by S. L. Watson
I searched the woods for any other energy signatures, just to be sure I was still alone, then ran for the cabin. Locks weren’t necessary, since no one could enter but those the ward recognized. I didn’t bother turning on any lights. None of the windows in the cabin had coverings, and the natural light was enough to see by.
Traces of spicy cedar and sandalwood lingered, and I closed my eyes and imagined Arden standing near me, his warm breath on my neck. A flutter trembled through me at the memory of his lips on mine. I passed the kitchen on my left, and a smile danced across my lips at the thought of Arden cooking, barefoot in jeans. I shook the image off and went into the living room. The antique furniture shone bright, and the air smelled of fresh orange-scented wax. I had a hard time imagining Arden doing common housework, but he’d left the place spotless.
Felix hadn’t been much of an interior designer. He’d furnished his cabin with basic essentials, but since he’d returned to Aenoas-Vita, my mom, Calista, and Selkie had been keeping up on routine maintenance for Vitarian visitors, and they’d livened the place up a bit with Felix’s blessing. A new lamp sat atop an end table. It kept with the rustic theme but added a hint of modernity to the space. I switched the lamp on, and the tapered drum shade brightened with a luminous white glow.
I propped the box with Oria’s sword down on a cushion and opened the smaller box. The only difference in it from the first time I’d set my eyes upon this ring was now it contained a piece of my aura.
A mesmerizing swirl of colors merged inside the opaque orb. The sparkling silver band hummed with energy as I held it between my fingers. So much history and knowledge bound within such a tiny space. My fingers curled, and I popped my knuckles. I had no choice but to seek Oria’s help.
I stretched out my fingers and hesitated, but then slipped the ring onto my left index finger. Nothing happened. A sharp twist of fear shot through me. I didn’t feel the connection to my ancestors, as I had before.
My pulse quickened as I anxiously called out: Oria. My thoughts raced when no answer came. Damn it!
I reached out with my mind over and over. No voices or visions answered my call, like before.
Is Oria punishing me?
Had she blocked me from the spirit realm for remaining on Earth? My chest tightened, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t give up. Molly’s life depended on me.
I sat up straight, ignoring the hopeless thoughts creeping into my subconscious, and tried again.
Oria! I need your help.
Silence. I slumped back against the cushions and gazed at the forest on the other side of the windows. A splash of sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass and added a soft glow of warmth to the room.
I twisted the ring around my finger, watching the prisms of light from the sun dance off the globe, and thought of the hidden mark carved into Molly’s forehead. If we didn’t find a way to banish it, she’d never be safe. I glanced around the room, trying to think of how I could get Oria to respond. I spotted a bow hanging on the wall and shuddered at the reminder of being trapped in infinite black space. The image of stars took shape in my mind as the hunter trained its bow on me. My heart thumped. I took a deep breath, trying to forget the fear I’d felt in that moment before Darion had found me.
“Everly!”
I bolted upright at the sound of Oria’s voice in my head. Oria!
“Tell me about the mark you were just thinking of.”
One thing I didn’t like about wearing the royal ring was that the spirits of the ancestors had access to my thoughts while I wore it, but I didn’t waste time asking Oria why she wanted to know about the mark. This was my opening to ask for her help.
My mind formed thoughts and images of everything that’d happened, beginning with the Spider Witch’s reading, the man in the photos Lucas had brought, and the ring he wore. The image Darion had sketched from the sheriff’s phone, and then the same image burned beneath Molly’s skin.
Can you help me remove the mark from my friend?
“Yes.” Her voice seemed distant and off, her usual authoritative tone gone and replaced with an emotion I hadn’t sensed in her before—fear. “I’ve seen this mark before,” she added, then paused.
My knee bounced as I waited, eager to hear more.
“Long ago, when I was still among the living, my twin brother crafted a spell that left that very mark. He proudly named it after himself. It’s the Mark of Orien.” Her voice shook with an edge.
