Kelsie didn’t turn back. She threw back the door and stomped out. He understood that hearing about the leshi and being unable to do anything about the one who had hurt those she loved wasn’t easy. Lucifer stood, to set out after her.
“Nyet. Leave her be,” Baba said. “Go to cauldron. Those herbs will not be wasted by teenager’s tantrum.”
Lucifer tried not to gag on the pungent aroma as he took up the spoon. The lumpy mixture bubbled in a broth that was bright crimson. “Please say there isn’t any blood in this potion?”
“Only sweat and tears.”
All this red in the cottage didn’t sit well with Lucifer. Between the streaks in the blanket and now this spell, he feared someone was about to die. “What’s this spell for anyway?”
“Kelsie asked me to show her how to make love potion to make you slave.” Baba’s lips curled around her gums in a cunning smile.
“Um. . . . Why would she do that? I thought she didn’t like men.” He hoped Baba was joking.
“She thinks if you are love slave, she can make you kill leshi for her.” Her cackle ended in a wheezing pant.
He stared at her, appalled. “And you were helping her? I thought you didn’t want her to try to kill the leshi.”
“Da. It is not her fate to kill.” Baba shrugged. “But she must learn potions, and she needs motivation.”
Lucifer eyed the lumps in the cauldron. One was the bright magenta of a beet. Another might have been a parsnip.
Nothing was ever as it seemed with Baba. “Is this borscht?”
Baba shrugged. “Da. It is dinner.”
“And a love spell?”
“Nyet. Not love spell, exactly. Only charm to make one dream with wisdom and see truth in one’s heart.”
As far as spells went, it wasn’t a malicious one. Also, it didn’t taste as bad as it smelled.
* * *
Lucifer did dream that night, though whether what he saw was wisdom or truth, he wasn’t certain. In his dream, he kissed Abigail. She slowly shifted into a tree, her face hardening into bark. Roots crept out of her hair and sank into the soft earth. Twigs sprouted from her flesh, and vines wrapped around him. He was trapped within her embrace.
He didn’t mind the prison of her arms until a branch sprouted from her abdomen and impaled him.
He sat up with a start, panting. Was this the future or simply his fears?
Lucifer couldn’t sleep after that. He didn’t want to see what kind of dreams waited in the shadows. He undressed and snuck out to the forest. The cloudless sky greeted him with stars and a luminous moon. He drank in that light and used it to shift into a cat.
He hunted and ran, feeling at home in his other body.
When he returned to the cottage, he returned as a cat, thinking he might hunt mice to prevent them from nibbling at their supplies of food. He found Kelsie curled up in her bed, crying into her pillow. She was so quiet, he wouldn’t have known she was distressed except that he could feel the pain under her rib cage contracting with each heartbeat. He could just make out her shoulders shaking in the darkness.
He yearned to pick her up and hold her like he would with Abigail—not the adult Abigail—but the child she’d become. Kelsie was a child too, a hurting girl who didn’t know what to do with her anguish. Lucifer didn’t want anyone to hurt like this.
He padded forward in his cat form, uncertainty filling him. She would sooner punch him than allow him to hug her. At least when he was a man she would have.
Being a cat was sometimes safer than being a human. Women didn’t treat him like an incubus or try to seduce him. He leapt up onto her bed and nuzzled her elbow. She jerked back and sat up. Her eyes were blind in the darkness, darting with fear.
“Meow,” he said by way of greeting.
She let out a long breath, and her shoulders relaxed. He butted his head against her hand and curled up in her lap. Reluctantly she petted his head. He never failed to charm the most resistant humans with his cute, cuddly cat self.
Except for dog lovers. Fortunately Kelsie wasn’t one of those.
“Sometimes I hate you,” Kelsie said. She didn’t sound particularly angry, only resigned.
He purred against her, trying to soothe that tightness in her chest. She lay down again, holding him close.
