Blood Prophecy: Kallen's Tale

by Bonnie Lamer

  I am not normally a blusher. In fact, I can count on my fingers the number of times I have reddened as I am now. And, all of them have been since I met Xandra. I have no idea what to say in response, so I sit down and do not say anything.

  Her father floats to the chair next to mine and pretends to sit. Without looking at me, he says, “I am not used to being around magic. It is difficult to understand its effects.”

  I believe that is some sort of apology. A rhetorical one. I continue to stare at a spot on the far wall, and he does the same. I know an uncomfortable truce has been formed once again between us.

  “Mother, how long do you think Xandra will sleep?” The Witch spirit floats to her mother’s side and watches her fry up the eggs.

  “I am not sure. She is reacting differently to the spell than I have seen in the past.”

  “When I first met Xandra, I made the mistake several times of underestimating the power of her magic, and disasters followed,” I say to the Angel. She sighs and ignores me.

  “Kallen has a point,” Xandra’s father says. “If Xandra is the first to have the genetic makeup she has, then wouldn’t it be wise to overestimate the effects of her magic than underestimate them?”

  The aroma of frying eggs is filling the room, making my stomach rumble. The Angel does not respond until she has turned off the stove and placed eggs on two plates. The toast she had put in the toaster has popped up, and she places a piece on each plate, as well. “Yes, it is true that Xandra seems to react to things differently than I have seen other…Witches.” Insert the word Angel here to get her true meaning. “Very powerful ones have performed the spell without trouble. I think that it may be her Fairy blood that is causing something to go a little haywire.”

  She does not even have the decency to look me in the eyes when she says that. My face is red for a whole different reason now. I am back to wanting to help a particular Fallen Angel find her way back to her own place. “I agree that there is something in her blood that is causing things to not turn out as planned, but you and I both know it is not her Fairy blood,” I growl, having a hard time staying in my seat instead of throttling her.

  The Witch spirit’s eyes capture mine. “What do you mean?”

  I am about to tell her that she will have to get that answer from her mother, the one who is now as pale as a spirit, but the phone rings. All eyes are suddenly on the small black bit of plastic on the counter. “Answer,” the Cowan spirit says.

  “Where is my wife?” an angry voice snarls. I find this phone thing absolutely fascinating. Yes, Fairies have different ways of communicating over great distances, but none as convenient as this.

  “You haven’t had a wife in over seventeen years, Sveargith.”

  “You have walked right into the devil’s trap. Get out now, while you still can.”

  “I can say with a rather large amount of certainty, the devil does not take the form of a seventeen year old girl.” I bet she can.

  “Athear, see reason. Let me get you out of there. Come home, where it’s safe.”

  “Why on earth would I want to leave? This is my first chance in over seventeen years to see my daughter and get to know my granddaughter.”

  “Athear, your daughter is dead. Do not be fooled by those spirits.” The grandfather does not believe his daughter is the spirit floating next to her mother? How odd.

  The Angel shakes her head. “You are a stupid old man Sveargith. You know that our daughter’s spirit remains. And it is no wonder that she does with the likes of you out gunning for her daughter. Your granddaughter.”

  “Athear, I am not going to have this argument with you again. I am on my way there. I will pick you up and we will get you somewhere safe while I and the Witan do what is necessary.”

  “If you hurt one little hair on my granddaughter’s head, you will regret it.” The wrath of Angels is legendary. I can see why. The fires of hell are burning in this Angel’s eyes at the moment. Even her daughter floats away from her.

  The Witch King tries another tactic. “Honey, I know how desperately you have wanted to find Quillian all these years. But wishing something to be true doesn’t make it true. Spirits do not remain in this realm intact. They are but shadows of their former selves, and they are easily used as puppets for practioners of black magic. The girl and that Fairy she is aligned with are confusing you with these images. You’re confused. Let me help you.” The Witch is lucky he is not here in this room with his wife. I am convinced that she would kill him on the spot.

  “If you show your face here, with or without the Witan, you had better be prepared for a fight. And Sveargith, you have only had a small taste of Xandra’s magic. You will be unpleasantly surprised if you go up against her again.”

  “I am willing to take my chances. I will win this,” the Witch King growls. “Even if that means I have to drag you out of there and then destroy that house and everyone in it. Living or spirit.” He disconnects the line.

  My grandfather died long before I was even thought of, but I am guessing I would have had a better relationship with him than Xandra has with hers. How can this man be so sick and twisted? I am with the Angel on this. If he harms one hair on Xandra’s head, he will regret it.

  “Eggs?” the Angel asks me, as if nothing has changed.

  “Yes, please.” She sets a plate of fried eggs and toast in front of me and it is the best food I have had since I came to this realm. It is good to know that not everything comes in a can or a box. Everyone is quiet as the two of us with functioning stomachs eat our fill.

  When we are done, the Angel reaches for my plate and brings it to the sink with hers. “Julienne, where might I find your herb box?”

  “In the closet in the pantry.”