But Orien’s dead! You took his life yourself.
“Yes, that’s true, but I’ve not had contact with his spirit in the afterlife. I’ve always assumed his spirit went someplace different from me.”
Maybe someone found his spell, or he told someone about it before he died.
“Orien never shared his spells with anyone but me. His greed for magic consumed him. After his punishment, I gathered all of his grimoires and hid them in the palace. I told no one of this. I should have destroyed them.” Anger dripped from her words.
What did Orien look like? A new suspicion took root in my mind.
All went quiet. Then Oria spoke with nostalgia. “Orien was very handsome. His hair was black as midnight, and his eyes blue as the deepest ocean. He was tall and strong, and never without a lady trailing close at his side, hoping to gain his favor.”
My stomach dropped as I pictured the haunting sapphire eyes of Darion’s look-alike.
Oria. Your description matches the man trying to get your ring. The one who looks just like my brother, only his eyes weren’t silver, like Darion’s; they were sapphire, like mine, and he wears the royal Ever signet. It’s too much of a coincidence. We thought a shifter was impersonating Darion, but what if it’s not a shifter after all? Let me show you.
As I conjured the image of the man holding Molly hostage in her dream, the Spider Witch’s words came back to me: “The answer is written in the stars.”
The constellation I’d seen in the in-between that aimed its bow at me was Orion. Now I understood why I’d thought there was something familiar about the markings carved into the foreheads of Molly and the body the police had found. Both mirrored the Orion constellation. The answer was Orien!
Oria’s aura drifted as the silence stretched. I stood and paced the room. The runes carved into the stone wall bordering the fireplace drew me nearer. I traced a swirling image cut into the grainy stone. There was so much I didn’t know about my heritage and the planet I came from.
I squatted and checked the contents of the fireplace. A crisp black log from a previous fire remained inside. I threw a blast of energy into it, and it sparked to life. The charred log crackled and sizzled as the flame consumed it.
Growing impatient, I called out with my thoughts as I stood and turned my back to the blazing heat. Oria! How do I save my friend from your crazy brother’s mark?
After more silence, her aura grew stronger, and she finally responded. “Orien was gifted at crafting his own spells, the same as I, only he thought it clever to bind them to his blood, which would make them impossible to undo for anyone not of our bloodline.”
A large air bubble lodged in my throat. I went to the kitchen and retrieved a glass, filling it with tap water, then gulped it down. But what does that mean? There has to be a way to save my friend.
Oria continued. “The spell attached to Orien’s mark is blood magic that is tied to the Ever bloodline—my bloodline. You and your mother and brother are the last descendants of my blood. If you want to save your friend, one of you will need to mix your blood with the list of ingredients I tell you. Your friend will need to drink every drop. She is human, and I don’t know how her body will respond to Vitarian blood, but this is the only remedy I know. And if the man who cast the spell is Orien and not a shifter, he’ll sense when he’s lost connection to the mark and know that you’ve healed your friend.”
Tell me what I need besides our blood.
I fumbled through my purse, looking for something to write wi
th, and quickly jotted down Oria’s instructions.
Thank you, Oria.
“Everly, you must be very careful. Orien is dangerous. I do not know how he could have survived unless traitors lived within my walls. And if it is him, he’s done something unnatural to sustain his youth. Vitarians age slowly and live long lives, but a natural death should have come to Orien by now, even if he survived my punishment.”
And if it’s not Orien but a shifter, why impersonate Orien and come after your ring?
“The shifters have always envied our youth. Their race has a degenerative disease. Once they grow to adulthood, their aging accelerates in a most unflattering and painful way. We tried to help them with our own spells and herbs, but the effects were short-lived. To avoid a war, I agreed with their leader that we would continue to provide the tonic if they stopped their attacks on my people. The treaty was fragile at best, but the attacks ceased. If the shifters are seeking my ring, then they must have learned something about its magic that they think can help them. You must protect the ring—at any cost.” Her last three words rang heavy with intention. “If they’ve found a way to access the magic inside the ring, they’ll have knowledge that could end the Vitarian race.”
