by Rhiannon Lee
I fumbled with my thoughts for a few more moments, then left to begin my own reconnaissance. There was an active power well on the ley line that ran through the center of town, and it was my turn to check on it. The duties were rotational for those who already worked for the Godkin community. It was now my month, and I was also curious if anything else was being affected like the sprouts in the greenhouses. It was a task that I had only put marginal effort into for the last few years. I used the excuse that I was busy, but honestly, I was avoiding others’ opinions on the subject because I knew what they would say.
Bea was already gone, diving even deeper into her case because of Thain’s meddling, and Isaac was asleep as usual. You couldn’t port your way into any space beside a flowing source of magic because its power disrupted even the best thought out plans. I could end up halfway across the galaxy instead of where I was trying to go. I readied myself to teleport.
Once I landed behind the building I was aiming for, I made my way onto the street and into the bustling city. The sounds of people going about their normal lives was a distraction for my worrying. I could make out the laughter of a young child which brought a smile to my face and made me think of Bea when she was tiny—her bright and curious mind overflowing with questions she fired off to Isaac and me nearly non-stop.
I barely remembered my childhood other than the abuse, but from what I read, that was normal when you endured a lot of traumas as a kid. The home never allowed us out except for special occasions, and those were few and far between.
An abrupt car horn snapped me out of my thoughts. My feet stopped briefly as my heartbeat settled down to normal, then I continued. The well was about two miles from home, and I still had a way to go, so I picked up my pace.
The sun was heating up, turning morning into day. I pulled my sleeves up over my elbows and reveled in the warmth on my bare arms.
On the outside, the place where the well was housed looked like a small but quaint home, complete with white siding and warm yellow shutters. The porch had three wooden steps that led up to a deck covered by a roof of the same gray shingle that lay across the rest of the housetop. A wicker set of furniture was placed neatly and invitingly, as if someone actually lived there full time. In reality, it housed a series of keepers who took shifts guarding the living source of the town’s magic. It wasn’t warded like the Ouphes market because it didn’t need to be. It was just a regular house in a regular neighborhood, except all the neighbors were Tolve.
I stepped up to the door and knocked the customary three knocks, followed by a pause and a soft spelless whistle to let them know I was here and what my gift was. If I had been a Mimic like Isaac, I would have knocked three times and then tapped on the wood with my fingertips. It was the tad bit of information he had shared with me, even though he wasn’t supposed to. But our friendship and trust often blurred the lines of what was formally expected of us when it came to separating Mimics and Godkin.
The doorknob rattled and then the door swung inward. A strikingly beautiful gatekeeper stood before me. Her long limbs were draped with loose chiffon fabric in a collection of greens that rivaled the most glorious forest. Her features were small and dainty but did not look out of place on her willowy form. She saw the awe on my face and smiled deeply. Her eyes matched the green in her clothing and pulled at the corners, creating tiny lines that hinted at her age.
“Hello,” she said. Her voice light and airy, yet warm at the same time.
“Good day to you,” I answered customarily.
“Please state your business.”
“I’m here to check the well,” I answered.
“And who would you be?”
“Oh, of course. Poppy. Godkin.”
Her left eyebrow raised knowingly. She recognized me and had been expecting me, but she had to ask because of protocol. “You’re the third person this week.”
Third person? That was odd. “Who else has been here?”
“Names Lydia. Follow me,” she said, ignoring my question. Concern bloomed in my stomach. It was highly unusual for others to show up unplanned. Even stranger that she would let them pass.
She gazed at me. “I did not let them pass. Your worry is unfounded, Poppy the Godkin,” she said.
She was a telepath. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“Apology accepted. This way,” she said while continuing on.
I followed her through the house and down a hallway. At the end, she pulled open another door before striding inside. In the middle of what should have been a bedroom protruded a round stone well that could have come out of a historical movie, except for the intricately detailed golden lid that rested on top. The naturally rounded stones were clearly hand placed and mortared with care. The lid had four strands of rope affixed around its circumference, which joined together about a foot up to form a single thicker rope.
Lydia grabbed the heavy rope that was threaded to the ceiling on a pulley like device and heaved, lifting it effortlessly into the air. Once it was high enough that we could look inside, she tied the rope off on a hook protruding from the wall and waved toward the now open well.
I moved to the rim and glanced down into the hole. There was nothing but darkness.
“It’s been like that for weeks. We check it once in the morning and once at night. Nothing. Nada. Nothing but black.”
“When did you first notice the problem?” I asked.
“Like I said, weeks ago. But I felt it dwindle months ago.”
“Why didn’t you notify anyone?”