Lucifer wasn’t used to using healing magic when he was a cat, but he tried numbing the pain in her heart, to draw it out of herself and into his own. He couldn’t tell whether he was successful or only imagined he was. Slowly she drifted off to sleep.
He withdrew from her bed and changed back into a man before daybreak. He would have fallen asleep, but a black silhouette loomed on the other side of his windowsill beside his bed. Against the pale bloom of gray in the sky he made out the outline of a large raven. He closed his eyes, listening to the feathers brush against his window. The scrape of talons against glass told him the bird didn’t want to be ignored.
He sat up, wondering if this bird was a spy from the Raven Court. He quickly pushed the thought away. Vega Bloodmire had killed the evil Fae who served as the old queen’s spies. The beady black eye of the bird watched him through the glass. If this was a Fae or Witchkin servant of the new queen, the raven had to be a messenger.
Unlike the windows downstairs, this one was too old to open. Lucifer dressed in his trousers and crept downstairs. The bird was gone, but on the threshold outside there was a packet of letters.
They were addressed to him, stamped with the Raven Queen’s wax seal.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dear Abby
There wasn’t a day that went by that Lucifer didn’t think about curing Abigail. In the month that had passed, he’d often wondered how she fared with Clarissa caring for her. This was the first word he’d received.
Lucifer pushed open the gate made from human bones, the grinning skull on the fence post not fazing him as it once had. He sat down on the stump where he usually chopped wood and read the first letter. It was from Clarissa.
Dear Lucifer,
I imagine you must wonder how Abby is adjusting away from you. My fairy godmother is well, though she misses you. She asks about you every day. I would invite you to visit, but I’m uncertain it would be wise.
She mistook Felix for you a short time back, which isn’t exactly surprising because you do look alike. Unfortunately, once she realized it wasn’t you, she threw a tantrum. Anytime anyone mentions your name or we talk about bringing her for a visit, she acts out. Her governess has caught her trying to run away three times because she says she needs to see you. I’m afraid to admit this, but she tried to slip belladonna into my tea. She said it was to make me fall asleep so she could leave, but it was a large-enough dose she could have killed me.
My mom lacks the morals she once had when she possessed a soul. She’s dangerous in this state, especially if others learn of her vulnerability and use it to their advantage. I want to help her, but I haven’t learned anything useful about returning her previous soul to this new body. Felix doesn’t think it can be done at this stage. She’s already gone so long that her soul would have dissolved.
It would be safer for everyone involved to regrow the piece inside her so that she has a fully formed soul. That way her actions won’t deform the healthy soul currently inside her and turn her into a monster.
Gertrude Periwinkle said you have some books that might be useful to help us do this. I would be happy to look them over with Felix if you would be kind enough to send them. All you have to do is set them outside. The ravens will collect them.
Do not try to deliver them yourself.
I’m afraid that if you came to visit, it would only make things worse for Abby. Instead, you could write to her and ask her to behave. Explain to her this is for her own good. She won’t listen to me.
Sincerely,
Clarissa
Lucifer stared at the words, tears filling his eyes. That blasted Clarissa had essentially banne
d him from seeing Abigail. She wanted him to write a letter. A bloody damned letter? She wasn’t even caring for Abigail herself. A governess to watch over her.
This was insufferable.
His heart seized in his chest as he imagined how lonely Abigail must feel. He’d only contacted Clarissa because he wanted Abigail to be safe. He’d trusted Clarissa would love Abigail and attend to her with as much care as he would have.
And the books. . . . How could he keep on trying to help Abigail if he gave Clarissa the books on souls? His brother and Clarissa were more experienced witches than he was, but he already felt uncertain they had Abigail’s best interests at heart.
They wouldn’t use forbidden magic or steal a soul from another body for her like he would if he needed to. He would set things right and fix the problem he had caused. He would give her the soul she was supposed to have, not just sprinkle magical Miracle-Gro on her and hope for the best.
But if he didn’t succeed, the soul that was inside her might not grow fast enough. He’d read the warnings in Baba’s books on soul magic. Without enough soul to fill a body, what was there would become twisted and heartless. Like the leshi and some of the other Fae he’d encountered.