My neck tensed, and the familiar heat stirred in my belly, warning me of the restrained magic that burned to be released. The harder I tried to have a life separate from the Vitarian world, the more it found a way to force me into its midst.
I won’t let them have it. I slipped the ring over my knuckle and secured it back inside its box.
Relieved to have my thoughts as my own again, I scanned the long list of ingredients, hopeful Felix would have some of the items. I opened the kitchen cabinet where I’d seen Felix’s stash of dried remedies when I’d stayed here. He’d left his cabin as is when he went back to Aenoas-Vita with plans to return to Earth.
I reached for my cell phone from my back pocket and dialed Darion. I clicked the speaker button and set my phone on the counter while I scanned the cupboards for labels that matched my list.
Darion’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Does Oria know how to remove the mark?”
“Yes,” I answered, pulling out jars of nettle, charcoal, agrimony, turkey tail, reishi, red clover, ashwagandha, and black cohosh. “But it might be risky.”
“Risky how?” Darion’s words cracked over the speaker, and I adjusted the volume down.
I found a bag under the sink and started loading in the jars. The remainder of the list I had at home.
“Are you going to answer me?” Darion said, impatiently.
“Sorry. I’m gathering most of the ingredients from Felix’s place now.” I tied the handles on the cloth bag and leaned against the counter. “It turns out Oria’s twin brother, Orien, designed this spell. It’s a blood spell tied to the Ever bloodline.” I paused, giving Darion a moment for what I was saying to sink in. An audible hiss sounded over the speaker.
“I’ll tell her,” he said.
“It can be yours or mine. As long as it’s Ever blood, it should work.”
“There could be side effects,” Darion seethed. “But it should be mine.”
I grabbed the bag of jars and picked up my phone and both of the boxes, with the ring and sword. “Are you both still at the hospital?”
Voices echoed in the background on Darion’s end of the line. “Yeah. I’m outside Molly’s room. The nurses are inside, fiddling with her machines and checking her blood pressure again.”
Taking one final glance around the cabin, I yanked the door shut behind me and headed for my car. The mountain wind had accelerated since I’d been inside the cabin. My foot hit a stick, and I nearly dropped the bag of jars as it propelled my body forward.
Calm. My silent command stretched across the forest, and the tree branches settled as the wind subsided. I tried not to use my magic to change the pace of nature, but sometimes it was necessary.
“Hmm … We can’t do this at the hospital and risk someone coming in. Can you sneak Molly out and bring her to my place?”
“Uh-huh,” Darion answered with a hint of excitement.
“Good. I’ll meet you there. And, Darion—”
“Yeah?”
“We might be dealing with more than a shifter impersonating you.” I opened the back passenger door and placed everything safely on the back seat.
“What does that mean?” Darion asked, the earlier excitement gone.
The engine purred to life as I turned on the ignition, then clicked on the front and back defrosters. “Oria described Orien to me. And based on her description, you look just like him—only his eyes aren’t silver; they’re blue like mine. That would also explain why he wears the royal signet. It’s his ring. And Freya thought it unusual that a shifter wouldn’t change their eye color to match the one they’re mimicking, and then there were the signs of aging. Why would a shifter leave out both eye color and wrinkles?”
Darion went quiet, absorbing the implication of what I’d told him. I could hear shuffling on the other end, like Darion was walking, and the background voices faded away. “So, our ancient ancestor, who’s crazy as hell, might be back from the dead and wants to destroy us all? And I look like him. Well, that’s just great. Oh, the nurses are leaving Molly’s room. This is my chance to get her out of here. I have to go.” He hung up.
The fog cleared from the windows. I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and put the car in gear, but before releasing my foot from the brake to back up, I reached out my mind once more, searching the forest for a sign of Arden’s return. A frustrated breath coated the windshield in a fresh layer of fog. Using the sleeve of my jacket, I cleared the window and started for the bottom of the mountain.
