains. Are you parked out front?”

  “Pretty much,” I fudged.

  “Just turn right out of the parking lot and go two blocks. It’ll be on the left. Sign might say No Vacancy but they always have something. I’ll give Marybell a call and tell her you’re comin’.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling all warm and fuzzy and taken care of. “Marybell at the Blue Bell?”

  The waitress chuckled. “That’s why she bought the place—she couldn’t resist the name. Said it was meant to be. Going on sixteen years she’s run it, and you’ll never find any place more welcoming.”

  She was right, too. Marybell showed us to a cozy, comfy room with two beds, a rocking chair, and a charming old-fashioned washstand complete with a steaming pitcher of water. Accustomed as I was to San Francisco prices, I was astonished at how cheap the place was. Dinner had been startlingly affordable, too, now that I thought about it.

  I loved city life, but maybe I could begin to see the appeal of small towns.

  Elnor claimed the bed closest to the door, jumping up and giving it a thorough sniffing before curling up to sleep. Petrana held Rose while I rummaged through the satchel for toiletries and then indulged in some of that hot water to wash my face.

  Then we all tucked in. Witches, of course—ones who aren’t pregnant—don’t have to sleep every night, and certainly not eight hours every night…unless they’re doing a lot of heavy magic. Like, oh, say, ley line travel, with dependents and gear. I slept from sundown till nearly eight the next morning, when we had a hearty breakfast at the same café (different waitress, alas, but she was just as friendly) and then hit the “road.”

  We made our steady way across the country this way, finding quiet towns with good food and shelter options, and little or no witchkind presence. It wasn’t as though I was avoiding witches and warlocks, per se, but the more traditional way of traveling would have had me calling on every prominent coven mother and local Elder leader, and, well, I was in a hurry.