Amends: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 2)

by Carissa Andrews

  Next, I draw one final symbol—the one I now realize is essential to all of this working as it should.

  The symbol invoking the Violet Flame.

  Once I’m sure I have everything in order, I glance up and wave Jonas to the middle of the room. Miriam inhales sharply, wheeling her son so his wheelchair rests in the center of the pentacle.

  “Are you sure this going to work?” she asks.

  I rest a hand on her forearm, nodding. “I’m positive.” I take a step back, making sure I’m outside of the circle.

  Pressing her lips tight, she bends down, kissing Jonas on the side of his temple. “Love you, baby.”

  “Mom,” he groans, rubbing at his forehead.

  She ruffles his hair, then straightens it back out before stepping from the circle.

  I shoot a lopsided grin toward Demetri, who simply raises his eyebrows in response. He’s never been good with any kind of emotion, let alone something like this. It’s something we both share.

  Moving on, he places candles at the five points of the star, lighting each one and whispering the elemental blessing. Then, as a final safeguard, Demetri walks clockwise around the pentacle, sealing the circle of protection with a layer of blessed Himalayan sea salt. When it’s complete, a plume of white light rises from the floor, encompassing Jonas in its magic. After a moment, the light subsides until it’s nothing more than a swaying cord of banded light hovering a few inches off the floor.

  Jonas watches the whole thing, his eyes wide and fingertips clutching at his armrests.

  I take a step closer to the circle. “Are you ready for this, Jonas?”

  Shouts again erupt outside the front of the house, then a high-pitched squeal that I can only associate with Ren cuts through the noise. For a moment, the rattling ceases and we descend into a chilling silence. Closing my eyes, I push my abilities out into the yard, only to find the squeal is a diversion of some kind.

  Blake’s right. He’s capable and can handle whatever’s outside. I have to trust in that so I can take care of things in here. It’s the way it’s always been—even as Amarantham and Anastasios.

  Shaking the realization away, I return my focus to Jonas with more determination to get this underway.

  “It’s okay, Jonas. It’s a diversion,” I say, meeting his questioning gaze. “We got this.”

  Another scream cuts through the silence, likely Kyros, and Jonas’s expression hardens.

  He nods his head, swallowing hard. “I’m ready.”

  It’s written in his face that he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt and that’s weighing heavy on his decision to push forward.

  Miriam clasps her hands, resting her steepled fingers against her lips as tears brim in her eyes. “I love you, sweetie. No matter what.”

  Jonas looks over his shoulder, his eyes just as glassy as hers. His chin quivers, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. The love they share passes between them effortlessly.

  “The stage is all yours, Diana,” Demetri says, tipping his chin toward Jonas. His lips press tightly together and his jaw tightens, but luckily, the disdain over Jonas giving up his powers has waned. Maybe he can see—however mundanely—how necessary this is. He might not understand the why, but at least he accepts it more than losing his own powers.

  I glance down, pointing to the space beside me. “I’ll need you here, Demetri.”

  Demetri’s eyebrows scrunch together. “I don’t have any kind of power that will help you, Diana.”

  I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. I need you here.” Again, I point beside me.

  He crosses his arms like a defiant child, but he still does as he’s asked.

  I nod to myself. It’s game time.

  Even before we begin, Apollo’s presence is with us. The room vibrates with static energy, making the small hairs on the back of my arms and neck rise. He’s been watching and waiting for his time and he’s ready to make an appearance.

  The room is suddenly filled with the potent fragrance of frankincense and I breathe in the familiar scent. It eases me into the power and role I’m meant to play. I may not have wanted this at first, but now it feels right. It’s effortless—easy. Like it was always meant to be.

  And maybe it was.

  Without waiting any longer, I raise my hands, extending my arms out wide and facing my palms to the ceiling. The energy hums, waiting for my words to unleash themselves.

  “Apollo, god of prophecy and foresight, divine healer and deity of truth and light, I implore your presence. I call you here this day to witness this rite and share upon us your blessing,” I say, my voice echoing into the room like it’s magnified by some sort of magical speaker.

