Celestial Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  “I don’t have a goddamned choice, Alex!”

  The suppressed fury in Damian’s voice was coated with helplessness and pain. The two of them stared at each other, both knowing full well the Aether wouldn’t walk away from his responsibility.

  “Damian, man, come on. You have to understand there’s no stopping an eviled-up you like the last set of wannabe heroes did your mom. If you turn nutso and decide to go on a murdering rampage, there’s nothing and no one able to prevent it or take you down.” He pointed to the marker with Isolde’s name. “No tomb will hold you.”

  “My daughter’s an Oracle.”

  Alex felt his knees weaken. “Shit. She saw it, didn’t she?”

  Damian gave him a clipped nod.

  “What else?”

  “Other than crying her heart out and ripping mine to shreds in the process? Not much.”

  “No indication it would all be okay?”

  A thoughtful look crossed the Aether’s perfect features, and he frowned as he stared off toward his estate. “She assured me if I sent her away, she’d never come back. But I can’t make heads or tails of it, if I’m being honest. My ability to see the future is gone. Yet I can’t see her putting herself in the path of danger, knowing what she must become.”

  “I agree. Any kid of yours would be much more clever than that.”

  “Exactly.” Rubbing the spot between his furrowed brows, Damian sighed heavily. “I’m damned if I know what to do.”

  Alex had to laugh. The Aether always knew what to do, and made sure he did it. “You’re like a mere mortal now, my friend. It’s refreshing to see.”

  “Fuck all the way off, Castor.”

  “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.”

  The air around them contracted, and a golden light created a vertical seam in the garden. It split, and two women walked out. Alex had met the one in his travels, and he bowed his head to acknowledge the Goddess. His eyes were drawn to the other woman, and he nearly swallowed his tongue. She was incredible and perfect in every way. The female version of Damian.

  Isolde de Thorne. The Enchantress.

  Alex had heard rumors, but she’d been long buried by the time he arrived on the scene. A damned good thing, too, because he’d be the first in line to offer up his power had she summoned him. What was it about dark-haired, dark-eyed women that brought him low? He was an absolute sucker.

  Other than to give him a curious look, she paid him no mind. Her focus turned to her son.

  “Damian.” There was a wealth of love and pride in the one word.

  “Mother.”

  Damian crossed the divide between them and embraced her tightly. The shock on her face made Alex’s heart hammer. No one should ever feel unloved or uncertain, but he knew all about that.

  Tears streamed down Isolde’s face as she hugged Damian back. She appeared pathetically grateful for his affection.

  Alex wasn’t sure what had gone down in the past, but it warmed him to see them set aside their differences. Also, he didn’t do emotions well, and as a result, his mouth opened and sarcasm poured out. “Touching reunion. Did you know your son has decided he wants to follow in your footsteps and consume the Evil? No?”

  Damian glared in his direction and gave him a mental slap in the form of a blinding headache. Bending double and pressing his hands against his head to keep his brains inside, Alex shouted in pain.

  “What the fuck, man?”

  “I could say the same, Castor.” Damian pulled back his magic. “Let me make my own confessions in the future.”

  “Done. Now repair the damage before I die from an aneurysm or something equally tragic.”

  As the Aether, Damian could’ve very well killed Alex if he wanted. “You’re fine, you big baby.”

  Isolde watched them as if she was confused they were friends.

  Alex grinned. “It’s my charming personality,” he told her.

  With a roll of his eyes, Damian snorted. “You’d have to have a personality to be charming.”

  “Ouch, buddy. That stung.” Alex placed one hand over his heart and the back of his wrist against his forehead in a dramatic pose. “I’m not sure my heart can take the hurt.”

  Isis glided forward, one seductive hip sway after another. “Alexander Castor. I’m surprised you came out of hiding.”

  “Only for you, Exalted One.” He bent into a low bow, and when he straightened, she was grinning.

  “False, but you get credit for the lie.”

  He grinned in return. The Goddess had never let him get away with bullshit. Perhaps it was why he liked her the best of all the deities.

