by J. Kowallis
I nod. “Angie, who are we convincing?”
“That’s exactly what you’ll be doing,” she bulldozes right through my question. “The infe spioris is the chant you’ll want to voice in your head while you feel out for your partner’s energy. Like Alina’s here—”
“Angie,” I clip, “who are we going to?”
She releases Alina’s grip. Resigned, she licks her lips. “Emilia is showing too much interest in the craft. I can’t, in good conscience, involve her in this. If we get Coll back, he’d never forgive me. That being said, the only other Geri that I can think of that would be willing to do something is—”
Somehow, I knew she was going to say Sera’s name before she even started to explain anything. Sera who once told me to get out of their lives and leave them alone. Sera, who’s already so apprehensive about the craft and blames it for Coll’s current state. Though, I suppose, it’s a good thing she’s no longer blaming me. Still, I shake my head and purse my lips. Even though it’s Sera, Coll may not forgive us for involving her like this.
“Sera,” I cut in before she finishes.
Angie nods. “So—”
“No.” I can’t believe I say it, because I know we need a Geri, but not Sera.
“What? Why not?” Angie responds.
“Coll said no. And Sera can’t stand the craft. She blames it for every bad thing in their lives. Angie, you were there the day her parents were murdered.”
Alina shoots her eyes to me.
“She lost them, she almost lost Coll, and I may fight her on this, myself, but no. Not this.”
Angie narrows her eyes. “I’m beginning to wonder if she’s really the one who needs convincing.” She sets her hands on her hips. “Listen, Sera is related to Coll, so her connection will be stronger. She cares about him, so her magic—though it’s blocked—will have a deeper effect. And when it’s all over, she’ll be the one who won’t come back to it. If we involve Emilia, at this point, her elevated interest in the craft will be locked tight and trust me, you won’t be able to tear her away from it. Sera will be the one who willingly participates and willingly steps away when it’s all over.” Her tone softens. “I know how concerned you are, but you and I both know we need Sera in order to save Coll from this.”
I lick my lips, feeling absolutely defeated, but also knowing she’s absolutely right. “Okay,” I whisper.
“Good. Now that, that’s taken care of, can I continue to show you how the infe spioris works?”
I nod in resignation.
“After you tap into her energy, you’ll want to concentrate on every inch of her. Once that’s locked in, you’ll want to connect to your own energy. I don’t know if Coll explained this to you, but every infe spioris feels different to each recipient. They might experience different sensations, feelings, smells.”
I remember Coll once telling me about the cranberries he was so disgusted by when Angie performed the infe spioris on him during his training years. For me, I can still remember the sensation of his hands running along every inch of my skin. The strong, but comforting tingle it sent up and down my spine, through the backs of my legs, and the sensitive skin behind my ear.
Thinking about it just makes my chest tighten. I try to push it away.
“So, you want me to take Alina with me over to London?”
“No. I’m going to travel with Alina. You’ll bring Sera back. It’ll be easier for you to lock onto an energy that’s genetically different from your own. Now,” she turns to Alina, “come.”
Though hesitant, Alina’s already done this with Móraí, so she apprehensively takes Angie’s hand and before I know it, the two of them vanish.
I turn around and look up the staircase. My thoughts linger on Coll for a moment. Wondering if he’s in there, if he’s alive, and if he knows what we’re about to do.
Tiaseal, I think to myself, envisioning the front stoop of Sera’s apartment. I arrive shortly after Angie and my sister—who looks like she has motion sickness. I finally pull my thoughts away from Coll and focus on the task at hand.
Disregarding Alina’s state of imbalance, Angie leans forward and knocks on the door. For a while, there isn’t an answer, but when Angie raises her hand again, the doorknob twists and Sera’s surprised face looks back at us.
“Hell—hello. What are yeh doin’ here?” she stammers.
“Sweetie,” Angie greets her. “Your brother needs your help.”
Sera opens the door wider. “What more do yeh need? Don’t yeh have enough?”
“Sera, we need you to assist in a spell,” I answer.
The door slightly inches forward—moving to close. “Why me?” she squints. “I don’t have the craft. Coll blocked it years ago.”
