by S. L. Watson
“Where’s Oria’s ring?”
His question threw me. I met his hard stare, and pins and needles prickled everywhere. Sapphire eyes the color of my own narrowed with agitation.
“Did you put colored contacts in?”
“The ring,” he growled.
“What the hell, Darion? Stop acting like a jackass. Did you find Molly or not? And what’s with the contacts?”
A tingle of apprehension crept over me as I scanned … Wait …
Not only were Darion’s eyes a different color, but age lines caressed the skin under his bottom lashes, around his mouth, and across his forehead.
I reached into his aura and took a step back. Whoever stood in front of me resembled Darion, but this person wasn’t my brother.
A hammer slammed against my chest as his lips curved up. I had started to turn when he whispered something in Vitarian. The room spun, and I swayed on my feet. By the time I had regained my balance, he was gone, and a bloodcurdling scream rang out from across the room.
My ears filled with the pounding of my heart. Lights flicked on, and bodies pressed all around me as everyone tried to find the source of the scream. I forced my legs to move when a crowd near the stage backed away in a frenzy.
I shoved past anyone blocking my way, this time not caring who I bumped into. People fanned out in confusion. I heard paramedics barking orders behind me.
Sam. Thank God! He hadn’t wasted any time.
My knees buckled when I saw Darion hovering over a limp body on the floor. He pumped Molly’s chest frantically while checking her pulse. Blood dripped from her nose, and trickled down the side of her cheek.
We’re too late.
My eyes burned, and I choked on the air trapped in my throat. “Is … is she …?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Molly had to be okay.
Darion kept his attention on Molly as he continued to pump her chest and breathe into her mouth.
“Out of the way!” paramedics barked at the people gathered around us.
A man crouched at Darion’s side. “You did good, son. Now it’s our turn.” Another paramedic coaxed Darion and me out of the way, then lifted Molly onto a stretcher, while another placed an oxygen mask over her face. “She’s got a pulse. Let’s move.”
The paramedic that’d first arrived nodded to Darion as he passed.
Darion had kept Molly alive, but the expression on his face wasn’t one of relief; it was deadly.
I placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. “She’ll be okay, Darion. Molly’s too tough not to be.”
“Whoever did this to her is going to pay with their life.” Darion clenched his jaw. “I need to get to the hospital.” He shrugged my hand off his shoulder.
“Wait!” I grabbed Darion by both arms and looked into his eyes. Silver.
Who was I talking to? And how did he look so much like you?
“What is it?” Darion tensed.
I bit my lip. He had enough to worry about.
“Darion!” Our mom rushed to our side with Sam close behind. She pulled Darion into her arms. “I’m so sorry, son. Molly is a fighter.” She squeezed him tight.
Sam’s sharp eyes studied me. “Do you know what happened?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t see anything. By the time I reached her, Darion was already giving her CPR.”
Sam shifted his attention toward Darion, but my mom halted him with a look. He nodded with an unspoken understanding and went to question the onlookers.
“I’m driving Darion to the hospital. Are you coming with us, honey?”
I shook my head. “You two go on. I’ll meet you there. I need to find Lucas.”
The music had stopped with all the commotion. I searched and found the band members being questioned by one of Sam’s officers.
Instead of heading toward them, I turned for the exit. The dry ice cloyed in my lungs, and I needed air.
I searched the ballroom as I moved, looking for Darion’s look-alike. If he was still here, he kept himself hidden.
Who was he? And why did he want Oria’s ring? What happened to Molly?
“Apparently, karma does exist.”
I glanced up to find Bree blocking my path. “What are you babbling about?”
Her bare shoulders rolled back, and she pursed her perfectly red-stained lips. “Your friend wasn’t very welcoming when I came to your studio, and she tried to turn my boyfriend against me at your party.” Her fake lashes drooped, and green eyes watched me through slits as she clicked her fire-engine nails.
“I don’t have time for your games. Move it, Barbie.” I shoved past her, but she stepped in my way again.
“Do you think Molly will mind if I comfort Darion?” She bounced on her hip, wearing a self-satisfied smirk.
My hand flew out and whacked Bree across the cheek, leaving a bright red handprint to match the rest of her attire. “I mind. Stay away from my brother. And Ty too! He’s too good for you.”
Shocked whispers echoed around us.
Bree’s face twisted with fury as she cradled her cheek, but she moved aside. When I finally got out of the room, I sucked in a deep breath, then slid down onto the top step of the staircase and buried my face in my hands.
Oh, Molly. Please be okay.
No wounds or attack marks had been visible. Besides the blood dripping from her nose, Molly looked to have collapsed, but I knew better. Someone had done something to her, and in my gut, I knew it had to do with the Spider Witch’s warning.
My friends were in danger because of me, because some inhuman creature with a vendetta I knew nothing about was coming for us all. The realization sank in that the longer I remained on this planet, the more danger I brought to those I loved.
Memories of laughter rang in my ears of past years, when Jasper, Molly, Ty, and I would race each other to the top of these stairs, eager to dance in our costumes and lose ourselves in the magic of Halloween. As kids, Jasper and Ty would dream of playing gigs here in the ballroom, and not only had their dream come true, but Jasper now taught music here. I gripped the railing, thinking of all Jasper had planned to give up for me even though I’d released him from his oath to my father.
