by Coralie Moss
“I don’t know, which is why I’m here and why I’m asking the three of you to stay,” Kostya said, sliding his billfold to the edge of the table. “And why I’m all in favor of inviting your aunt to join us.”
“Any other reasons why you want us to stay?” Go me, always the little one poking the big bear. Before Kostya could answer, the plate-glass windows shuddered. The demon pushed out of the wingback chair and whirled to face the front of the store.
Rain streaked sideways, flickering like a school of manic fish under the glow of the streetlamps. The weather had ramped up since we’d opened the champagne.
“Crap.” Alderose’s usually confident voice hushed at the sight. She rounded the table and jogged to the door, then turned an annoyed face to me and Beryl. “Either of you know there was a nor’easter coming? I’m supposed to leave tomorrow from the portal in Boston and this is going to make the turnpike totally craptastic.”
I shook my head. Checking a weather app for the two-hour drive back to the city hadn’t even crossed my mind. Once we finished at the lawyer’s office, we’d piled into Alderose’s rental car for the drive to the shop. I hadn’t done much in terms of planning for the weekend beyond assuming we’d be inside the shop more than a few hours and that one of my sisters would have secured a hotel room where I could crash. Then Kostya had showed up and now everything was topsy-turvy.
The lights over the cutting table fizzled and popped before they gave out.
“We’re spending the night here, aren’t we?” I asked.
“Looks like we’re stuck for a while,” said Kostya. “At least until the wind settles.”
“Not if I can help it.” Beryl swirled and launched herself toward the back of the store, the tip of her pocket wand lighting the way. “There’s an umbrella in the office. I’ll get Rosey’s car. The hotel’s holding a reservation for me. We can settle in, watch a movie, finish the champagne and dessert, and come back tomo—”
What sounded like a shovelful of gravel slammed against the windows. Beryl squeaked.
“Is it sleeting now?” Alderose asked. “My pants are going to get ruined in this weather.”
Ever-practical Beryl’s solution to our sister’s whining was to inform her there was a box of black plastic trash bags in the bathroom and that Alderose could wear one over her legs.
My ears had perked up at Beryl’s plan. Hotel Northampton had a swank factor I loved as a little girl. With the chill settling in, I was in full support of cozying up in Beryl’s room. I was about to chime in with my vote when something outside caught my attention.
Beyond the front of the store, two orange dots wavered from the depths of the pewter-colored light. As the dots crossed the street, they paused to let a flyaway umbrella pass, then stopped in front of the shop’s door. I shuffled closer to Kostya.
A being with glowing orbs for eyes, cloaked in coal-black rainwear, raised its arms. Its reach out-spanned Kostya’s. One hand pushed the slicker’s hood back while the other rattled the door handle.
Beryl squirmed against me and whispered, “Who is that? They must be a hella powerful Magical. I know my cloaking spells work.”
Kostya shoved us behind him. Now that the figure was at the window, I could see that what I thought were eyes were actually aviator goggles fitted with side shields. The being pushed the goggles to his forehead and rapped his knuckles against the glass.
“Is it waving at us?” Alderose leaned forward from the waist, then swiveled her shoulders. “It’s waving at us. Like it expects us to know who it is.”
The repeated tapping and waving drew Kostya toward the door. Within two steps, he’d fired up one hand—literally; he was a fire demon and could conjure the element at will—and flicked his wrist. The coiled metal cuff he wore transformed into a slender whip that crackled and spat like fireworks.
“Identify yourself,” he bellowed.
The being on the other side of the door showed both palms before pulling an ID badge on a chain out from underneath his shirt. Whatever they pressed to the glass brought Kostya off high alert. He doused his flames, snapped the whip back onto his wrist, and unlocked the door.
“Thank you for letting me in without prior notice,” the very tall, bald, deep-voiced visitor said. “My name is Alabastair Nekrosine. I was sent by Maritza Brodeur. Your aunt.” He waited. The drops of sleet quivering on his shoulders began to melt while Kostya studied the identification card and punched at his phone. Satisfied with whatever information lit up the screen, he passed the badge to Alderose. Beryl and I gathered close.