“You have chores to tend to, but I do not hear chopping,” Baba called from inside the cottage.
Lucifer didn’t answer. He opened the second envelope. It contained a child’s drawing made with crayons. Abigail had drawn a stick figure girl with orange hair and a green dress that had to be her. She held hands with another stick figure. The black scribbled all over the face and head were what he presumed was his unkept beard and wild hair. He suspected the lines of green and brown jutting up in the background were probably trees. At the bottom, in a child’s messy hand, she had written:
I LOVE LUSY.
He assumed she meant “Lucy.” The next drawing was similar to the first but with a slight improvement in her artistic skills. That note was slightly longer, and she’d drawn a giant red heart around him. It was hard to imagine her soul was lacking in any way. Perhaps Clarissa was just being paranoid. She’d always been a worrywart.
That time Abigail had dropped a spider down the back of Kelsie’s dress had been childish mischief, not because of a lack of soul. And the times she’d crushed plants or butterflies with indifference, or manipulated him into giving her cookies, it wasn’t because she didn’t have a soul. She was just cognitively stunted. He could already see the improvement in her mental faculties from her ability to write and express herself.
Her morals couldn’t be that far behind. His Abby wasn’t a monster.
Lucifer was so focused on deciphering the misspellings and backward letters, he didn’t notice Kelsie until she leaned over him. “Is that from Abby? That’s precious.”
He clutched the letters to his chest, not wanting her to see. “You have no right to sneak up on me like that.” These were his gifts from Abigail and none of her business.
“Lucy, how old are you? Fourteen?” Kelsie rolled her eyes.
“No. I bet I’m twenty. At least.” He didn’t actually know.
Thirty years as a cat hadn’t aged his body, nor had it done much for his emotional maturity—as Kelsie was often quick to point out.
“I bet you’re eighteen, but with the . . . wisdom of a fourteen-year-old. You act like I’m going to steal your love letters and tell Baba how scandalous they are.” She swatted him on the shoulder.
He cleared his throat. He was being ridiculous, and he knew it. “I just need a moment. Alone.”
“Knowing you, probably you need a lifetime.” Kelsie picked up the bucket and started off toward the stream.
Lucifer opened the next envelope. His name was written on it in Abigail’s hand. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Kelsie hadn’t snuck back. Not that Abigail would say anything scandalous, but he wanted to make sure their words to each other remained private.
Pressed flowers dropped out of the envelope, along with a lock of her hair tied with a green ribbon. He pressed the auburn lock to his lips. It smelled of her magic, like oak pitch and the forest.
Lucy,
I don’t want to go to sckool. The other children don’t want to play with me becuz I am bigger then them. But Felix said if I go to sckool and learnt good, I can right you and you would right me back. Now I am righting to you. I want you to now how much I want to go home. You need to come here and rescue me from Clarissa. If you don’t, I will hate you forever.
Love,
Abby
A bittersweet smile laced his lips that she would sign her letter “Love, Abby” even if she threatened to hate him. She had progressed so much in the month she’d been away. And yet, her heart still longed for him as much as he longed for her.
In another she wrote:
Why won’t you write me? Have you forgotten about me? I think of you every day. I brush the ponytail of hair you gave me. It’s all I have of you.
“Because no one gave me these letters,” he whispered, wishing someone had done so sooner.
He read the other letters and admired her drawings. He could see from the dates on them that they’d been written over a period of four months in her time. Clarissa had hurried when he’d sent Godric with a note to alert her that Abigail was in danger—or at least her fingers or toes were in danger. But she’d taken her time letting him know how Abigail had fared.
“Lucy,” Baba called from inside. “What are you about? Why are you not chopping wood?”
He didn’t know why Baba just didn’t consult her tea leaves or crystal ball. Then again, that would have required her getting up from her rocking chair. He returned to the cottage and read her the letter from Clarissa. Lucifer didn’t know what to do about Clarissa’s request.