Jasper wasn’t just my sworn Shield; he was my best friend, and stubborn, and overprotective. He had refused to agree to remain on Earth when my time came to return to Aenoas-Vita and rule. “It’s not because of an oath,” he’d said. “It’s because you’re my best friend, and I love you. It’s my duty and honor to protect you for as long as I live.”
My hands balled into fists. Whoever had attacked Molly could go after Jasper next, or Ty. I had to find out who was after us. It couldn’t be a coincidence that someone had impersonated Darion, demanding to know about Oria’s ring right before Molly had been attacked. The two had to be connected, but how?
I pulled myself up and took each step on autopilot as I replayed every detail in my mind. Had what had happened to Molly been a warning?
Loud cheers brought me out of my thoughts. A rambunctious crowd thronged the streets for the after-hours dance party in front of the school. The town allowed the annual tradition to go on until midnight each year. Then the sheriff and his team would usher everyone out of the streets to return home or to their hotels.
I stayed on the outside of the ropes bordering the designated dance area, to avoid the rowdy bunch and cut through the park in front of the town courthouse, where a much calmer crowd of families still wondered around the Halloween-movie-themed settings.
A family dressed as wizards and witches pointed excitedly at the mechanical “Whomping Willow” tree that swung its limbs when it sensed motion nearby. Most onlookers were careful not to walk too close to the swinging branches, though there was usually at least one genius every year who thought it’d be funny to try to climb the twisting tree.
The family currently pointing at the tree laughed at this year’s winner as he dangled and cried out for help from a thrashing limb. A pack of teens sitting atop a yellow cab p
rop howled with laughter as the tree’s captive lost his werewolf mask to the ground. The security heading his way didn’t find the situation funny.
The teens turned their howls up toward the sky. One of the girls in the group caught my attention. Pink stripes streaked her blond hair, like Molly’s.
Heat flared in my belly, and an overhead streetlight popped, eliciting another wave of cackles from the teens.
Crap! I took a breath to calm myself. I had to get my powers under control.
“Excuse me.” A woman approached. “Would you mind taking our photo?”
It was the family dressed as witches and wizards. “Sure.” I took the woman’s phone, glad to have a distraction.
The family huddled in the orange glow in front of the gigantic artificial pumpkin. I adjusted the phone to capture them all in the image at different angles. “Say happy Halloween.” I snapped a few more photos and passed the phone back to the mom, whose kids had already run off toward Jack the skeleton and crew from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
If Darion had been here, he’d have been whispering in my ear about how ridiculous humans were. But I was starting to see through his gibes. He envied humans and their freedom to be silly and appreciate mundane things, like dressing up in costumes and howling at the stars.
Stars. I craned my head back and surveyed the sky, looking for some clue to the Spider Witch’s words.
What answer is written in the stars?
The Big Dipper and Little Dipper twinkled above. I searched each handle and pot for something out of the ordinary. Nothing. I spotted the zigzag lines of Cassiopeia and still found nothing unusual. This was pointless and wasting time.
I hurried through the park and down the next couple of blocks back to Freya’s place. She’d known about Molly’s attack. She had to have more answers.
When I got to the door, I stopped to catch my breath. The lights flicked on, and Freya sat behind the counter, watching me. She stood and came to unlock the door.
“I knew you’d come back.” She stepped aside as I pulled the door open and nudged in.
A gush of chilly breeze trailed in behind me before the door swung closed.
Freya’s long braids fell down past her shoulders, free from the wrap she’d worn them in earlier.
“What else do you know?”
Her dark eyes sparked with magic. “That you can’t beat this threat without sacrificing yourself.”
Frustration churned inside me. “I don’t care about myself. I’ll do whatever I have to. If you know something, please just tell me.”
She turned and surveyed the shelves. “It’s not that simple. I only sense glimpses of things, receive hints from the spirits. It’s never complete answers, only fragments. Do you still have the stone you selected from the bowl?”
I’d forgotten about the stone. I’d tucked it inside the little square pocket sewn onto the front of the dress, which had been intended more for style than utility. I pressed my finger against the silken fabric and shimmied the stone toward the top. I hadn’t examined it before shoving it inside the pocket as we’d been running. A swirly-looking S was painted on one side. I passed it to Freya.
She made a tsk sound through her teeth.
“What does the S mean?” I wrinkled my nose at her reaction.
“It’s not an S, child.” She cupped the stone in her hand as if to keep it hidden, then went to one of the shelves and took a small white pouch from a stack. She whispered over her tightly clutched fist until her skin emanated a soft glow. After depositing the stone inside the pouch, she opened a jar of ivory-colored sand and added a scoop with the stone.
I jumped when an audible hiss escaped the pouch.
Freya quickly cinched the strings tight, while the glow pulsing within her skin traveled to her fingertips and disappeared inside the pouch, just before she tied it closed with a triple knot. When she saw my startled expression, she explained. “The marking on this stone is a coiled serpent. It’s a warning of a masked enemy. It could be someone close to you, maybe a friend or a loved one.”
