Once Blessed, Thrice Cursed: A Sister Witches Urban Fantasy #1

by Coralie Moss

  Things were happening on the third floor. Beryl, Kostya, Maritza, and Alabastair had gathered around the table with the drawers and boxes, all the notes and objects relating to Rémy and Gosia spread in front of them. Alderose was sitting on the floor, her back to the wall, sharpening her blades. The contents of her duffel bag were spread out around her legs. I knew my sister was a weapons collector, but I didn’t know the extent to which she’d been accumulating blades of all shapes and sizes. Well, shapes and sizes that could fit into a medium-sized duffel bag. Her fabled sword was nowhere in sight.

  Laszlo squeezed my fingers and pointed to my sister. “I want to check out her gear.”

  Alderose angled the tip of her blade toward Kostya. “You might want to check in with your brother first.”

  “Kostya, what’s up?”

  “I think Rémy has cast a spell around the building.” The demon teased his phone out of his front pocket. “The delivery guy joked about how weird it was that the rain was confined to our block, but his comment didn’t really sink in until now.” He tapped at the screen. “My weather app doesn’t say anything about the wind and rain we’re experiencing.”

  I jogged to the window nearest my mother’s desk, pressed the sides of my hands to the rattling glass, and peered out. I couldn’t see much. Laszlo stood at my side. “Add hail to that list,” he said, as tiny balls of ice slammed into the windowpane. “The street and sidewalk were wet when we arrived, brother, but there was nothing like this going on. Is there a way for us to access the roof?”

  I pointed to the back wall. “When Kostya had me up on the ladder, I noticed a fire escape on the back side of the building.”

  Alderose wiped her hands on a rag and beckoned me over. “Let’s see if there’s another hidden door. The stairs to the roof should extend up from the stairwell we’ve been using.”

  My sister moved to the workroom’s doorway, with the steps to the second and ground floors descending to her left. She faced the back wall of the building, a small wall to her right. “And the door to the roof is…” She gripped the railing, faced the small wall, and raised her arm, palm forward. We all heard the click of a lock releasing. “Hah! This is where I’m grateful that Mom backed up her magic with logic.”

  I kept my knee-jerk response to myself, thinking that if Mom had backed up her magic with logic, we’d have closed this case by now.

  Alderose dug into her bag and pulled out a hooded jacket. “Who’s coming with me?” she asked, zipping up to her chin. She tucked her hair into the attached hood.

  Kostya volunteered. Beryl, Laszlo, and I crowded behind. “I think we’re all going.”

  “Bas and I will stay here,” Maritza said. “Please do your best to avoid trouble.”

  “And tunnels,” Bas added.

  These stairs were narrower and the risers were higher. Alderose stopped at the top and asked us to wait. “Kostya, help. The handle won’t turn.”

  Kostya joined her and ran his light along the frame. From where I was standing at the bottom, I could see the walls to either side were stained. Short, dark story threads danced at the periphery of my sight.

  I held on to Laszlo and peered more closely at the stains. “I think that’s blood,” Beryl said, handing me her phone. “Here, take this.”

  A slow sweep of the walls confirmed there was something there, something that looked a lot like dried blood. I backed onto the third-floor landing and spotted faded handprints at shoulder height.

  “Laz? Can you come down here, please, and stand behind me?” When he hesitated, I added, “I see old blood on the walls and the story threads want to tell me about it.”

  I was about to add that I knew the story was dire when he said, “Of course, Clementine.” He ducked around me and held on to my hips. “I’ve got you.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered. “Sometimes I see things that are really upsetting.”

  “Want me to hold the phone?”

  I shook my head. “I need your arms free to catch me if I faint.”

  “Blood makes you faint?”

  “I—” The story threads were gathering. “I’ll explain later.”

  The palm prints to either side of the lower door were made by a hand close in size to mine. The fingers pointed down, but the streaks led up. I softened my gaze and let the threads take over.