  Apollo doesn’t waste time with his arrival. Like a storm ready to ravage a forest, the room darkens, despite it still being the middle of the afternoon. Along the outskirts of the small living space, objects rise on their own—a product of the buildup of kinetic energy. A vortex of light and dark oscillate around us, spiraling the room at a dizzying speed.

  As quickly as the vortex rose, it tightens to the center of the circle, then disperses. Left behind is a man with olive skin and dark curly hair.

  Apollo stands beside Jonas, glancing around the room like he’s been here all along. His green eyes sparkle with wisdom and a hint of amusement. Just like before, Apollo’s dressed in modern attire, with a cream-colored button-down shirt that’s been folded up at the elbows and faded denim jeans. His shirt is unbuttoned to his clavicle, exposing his middle-Eastern complexion and and a tuft of dark chest hair.

  Demetri stumbles back, his eyes wild and mouth open.

  “It’s okay, Demetri,” I say.

  As many times as we’ve worked spells and rituals, he’s never witnessed a god’s entrance. Quite honestly, I’ve only witnessed it like this a handful of times, myself. Extending my arm, I reach my hand out to Demetri, wanting to pull him back into the mix.

  Miriam, on the other hand, audibly gasps, then drops to the floor. She does it gracefully, though, dropping first to her knees, then slumping over and onto her back.

  Some people fight, some flee. She obviously faints when things get overwhelming.

  Not at all bothered, Apollo grabs hold of Jonas’s wheelchair, dropping down beside him until he rests on one knee beside the boy. Throughout the entire motion, however, his gaze never leaves mine.

  I nod in acknowledgment, understanding now that everything playing out here was in some way pre-destined.

  As psychic as I am, even now, I still have plenty of blind spots. However, I’m also understanding it’s all part of the grand plan to keep things from inundating me. I’m only given as much as I can handle at one time.

  After dealing with the horde of seekers, I’m okay with it. I’ve gotten a taste of what life would be like without filters.

  “Diana,” Apollo says, smiling softly at me as his gaze extends to Demetri. For a beat, they wordlessly assessing the other. Then Apollo turns to Jonas, resting his hand over the top of the young boy’s. “Jonas, you are one of the brave ones. It’s a pleasure to finally be in your presence.”

  Jonas sits up straighter, shooting Apollo a bright smile.

  “Your gift was meant to help the world, but in the wrong hands, it could also be devastating,” Apollo continues. “Your time with this burden has come to an end in order to divert the risk. But fear not, I never take without giving in return.” He winks at Jonas as he stands back up and pats his hand.

  Leaving Jonas’s side, Apollo walks the circumference of the large circle, with his hands in prayer position under his chin.

  Demetri moves a step closer to me, never removing his eyes from Apollo’s movements.

  “What do I need to do?” Jonas asks, watching Apollo walk behind him from over his shoulder.

  Apollo stops moving when he stands right in front of Jonas. With his back to me and Demetri, he again drops down to a crouch. “You just need to give me your hand and your promise that this is what you wa
nt. Pretty simple. But you have to mean it.”

  Jonas’s lips screw up to one side, but he nods tersely. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Apollo drops from his crouch, resting on both knees, and raising his palms to the ceiling. “Then it shall be done.”

  Once again, the house begins to rattle, the windows and walls sounding like they’re about to come apart at the seams. Whatever the others were doing outside, it wasn’t enough to keep Sentinel from attacking the wards.

  Jonas quickly extends his hands out to Apollo, who accepts his offering.

  With an intense flash of light, like a lightning bolt sent from Zeus himself, Jonas glows a bright, sky blue. Then, as if the light is siphoned from him, it pools in his torso, and slides down his arms and into his hands.

  Jonas’s eyes widen at the sight of his powers leaving his body through his hands. For a moment, it lingers there, stopping its descent in the middle of his palms.

  “Jonas, you have to let go—” I sputter, taking a step forward. He glances up at me just long enough for me to repeat myself.