Baba clucked her tongue when Lucifer came to the part about Clarissa wanting her books.
He kneeled beside Baba’s rocking chair, staring up into her dark green eyes. “Baba, what am I to do? Clarissa wants your books. If I give them to her, I can’t restore Abigail’s soul.” He wouldn’t be able to fix the mistakes he’d made.
“Is it your pride or doubt in the Red Queen’s abilities that keeps you from wanting to share knowledge?” Baba asked.
“Neither,” he said quickly.
Baba skewered him with an arched eyebrow.
Perhaps there was some pride involved. He wanted to be the one who restored Abigail. The spite that spiced the dish of painful memories stored in his heart didn’t want Clarissa Lawrence to be the one to miraculously cure Abigail after she’d given up so easily before.
He couldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re right. I’m being childish. If she can help Abby, I should let her. I shouldn’t hoard those books for such a selfish reason.” But that meant Clarissa would turn Abigail into something else. Someone else in the process of regrowing her soul.
“Start using head and keep book for right reasons, nyet?” Baba patted him on the cheek, not unkindly. “Here is right reason: those books are mine to give, not yours. If Clarissa hasn’t ordered me to give them to her, it is simply request. I can tell her no.”
“But I thought you just implied I was being prideful for not giving Clarissa your books. She’s more powerful than I am. She knows more spells, as does my brother. Do you think she could help Abby with the right spell?”
“Those fools wouldn’t know what to do with forbidden magic of these spells. All they know is fancy school education. They eat up lies left over from hundreds of years of doctrine.” A sly smile curled her lips upward. “I did not go to school or learn such falsehoods.”
He had a feeling Baba knew something more than she was letting on. “What about Vega Bloodmire? Will she be able to help Abby?”
“My granddaughter is tending to entire kingdom and their needs.” Baba shrugged. “She has bigger problems than one soul.”
Desperation crept into his tone, an uninvited visitor he hadn’t known was there. “Felix has been practicing magic
for a hundred years now. Surely he is capable. He lost part of his soul once. Clarissa thought his experience in the matter might help Abby.” Lucifer could show him the books and consult with him.
“If Felix could help Abby, he would have by now. You understand, your brother’s problem was not same as Abby’s. Former Raven Queen only took fraction of his soul, enough to make him suffer. He was sociopath. He could not love or care about anyone or anything—until Alouette Loraline showed him how. Regrowing soul was painful, but he did it. Slowly. He became different person, a better person for it, though there were still wounds that remained in his heart until Clarissa healed him. Had Alouette left that void in him, he would have turned into monster.”
Gloom settled into Lucifer’s heart. “That means Abby will turn into a monster because of what I did? Because I didn’t put enough soul inside her, she’s going to turn into a sociopath?” He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat. “I should help them regrow her soul. I should give them the books.” The idea of growing a new Abigail crushed his hopes to redeem himself and solve the problem he had created. “Felix can save her better than I can.”
“Nyet, my dorogoy.” Baba smiled indulgently. “It was not his love that started her soul in process of healing. It was yours.”
“I did? My love healed her soul?” Pride puffed up hope in Lucifer’s chest. He did love her. Even if his kiss hadn’t woken her, and it had taken magic for her to waken, this was something.
“True love can heal. True love can call soul to you in underworld. Her soul is growing to fill her body. Such process is slow. It gives you time before there is chance she turn into monster and there is no hope to fix her. That is, if not too much time ticks by as she is in other realm, da?” Her lips pressed into an unhappy line.
The longer a soul was kept from its body the more difficult it was for the soul to be able to return. The shifting of time in the outside realm versus this one complicated matters.
It already had been a year since Abigail had been woken. Baba had said that the soul’s long absence from her body meant Abigail had to relearn how to be human again. At least that was part of it. Being a tree for a year and a half would have confused her as well. Then there was the problem of her memories. If he’d just done the job correctly and put all of her soul in at once, she might be whole right now.
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