  The Angel opens the pantry door and finds the box. Bringing it to the kitchen table, she examines it, picking up a piece of something here or there to look at more closely, and sometimes to smell them. She is attempting to figure out the potency of what is in the box. Most of these things have probably been left dormant for several years, since its owner has not had functional hands to pick new ones.

  After a few moments, the Angel looks up at me. “I am going to need a few things. If I make a list, do you think you could find them?”

  “Yes, but I may need help navigating the forest.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Xandra’s father says. “I know where Julienne found most of this stuff.”

  That will make things a lot easier. If he does not purposely get me lost in the forest to keep me away from his daughter, that is. As the Angel writes her list, I attire myself in warm boots, jacket, and hat. Handing me a piece of paper with more than a few items on it, I walk outside behind the floating spirit.

  Chapter 9

  “You’re in love with my daughter, aren’t you.” Not a question, a statement. We’ve been walking along in silence for the past five minutes, so his voice in the quiet of the snowy forest is surprising.

  I had planned on having Xandra be the first person I spoke this out loud to, when I built up the courage, but I have to be honest with him. “Yes, I am.”

  “We have kept our family isolated from most of the world in order to keep her safe all these years. So, there are a lot of things she’s naïve about that most girls her age aren’t. She’s never dated, let alone had a boyfriend before.” I am aware of all of this, but I believe it is important to let him have his say without interruption. “She’s in love with you, too, though I don’t know if she knows that yet.”

  He’s quiet for a moment as he points to an area where wolfs bane grows. I squat down to dig under the snow for salvageable leaves. “I am afraid that her innocence may play a part in her feelings for you, and I do not want you, or her, to be hurt by that.”

  Um, I was expecting this to be a ‘back off from my innocent daughter’ speech. Not a ‘my daughter’s going to break your heart’ speech. Standing up, I turn to him. “I fear the same thing, as well. I am hoping that she continues to
love me as her experience with the world grows, but I am not naïve. I understand that first loves are not always lasting loves.” I do not really understand that, but it seems like the right thing to say at the moment. “I can assure you that her feelings for me are truly what is in her heart. Magic does not lie. It can be manipulated at times to make things appear different than they are, but it can never change the truth.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest as he puzzles over what I said. “What do you mean?”

  “I took a chance this morning, when Xandra worked the mojo bag spell. I know the spell and how it works. If she did not feel true love for me, I would have been tossed around the room just as her grandmother was.”

  He chuckles. “That was quite a sight. I don’t know if any of us said thank you to you for fixing that mess.”

  “No thanks are needed,” I say as we start moving again.

  “So, you were that sure of my daughter’s feelings?”

  “Not completely.”

  He gives me an approving look. “Well, I do admire your courage.” We walk along in silence for a few minutes again before he says, “I think you are good for her.”

  My turn to ask, “What do you mean?”

  “We raised her to be strong willed, knowing that someday she would have to defend herself as she is now. But, that is not always a plus when it comes to dealing with people who are not your enemy. She is intelligent, but very stubborn. She is beautiful, but has a dry, sometimes sarcastic, sense of humor. And she never lets a thought slip past without saying it out loud.”

  My turn to chuckle. “Yes, all of those things are true.”

  “Yet, you stand by her side, ready to defend her from the world, all the while not taking any of her crap. You challenge her. She needs that.”

  I’m getting a little embarrassed now. “Her good qualities more than make up for her not so good ones.”

  He laughs and puts a cold hand on my shoulder. It’s like someone put an icicle in my coat. “Well put. Up ahead is where you’ll find some St. John’s wort.”

  He lets the subject drop and we spend about an hour finding everything on the Angel’s list. It feels good to be out of their stuffy, tension filled house. My legs are enjoying being exercised, and I have a chance to clear my head from distracting thoughts. When the spirit and I do converse, it is amiable and related more to the forest than anything else. I believe he is enjoying being out of the house as well. Which, makes us both a little disappointed when we find the last item on the list and start heading back.

  I am even more disappointed when I find that Xandra has not risen yet. I ask the Angel if this is normal, and of course she does not have a good answer for me. She is getting on every nerve in my body.

  Xandra’s mother and the Angel set to work right away when we return. The items we retrieved are all laid out on the table along with the many items the Angel had brought from her home. As much as I loathe Witch magic, it is fascinating to watch them. The Angel is putting everything together, and then she and her daughter alternate making the spells that bind the magic to each item. They spend the rest of the day doing this.

  Of course, I do not watch them all day. I find other ways to spend my time. In between checking on Xandra, her father shows me ways that people in this realm spend their free time. Some of it is intriguing, and some of it makes me scratch my head. The television is in the latter category. I enjoy seeing plays back home, but I could not imagine sitting on a coach all day watching them. I am bored after ten minutes.

  I do enjoy the game basketball. I am sure it would be more fun with other players, as Xandra’s father is not much, well any, competition. He simply instructs me how to throw the ball towards the hoop and how to do something called dribbling. That is not easy to do in the snow. But, I do kill an hour perfecting my ability to get the ball in the hoop from different angles.