Masked enemy. Darion’s image flashed before my eyes, only it wasn’t Darion. That had to be the masked enemy the stone represented. Who are you?
“Take this.” Freya pressed the pouch into my hand. “I’ve spelled this pouch with a protection spell. The knot acts as an additional binding. Don’t untie it”—she clasped my hands—“for any reason. As long as you keep the serpent trapped within the spell, it will offer some protection against your enemy. It may not be much, but it will help.”
“Thank you, Freya.”
Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry there’s not more I can do.”
“There might be.” I gripped the top of the serpent’s pouch. “I saw a man tonight at the ball. I thought he was my brother at first, but he was hostile and demanded to know something that Darion wouldn’t have asked me about. His eyes were a different shade. At first I thought Darion had put contacts in, but then I noticed other subtle differences. He had age lines in places Darion didn’t, and his energy and aura definitely didn’t match Darion’s.”
“Hmm …” Freya twisted her long braids over her shoulder, revealing a tattoo of symbols that led down the back of her neck and disappeared beneath her shirt. Her hair bounced back in place when she noticed my attention drawn to the ink marking her skin.
I glanced away, hoping my curiosity didn’t offend her.
“There are others,” she continued, “from another planet, where denizens can shape-shift. But it’s not like a shifter to leave out such distinguishable characteristics, especially if he was trying to gain knowledge from you. What was he asking about?”
I hesitated. As queen, it was my responsibility to protect Oria’s ancestral ring, and there was still so much about Freya Moon I didn’t know.
A collection of deity statues snagged my attention, some I recognized and others I’d never seen. I remembered the life-size statue at Freya’s personal altar, Guan Yin, the goddess of mercy and compassion. I tuned in to Freya’s aura and made up my mind.
“He wanted something that belonged to my ancestor.” I saw no reason to explain further.
Freya peaked a brow. “I see.” She wandered through her shop, searching through her stones until she plucked a translucent pear-shaped one from a shelf and brought it to me. “A truth stone. Keep it with you. It will turn black in the presence of anyone who means you harm.” She added the stone to another pouch and handed it over.
“What do you know of these shape-shifters?” I asked. “Why would they want something that belonged to my ancestor?”
“The shifters have always envied our long lives. Before Oria’s time, we were at war with them. They demanded we share our secret to longevity, not understanding that it is a part of our genetics. But we have been at peace with them for centuries, so I cannot say what the intention of this individual was, if it was a shifter.”
“It had to have been,” I added. “There’s no other explanation for his resemblance to Darion. They could have been twins if it hadn’t been for the slight differences.”
“Mom?” Anya’s voice sounded from the hall. The beads hanging from the doorframe clicked together as she pressed them to the side and walked through.
“It’s okay, Anya, honey. I was just finishing up with Everly.” She smiled warmly back at her daughter.
Once again I found myself puzzled by Anya’s unique energy and stared too long.
“Anya’s father was human.” Freya answered my unspoken question.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Freya held up a hand. “You are an Empath. Not using your gift would be like not breathing. It’s okay. But please keep your knowledge between us. Anya’s life could be in danger if certain individuals found out about her.”
“What do you mean?”
Before Freya could say more, the door swung open, and an icy blast of air rippled in and sent a shiver up my back.
I turned to see who’d come in
. “Jasper. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” He glanced around the shop, his amber eyes landing for a moment on Anya. I didn’t miss the instant wave of heat generated between the two before Jasper pulled his gaze from Anya and back to me. “Your mom and Darion followed the ambulance to the hospital. Your mom thought you might have come back here, and sent me after you. Let’s go.”
I glanced out the door. Jasper’s mom’s car idled out front, with Lucas and Ty waiting in the back seat.
Freya dashed behind the register and came back with a larger bag to fit the two smaller pouches inside.
“Thank you, Freya,” I said.
She nodded, and the door clicked as she locked it behind us.
I found my mom in the emergency waiting room. A sea of worried faces and crying children packed the area, waiting either to be seen by a doctor or to find out about their loved ones. My mom’s creamy skin had turned pasty pale, and black smudges from wet Kohl rimmed her eyes. When she saw me coming, she jumped up from her chair, and I ran into her arms.
She explained that Molly was in some kind of coma and that the doctors couldn’t find any external injuries but were running other tests to find an internal cause to determine the treatment for Molly’s condition.
“Mom, we both know Molly’s condition has nothing to do with—” I glanced around, but nobody was paying us any attention “—natural causes. Her coma was caused by magic, and only magic can fix it.”
My mom sighed and blotted her eyes and cheeks with a rumpled-up tissue she held onto. “You’re right, honey. But at least the doctors can keep her comfortable while we figure out what to do next.”
“This is all my fault.” The overhead lights flickered. I pulled the stupid feathered band off my head and tossed it onto an empty seat. “Whoever is coming for me did this to Molly. It’s a message.”
My mom scrunched up her brows and grabbed hold of my shoulders. “Everly. This is not your fault. Okay?” She made me look at her.
I wanted to tell her about what had happened at the ball, but her phone buzzed repeatedly from inside her purse. She dug it out and clicked through the messages.