  “I’d like to request a favor, my beloved queen.”

  She raised her black brows, and her kohl-lined eyes narrowed. “Ask.”

  “I request you don’t let Damian consume the Evil, no matter what happens.”

  “Castor!” The Aether was clearly appalled by Alex’s lack of manners. “Were you dropped on your head as an infant? This is not your concern.” Damian’s diamond-hard tone could cut glass.

  “Sorry, man, but it totally is. I’m going to have to hero up and try to take you down, which we both know I’d never be able to do. Of course, it would result in my death, and half the women in the world would expire from the grief. I’m simply trying to save us all the trouble.”

  Damian shook his head. “You arrogant shit.” This was actually said with deep amusement and a whole lot of affection.

  Another light split the clearing, and out walked Nathanial Thorne. With a suddenness that stunned him, Alex felt tears fill his eyes. There stood the only father figure he’d ever known. The man who’d helped shape him and who’d taught him right from wrong. A true hero—unlike Alex.

  Rooted to the spot, all Alex could do was stare through his blurry vision.

  “Hello, my boys,” Nate said gruffly. “It’s been way too long.”

  Chapter 27

  “I wondered where you’d gone to, Castor. Now I see you had a date with these two lovely ladies and Nate. You could’ve told us there was a party.”

  Alex smiled and shook his head when he heard Alastair’s humor-filled voice. With a single glance over his shoulder, he noted the Thorne brothers. Preston held the hand of a young, dark-haired child who could only belong to his best friend.

  “I thought I told you to stay away, beastie,” Damian said sternly, striding to where the little girl stood, unrepentant and smiling. “Are you ever going to do as you’re told?”

  She held up her arms for him to lift her, apparently confident she wasn’t in too much trouble. “I wanted to see Grandpa Nate. But I didn’t come alone. You told me I have to have an adult with me if I gallivamp around.”

  “Gallivant,” Alex corrected helpfully as Damian returned to the center of the garden with his daughter. “Nice way to dodge an order, kid.”

  “I’m Sabrina.”

  “I’m Alexander Castor.”

  “I know. Papa broke the cupid when I told him you were hiding.”

  “For the love of all that is holy! I’m going to lock her up until she’s a hundred,” Damian vowed.

  She giggled and patted her father’s cheek. “No you’re not, Papa.”

  Other than to narrow his eyes in parental warning, he remained silent.

  “She’s a chip off the old block, Dethridge,” Alex said with a laugh. “I think I adore her.”

  Sabrina tilted her head and studied him for a few seconds. The urge to hide from her all-seeing eyes was strong. When she opened her mouth to speak, her father clamped a hand over it.

  “No predictions,” Damian warned.

  With an exasperated glare, she peeled his hand away. “I wasn’t, Papa.”

  Nathanial laughed and held out his arms. “We all know you were, darling girl. Now come. Give me a hug, and tell me what I need to do to wake my wife.”

  She dove into his embrace and kissed his cheek. “I missed you, Grandpa Nate.”

  “I missed you too, prince
ss.”

  “I have to pay respects to the Goddess first. Papa will scold me if I don’t,” she said in a loud stage whisper.

  Alex bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his laughter as Damian did a face-palm.

  Isis and Isolde had watched the entire scene unfold with indulgent smiles, and they stepped forward when Nathanial set Sabrina on her feet.

  “Hello, Beloved.”

  “Hello, Exalted One.” The girl executed a perfect curtsey and smiled prettily. “It’s a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

  This time, Alex couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Oh, she’s too precious, Dethridge. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Without a doubt, that kid is going to keep you on your toes!”

  Damian groaned.

  All kidding was set aside as Nathanial moved to stand beside his wife where she was deep in a stasis of Serqet’s making. The ravaged look on his face stabbed Alex straight through the fucking heart. “Alastair, please take down your protective barrier. I need to touch my wife.”

  “Yes, sir.” With little fanfare, Alastair touched the pulsing dome and murmured the words to dissolve it.