“Because you’re a Geri,” I respond, preparing to put my foot in the path of another door. “Because you’re his sister. And because Coll would kill both Angie and me if he found out we went after Emilia.”
Sera takes some time to look at the floor and pick at the paint on the door corner. “I can’t. Yeh don’t understand, I don’t have the craft and even if I did, I’ve seen what it does. How it destroys people. Coll wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for the craft. For hexens.”
“I already told you, it’s not . . .” I start to object, but Sera goes on anyway.
“And to be honest, I don’t want to see my brother that way. Possessed. Ruined. I don’t want this world to become a part of my life. I don’t.”
“Sera, I get that. I do. You’ve made it very clear.”
She shakes her head, her eyes misting over.
Angie elbows Alina. My sister glares at the older woman and takes a small step forward. “You don’t know me. I’m Taran’s sister. I don’t really know Cole, and frankly, like you I don’t really know much about the craft. Your powers are blocked? Right?”
Sera looks up.
“Look, I know you probably don’t want to do this. But, if you,” she pauses, knotting her fingers, “if you won’t do this for Taran, at least do it for your brother. Family is our power. Or something like that. Without them, we’re weak. We’re alone. Without them, we have nothing. We are nothing. I haven’t worked with the craft since I was young. And I definitely haven’t worked with it at all since I got married, but, if I ever lost my sisters because of something I could have done, but chose not to, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Are yeh guiltin’ me?” Sera’s voice softly answers. She doesn’t exactly look angry, but contemplative. Maybe just slightly affronted.
“I’m just telling you what it was that got me here. My family.”
Sera takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “I love Coll. I don’t wanna lose him.”
“Neither do I,” I whisper. “I need you. Coll needs you.”
She bites on her lips and nods. “Fine. I’ve already helped to lace me brother’s food with potion in order to knock ‘im out, I suppose I could engage in a little magic as well.”
“Thank you,” I reach my hand out for her.
Before she takes my hand, Sera turns around and grabs her keys off the counter, stuffing them in her back pocket. Then, she locks the door and turns to face me. “All right, what now?”
“Take my hand.” I offer my hand again, and she grabs it tightly.
“Remember, Taran, connect to Sera first. If you kill her in the process—”
I roll my eyes. “I won’t.”
Angie smiles. “Good. I’ll watch for you both on the other side.” She takes Alina in her arms and the two of them disappear.
“You ready?”
“Are yeh goin’ to kill me?”
“Angie’s being melodramatic.” I hope.
Sera finally takes my hand and I suggest I grip her forearms instead, and she mine. After a deep breath, I extend my magic out and attempt to connect to her. Immediately she starts to laugh.
“What?” I ask, opening my eyes.
“That tickles.”
“It does?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah. I feel drops of water drippin’ over my skin.”
“I suppose that means it’s working.” Again, I close my eyes and hold her tight, a strange sense of pride blossoming in my chest. Water. Water droplets like rain. I really couldn’t get more Grim if I tried, could I?
Twenty-Five
I stumble backward, clenching Sera’s forearms in my hands. She moves with me and the both of us open our eyes. Back outside, Angie’s front door, my face splits into a giant grin. “I did it.”
“Yeah, but we’re outside,” she teases, looking around Angie’s front yard, cloaked in nighttime shadow.
“Exactly where I wanted to be. There’s more room to mess up out here.” I give her arms a quick squeeze before I let go and head for the front door. The moment I push it open, Angie jogs down from the upstairs bedroom and lifts her hands in irritation.
“There you are! Hurry, we’ve got to get the bed pulled away from the wall upstairs. I’m not going to have that thing pounding a hole in my plaster.”
I leave Sera on the main level with Angie and bolt up the stairs. Once inside my bedroom, I find Dad standing over Coll and Alina in the corner of the bedroom, looking uneasy and unable to concentrate on anything other than Coll’s chained, prostrate body.
“Need help moving the bed?” I ask, physically pushing one of the two chairs to the far wall.
Dad turns around and shakes his head. “Nope. I’ve got it.”