  Heeled boots and a long coat—a duster, that’s what they were called—stitched from waxed canvas. Water beaded off its surface. The garment’s lower half flared out to one side then the other as the being ascended the stairs. Its hands left long streaks of blood that faded the closer it got to the outside door. The attached capelet snapped in the wind. A hood covered the being’s head.

  Menace. Dark waters gathering, pouring over the threshold and onto the roof, rising in a spiral toward the low-hanging storm clouds.

  The door to the rooftop banged open, letting in a sudden gust of cold, sleety rain. “Hold on to Alderose,” I yelled. “Rémy might be out there.”

  “Got her!” Kostya’s voice boomed within the contained space, then he and Rosey disappeared into the night. The threads I’d been watching were sucked out of the stairwell in the updraft.

  “Clemmie, Laz, can you two hold on to me?” Beryl asked, climbing the stairs. “I’m going to try something I’ve seen other witches do.”

  Laszlo squeezed ahead of her and wedged himself in the open doorway. He wrapped his arm around Beryl’s waist and motioned for me to get on his other side. “Go for it.”

  Beryl pulled her wand from behind her ear and rolled it between her palms, chanting steadily until a flame lit its tip. She pointed the clear, blue flame toward the middle of the rooftop. “Lumen magnum.” A blue flare shot forward, providing a dramatic, short-lived arc of light.

  A wall of sleet circled the building. Laszlo glanced down at me, concern written across his face. “I’ve seen water mages do this before. I say everyone goes to the ground floor while Kostya and I board up the windows in the workroom. The rest of you can come up with a new plan.”

  I shook my head. “Beryl, keep throwing more lights. If Rémy’s responsible for this, then there’s something I want him to see.”

  “Clemmie, you’re nuts,” she said, clutching her wand to her chest.

  “Clementine, no.”

  “We’ve already established I leap first, look later. Trust me. Laszlo will hold me,” I said. “Right?”

  “Stubborn witch.” The demon nodded at Beryl to resume tossing lights and urged her to keep one hand on the railing. Cold, hard drops of rain pelted my arms and face as he walked us into the storm, toward Kostya and Alderose.

  “What the hell are you thinking?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the frenzied gusts of rain.

  “Sending a message to Rémy,” I yelled. “Give me your knife.”

  “You’re crazy.” She handed me the handle end of a short blade anyway. Laszlo grabbed a fistful of fabric at my back as I held the front of my jumpsuit away from my chest, punctured the canvas, and sliced upward. I managed to not cut myself and returned the weapon.

  Gathering my hair behind my neck with my right hand, I untied the scarf and pulled the left side of the jumpsuit down enough to expose the side of my neck. Rémy’s sigil and Gosia’s snake continued their slow movements.

  “Rémy!” I yelled. “Rémy Ruisseau, look at me!”

  “Keep the light coming,” Laszlo said, tossing the command over his shoulder while holding me tight to his chest. I arched back. More of my skin was slicked by the unrelenting rain. The wet surface would be more reflective. I wanted the mage to see the cryptic message I bore. Laszlo growled.

  “Trust me,” I said. “Please.”

  Kostya and Alderose flanked me and Laszlo. Kostya held his arms aloft. Flames licked along all ten fingers. Jagged blue and white flares streaked within the dark clouds above, flashing again and again until the water mage hovered twenty or so feet above us.

  “Do you have my beloved, little witch?” he asked. The
wind softened as he lowered his arms.

  “Come closer. There’s something you need to see.”

  He landed on the roof—which I didn’t expect—and strode directly toward me. Precipitation accompanied him, along with tight, roiling clouds and his chains. I darted my gaze to either side of the wind-whipped mage, hoping to glimpse the girl I’d seen the day before.

  Rémy clamped his hand on my exposed shoulder and ran his thumb over Gosia’s snake. Gazing into the unforgiving landscape of his eyes, I took in his other features—blue-black skin, blue-white dreads, gaunt hollows between his cheeks and his jaw. I had to restrain myself from reaching for the story threads clinging to his hair.