  Perched on the edge of the stone altar, Nathanial smoothed a hand down his wife’s lank blonde hair. “You need to wake now, my darling Evie. It’s time to return home to me.”

  “Where did her soul go?” Alex whispered his question to Damian. “Doesn’t a witch in stasis go to the Otherworld normally?”

  The Aether stared at him in shocked wonder before running to where Evie was laid. “Nate! Don’t touch her!”

  But it was too late.

  Nathanial’s back arched, and a guttural cry emerged from his throat. He slumped over Evie with his face resting against the V between her shoulder and neck. Despite the tragedy of the moment, there was a beauty to the pose. As if two lovers were sleeping after a night of love.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Alastair shouted. His vicious curse was followed by a forceful sneeze. Only the Goddess herself had the presence of mind to throw up her hands to stave off the plague of locust sure to follow.

  The atmosphere around them thickened. Black storm clouds rolled in, blocking out the sunlight and turning the day to night.

  Everyone burst into action at once.

  Isolde pulled Sabrina to her as Damian positioned himself with his back to hers. They tucked the girl between them and raised their hands to wield their impressive Aether powers.

  A fireball flared to life in each of Preston’s palms, providing some semblance of light, but it was whatever the shadows were hiding they needed to worry about.

  Alex drew the energy from the electrons around them, and electricity snapped from fingertip to fingertip. He was ready to fry the ass of anyone who’d try to harm their group.

  “What’s happening, Isis? What has your bloody sister done this time?” Alastair snapped as he checked Nathanial’s neck for a pulse.

  A deep frown marred her otherwise unblemished face, and she shook her head as she slowly spun in a circle.

  Alex assumed she was assessing the threat and trying to make heads or tails of Serqet’s newest game. It was no great secret the Goddess hated the Thornes.

  “Al, I’m worried the others are unprotected at the manor with us here,” Preston said hoarsely.

  “Knox and Quentin won’t let anything happen to anyone.” Alastair used magic to shift his great-grandfather’s body, laying him out flat next to Evie. A barely banked fury radiated off him, and Alex felt the continuous slap like waves crashing against the shoreline.

  “It’s not Serqet,” Isis called out. “Or rather, not completely. The game with the Guardians, perhaps, but this…” She looked skyward. “… this is the Evil trying to break through to this plane.”

  “Fucking great,” Alex snapped. “Is it only here, do you suppose, or is the mortal world witnessing this creepy-ass show? Because I’ll be honest, I don’t know how the scientists are going to spin this one.”

  “Climate change?” Alastair quipped.

  Preston shot his brother a hard look. “Funny, Al. We can always count on you to infuse humor in a craptastic situation.”

  The ground around them shook violently, and they scrambled to remain standing. One by one, pillars rose until they encircled and towered over their group.

  Alastair looked at Damian.

  “Not me, Al.”

  They shifted their attention to Isis.

  “I didn’t raise the standing stones,” she said, her frown deepening.

  “We did.” Spring stepped through the gate to the garden, Serqet directly behind her.

  * * *

  As he rushed past the altar where his great-grandparents laid in stasis, Preston tossed a fireball into one of the cauldrons perched on a pillar to keep the area around the others lit. Keeping the other flame burning in his right hand, he ran to his daughter. It might cost his life, but if he needed to toast Serqet to protect Spring, he would.

  “Dad, it’s okay,” Spring said with her standard gentle smile. “We’re okay. She’s here to help.”

  Ignoring his daughter, he glared down at the Goddess. “What did you do to Nathanial and Evie?”

  “That’s why we’re here, child. To wake them.” Serqet’s tone was missing her standard disdain, and she appeared genuine, which absolutely floored Preston. He’d been the one to urge caution since she had a miraculous change of heart, but if Spring was here without Knox to guard her, a peace treaty had been brokered between the three of them, and Preston needed to back off.

  Alastair startled him when he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stand down, little brother. Let’s give her a chance to wake them.”