I sigh, I lift my hands in defeat. “Well, I’m so glad I came all the way up here, then.”
He rolls his eyes at me. With a slow wiping motion from left to right with both hands, the bed moves from the north wall. Again, Dad beckons the bed to himself and it pulls away from the east wall by about five feet, putting it directly in the center of the room. Alina simply remains plastered up against the wall.
“Hello again, Taran,” Ruhmactír leers from under his chains.
“Screw you. And, by the way, who the hell opened your hole again?” I glare at Dad.
Dad shakes his head. “Don’t ask. I’ll be right back.” He leaves me and Alina in the room while Ruhmactír continues to vomit a load of crap at me.
“I can feel it,” Ruhmactír says. “My magic, it’s comin’ back. You know what’s goin’ to happen, don’t yeh? When my magic unleashes?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I walk up to the bed, tightening chains with my magic, and physically tugging as tight as I can on the leather strap pressing down on his forehead, “you’ll peel my skin from my bones and torture me until I beg for death.”
He smiles. “It’s really too bad. Yeh really are a vision.”
I scowl at him. “Hellia would tear you to ribbons for that one.”
“Luckily, once I’m free, I’ll get her back, and we’ll see for sure.”
I fall to my knees and put my face as close to his as I can. “Listen to me, asshole. I’m going to end you. I’m going to rip you out of Coll’s body even if I have to do it with my bare hands.”
His eyebrows angle up. “Interestin’. Yeh’d kill him? Just to expel me?”
“I’d kill him if it meant he got to be free.”
Ruhmactír lifts his chin. It’s the only part of Coll’s body he can move. “Then I’ve got a secret for yeh,” he whispers. “He’s already dead.”
I jerk away from him and raise my fist. It comes down on his face with a hard crack. I feel the bones in my own hand break, but just to watch the blood gush out of Ruhmactír’s nose and to hear his painful howl makes it totally worth it. I wince and cry out, falling back from him. Alina rushes toward me and pulls me back while Ruhmactír spits out curses and promises again to peel my flesh from my bones.
“Are you all right?” she gasps.
I grimace and gingerly bring my hand closer to my chest. “Yeah. Heileigh,” I whisper, waving my good hand over my broken one. Instantly, the bones heal, the blood on my knuckles dries over the repaired skin, and I quickly brush it off.
“Taran!” Angie calls from downstairs.
A set of footsteps pound up the staircase and before I know it, Dad walks back in the room. “Go down. Both of you. Angie needs to instruct you be—” He glances at me on the floor, then at Ruhmactír who’s spitting up blood. “I really . . . really want to hear this story, but not right now. Hurry up.”
Alina helps me to my feet, and I leave without another glance at the bastard behind me. Dad stays behind and when my sister and I enter the kitchen. Sera sits at the table while Angie is already working furiously to gather ingredients. Angie looks up at us as we approach.
“Perfect. All right, Taran, I just led Sera through a basic communion with the ancestors. Alina, you’re next. But, you, Taran need to make the hexen jar.”
I nod. “The jar that will house Ruhmactír when we kick his ass?”
“Precisely. You’re the strongest of the four of us, so your magic will make a stronger jar. Here,” she points to a section in her own grimoire, “are the instructions. Make sure you follow it to the letter. I took the opportunity to secure us a jar carved out of jet stone. It’ll be our best bet of keeping him housed.”
The words she just uttered have not gone over my head. She just said, “strongest of the four of us.” It gives me pause for a while, but Angie continues to move so feverishly that I realize I don’t have time to linger on it.
“What about me?” Sera asks.
“You.” She turns to Alina and Sera. “Both of you, before I show Sera how to commune with the ancestors, I need to make sure you both know what’s about to happen.”
I look down at the list of ingredients in the spell and double check to make sure I have them. Agrimony, knotweed, spiderwort, and witch hazel. Angie forgot to pull down the spiderwort. I quickly turn around while I hear Angie explaining the expulsion spell to the two least experienced hexens in the room.