  As if brought back to himself and the realization of what will happen if he doesn’t follow through, Jonas closes his eyes and exhales slowly. His shoulders relax as he grips Apollo’s hands a little tighter. Then, as if the floodgates finally open, the remaining light passes from Jonas into Apollo’s hands.

  Jonas’s body slumps forward a bit, but he sighs.

  The worst is over.

  Apollo bows his head. “Thank you, Jonas. Now, for my end of the bargain…” He raises his right hand, pressing it to the middle of Jonas’s chest.

  Once again, Jonas ignites—his entire body glowing with a bright white light. The light consumes the entire room and I bend my arm, shielding my eyes from its intensity.

  When the light pulls back, the color in Jonas’s cheeks looks a little bit brighter—his body a little bit stronger.

  Jonas gasps, wiggling his feet.

  “It’s the least I can do,” Apollo whispers, placing a hand alongside Jonas’s cheek. “Thank you for keeping this power safe until it was ready to be passed on.”

  Jonas smiles, shifting forward slightly in his wheelchair. Apollo rises, backing up to give him some room. With a push, Jonas stands, taking a couple of small, uneasy steps forward.

  Without a word, he wraps his arms around Apollo’s neck, tugging him in close.

  Apollo chuckles, returning the embrace.

  Tears race down Jonas’s cheeks and he turns around. “My mom is gonna freak.”

  “Go to her,” Apollo says. “Your part in this is done.”

  Jonas nods, stepping away from Apollo with tentative steps. However, each step he takes grows with power and certainty. As he reaches the edge, the light of banded energy lifts up, creating an opening for him to exit without disturbing the protection of the circle.

  With his hands still glowing, Apollo turns around, extending them to Demetri. “Are you ready for your new gift?”

  22

  Training Wheels Off

  Demetri’s gaze drifts downward, landing on the soft glow of Apollo’s hands and his gray eyes are lit in their light. Confusion flits through his face, replaced then, by understanding.

  “You want me to take Jonas’s gift?” he asks, glancing up to Apollo’s face.

  “This gift isn’t Jonas’s. It was meant for you both,” Apollo says, taking another step forward, hands still extended.

  Demetri shakes his head. “But—I had a gift. It was taken…”

  “Training wheels,” Apollo says, shrugging. “You were meant for more.”

  “But this doesn’t make any—” Demetri’s words drift off as he rakes his fingertips across his forehead. He looks past Apollo, to the embrace Jonas and his mother share, and a hint of hope blossoms in his aura.

  Stepping closer, I place a hand on Demetri’s back. “It makes perfect sense. Think about it.”

  Still filled with conflict, he glances from me to Apollo, and again to Jonas. “I don’t see how—”

  “We invoked the Violet Flame of Transmutation together. I got what I was looking for, and apparently…so did you,” I say, raising my eyebrows. He might be resistant at first, but I know he’ll come around. I’ve already seen it.

  He shakes his head, blinking wildly. “But I didn’t… I liked my gift.”

  “This was always meant for you, Demetri. You had to be ready,” Apollo says, taking another confident step forward and reaching his hands out further. “Your vessel had to be cleansed and the timing had to be right.”

  “Accept your gift,” I say, tipping my head toward Apollo. I smile at Demetri, trying to exude the confidence I feel with this. There’s so much more we’ll be able to do together. He’ll be integral to the team we’re growing and I know that’s something he desperately wishes for.

  He needs to be needed, but he’s too bullheaded to admit that.

  Demetri’s eyebrows tug downward as he processes.

  “Oh, get on with it, Demetri,” I say, invoking the spirit of what he’d say to me if roles were reversed. “You don’t make a god wait, for crying out loud.”

  My message hits its mark and Demetri’s lip twitches into a lopsided smile. Nodding to himself, he takes a step forward.

  Just like with Jonas, the circle of light raises, granting Demetri access into the sacred space.