There was no sign of Molly and Darion when I arrived at my apartment. I got to work on the spell, and all but the last, and most important, ingredient simmered.
While I waited, I blended together a protection spell I remembered from my mom’s grimoire. Spell magic was still new to me, and my mom had warned that mixing even one ingredient incorrectly could drastically alter the spell. I triple-checked that I had all the right herbs and spices, then ground them together. I wrote Molly’s name on a piece of paper, rolled it up, and nested it beneath the blend of ground clove, cinnamon, sage, juniper, and cedar. I set my intention, then recited the incantation from memory and sprinkled the top with dried orange and lemon zest. I lit the end of a white palo santo stick heavy with tree resin and laid it over the mixture.
Tires crunched over gravel outside my apartment, and seconds later, footsteps rushed up to the door.
“It’s open,” I called.
Molly burst through the door, looking freshly showered and dressed in regular clothes. But the skin under her eyes remained a shade of light violet, as though she hadn’t slept in days even though she’d spent hours in a coma.
An intricate braid at the top of her head with her single pink strip woven throughout caught my eye.
“Darion did my hair.” She spun so I could see it from all angles. “He calls it my battle braid.”
“Fit for a warrior,” Darion added as he came up behind Molly, his expression pinched and his eyes hard. He rubbed Molly’s shoulders. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Molly’s gaze settled on the pot simmering on the stove. She pushed her chest out. “I’d rather take my chances with your blood than go one more second with this mark burned inside my head.”
Darion lowered his forehead to the top of Molly’s head before letting her go.
I pulled Molly into a hug. “This will work,” I said, as much to reassure myself as her.
She squeezed me back and sniffled in my ear.
Darion went to the pot and discreetly did his part.
Molly sat on the sofa, wringing her hands together, while I retrieved the incense with her name buried inside. I carried the bowl around the room, filling every corner with powerful smoke. Then I settled the contents on an end table near Molly.
D
arion brought the brew over in a ceramic mug and handed it to Molly.
“What about Mom?” I asked him.
“I left her a message. Maybe we should wait.”
“No.” Molly wrinkled her nose. Her eyes lingered on the bandage wrapped around Darion’s hand. “I just want to get this over with.” She glanced up at Darion.
The two shared a meaningful look before he nodded and took a seat next to her. A shadow of doubt clung to his aura as he stretched his lips in a reassuring smile and settled his hand on her leg.
Molly lifted the mug. Her skin paled when she looked inside at the contents.
A vein bulged in Darion’s neck as he restrained himself from stopping her.
“Bottoms up.” Molly squeezed her eyes closed and sucked in a deep breath before bringing the mug to her lips.
I teetered on the edge of my seat as she drank. After a few gulps, she started to gag but then forced herself to continue until the mug was empty.
“That wasn’t so …” Molly had started to say when the mug dropped from her hands to the floor, and she slumped forward.
Darion threw his arms around Molly and gently leaned her back against the sofa. He scooped up her legs and stretched them onto the cushions.
“Is this supposed to happen?” My voice shook.
Before Darion could answer, Molly’s body started convulsing.
Darion dropped to his knees. “Molly!” He touched her forehead. His hands trembled. “She’s burning up! Ev, get some ice!”
I ran to the kitchen and yanked open the drawer with the ziplock bags and quickly filled one with ice and tossed it to Darion. “What do we do?”
Darion pressed the ice to Molly’s forehead and cheeks. “I … I don’t know. Maybe her body’s rejecting the blood.”
Molly’s body stilled, and her eyelids fluttered. She moaned something incoherent and fell silent.
“Molly …” Darion’s back quivered as he arched over her. He reached behind and searched his back pockets. “Damn it! I left my phone in the car. Where’s yours?”
He didn’t wait for my answer. “Call Mom again. I have to get something.” He bolted for the door. His footsteps pounded against the gravel outside.