The ID had been provided by the same agency as Kostya’s.
“You’re a necromancer,” I said, appraising the clean-shaven visitor in the black mock turtleneck. Within seconds, he’d gone from being frightening to being an object of interest.
“I am,” he said. His pale gray eyes crinkled at the corners as he attempted a smile. “I am also Maritza’s apprentice. And her partner. Her romantic partner.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“Your aunt tasked me with the safekeeping and delivery of a magical object.” Alabastair unzipped a pocket on the inside of his waterproof cloak and withdrew a gold ring. The dull, oblong emerald sitting atop the band thrummed with magic. My mother’s magic. Even the threads outside the door recognized her magical signature. They pulsed with a matching shade of green before turning invisible again.
The necromancer offered the ring to each of us in turn but only Kostya was brave—or foolish—enough to take it without further explanation.
“Do you feel that?” I directed my question to my sisters. They pressed even closer and nodded.
Beryl noted, “This belonged to Mom.”
“You are correct. Your aunt came into possession of it this summer. The ring now belongs to you.” He extended his arm to Kostya, pinched the gold band between his thumb and forefinger, and offered it to Alderose. “Your father, Heriberto, insisted that this ring is the key.”
“The key to what?”
“He…” Alabastair’s pale skin took on a grayish cast. “He did not say. By the time I was able to circle back to ask him for more information, he’d disappeared—as had your mother’s ghost.”
“Mom is a ghost?” Alderose sat down heavily, barely catching the edge of the stool as Beryl shot up to standing, sputtering, “Wait, you met our father? Why is everybody getting time with our father and we’re getting the silent treatment?”
Alabastair looked confused by Beryl’s outburst. “Might I take a seat? I think I should start at the beginning rather than give you the background on the ring piecemeal.”
“Please, sit.” My hands shook as I draped Alabastair’s outerwear over an unoccupied chair in the alcove. Kostya brought a third seat to the table.
“This past July twenty-first was a day I will never forget.” Alderose returned from the office with another cup and offered Alabastair champagne. He accepted. “I arrived in British Columbia that morning, ready to meet Maritza for the first time and begin my apprenticeship with her.”
He took a sip of champagne. “A rather eventful dinner—at which I also met your uncle; his husband, James; your cousin; and your grandparents—was topped by the appearance of Heriberto del Valle. Apparently, your father arrived at Malvyn’s home determined to die.”
The three of us gasped in unison. “What?”
Alabastair nodded and held up both hands, palms forward. “As it was explained to me, Heriberto had showed up at your uncle’s home on the anniversary of Moira’s passing every year, intending to end his life. He was convinced that either Malvyn or Maritza had the ability to reunite him with your mother in her ghostly form—Maritza is a necromancer as I am sure you know—and every year, either Malvyn or Maritza revived him using magical means.
“I take it this inability to successfully cross over was upsetting to Heriberto and contributed to why he seemed so assured of victory this year. He knew an individual—such as your aunt—may perform a resuscitation on another being u
p to three times. After that…” Alabastair shrugged his shoulders.
“So, what happened?” Kostya and the three of us leaned into Alabastair’s riveting story. I didn’t think he knew just how much light he was shedding on our parents’ lives and the magic we’d inherited.
“Because the Nekrosines are known for their innovation in the realm of necromantic techniques, I performed one of my family’s patented resuscitations on Heriberto. With Maritza’s and Malvyn’s permission,” he clarified. “Afterward, while your father was recovering and regaining his strength, your mother’s ghost manifested for the very first time.”
He paused, then added, “It is my understanding that as skilled as your aunt is at conjuring and speaking with the dead, her sister had never once appeared to her.”
My mom had never appeared to me either. But now I had to wonder if some of the visions I had been having belonged to her memories. I had no idea how to begin to approach verifying that idea. “What did Mom have to say?” I asked.
Alabastair shook his head, his downcast eyes going mournful. “We may never know. Maritza and I left the two of them together, and the next morning they were gone.”