  Swallowing hard, Demetri extends his arms. As their palms touch, bright purple and white light erupts in inky tendrils from between their hands. Like an octopus moving from one hiding space to another, the tendrils crawl from Apollo, latching onto Demetri’s wrist. Once it’s left Apollo entirely, it soaks into Demetri’s skin, disappearing inside of him, lighting up his veins as it explores its new home.

  Demetri gasps, his eyes lighting with a light bluish glow before they settle back to their normal light gray.

  He blinks rapidly, settling into the magic he was just given. “This is…intense,” he whispers.

  Suddenly, the entire house rumbles. The glass from the living room picture window shatters inward, leaving its shards scattered across the carpet just feet away.

  “Dammit, the wards,” I mutter, stepping away from Demetri and the circle.

  I don’t get very far. The front door bursts open and a burly man with broad shoulders and no hair practically Kool-aid Man’s his way into the main hallway. In his momentum, he overshoots the living room, rushing past the archway. On his heels is Blake, followed by Ren and Kyros who stumble their way over the shards of wood and drywall.

  Miriam bolts upright in the commotion. When her eyes take in the mess beside her, she screams, scrambling away from the entry. She clutches at Jonas’s shirt and pulling him back with as well, evidently not even realizing he’s out of his wheelchair. Her eyes are wild and she looks like she’s on the verge of passing out again.

  Blake manages to get out in front of the man just as he doubles back toward the living room. Ren squeals, grabbing the nearest tangible item—a copy of Sports Illustrated—as a weapon. When the guy gets close, Ren flails his arm out wildly, getting a couple of good shots in the face with the magazine as he barrels past.

  Kyros uses the confusion to stick out a foot—never the kind of man to fight fair.

  As expected, the man stumbles, his arms flapping wildly, like he was walking a tight rope and he was about to fall to his death. He loses his balance entirely, landing hard on the floor.

  Blake is on him the second he’s down, his right arm snaking around the man’s neck as he kicks himself backward, flipping them both over. The second Blake’s back hits the ground, he tightens his grip and lifts his hips off the ground so the mountain of a man can’t get any leverage. Instead, he dangles there, trying to gain purchase and clawing at Blake’s arm.

  Again Ren’s high-pitched scream erupts as he races into the living room and away from the fray. He looks like a caricature of himself as he runs with his arms raised like he’s trying to keep the sky from falling.

  Kyros follows
his lead, stepping around the two men’s legs at a wide berth, before breaking into a run from the hallway and into the living room.

  “Oh, my god, that man of yours is like the friggin’ Terminator,” Ren says, fanning himself with his right hand. “Please tell me Tightpants’s quads will hold out because I’m about to give my resignation.” Glancing from me, he double-takes at Apollo, still standing in the middle of the circle.

  Blake shows no sigh of exhaustion as the man on top of him starts to turn an odd shade of blue.

  “Where’s John?” Miriam cries, clutching at the front of her shirt.

  Ren crosses an arm over his body, resting the elbow of the other on top of it. With the flick of his wrist, he waves her fears away. “Oh, don’t worry. John’s taking down the other goon outside. That man is like a caged lion—full of manly power.”

  The guy on the floor musters up some of his remaining power, as he tries to flip the two of them over. Blake quickly maneuvers, snaking his legs around the guy’s thighs like he’s a human backpack. They roll around the floor, with Blake firmly attached to the guy’s back.

  “Do something,” I cry out, turning to Apollo.

  He shakes his head. “My hands are tied here. There are rules about this type of interference.”

  “Fuck the rules,” I spit back, racing over to Blake’s side.

  Without thinking, I race over to the two of them, trying to find a way to keep them from spinning. The guy’s arms flail around and his right foot arcs around, landing hard in the middle of my stomach.

  I stumble back, groping at my midsection, trying to get air.

  Suddenly, Kyros is in the mix, grabbing hold of the man’s ear and twisting. The man bellows, contorting to get away from Kyros’s firm grip on his ear. Ren also rushes forward, grabbing hold of Demetri’s large mortar and pestle. In a swift movement, he brings the solid marble bowl up and back down again squarely in the center of the man’s forehead.