  I also spend some time in the tiny room used as a classroom. I am amazed at the collection of books. They have books on everything from anatomy and physiology, to ancient mythology. Some of it not myths, most of it laughable.

  It is driving me crazy that Xandra has not woken up yet. Her grandmother made dinner for us an hour or so ago. I volunteered, but since I am not familiar with how to make the same types of food here as in my realm, she thought it best if she did it. She made something called a hamburger for each of us. Actually, she made two for me and I downed them both happily. I am finding that some of the food here is quite palatable.

  I can tell that her parents are just as anxious as I am about her not waking up. When I’m not checking on her, one of them is. Her grandmother is trying really hard to not let her anxiety over Xandra’s continued sleep show. She is not successful.

  I am sitting in front of something called a computer right now. This is interesting. Massive amounts of information found at one’s fingertips. As with the books, I find much of it misleading or just plain wrong in regards to Fairies. But, there are a lot more that are accurate. Xandra’s mother should have done more research on this thing over the years.

  Around midnight, I start getting tired. I have already offered my help numerous times to Xandra’s mother and grandmother, only to be told that they have it under control. I believe her mother was being honest. Her grandmother I am convinced simply does not want me to touch any of the items for fear that I will alter them somehow.

  “Why don’t you head off to bed,” Xandra’s father says to me. “I’m worried about Xandra and it’ll make me feel better if you’re with her.” I believe he is only being polite because I yawned for the seventh time, but I will not argue.

  “Kallen, if you could put up a circle before you go, we would appreciate it,” her mother says.

  That is easily done. I am able to hold large circles for extended periods of time, which will aid in the Witches having difficulty figuring out what we are up to. With a smile, I concentrate for a moment, imagining the space I want to be inside the circle, and create it. “It is done.”

  “Thank you,” the Witch spirit says with a tired smile. Spirits do not sleep, but I now see they can suffer from emotional exhaustion.

  I wander back down the hall I have travelled too many times to count today. Opening Xandra’s bedroom door, I step inside quietly, not bothering to turn on the light. There is just enough light making it in through the blinds for me to see the bed. And see that she still has not moved from the position she was in when I first brought her in here. Her breathing is slow and even. I so badly want to shake her awake, if only to be sure that she will wake again.

  Silently making my way to the bed, I trade my jeans for pajama pants and crawl into bed next to her. Turning on my side, I trace the outline of her face with my finger. Her lips curl up ever so slightly. Even in her sleep she enjoys my touch. If I was not already in love with her, I would say that simple thought made me love her. Rolling over onto my back, I close my eyes. Between having my brain be on constant alert for any signs of magical beings approaching, and keeping a circle this large in place, I doubt I will get much sleep.

  Surprisingly, the next time I open my eyes, it is early morning. It is the feeling that Xandra is awake that wakes me. I am on my stomach with my head lying on my arms, and when I open my eyes, there she is, looking back at me.

  “You were sleeping the sleep of the dead. I am glad to see you have returned to us.”

  She stretches and yawns. “Did I miss dinner? I’m starved.”

  I raise my brows in amusement. “You only missed it by several hours.”

  She scowls at me. “What do you mean? It doesn’t look that dark out yet. Why did you guys eat so early?”

  Now I get it, and it makes me chuckle. “What time do you think it is?”

  I see her eyes flutter to the clock on the bedside table. “Five thirty.”

  I laugh. “Good guess. AM or PM?”

  Her eyes narrow and she stubbornly says, “PM.”

  I am glad to see she is herself again. “Guess again. That
is not the sun setting,” I say, pointing to the window. “That is the sun rising.”

  “What? Why did you guys let me sleep so long?” she asks with great amounts of irritation in her voice.

  I raise a brow as I say, “It was not our choice. You proved to be a more powerful conduit for the spell than your grandmother thought you would be. You were unable to be roused as your body adjusted to the onslaught of magic racing between you and the protection circle.”

  She groans and closes her eyes. “I can’t believe I wasted a whole day being passed out. Is there ever going to be any magic that I can do right?”

  I chuckle again. There is not a simple answer to that. “The question is not can you do the magic correctly, the question is, are you too powerful to perform certain spells without ramifications. The answer is yes.”

  “Maybe I should just have you and Mom bind my powers again and call it good.”

  She has to be joking. “Why would you willingly give up your magic?”

  She shrugs. “I haven’t needed it the last seventeen years. What do I need it for now?”

  Is the spell affecting her common sense? “Namely, to keep yourself alive.”

  “But if my powers are bound, no one would have to worry about me. I wouldn’t be a threat to anyone.”

  Again, she cannot be serious. Even she cannot be that naïve. Hell, I saw some of the things that are on the television and the internet. It is not as if she has spent her life ignorant to the ways of power of and evil, even if she was isolated here in the mountains. “The simple fact that you exist at all, is enough of a threat to scare even the most powerful Witch. No one would trust that you would allow your magic to remain bound.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That sounds like a great future – constantly battling to stay alive. What if I let the Witan do it?”