“How did you get this?” Alderose asked, holding the emerald in front of the candle’s flame.
“Heriberto presented the ring to me after the resuscitation, during one of his more lucid moments, and before Moira’s ghost entered the picture. Maritza and I had been discussing what to do with it when word of Serena’s passing arrived. Mari immediately tasked me with delivering the ring to the three of you.”
“Do you know if Serena had the ring at any point?”
Alabastair shook his head. “The provenance of this magical object is a mystery. If any of you can reach your father, perhaps he would be more forthcoming with—”
“Excuse me for interrupting, Alabastair, but did you travel here with anyone?” Kostya placed his hand on the necromancer’s shoulder and turned him to face the door. “Because it looks like we have more company.”
Wind and rain rattled the windows in their frames. Another dark gray, human-looking form hovered over the sidewalk, holding its arms away from its body. Lengths of shredded clothing flailed in the wind, and clouds and a rainspout spiraled in ragged figure-eights around and between its legs.
The figure advanced toward the shop, bringing the swirling storm with it. None of us moved, even as the being came close enough that its tattered, water-soaked garments slapped the windows.
“It’s like being stuck in one of those car washes with the giant brushes,” I whispered. I was pretty sure we weren’t being visited by one of the dead. I would have felt it, the way I always had. But there was thick glass and a wall of water between me and whoever was out there, so I couldn’t be entirely sure.
“I suspect it’s one of your mother’s customers, come to collect,” Alabastair said.
“Or ask for a refund,” Beryl joked under her breath. “What do we do?”
The necromancer cleared his throat. “Your aunt has made it abundantly clear it is not my place to step between a Brodeur witch—or three—and a potential problem. That said, I am more than willing to assist if asked.”
“I’m with Alabastair,” said Kostya. “I’ll support however you decide to handle this, though—”
“Handle this? I’m not going out there.” Alderose’s voice barely registered above the noise from the water pelting the windows.
My gaze shot to the top section of the door. The web of threads was beaded with drops of water and glowing golden yellow.
Caution. “I’ll do it.”
“Clemmie, did you even hear what the necromancer said?” Beryl asked. “He saw Mom’s ghost. He saw Dad, who gave him a ring and a cryptic message. It’s like we’ve stepped into a Netflix special. Next thing you know, the three of us will be given an impossible mission to solve in a ridiculously short amount of time. With no food.”
The storm battering the shop suddenly paused. Large teardrops of water in shades of granite, jade, and onyx hung motionless in the air. The floating being landed on its feet, held up one hand with fingers spread wide, and began to move its lips.
One, they mouthed, crossing their thumb over their palm.
Two. The pointer finger was next. Three was forming on its lips when I nudged aside my sisters and ducked around Kostya.
“Wait,” I said, waving. “Wait!”
The demon grabbed at my wrist. I wriggled away. “No, it’s okay, Kostya. I got this.” I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and offered a tight smile for our first customer. “Welcome to Needles and Sins. I’m Clementine Brodeur. May I help you?”
The previously suspended drops hit the slanted bit of pavement, holding their shape like liquid mercury as they flowed toward our guest and reconvened around his ankles. Vehicles passed in both directions, shooting arcs of frothy water into the air.
The magical being standing in front of me was male. Older, with features carved from granite and dreadlocks pulled back from his face. Lightning arced across his fingertips. Up close, the outer garment that had appeared shredded proved to be dense, dark clouds. Long strips continued to circle around his legs and torso.
My first encounter with an elemental water mage was going swimmingly.
“I saw light in the windows. Finally. I would like to speak with Moira Brodeur.”
“Moira is no longer with us.”
He inched closer, pulling the water and clouds with him. “Then I would speak with her replacement.”
“Her replacement—” I said, stuttering. “Her replacement is no longer with us either.” I tensed the muscles in my legs, anchoring myself against the mage’s aqueous pull.
“Then who among you will find my beloved?” The mage paused. The strength of his pull lessened. Behind him, a vague figure emerged, covered in threads of pearly mist. She was small, with one skinny braid cascading over each shoulder and a trio of scallop shells fanning across her forehead. She dissipated into a bank of fog before I could say anything.