“We’re only here to keep humans out, not to have opinions about the well. That is for you and your kind, Godkin.” As frustrating as her reply was, she was right. She was a Sylva, a race of fay. They were valued for their unique abilities, like her telepathy. They did not involve themselves in tension between the other races, they stayed neutral and loyal to whoever they were working for. That’s why there was a rotating duty list for Godkin to check on it. If anything was off, the person on duty notified the Tolve leaders in the city. It still didn’t explain why the person in charge of checking its wellbeing before me didn’t alert the necessary people.
“The last time I was here, you could barely get the lid off without magic overflowing,” I said more to myself than Lydia. She nodded anyway. That had been twelve months ago.
Absentmindedly, I ran my fingers over the opening. A faint vibration rose to meet my hand, sending a gentle hum across my skin. There was still life somewhere down in there where we couldn’t see. That fact gave me a small flush of hope. If I could find the problem and fix it, maybe the well would return to normal.
I pulled my hand back and turned in Lydia’s direction. The somber look on her face told me she was more worried than she was letting on.
“You said two other people had been here?”
“Aye, yes. You and two others.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“No, and they wouldn’t say. One tried to tell me they were diverting the flow to a new well, and she wanted to see if it was working. She seemed a little mad to me, off in the noggin,” she replied, and tapped herself on the side of head twice.
“You did well not to let them pass. I will take this news to Thain.”
No Godkin in their right mind would divert the well or allow that to happen. Maybe Matt was right about the Ouphes. I still had my doubts, but it would be stupid not to consider every possibility since things were even worse than I thought. Someone had to know something.
I thanked Lydia and left. My mind whirled, trying to connect what I had seen and heard with anything I already knew. I was going to have to just take what I knew to Thain and hope he could fill in the blanks. I silently cursed myself for allowing myself to become so removed from my fellow Tolve.
I wanted to go straight to Thain, but a nagging feeling in my gut made me hesitate. I was a bit concerned Thain would storm into the Ouphes territory like a madman, demanding answers and make things worse if I went back to
him with more suspicions. Instead, I turned and headed into town.
I soon found myself at my favorite local herb shop. Its old, wooded sign greeted me like an old friend, and I let the scent of dried herbs wash over me like a balm as I opened the glass shop door. I grabbed what I was missing for Bea’s spell and wandered down the isles absentmindedly, running my fingers over various plastic bags filled with mysterious looking items. Some were plants, others hard dried resins, and even a variety of tree barks. I found myself standing in front of a display of crystals. Their array of colors caught the light streaming in the front windows. My eyes settled over a honey-colored citrine. It sat, unpolished and jagged, waiting for me to pick it up. I didn’t need it for anything, but it seemed to call out to me. I snatched it off its ledge and added it to my other items before making my way to the front checkout counter. After I paid, I pushed the citrine into my pocket, grabbed the bag containing the rest of my purchase, and headed home.
My visit to Thain would have to wait until after I took care of Bea’s guise. I wanted to come up with a plan and at least one more solid lead that didn’t involve the Ouphes. If they ended up being victimized for something that they had no part in because of me, I would never be able to forgive myself. I just hoped I had enough time. I couldn’t hold off going to him for very long.
Chapter 14
Poppy
It was late when Bea walked in the door.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“Ready for what?”
“To remove your guise,” I answered.
“Oh, right. Sorry. It’s been a long day of finding out nothing new.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Bea gave me a weak smile. “Not your fault, but thanks. I guess we should get this over with, huh?
“Yeah, might as well,” I said, but the anxiety in my gut didn’t match my tone. If I looked at her for one more minute, all my emotions were going to be displayed on my face, so I rushed off to the kitchen.
I got one cabinet door open and turned to see the space behind me was vacant. “Bea, come on!”
I was pulling things out of the cabinet and arranging them on the countertop in a hurry when I finally heard her clear her throat.
“What–” she said, but I interrupted her with a wave of my hand. There would be time for questions when I wasn’t trying to concentrate so hard. Everything needed to be perfect.
She went to leave, but I motioned for her to stop. “Stay there and be quiet, I need to work.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and backed up enough so she could lean into the far wall and watch me. I was known for stress baking, but that was nothing compared to my focus while I was stress spelling.
I had everything but the herb, Eyebright, arranged neatly in a row before I moved to retrieve my silver ritual bowl from the bottom cabinet. I kept it in a small secret compartment built into the back wall, and I had to get down on my knees to reach it. I also had to whistle an enchantment to get it to open, which meant that Bea was about to see my magic in action for the first time. I gave her a cursory glance, positioned my lips, and let out a two-note trill that began in my throat.
I paused and waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, so I continued. Snatching the bowl and the single leaf of paper with the recipe on it from the dark cubby, I quickly stood up and whipped around. I knew the ingredients by heart, but I was taking no chances. Careful not to make eye contact with her, I raced from the kitchen and to my room. She didn’t follow this time. Hopefully, she would take this as seriously and I wished.
My thoughts went from her being strongly compliant to the possibility of her changing her mind and leaving, which urged me on. I grabbed the Eyebright and raced back to the kitchen. I was pretty sure I was more nervous that she was, which was ridiculous.