  “Answer me, Clementine, or—”

  “I didn’t hear you,” I said.

  “Who gave you this?” Gosia’s snake lay curled in his palm.

  “I’m not sure I can tell you.”

  Rémy lifted his face to the sky and screamed. Anguished. Frustrated. And when he lowered his jaw and returned Gosia’s slender little snake to the side of my neck, his movements were unnaturally stiff. A thick band of ice was creeping across the bottom half of his face, leaving only his nostrils free. He grabbed at the ice mask’s edges and pulled and pulled before he spun away, ran to the low wall surrounding the entire roof, and jumped. The streak of gray flying away from the center of town assured me he hadn’t fallen to his death. The need to follow him was overwhelming.

  Laszlo swept me into his arms. “I’m getting her inside.”

  Back on the third floor, freestanding iron radiators protested with insistent thumps as trapped air bubbles made their way through three floors of copper piping.

  “Spill it,” Alderose said as soon as everyone was in the room. Rather than return her weapon to her duffel bag, she had straightened her arm and was pointing the tip of her blade at me. “Whatever’s on your neck completely freaked out the mage. Tía, Alabastair, have you had a good look at Clementine?”

  Suddenly, I was the center of everyone’s attention and not in an adoring way. Alderose was angry. I allied myself with our aunt, who was quietly stringing a button on a cord. Two different buttons on two other cords hung from her forearm. “I believe it has been noted that Rémy affixed his sigil”—she lifted her gaze off her work and searched the front of my body—“on the left side of Clementine’s neck. It would also appear that another magic-imbued symbol has joined his. Together, they create a compatible pair.”

  I almost gloated. The tone of Beryl’s voice stopped me. “Rémy was able to transfer the snake thing to his palm and back again. He wanted to know where Clemmie had gotten it, but then his mouth froze over.” She planted one hand on her hip and pointed her wand at me. “I noticed you didn’t give the mage an answer before he left us, Sissy. I want you to give it to us. Where did you get the snake?”

  Gosia’s creation slithered up the side of my neck and over my jaw, flicking its tongue at the corner of my mouth. Maritza shoved the button necklaces at Laszlo and slapped her hand against my neck, trapping the snake. “¡Deje de moverte!” she hissed.

  “Ouch,” I said. My aunt grabbed my wrist when I went to rub my neck.

  “Don’t you move either, mija. This emissary was about to enforce a spell of silence.” She peeled the six-inch-long serpent off my neck, held it up for everyone to see, and put on her most professorial face. “I caught what Beryl said about Rémy’s mouth. Describe what happened. I want every detail.”

  Laszlo moved closer to my back and recounted Rémy’s actions, complete with an assessment of the mage’s emotional state and a detailed accounting of the gag. There was nothing accusatory in his words.

  “The mage is not allowed to speak about something related to the snake, though the snake behaves as though it recognizes the mage’s sigil.” My aunt studied the serpent. “The snake has also been directed to keep Clementine from speaking about something related to Gosia. The use of silencing spells is not unusual. What intrigues me is the maker of the spells. I think it was the same witch.”

  “Why do you say that, Tía?”

  “Because I am a witch and I am able to hold the spelled object. In fact—” She glanced back and forth between the sigil still curled on my neck, and the snake trapped between her fingers, before pressing her lips together and shaking her head. “We all want to hear about your escapades, sobrinita. To keep your words flowing, I shall hold the little serpent. But before you speak, put this on. I spelled your button, and the demon’s, to assist with muting the pull of the Demesne. You have twenty-four hours. I added a tracker to your buttons, and the one I wear”—she tapped at the button resting at the base of her throat—“allows me to know your whereabouts.”

  “In case you need to break us apart?”

  She laughed. “In case I need to rescue you from each other. Let me fix your jumpsuit while you talk.”

  I sat still. Beryl was ready to start the questioning. “Can you give us a detailed physical description of Gosia? And was there anyone else with her?”