“A long time ago, I paid a lot of money to a witch who assured me she would find my beloved. How many more witches do I have to go through before I am given a capable replacement?”
The threat-laced tone in the mage’s voice startled me into a sharp retort. “The witch you are referring to was my mother, and she’s been dead for seven years.”
He took half a step and fumbled at the back of his neck. The cloth of his pants absorbed the clouds circling his legs. “Then who has assumed responsibility for her contracts?”
When Beryl and Alderose rose from their seats and stepped to either side of me, I couldn’t fault the being in the doorway for smirking. Between the three of us, Alderose’s winged eyeliner and leather getup were the only signal flags of possible of bad-assery on display. “I guess this is it,” she muttered under her breath.
Linking our fingers, we answered the mage, in unison. “We have.”
My belly tightened in reaction to the commitment we had just made. Beryl kept the insanity going by asking the mage if he wanted to join us inside the shop.
“The rules of hospitality dictate no harm shall come to you once you enter,” she reminded us all. “Those same rules mean you cannot use force against us under our own roof. At the very least, we need to know your name and the details of the contract you made with our mother in order to be at all helpful.”
The mage’s gaze lingered on me. I dropped what was left of my bravado and allowed him to see my desire to make this right. He gave a tight nod. The three of us stepped back, giving him room to cross the threshold to our mother’s shop.
Kostya directed the water mage to the head of the cutting table. Beryl pulled a stool to one side, and I tugged mine closer to the other. She withdrew a tablet from her messenger bag, woke the device, and opened a new document. “Let’s begin with your name, as well as whatever details you can recall from when you first engaged our mother’s services.”
“My name is Rémy.” He li
fted the champagne bottle and tilted it toward the flickering light coming from the candles. “Rémy Ruisseau, and I will take a glass of this.”
Alderose volunteered to procure another cup. Rémy looked at Beryl, then at me. “You three resemble your mother. Who are your companions?”
Kostya and Alabastair introduced themselves, making it a point to display their badges. Alderose poured more champagne.
“I came to Moira Brodeur in search of my partner, my…my beloved. She assured me she would be found.”
“Could you describe that process to us?” I asked. Our utter lack of knowledge about our mother’s methods meant we had to start at the beginning. Even if starting at the beginning meant irritating a powerful mage.
“I came here, and she interviewed me.”
Kostya placed his fingertips on the table and asked, “Where, exactly, did you meet Moira?”
Rémy tilted his head. “I am confused by your question.”
“Did you meet her here”—I swept my arm around the darkened room—“or in some other space?”
“Ah, I understand.” He pointed at the front door. Silvery shapes swirled around and around the base of his finger. “I walked in through there, your mother greeted me from”—he twisted in the chair and indicated the counter area—“there. She put another woman in charge of the shop and escorted me into her office.”
“Would you mind showing us her office?”
He lifted one eyebrow and drained his cup of champagne. “Follow me.”
Barefooted, with serpentine rings encircling his toes and chains connecting them to more rings around his ankles, he wound around the tables and wavered before stopping in front of the office door.
The power came back on as I drew the door toward me. One overhead light illuminated the cramped, rectangular space. Rémy moved me to the side and entered. “This does not look like the room where we met,” he said, turning in a circle and gazing upward. “I recall seeing the sky and looking across rooftops. There were chandeliers. Four of them. Blazing with light.”
Beryl, Kostya, Alderose, and Alabastair offered their affirmation that the closet-like office would barely accommodate two bodies, let alone four chandeliers. Rémy motioned for everyone to back away from the room. “Give me space to work. Allow me to recall the details of that day. Perhaps my memories hold information you can use.” He looped a finger through one of the myriad chains around his neck and lifted one holding a glass vial. He unscrewed the top and reached for the back of his neck. Bringing forward a slender, intricate braid, he dipped the tip into the vial and used his hair like a paintbrush. As he drew lines in the air, he chanted an invocation to Mnemosyne.