To my relief, she was still standing where I left her—arms even tighter around her mid-section, like she was holding on for dear life. Bless her heart, she probably was. It was hard for her to blindly follow orders; she always had a million questions. It was part of what made her such a clever PI.
I whisked past her to the bowl. Each ingredient had to be added in exact ratios for this to work so I measured each one twice before I tossed it in.
Finally, I turned around and met her gaze. “Do you have a lighter?”
“What? Why would I have a lighter?” she asked.
“Right. Of course. One second,” I said and raced back to my room. I snatched a box of matches out of the same drawer the Eyebright had been in and sprinted back to the kitchen, bowl still in my hand. Now I was ready.
“Do you trust me?”
She heaved a breath and I thought she was going to say no. “You know I do.”
Her words stung, bringing my guilty emotions to the surface over having to lie to her. I wasn’t sure I could ever move past them. I tried to brush the thoughts about myself aside and pressed on.
“I need you to close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them. I’m going to say some words and light the contents of this bowl like incense.”
She took a step back and held a hand up between us. “What is it going to feel like?” she asked.
“It doesn’t hurt if that’s what you’re worried about,” I replied.
“I’m not sure what I’m worried about, to be honest. Nothing. Everything. You’ve been through this, what was it like for you?”
I thought about it for a moment, trying to take myself back to that night of my life. “It was like I was set free. There was a warm tingling that started on my forehead and worked its wall down until it was covering every inch of me, but it didn’t hurt. I was… just different. No, that’s not a good word for it. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before,” I explained. “I don’t think I can explain it in a way you would understand, to be honest. I’m sorry.”
She nodded and lifted her shoulders and chin in a determined pose. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“Alright, here we go,” I said, scooping a match out of the box. My fingers shook so much I dropped it and swore under my breath.
“I hope it’s quick,” she halfheartedly joked.
“I’m sorry, I will try to hurry.”
“I wasn’t making a crack at you for dropping the match, I’m just nervous too,” she reassured.
“I’ve practiced this at least a thousand times, but I guess doing the real thing is a different situation. Being put on the spot and all,” I said and smiled weakly.
“I trust you,” she replied.
With that, I felt some of my anxiety fall away. I scooped another match out of the box, this time holding tight to the small piece of wood. I dragged it quickly against the striker on the box and tossed it into the bowl before it could burn my finger or go out.
“Okay, close your eyes,” I instructed.
Just like I asked, Bea squeezed her eyes tight.
I closed my eyes too and took a few steadying breaths. Once I could focus, I mentally reached out to her through our connection. Colors lit up in my mind like a vivid dream. The guise was tuned specifically to me, as unique as a fingerprint, and was it nearly impossible for anyone one else to tamper or remove it. Because so much of my energy had gone into creating it, it was simple for me to locate. Reminded of this, I was momentarily distracted by how stupid it was that I hadn’t thought to use our connection to find her when she was kidnapped by Thain.
I quickly snapped myself back to the present and regained my focus. Her guise radiated around her like a bubble of energy that retreated from her body when she moved as to not alert her to its presence. The smoke from the incense filled the room. I pulled the scent of burning flowers in through my nose and exhaled with the whistle that would set her free. It was clear and practiced, and as the first few notes left me without mistake, my confidence in my ability grew. The notes became louder and stronger, mirroring the rise of magic riding their sound waves. In a rolling tide, it tested my range as it moved from high to low and pea
ceful, a middle C, down the scale as far as my range would go and then back up again, hopping ever so gently over ever third note.
When I finished, I opened my eyes. She was staring at me in awe.
“That was amazing. I did not know you could whistle like that.”
I blushed at her compliment. “Thank you,” I said with a smile. “How do you feel?”
“Uh…” she trailed off. Patting along her body while looking down toward her legs, she said, “About that. I don’t think it worked. I don’t feel different at all.”
I shut my eyes closed again and reached for the guise like I had before. It was most definitely gone. There wasn’t even a trace of what once lingered around her, anywhere.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
I popped my eyes back open. “Maybe you should inhale some incense,” I said, and wafted the smoke it in her direction.
She took a deep breath in and coughed. Looking unamused, she repeated herself semi-worriedly, “Am I stuck with this thing forever?”
“No, it’s gone.”
“Are you sure because I really didn’t feel anything. No heat like you described. Nothing. Not even a tickle.”
I was growing concerned. “This is really strange. You should have at least felt something.”
“Did I do something wrong, maybe?”
“No, there wasn’t anything you could have done wrong. Honestly, you didn’t even need to close your eyes. I just thought it would be easier on you if you did so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed when it happened,” I explained.
She put her hand on her hip like she was less than impressed. “Huh.”
“I mean, it’s gone, so you’re good to go now. It’s just odd that you felt nothing.”