  I closed my eyes and replayed the sequence of events once Alabastair and I reached the end of the tunnel where it opened into the water-filled cavern. I had to fight through every fear-tinged moment and focus on the sensory data only. “The first thing that struck me as unusual was the threads. I thought they were the same kind of story threads I’ve seen all my life, like the ones that helped me to see what happened here, to Mom. But Alabastair could see them too.” I described the way some of the threads inside the cavern beckoned me forward, while others built a nest on the ledge below the opening.

  “Gosia told me those threads were created by Mom to protect her.” I went on to describe being captured and dragged under the water, and about meeting Gosia and Jadzia on the shore.

  “Okay, so we have the client, a male water mage. Mom goes through her normal routine with him, takes his deposit, and begins to look for his love match. She finds Gosia. And less than three months later, Mom dies.”

  “Mom’s death might be entirely unrelated to Rémy and Gosia,” Alderose said.

  “Wait,” I said. “Wait.” A certain phrase kept running through my head. “Rémy has never said anything about a love match. He has always spoken about contracting Mom to help him find his—”

  “Beloved. His beloved. What if Rémy already knows Gosia’s his beloved? What if Gosia knows that too?”

  I tugged at the neckline of the mended jumpsuit and pointed to the squirming sigil. “Gah, then why are those two using my neck as a magical message board? And why would Gosia tell me not to fail her?”

  Beryl stepped next to Maritza and assumed command of gathering the paperwork spread across the table’s surface. “Did Gosia say anything that could give us a clue about what kind of a creature she is and where she lives?”

  I slumped in the chair. “I got the feeling she’s not from here.”

  “I believe those names are eastern European in origin.” Alabastair pulled a tablet from the satchel he shared with my aunt. “Give me a few minutes to review the region’s mythology.”

  “Moving forward, Gosia and Jadzia are of indeterminate classification.” When I nodded, Beryl added, “Are you sure she’s not one of the merpeople?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a mer-being,” I said. “Though both of them had gills.” I tilted my head to one side and pointed to the general location of the gill coverings. “And after the threads had covered my body, including my entire face and mouth, one of them forced oxygen into my mouth after they dragged me underwater.”

  “You’re saying they can breathe underwater and aboveground without difficulty?”

  “Without difficulty or having to transform themselves in any way. At least, in any way that was noticeable.”

  “What were they wearing? And did they have any weapons?”

  I described what little I’d noticed in the dark, adding, “Jadzia had weapons all over her arms and legs. She was wearing this skintight garment, kind of like the catsuit Alderose has on,
with slits all over. I could make out the shapes of blades underneath the covering.

  “Their facial features and body structure was like ours.” I closed my eyes again and brushed my fingers over my cheeks. “Gosia had pearlescent scales, or flecks of something, on her face.”

  “And the water was fresh?”

  “Yes. It was cold. If I had stayed in much longer I might have gone hypothermic. There was a current that moved from the tunnel and off to the left. I had to swim against it when they released me.”

  A flurry of voices sent their opinions sailing through the room.

  “We need to go back through the tunnel and try to find Gosia.”

  “She might not be there. She might be long gone.”

  “Returning to her heightens the risk of leading Rémy right to her.”

  “How? We could take precautions—”

  “It would take far more than washing up afterward with peppermint soap,” Maritza said, tapping her chin.

  “Alabastair, help.” While I recounted my adventure in the cavern, Kostya and Laszlo had been struggling to hammer a piece of canvas over the window. One end kept flapping away. Bas reached to grab it just as the window exploded inward. Glass embedded the canvas. The three men dropped the fabric, stepped back, and examined each other for cuts.

  The water mage hovered in the air beyond the two bare, unbroken windows. He was still wearing the ice face mask. Everything else about him, from the garments shredding in the rising force of the wind to the desperate look in his eyes, said this was a man on the verge of exploding.

  “It’s time to move,” Alderose said. She started shoving her weapons into the duffel bag. She slipped out the door and disappeared, reappearing a minute later. “I got Mom and Dad’s apartment door opened. That might be the safest place for us while we figure out what’s next.”