  Serqet and Spring moved to the altar, but Alastair held Preston back. They locked gazes and Alastair pitched his voice low to say, “If she pulls anything underhanded, I’ll take action. But know, we are all on high alert.” He gave a subtle nod to Alex and Damian. “They love Nathanial and Evie, too.”

  “It’s difficult to trust a person who’s made it her life’s mission to destroy our line, but all right.”

  “Right there with you, my brother,” Alastair said feelingly. He glanced up and frowned. “Does it look like there’s a dome over us keeping the blackness at bay?”

  Preston followed his brother’s line of sight and acknowledged it did indeed seem that way. Bending down, he hefted a sizable rock. “Give this a boost when I throw it.” At Alastair’s nod, he said, “Here goes nothing.” Whipping back his arm, Preston hurled the stone as hard as he could. It flew straight up like a rocket, halted about thirty feet above them as if it had soundlessly connected with another object, and then dropped back to earth with a soft thud.

  He and Alastair shared a look. “What does it mean, Al?”

  “I don’t have the foggiest notion.” He left to share a low-voiced conversation with Spring and Serqet. When Preston joined them, Alastair turned to him. “They didn’t see the darkness until they were entering the garden. It’s not visible to the outside world. Only those of us in here.”

  Isis had approached, and she seemed as puzzled as the others. It wasn’t a good sign when goddesses had no clue what was happening.

  “First things first, let’s wake the Guardians. Other than Isolde, they’ve been around the longest and might have an idea what we are dealing with.” Preston ran a hand through his hair. “Sound like a solid plan?”

  Everyone gave their agreement.

  “I take it you need the stones activated.” Damian squatted and placed Sabrina’s hand in Isolde’s. “Stay with your grandmother outside the ring but where I can see you, beastie. I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m worried about you.”

  Isolde’s expression was one of wonder and love when she asked, “You trust me with your daughter?”

  When he looked up at her, his smile was beatific. “Yes, Mother. I do.”

  “I showed him the Before,” Sabrina volunteered.

  “The Before?” The Enchantress shifted her questioning stare be
tween father and daughter. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s Sabrina-speak for prior to you consuming the Evil,” Damian explained. “She’s an Oracle with the power to see and share all that came before and all that will come after.”

  Isolde crouched until she was eye level with her granddaughter. “What a wonderful gift you’ve given your father, little one! The knowledge of the Before is wondrous. Thank you.”

  Sabrina touched her finger to the single teardrop sliding down Isolde’s face. “He needed to see you love him. Love fixes us.”

  “Yes, darling girl, it does.” Isolde wrapped her in a tight hug. Tears streamed from behind her closed lids. “I love you, too.”

  Preston felt his throat tighten with emotion, and he turned away. One glance around showed all their group was affected to varying degrees.

  When Isolde rose, Sabrina darted to Serqet and gave her a sunny smile. “Thank you for helping my Grandpa Nate, Exalted One.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet, child. You shouldn’t raise your hopes this will succeed. The spell I cast was conjured from my hatred.”

  Sabrina leaned in as if to impart a secret. “Love is stronger, isn’t it?” She took the Goddess’s hand in hers and brought it to her cheek. “You love like my Papa—with all of you.”

  A revelation struck Preston. If Serqet was as emotional as Sabrina indicated, it would make sense she’d take rejection harder than any other.

  As if she read his thought, the Goddess made eye contact with him, and him alone. The vulnerability surprised Preston and made it impossible to look away. The wounded woman beneath the powerful exterior reminded him of Selene. He’d seen that very expression in her eyes many times since they met, and it cut him to the quick whenever he bore witness to such raw emotion.

  Serqet’s smile was gentle. She gave a slight nod, as if she could tell what he was feeling, but the invasion into his private thoughts didn’t bother him all that much. Sabrina had a way of exposing them all, and it was better to own it than fall into a pattern of self-denial.

  “What do you need from us, Exalted One?” Preston asked. “I’m at your service.”

  The Goddess’s smile bloomed, and she looked remarkably young for a woman thousands of years old. “Thank you for your trust, Preston Thorne. I’ll not forget this moment.”