“You need to understand, right here, and right now, that, that man up there is not Collens Donovan. Do not forget that. Because he is going to go through hell. He is going to say things, he is going to do things, and if you break the circle for even a moment to reach out to him, his energy will be so intense, there’s a good chance that he could reach out and take you over. Especially you, Sera. He’ll have access to your powers, and in reality, that could mean death for every single one of us.”
I try to gauge the reaction of my sister while I crush the dried agrimony. Nothing. Not a single emotion flickers in her face. Sera on the other hand looks like she’s going to cry.
“The good news is that,” Angie pauses, and I look up at her. She tries to get my confirmation, “the spell we need to recite is only two short sentences?”
I nod. “I can write it down for them,” I answer.
Angie’s face goes taut. “Will you have to open the book to get it?”
Once again, I nod. “I have to. As much as I’d like to say I have a completely photographic memory, I don’t.”
I can tell she’s more than nervous about that, but she doesn’t protest.
“We made a deal, Angie,” I remind her.
“I know. But no one said I had to be okay with it.”
Shaken, she continues to tell Alina and Sera what they need to know while I carefully fill the small jet stone jar with the combined ingredients of the spell. After shaking them up inside, I recite a one-word spell to seal the deal and then top off the bottle with a cured cork.
All of a sudden, my nerves start to tingle, and my throat closes off. I have to open Hellia’s book once more. And we’re finally going to do this. I try to shake Ruhmactír’s words out of my head. He’s already dead.
He can’t be. I did not go through all of this to have him die before I could get it right.
I run up to Angie’s bedroom and find the grimoire of Hellia Morrigan. The eyes of two dazed, inexperienced hexens look up at me as I rejoin them. And Angie sits straighter in her chair near the couch. If I was guessing, I’d assume she was even trying to put a couple more inches in between her and the book in my ar
ms.
Using a small paring knife from the drawer, I slice into my finger and quickly press it into the lock. It unlatches, and I perform a healing spell on myself before I start to flip through the pages. Luckily, I remember exactly where the spell was. Once I find it, I recite the short two lines in my head three times to solidify them in there and then shut the book once more, making sure to lock it. Then, on a couple sticky notes, I write down the words: Cahf die auslannach. Ranige cropen.
I walk over to Alina and Sera, holding the hexen jar in one hand and the sticky notes in the other. I give one note to each of them.
“How do I pronounce this?” Sera asks, skewing her face.
“Coff dee ow-slah-knockt. Ron-ee-guh krope-en,” Alina sounds it out softly. I’m surprised to see that she actually remembers some of the hexen that Móraí taught us.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “We’ll have to keep chanting it until Ruhmactír can’t stand it anymore and he’s torn out. At that point,” I motion toward Angie, “we’ll summon his soul into the hexen jar.” I hand off the jar to Angie and she graciously takes it from me.
“How will we do that, if we can’t break the circle?” Alina voices concern.
“You let me and Alaric worry about that,” Angie nods. “You focus on chanting. Until the very end.”
“End of what?” Sera questions, her own sticky note quivering gently in her hand.
Angie catches my eye. “The end of his screaming.”
Twenty-Six
Sera breaks down. I don’t blame her. While Angie consoles her and Alina takes a phone call from Carl, I go upstairs to see how Dad is doing. My footsteps slow as I reach the top, and quietly stop. Dad’s not standing directly inside the room like usual. He’s leaning to the left, glaring into the bedroom, and propped up in the door frame. From this angle, I can see his arms folded, a look of death in his cool, violet eyes.
I take a few minutes to really watch him. Observe. In the time we’ve been here, I haven’t really seen him. I’ve seen the idealized version of him that I’ve had in my head since I was five. I’ve seen the cracked and shattered version of him when I learned he was alive in this timeline and left his family. Slowly, I’ve seen the bits and pieces as I’ve put them all back together again, this time in a realistic way. There are the gray streaks in his dark hair, the deep-set wrinkles around his eyes and across his forehead. The deepest crevice between his eyes—I’ve noticed that one a lot as he’s frowned at me. For a man in his late fifties, he’s still in fairly good physical shape, but even with his build, he looks worn. His shoulders hunch more, his spine twisted out of alignment—something I notice more when he walks in front of me.